***
As darkness slowly gave way to soft lamplight, several things became apparent. First and most obviously, his head hurt. It buzzed and throbbed like someone had stuffed a nest of angry bees between his ears. Slowly, other things floated to the surface of his awareness. The thing he was lying on was soft and warm and dry. The ceiling above him was wood, not rock. The shape beside him was a person in a chair.
He blinked. The person in the chair was female, and watching him intently. She perched on the very edge of her seat, and though she was very still, something in her posture reminded him of a small dog, straining toward something it wanted very badly. He started to push himself up, prompted by an impression that it was rude to leave her waiting.
THROB
With a wince, he closed his eyes and let himself sink back into the pillow. He felt a small, warm hand on his shoulder, then something smooth and curved against his lips. Water touched his mouth, and he swallowed eagerly, almost choking on the life-giving liquid. The cup was taken away, and the small hand shifted to his chest, as though to say 'slow down.' When he could breathe again, the cup returned, and he drank again, more cautiously this time. It felt wonderful, the cool liquid against his raw and aching throat.
At length, the water was gone, and slowly, he opened his eyes again, looking at the woman. She was sitting back a little in her chair and studying him. He noticed now that her eyes were red and swollen from crying, though her face was dry. He wanted to ask who she was, but that seemed somehow... impolite.
"Took you long enough to wake up." Her smile was brittle, but genuine. Whoever this woman was, she wasn't a stranger.
"What happened?" His voice was hoarse, it hurt to speak and he broke off with a cough, gesturing for the glass. The woman rolled her eyes at him, but passed him the drink.
"They left when they thought they'd killed you. I thought they'd killed you! What did you think you were doing, going out there alone? I swear, sometimes I think you have a death wish, you-" she cut herself off with a frustrated shriek. She really was crying now; hot, angry tears as she snarled at the man lying broken and bandaged in their bed. "You stupid, arrogant, moron! Why can't you just stay out of trouble for a month!"
The man on the bed lay wide eyed and stunned, staring at the strange woman as she hurled abuse after insult at him. Eventually, she paused for breath, wiping her face with her sleeve and looking anywhere but at him.
"I'm sorry I-"
"No, you couldn't have known they'd be-"
"No, I mean-" he hesitated, searching for a way to explain his confusion without making everything worse. There was no way. He'd just have to bite the bullet.
"Look, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what happened or where I am. And I feel terrible about it, because obviously we know each other, but I honestly don't remember."
Three days had passed. The women he knew but couldn't remember had barely left his side. He was dear to her, he knew that. But he still couldn't remember. She tried to fill him in. Talked about past events, and activities they did together, what his favorite hobbies were and brought trinkets she hoped would trigger memories. He made a good show of it too, pausing as though remembering, laughing at appropriate stories. But at night, when she was asleep, he would stare at the ceiling, racking his brain for anything to ground him to this reality. He felt loose, like a piece of driftwood on the ocean's tide. It was only when he slept and the nightmares came that he felt things were real...
ReplyDeleteOoh. I like it. I really do. Bringing in nightmares. I might have to play with that. :)
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