Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Erika
The room falls silent as I step closer to the bed and grip the end of it to stop my knees from buckling, pressure building behind my eyes.
I’ve imagined him waking up in my head over a million times, but not one of them went like this.
“I do have a sister, Leon. Erika is my sister, and she’s your…”
I interject, “I’m someone who cares about you.” I feign happiness when all I’m filled with is dread. It’s seeping into my veins, the coldness chilling me to my core.
Leon’s eyes soften, but I can tell his mind is battling, working overtime trying to place me, but he comes up with nothing, the fog too dense. He doesn’t have a clue who I am.
But he recognizes everyone else.
To him, I’m a stranger.
“You don’t have a sister,” Leon repeats, breaking eye contact with me, now looking at Ash. “Since when have you had a sister?” he asks as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
“Forever, Leon. We’ve been on vacations together, all of us. You two are best friends… but more recently, you’ve become more.”
“Ash.” I stop him with a warning, my voice stronger than I feel.
Leon shakes his head, his brows dipping lower this time. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.” The single line of apology makes me curl my hands around the metal end of the bed harder, my knuckles turning ghostly white.
All eyes on me, our friends and family watch as hot tears escape the corners of my eyes, sudden and unstoppable.
“I’m going to get the doctor.” Jack rushes off in a hurry, looking for an explanation. However, I already know what it is. I don’t need Dr. Gilbert to tell me.
“It’s okay. I should go.” I lift my shaky hand, forming a half wave of goodbye. “I’m supposed to be working.”
“Do you work in this hospital?” Leon asks curiously.
“I do.” I grab the ends of my stethoscope as if it’s my anchor, grounding me, reminding me of what we once had that’s no longer there. Gone.
“You’re married.” Leon points to my ring finger. The thing he should recognize as he’s the one who put it there.
“I am.” To you.
“He’s one hell of a lucky guy.”
“Yeah, he is.” My heart leaps in my throat, and I swipe at the tears I can’t seem to stop from falling.
“And she’s your sister?” he asks Ash again for confirmation, as if he’s completely bamboozled.
Ash nods, worry evident in his eyes; the room is so quiet you could cut the tension with a knife.
Everyone too scared to say anything for fear of revealing we’re married to each other.
“I can’t figure out how I wouldn’t remember you. You’re very beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I don’t care that he thinks I am beautiful; I want him to recognize me, remember that he loves me. Gave his heart to me and promised he would never forget me, and I would be branded into his memory for life. The same words he used before we spent the night in Las Vegas.
Does he remember that night, or has it all slipped out of his head along with all the other memories we made together?
Purpose-filled footsteps move toward us as Jack and Dr. Gilbert enter the room.
“Hey, Leon.” Dr. Gilbert’s voice is overly buoyant, as if trying to mask what he has already summarized is wrong with Leon.
“Hi.” Leon looks worried at the doctor's arrival. “I’m not okay, am I? I don’t know who this lady is.” He points toward me.
This lady.
That stings.
“Can you recall the last thing you remember before the accident?”
Leon recites the lunch on the yacht perfectly.
“And who was with you?” Dr. Gilbert asks.
“I was alone.”
Dr. Gilbert clears his throat, then asks, “If I told you that you were with your wife that day on the yacht, does that sound true?”
“I’m not married,” he replies on a laugh, like the doctor is a comedian.
Only, there is nothing funny about it.
“Leon.” Dr. Gilbert goes slow, limbering up to tell him he is married to me. “You are married. To Erika.”
My breath catches, my silent tears continue to fall, hating every moment of this for him, for me, for all of us. I want nothing more than to run to him, hug him, hold him, but instead, I stand still because the last thing I want is to add to his confusion.
Leon lays his hand out, reaching toward me. A gesture signaling for me to take it.
Tentatively, I step around the end of the bed and move to him.
“I don’t know you,” he says softly, his truth painfully honest as his large hand tightens around mine, a movement I have wished to happen since the accident. “But I want to.”
I let out a sob that sounds more like a wail. Heartbreak and love weave together in an unexplained way that has me blubbing loudly, and I hate this. So much.
“Please don’t cry.” He sounds distressed, his thumb brushing my wedding ring that matches his, a slow, unconscious gesture, as if he’s using muscle memory to connect the past and present.
“I’m okay.” I’m not. “It’s just a lot to deal with, that’s all.
” One part of me wants to run away from this terrible day, while the other part wants to stay and bury my face in his neck to breathe in his familiar scent that feels like home because I know he’s not rejecting me consciously and not on purpose.
“Why can I not remember you? I feel like I should,” Leon asks, perplexed.
Dr. Gilbert then voices his diagnosis, the one I know already. “Leon, you have what is called dissociative or selective amnesia.”
“What is that?” he asks, letting my hand go when I wish he would hold on to me for longer. I want him to want me. To know me.
Dr. Gilbert adds, “It’s a defense mechanism where the brain blocks out specific people or certain memories to shield the brain from overwhelming pain.
Erika was there on the yacht with you just before your accident, and the last person you saw before you climbed out of bed.
You’ve subconsciously blocked Erika out because she is tied to your memory of what happened.
Your brain is trying to protect you because the trauma of your accident is too much for you to process.
In order to not recall what happened, your mind seems to have removed her from every memory. ”
“That sounds so far-fetched. I feel fine. Fuzzy-headed a little, and the light is a bit bright, but I’m good.”
Dr. Gilbert counters, “Physically, you are fine, but your mind is a whole different entity. It’s complex, and selective amnesia is not something that would show up on a scan.
But if you don’t remember Erika, but everyone else, then your mind is struggling to connect the dots, Leon.
With therapy and time, and a safe environment, all those memories may return. ”
That sounds non-committal.
Leon clears his throat, then asks, “So I may get my memories of Erika back?”
My hands tremble at my sides, the room suddenly shrinking, and slightly darker.
Dr. Gilbert replies matter-of-factly, “It varies from case to case, and there is no saying how long it may take for them to return.”
It could be weeks, months, or years. It’s unknown at this point, and Dr. Gilbert’s diagnosis doesn’t give me any reassurance of a quick recovery. He may never remember me.
All the memories of me are trapped behind a wall in Leon’s mind we can’t break through.
Unsettled and restless, I feel like an alien among friends and family, and I back away and say words I don’t mean, “I need to get to work. My shift started half an hour ago.”
Half a dozen eyes land on me.
“Will you come back to see me?” Leon sounds hopeful, and that surprises me more than anything because to him, I’m a nobody.
“If you want me to.” Will he remember me by then? Unlikely, but a girl can dream.
“I do,” Leon replies, which makes my heart kick in my chest.
He wants to see me again, and that gives me a glimmer of hope.
I give him a small nod of acknowledgment, then scan the room, unable to make eye contact with everyone. “I’ll see you guys later, yeah?” I don’t wait for their responses and hurriedly leave, stealing one last glance at Leon. “Bye,” I say shyly, my heart crumbling.
Then I’m walking away from him, each step feeling heavier than the last, my body like a dead weight.
My footsteps become faster, turning into a run like the devil is chasing me, ignoring Lily calling my name. Then I’m bursting through the fire exit door, where I sob, shedding more tears, tears I didn’t think I had any left of.
My hand finds my stomach, sickness coiling around my gut like a viper’s nest.
He doesn’t remember me.
What did I do to deserve this?
For the first time in my life, I was happy with a man I loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
But this, him not remembering me, this is not what I asked for.
Well, fuck you, universe.
Thanks for stealing my happily ever after and setting fire to it while I’m left sifting through the remnants of nothingness.
Because there is no me.
To him, I’m invisible.
I’m not even a ghost of a memory.