Tag Archives: remember

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

He stared straight into my eyes.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“Of whom?”

“How do I know what you are?”

“I’m trying to help you,” I said.

“Oh, fuck you. I know you aren’t. You are trying to figure me out. How many of us do you keep here?”

“Most are here only for a few weeks.”

“Stop stalling. How many?

“There are several hundred patients on the closed wards.”

Nick groaned.

“Several hundred! I knew it!” Continue reading

In My Blood

I woke up. When I looked to my right Roxana was just climbing out of bed.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t respond. Her movements were slow but directed.

“You okay?”

She started walking. Her hand pressed the door handle down.

“Roxana?”

My childhood wasn’t easy. First there was no father, then there was one, then my mother was gone.

They arrested her partner. I remember sitting in a large room with brown walls. Many people were staring at me. I sat at a small table. The old man that sat higher to my right scared me. An old woman kept asking me questions.

“Did you hear a fight?”

“What did you see that night?”

“Did he hurt you?”

At some point I started talking. I remember wondering what answers the old lady was looking for. Sometimes, when she seemed unhappy with my answer, I said I remembered something else. Continue reading

Phone Call from a Forgotten Friend

I sat on the bus when my phone buzzed. Naomi. It took me nearly a minute to fit a face to the name. How long had it been? Ten years?

Hey. Long time no see! Remember how we used to do sleepovers? I’d love to meet up.

I sat and stared at the phone, thinking of the time in school. Trying desperately to remember whether we ever actually had a sleepover.

Half an hour later, just when I arrived home, her next text came.

Hey. I’m not sure if you still use this number. Could you reply? I’d really like to talk quickly.

Five minutes later Naomi called. I had the phone in my hand but let it ring another three times before I picked up.

“Hey,” she said. “How are you?”

“Good. How are you? What’s up?”

“Oh, I’m good too. Excellent. Everything is great. I just missed you.” Continue reading

The Old Doll

The problem is that my fiancée hates the old doll. She doesn’t understand that I need it. Kerri doesn’t understand that bad things happen when the doll is not around.

As long as I can remember the doll was there.

It has a soft round face and rather stiff arms and legs. The red shirt and blue pants are sewn right onto the doll’s skin. Its eyes are blue buttons.

I got the doll from my grandfather. He died shortly before my third birthday and gave me the doll probably a year before that.

I have photos of myself as a two year old. On every one of them the doll is with me. Continue reading

My Last Seizure

I only remember three things from that morning:

  • I was naked on a bed.
  • She was staring at me.
  • There was blood on the pillow.

That’s all. That’s my life and my history. Of course my family and friends and particularly Kennedy told me about my past and the cause of my memory loss – the seizures – but all that doesn’t feel like more than a biography I read in a book.

Born here, went to school there, seizures started in grade 6, still managed to finish school, still managed to start a math degree, still managed to raise funds for the worse-off, still managed to get a warm-hearted and beautiful girl to love me.

Kennedy with her stunning dark brown hair. She was the only one that was there when I had my last seizure. We were in a hotel room in Vegas and I was just on my way to the bathroom when my legs began to shake. I fell. My head hit the chair. Continue reading