Dazed and Confused Brooklyn
Dazed and Confused
Brooklyn
While I’m still trying to wrap my head around this Auntie Eden person, and the crazy things she was saying about Trey (Football?
Air Force? First wife?), a young doctor enters my hospital room.
He has a limp, leans on a cane, and radiates a gentle intelligence.
He stops by the bed, and Margot moves to the other side to give him some room to work.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Locke. I’m Dr. Lui. How are you feeling?”
I’m really unsure how to answer this question. “Weird.”
He has a crooked smile. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t feeling off.
You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a few days, and you’ve had quite a brain injury.
Concussions this severe can be very dangerous.
The good news is, I expect you to recover fully.
You’re young and healthy, and if you’re diligent, we should get you out of here in no time. ”
He proceeds to examine me, gently, humming under his breath. It is not a tune I recognize, but I feel like I should. And that sums up exactly the sensation in my brain: that I should know the song, the band, the words, the life, but can’t quite get there.
Thumps on my elbow, my knee. My leg jerks. “Squeeze my fingers, yes, that’s good. Follow my finger with your eyes, there, and there. Oh, wonderful.”
“Is it normal not to recognize people?”
He tilts his head. “You know who is here in the room, yes?”
“My sister. But she doesn’t look right.”
“How does she look?”
“Wavy. Like I’m seeing her through wet glass.”
“Interesting.” He does a thorough eye exam, looking so deep and close it’s almost as if he can see into my brain.
“The light hurts.”
“Hmm. There’s no damage to your ocular muscle. Sometimes after a head injury, it takes a minute for your synapses to begin communicating. I think this is temporary. Let’s see how things progress.”
“When can I go home?”
“Soon. Soon. Let’s give you a few days to get your feet under you, and then we’ll reassess.
You’ll need to be cleared by PT, OT. They’ll get you up walking this afternoon.
You might be unsteady for a bit. We’ll see.
Never fear, my dear. I believe you will be well again quite soon.
I am very pleased. Every mark hit. Good job. Any more questions?”
Only about a million . . . “Why can’t I remember my children? I mean, I recognize their names, but them as people . . . it’s not there.”
“I’ll wager your most recent memories haven’t quite kicked in yet. That’s not entirely unusual. What do you remember? The accident? The day of the accident? The week leading in?”
I think. It hurts. There are flashes—a kitchen with a white marble island covered in almond flour, the barking of a dog, afternoon light streaming through the tall windows in the flat, the Juliet balcony overlooking the Tour Eiffel .
. . but no, that’s wrong. That’s a different life. A before life. One I sense isn’t right.
“I’m not sure. It’s all jumbled together.”
“It’s not unusual for you to blank out a traumatic event like this. With the kind of brain injury you’ve sustained, it could take weeks for everything to click into place. Don’t worry. You’ll recall what you need. Anything else?”
“My timeline is off. There are . . . discrepancies.”
“That’s quite normal. You’re tough, Brooklyn.
A fighter. You will regain your memories, I’m sure of it.
The brain is a mysterious place. When damaged, it finds new pathways to circumvent the roadblock.
I’m living proof of that.” He points to a scar on his bald pate.
“Just be patient with yourself. It won’t happen overnight.
” He pats me on the knee and limps from the room.
A few hours and what feels like a million tests later, I decide to try again.
“Margot, what happened to Trey? If he’s not dead or hurt, where is he?”
Margot huffs out a breath. “No one’s seen or heard from him since the day of the accident.”
“That’s not right. I’ve seen him. I know I have. He was here.”
Margot pulls her hair out of its ponytail, vigorously runs her fingers through it, and winds it up again. Her skin is so pale. The horrors of the past few days are etched on her forehead.
“No, honey, he wasn’t. Trust me. We moved you from Atlanta to Nashville yesterday, and you’ve been monitored constantly. Either me or Eden, and there’s security on your door. We’d know if he were here. Plus, people are looking for him.”
“Why?”
“I really don’t think now is the time—”
“Damn it, Margot, tell me! Why do I have security?”
But my sister keeps on in that soothing tone that makes me want to scream.
“Your brain’s going to play tricks on you for a while. That’s part of the medication they gave you to keep you sedated.”
“But Trey was here. I remember. He said something . . .” God, it hurts to think, but I force myself to focus.
I already know I won’t get better if I don’t.
“Something about not doing what they said he did.” I move my head again, try to sit up and adjust to a more comfortable position.
This bed is miserable. The effort makes me cough.
Margot gives me some water. When I’ve obediently sucked on the straw, she nods.
“Maybe so. Maybe it was just an angel visiting. You heard the doctor, confusion is normal.”
“I’m not confused. Well, maybe I am, but he was here. I know it.”
“Okay. He was here.”
“Don’t just humor me. You know I hate that.”
“See? You’re already starting to get back to normal.
Brook, they just took you off sedation this morning, and you’ve only surfaced a few times.
They needed to keep your brain protected from the trauma.
And it was a major trauma, you’re totally concussed, so there are things that won’t make sense until you’ve healed a bit more. ”
“Okay. Here’s what doesn’t make sense. People are looking for Trey? Is he missing or something?”
Margot gives a gusty sigh. “He left you, honey. You were flying to Italy for vacation with the kids, and he walked out of the airport in Atlanta. But the police want to talk to him, because . . . his parents were murdered. And apparently, there’s money missing from TGG’s accounts. They think he stole the money and ran.”
“His parents? In Connecticut?”
“Oh, Brook, I really hate dumping all this on you. Trey isn’t from Connecticut. He’s from a small town called Malogen, Georgia. And the night after he left you in Atlanta, the police think he made his way to his parents’ house and killed them.”
“Why would he do that? None of this makes sense.”
Something tickles the back of my mind—the money. Our money, gone.
“Tell me about the accident again?”
“You were outside of Eden’s house and were hit by an SUV. You cracked your head on the curb. God, Brook.” She fights back a sob and squeezes my hand. “I thought we were going to lose you.”
“I’m sorry. I hate that you were worried. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Don’t ever scare me like that again, do you understand?”
“Yes. So how did I end up at Eden’s house?”
Margot’s face is guarded.
“You’ve already told me all of this, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell it again and again as you need. She was on the flight with you from Nashville. She lives in Atlanta and was helping you after Trey walked out. They went to high school together.”
Trey leaving. My heart hurts. I recall something, black and white—a video of my husband. Shoulders set, backpack over one shoulder, escalator.
“Trey left us at the airport. He really is gone? It wasn’t just a bad dream?”
“I’m sorry, sis. He really is. I filed a missing persons report, but because he left the airport under his own steam, they weren’t taking it very seriously. Then his parents ended up dead, and now Uncle Bob and Aunt Pat are involved—”
“Uncle. Bob’s our uncle. Pat’s our aunt. Got it. God, Margot, this is so weird. My brain is all jumbled up.”
“It will get better. So yes, Uncle Bob thinks Trey has been stealing money from TGG, so he reported that to the FBI, and they’re all looking for him now.”
Something inside me shifts, flares to life. Anger. “Bob turned Trey over to the FBI? Are you joking?”
“I’m not. I won’t lie, Brook. This is serious. But there’s nothing you can do right now except heal. We’ll figure it all out.”
“And I’m in Nashville?”
“Yes. The accident happened in Georgia, but I had you transferred here from Grady Memorial after . . . Well, I knew you’d want me to make things as normal as possible for the kids.
I’ve been staying at the house with them and Bohdi, who misses you both so much.
Eden has been a godsend. I don’t know what I would have done without her, honestly. ”
An urge as deep and unfathomable as this crazy situation moves through me. “I want to see the kids. I need to see that they’re okay.”
“They’re doing great. They are playing and eating and sleeping, and they are going to be over the moon when I tell them you’re awake.
Bohdi, too, he misses you like crazy. I’ve kept them home from school since winter break starts in a few days anyway.
You’ll get out of here in a couple of days, and we’ll get through this together. ”
Bohdi. An image of all of us in bed. The kids, laughing. Trey, so happy. The dog barking . . .
Their faces float up like they’re rising from submerged water. First Four—a mini Trey. Then Neve—a mini me. My heart settles into a more comfortable rhythm. My babies. They are real.
“Do the kids know about Trey disappearing?”
Margot shifts uncomfortably. “I wasn’t sure what to tell them, so I told them the truth. That he left, and we don’t know why yet. They’re pretty crushed.”
“Poor babies. I bet they’re a mess. Oh, no. Christmas. The presents . . . We decided to wait to open the bulk of them when we got home, but I had a few for each of them in my luggage. Did we miss it? Did we miss Christmas?”
“Look at you, remembering all that! No. It’s December sixteenth. You left for Italy on the twelfth.”
“Four days gone. Wow.” But she’s right. Without my pushing, without my trying to think, plenty seems to be reappearing in my brain. “Margot. I am so sorry. This must have been horrible for you.”
“It’s all good, honey, don’t worry.”
This crushes me, and I have no idea why. It occurs to me . . . “Did I know why Trey left before the accident? Did I know he was stealing money? Did I tell you anything?”
“You didn’t confide anything to me, and on that day, you seemed very confused by the situation. Do you think you knew what was happening?” Margot asks.
Blackness, again, with the purposeful thinking, the elusiveness of wanting something specific.
I shake my head, which is a huge mistake.
The answering throb comes with a blinding light that feels like a needle has been shoved through my eye.
“Ouch. Bridge too far.” It takes a few minutes for the pain to subside.
“Do you think you knew he was having money troubles? Maybe that’s why he surprised you with the trip? He was trying to cover up something?”
“I don’t know. It would be helpful to remember if I know anything about what he’s up to, though, don’t you think?”
“I mean . . . yes and no. If you know something that makes you an accomplice, I think I’d prefer you to continue blanking.”
Accomplice. Trey stole money. I knew. I . . . helped?
That really doesn’t feel right. But something about this is knocking in the back of my brain. I do know something. I just don’t know how what I’m remembering ties in.
Margot smooths back my hair. “Listen, don’t freak out if you don’t remember everything. It’s going to be a journey. You’ll have good days and bad days. But you will get better. And I’ll be here to remind you. Ask whatever you want.”
I close my eyes. What I remember feels wrong, fantastical, like I dreamed it.
“Brook? You okay?”
I stare deep into my sister’s eyes. So like my own. But guileless. Innocent. Margot always was the best of us. The kindest. The most responsible.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy, but do you know anything about Trey murdering his first wife?”