4. Yay, I’ve never been arrested.
"Yay, I’ve never been arrested."
Caleb Hawthorne
Dr. Silva and the girl exchange a weird look, and I’m not exactly sure what’s happening. I just asked her her name. Is she someone famous?
Dr. Silva opens her mouth to speak, but before she has the chance, the woman sits up in her hospital bed. She rearranges her long brown hair before admitting, “Actually, I don’t know what my name is.”
I frown, shaking my head. “What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I just don’t know,” she repeats, wringing her hands. “My brain is a total blank.”
I turn to Dr. Silva, my brows furrowed. Surely, this girl is messing with me, trying to get back at me for injuring her.
Dr. Silva clears her throat, turning to her patient. “Do you want me to tell him, or . . .?
The girl nods, crossing her arms. “Sure. Why not? He is responsible, after all.”
“Well,” Dr. Silva continues, her focus shifting back to me, “the hit she took to her head damaged her medial lobe and hippocampus, which, in some cases, can induce memory loss.”
My mouth goes dry, and my palms feel suddenly clammy. I look at the girl again, trying to make sense of all this, then sink into the chair in the corner of the room.
She has amnesia because of me? She came to a hockey game hoping to have a good time, and she ended up in a hospital bed, not knowing who she is. I knew this sport was dangerous, but it never occurred to me it could be hazardous for the fans as well.
“Can you repeat those words I told you earlier?” Dr. Silva asks her, pulling me from my thoughts.
I glance up at the girl. She’s pretty—stunning, actually. Not that it matters. I’d feel awful even if I didn’t find her beautiful. But the fact that I do somehow makes it worse.
She lifts her chin and answers, “Plane, bird, red, book, car.”
“Great,” Dr. Silva replies, jotting something down on her clipboard.
“Wait, so you do remember stuff?” I ask, confused.
Dr. Silva looks up. “I gave her those words about two hours ago. I wanted to confirm she was able to form new memories, and that only her older ones are impacted.”
I swallow hard. “So, is that a good thing?”
The girl snorts. “I can remember five words, but my entire life is a blank slate, and you wonder if that’s a good thing?”
She has a point. “That’s not what I meant.”
Dr. Silva offers a warm smile. “It is a good thing, actually. It’s a lot harder to recover memories when your brain isn’t able to create new ones.”
Someone knocks on the door, and Dr. Silva invites them in.
I expect another doctor, or maybe a nurse, but instead, a familiar face appears in the doorway.
“Caleb!” Detective Wright says, flashing a smile.
I blink. “Garrett, what are you doing here? It’s been a while.” I shake hands with him and his partner, Denis. Garrett Wright is a good friend of my dad’s.
“I’m working this case,” he says. “Saw the video of the accident. It was brutal.”
“Yeah.” And it doesn’t take a detective to figure out I’m the man responsible for this girl’s problems, and I hate myself for it.
“So,” he says, turning to Dr. Silva and the girl. “We analyzed your fingerprints, and they’re not in the system.”
“Yay, I’ve never been arrested,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Garrett scratches his temple. “Well, yeah. But that also excludes you from a large job list.”
“And possibly unemployed. The good news just keeps coming,” she mutters, and I can’t help but smile at her sass.
I turn to face Garrett. “Didn’t she have any ID on her, though, or a phone?” I ask, feeling that I’m probably missing some key information.
“No personal belongings,” Denis says. “We went back to the arena and had a look at the lost and found, but we didn’t find anything. Nothing in her pockets either, except for the two hockey tickets.”
“Two tickets?” The girl and I say at the same time.
“Yes, but apparently, you went to the game alone,” he continues. “We watched the tapes, and no one was sitting next to you. The second ticket wasn’t scanned, either.”
“Great.” She averts her gaze, her eyes brimming with tears.
Garrett clears his throat. “We also compared you to all the missing persons around the country, but we didn’t find a match.”
“So, what now?” she asks, her lips trembling. “How long until I remember?”
“It’s hard to say,” Dr. Silva says, her hands clasped. “It could take days, months, or even years. You’ll work with a therapist, of course, but even then, there’s no guarantee. I already checked Dr. Stuart’s schedule. He’s one of our best practitioners and can see you first thing on Monday.”
“When is that?” she asks in a faint whisper. “What day is it?”
“Today’s Friday,” Dr. Silva says.
The woman’s eyes widen in horror. “Wait, that means the appointment is in three days. Where am I supposed to go until then? I don’t even know if I have a home,” she blurts, her voice high-pitched.
“Don’t worry,” Dr. Silva reassures her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll keep you here until you remember.”
Her eyes drop to her lap, and I ’m pretty sure a tear just slid down her cheek.
“Could she check into a hotel? I’d absolutely pay for it, or a rental. It’s a little crazy in here,” I say, glancing at the door. “It took me a solid half hour just to find her in this maze.”
“I know it’s not ideal,” Dr. Silva says, her mouth twisting. “But this is procedure in a case like this. Even if she’s lucid, we can’t release her unsupervised. And she does have a minor concussion that’ll need to be monitored for the next few hours, at least.”
Garrett nods in agreement.
“We’re a bit overwhelmed at the moment,” Dr. Silva continues. “But it should get better next week. We’ll either find you a room here, or we’ll transfer you to another hospital—maybe the psych ward.”
“A social worker will be in touch to find a more permanent solution,” Garrett adds. “But with the holidays approaching, the one assigned to you has more urgent cases at the moment.”
“The psych ward.” I guffaw. “She doesn’t belong in there. She already had some random guy burst into her room earlier. Who knows what could have happened if I wasn’t here?”
“Yeah,” the girl says with a small voice. “I second that. I’m not liking this psych ward idea, or the hospital, to be honest. Not without a bodyguard.”
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Silva says. “It’s not always this chaotic, and I’m sure things will fall into place in a few days.”
“Could she come home with me?” The words leave my mouth before I can think them through, but I don’t regret them. I’ve always been a man who takes responsibility for his actions, and that’s not about to change. “I can look after her, and I have friends who can help too.”
Garrett and Dr. Silva exchange a look.
“Is it really such a bad idea?” I ask. “If you’re willing,” I add to the girl, “you can come home with me, and I’ll make sure you’re safe between your appointments.”
She bites her lip.
“Caleb,” Garrett says, “it’s very unusual to release a Jane Doe to someone who is not a relative. I mean, even if she’s willing to go with you, what would that look like?”
“I have an extra room she can use, friends who can stop by, and a great support system. I’m sure they’ll jump in and help.
And if they can’t, I’ll hire someone to look after her.
You don’t have to come with me,” I add, glancing at the girl.
“But it just feels wrong leaving you here.” I turn back to the officers.
“And Garrett, you can vouch for me, right?”
He nods. “Caleb is an upstandin g citizen. Known him since he was a kid, and I trust him. So, I guess we could make an exception. That is, if you’re interested,” he asks the girl.
“We could release you into his custody. We’d also keep a close eye on you, of course, and have the social worker check in.
If you decide it’s not a good fit, we’d find another solution. ”
“And I’ll bring you back here for all your therapist appointments,” I add.
“Actually, Dr. Stuart also has a private practice,” Dr. Silva says. “It might be closer to your place.”
“This is a lot to take in. Maybe we should give you a minute to think about it?” Garrett suggests to the girl before nodding toward the rest of us, prompting us to leave the room.
“Press the call button when you’re ready for us,” Dr. Silva tells her before closing the door.
Once I’m in the hallway, I lean against the wall.
I hope she seriously considers my offer.
I get how weird it is, but I also don’t think she’s safe here.
And as much as I’d like to, I can’t stick around and protect her.
It’s strange. For some reason, I have this need, this pull, to make sure nothing happens to her.
She has no one right now. No safety net, no familiar shoulder to lean on. And I want to be that for her.
It won’t undo what happened, no r will it make up for the harm I caused. But maybe, just maybe, it’ll help her get through the challenges to come.