Chapter one The Life I Left Behind

 Here's the teaser for my Novella.  I'm giving the first two chapters on my Blog.  Thanks to my husband and my other kid Mara, Carla and my Sand Mountain girls-Dawn, Gabbi, Hannah and Autum. Thanks bunches y'all- for reading and encouraging!  

I don't remember a lot about the girl I forgot.  I'm writing down everything so I can have it later.  But I'll start as the beginning.  I really only remember bits and pieces about what happened. 

Flashes.

Sounds.

Thoughts. 

Driving in the dark.

Topping the mountain, the lights of houses twinkling on the steep sides and reflecting off the water below.

Tears falling, obscuring my vision as I navigate the car around the hairpin curves.  I’m running from something.  For the life of me I can’t remember what. 

Screeching brakes.

Tires sliding on gravel.

Someone screaming.

Golden lights twinkling below me, houses snuggled cozily in the side of the mountain.    

Falling, feeling my body come up out of the seat, weightlessness.

That is where I always woke up.

But this time I don’t.  Could this be real? 

More glass breaking, and a thump and the groan of bending metal.  My head jerks forward and then back.  Like riding on bumper cars at the fair.

Darkness.  Coldness.  Wetness on the side of my face. 

My mouth tastes bitter, the unmistakable taste of blood.

The lights were above me, as I sank into the inky water.

I fumble for my seat belt.  My hands are wet with something; they slide over the seat belt lock. 

I reach for the handle, and push against the door. 

It won't budge.

This was the way it was ending? 

My life?  How could it be?

I refuse to believe that it could end like this. 

Someone will rescue me… Someone had to see the car when it went off the road. 

Just sit still.  Someone will come…

Then I am floating.                

Big hands jerk me. Air escapes from my lungs in big bubbles, I see it floating above me in the  light above me.  I try to follow it up... I am being pulled up and down at the same time.  Someone is with me, pulling me, swimming, pulling, swimming... I fight to keep my mouth closed; if I breathe in I will drown.

My body is awash in pain but I am being pulled up.  My lungs scream for air.  It is  unbearable, this agony.  Only a few more minutes.  I am  going up.  I will be safe in a few minutes.  A light dances over me, refracted by the rippling waves above my head. 

I feel myself break through.  I remember this was what it felt like to be born. The moon is bright above me and I gulp air greedily but then I fall into darkness. 

I am nothing.  Less than nothing.  A vapor.  Floating like a cloud pushed by angry winds.    The absence of everything.  I wonder if this is death.  Some people say when you die then there’s nothing…it never sounded this awful.    Not even darkness because darkness would be something.  Something to fear, something to fight against.  This, I decided could be Hell.  Because where I am… God isn’t.  There is no light, no happiness, no contentment.  Only longing remains.  Hunger for something I didn’t have or know. 

Please God… If you can hear me… Give me one more chance. 

Darkness and nothing is my only reply. 

But then…

Voices.  Far away. Am I hearing voices or could it only be my imagination?

Darkness again.

I sleep; I don’t know how long.

People float in and out of my consciousness like ghosts.  Disembodied spirits that flit in and then flit out in the twinkling of an eye.  They lean over me.  They say things I don’t understand.

A man is here.  He is vaguely familiar. 

He is crying, but I don’t know why.  His tough hands are calloused but gentle as they touch mine.  There is the ever so slight stain of grease under his nails and I know this can’t be a doctor.  He talks to me.  He tells me to wake up. 

I wonder if this is the man that saved me.

I remember the big hands pulling me out of the water.

Yes.  This must be him.  My hero. Poor guy.  I want to tell him that he did okay.  He can go home now but I’m too tired.  Too tired to talk or move so I sleep and dream.

I dream of Paris.  The city sparkles underneath me like a jewel.  I can see my breath from up here and I smile down on my adopted city.  A man to my left gets down on one knee.  The woman with him starts to cry as he holds out a ring to her.  I don’t understand any of it.  They’re clearly German- there are no French people on the Eiffel Tower.  Just tourists like us. We get into the elevator and ride back down.  My stomach grumbles as I fight my way through the souvenir hawkers.  The metro is warm at least.  A man passes me.  I am struck by what a beautiful man he is and though I was brought up never to stare, I do from under my lashes when he thinks I am not looking.  He is the kind of man I thought only existed in the movies; well built, blonde hair, blue eyes, sharp features.  He has that typical French cockiness and sex appeal that I find both irresistible and somewhat intimidating.  His eyes catch mine and though I know French people don’t smile at strangers on the subway so I’m not offended when my smile is not returned, but being American, I can’t help it.

 It’s been years of saving to bring me here.  Right now, I don’t care if he thinks I’m a stupid American.  I don’t care if he looks down his French nose at me- bumming around in my blue jeans and white sneakers and my camera flopping against my chest as the train screeches to a halt.  Nothing can get me down.  I’m here.  In Paris and I’m happy.  I see him again, when I get on the train and I take my seat.  His blue eyes hold on to mine.  This time the corners of his lips turn up and he doesn’t take his eyes off me until I look away, embarrassed by his attention. I have a fiancé back home; I know I shouldn’t be flirting with strangers on the metro.  I know I shouldn’t even be looking at another man but I look up again. He is still looking at me as if he knows me, almost as if he can see right into my soul. I feel a connection with him, something I can’t explain and don’t quite understand.  Come with me.  His eyes are a striking shade of blue- almost violet.  They speak to me.  Come with me and leave everything behind.  Come with me and I will make your dreams come true… The Metro train grinds to a stop and we both stand but he never takes his eyes off of me… I know it’s wrong but I smile at him again and he follows me out. 

“Hello pretty American girl.”  He says in English.  He isn’t French, perhaps German.  He has only has a slight accent which I can’t place.  “It is a cold night and a cup of coffee would be perfect.  However I hate to sit in a café alone.  As I see you have no escort, would you care to allow me to buy you a cup?” 

I should say no.  I have a fiancé back home, but tonight I am in Paris.  The city of love- I will never have this chance again. I slip my engagement ring in my jean pocket and when he extends his arm; I take it.   

That dream fades.  The voices come back.

A man’s voice. “You have to wake up.”  Someone tells me.  “You’ve got to come back to me….Please… for the children…” 

A woman’s voice. “If she does come back, she’ll have brain damage.”

Somewhere a man is crying like his heart is broken and I feel bad for him. 

“I can’t.  She’s my wife.  I can’t leave her.” The same man again.

Another voice.  An older man.  “She’s basically a vegetable.”  He tells someone in a hushed tone.  “The best thing would be to pull the plug.  Let her go in peace.”

I open my eyes.  I’m in a little cubicle and somehow I know it’s the ICU.  I wonder if this is a dream or real.

I hear bits and pieces of conversations from around me before I fall asleep again. 

I wonder where the man is who was crying.  He seems so close but far away at the same time.  Like we’re on opposite sides of a very tall wall and I can hear him but I can’t reach him.   

“Wake up and come back to me.”  He is begging but it is from somewhere else, I realize, perhaps the next cubicle.  I wish I could get out of this bed.  I’d give him a hug at least…

I drift off again… sleep is good…

“Come with me my love.”  A silky voice says and I feel an overwhelming rush of desire.  I know that voice!  “Come with me and I’ll make all your dreams come true…”  That’s what he said… I remember.  That’s what he said…

I want to slip away with him.  Just like I did on the metro… that was so many years ago.  A lifetime ago…

“Just squeeze my hand.”  The man is begging in the next cubicle.  “Just let me know you hear me.  Please, baby.  I love you.” 

“She can’t hear you.  She’s… not there any more… the person you loved is gone… you should think about ending it.”

I hear him wail pitifully and my gut wrenches.  I want to leave.  Why won’t they let me out of this bed?

Another nurse leans over me.  More medicine.  More sleep. 

“Come away with me my love.  My beloved.  Come to me…” 

“Come back baby.  I need you.  I’m sorry for what I said.  Please, please, open your eyes!”

I want more than anything to be away from this man’s pain.

“Come to me and leave the world behind.  It’s only you and I, my beloved.  Come to me and leave everything…”

“Yes.”  I tell him.  Anything to get away from this place; from the sounds of death and hopelessness and sadness, from this man and the pain that he carries with him.  It threatens to tear my very soul asunder with his pain.  Get me out of here.  Please. I will go with you.

“Good…The choice is made…”

The nurses are moving me again.  They’re always pestering me.  Trying to get me to wake up.  Don’t they know that I’m just sleeping?  I’m sleeping, if only they will let me alone… Go bother someone else.  Someone who needs help.  I’m fine.  Just leave me alone… No, I don’t want to wake up.  Oh, won’t they let me sleep just a little bit longer?  I’m so tired…

Night.

Nurses. 

White lights. 

Bare walls.

Bleeps and alarms. 

I close my eyes and float in darkness until a voice calls me into the light.

“Andrea.”

Not the same voice but familiar just the same.

“Andrea.”

That’s when I remember my name. 

Until then I was just a cloud with no name.  Only a dream.

“Andrea.  Wake up.” 

Where am I?

I open my eyes. 

People are crowded around me.  People I don’t know; all looking at me in amazement like I’ve done something astounding.  I’m on center stage. I wonder if this is how a baby feels being born.

            A good looking doctor sits right in front of me. Blonde hair, blue eyes, looks to be in his mid thirties.  I am drawn to his eyes.  The weirdest kind of blue- purple really.  I’ve seen eyes like those once before…where have I seen them? Over his left shoulder I see two nurses- a blonde and a redhead and peering anxiously over his right shoulder is another, older doctor with a beard.

“Andrea.”  The doctor with the weird blue eyes says and I look up at him.  I like the way he says my name; the European way, not the American way.  It sounds like ‘Ondrea’.   

“Can you speak to us, honey?” 

My mouth is dry and my throat is on fire.  I feel like I’ve swallowed a porcupine. 

I manage to mumble something and they all seem to get very excited. 

“Andrea. Do you know where you are?” The handsome young doctor asks. 

I’m not Einstein, but I’m guessing a hospital Doc.  I think to myself.  Might have said it too, but it hurts too much.  “Disneyland.”  I say finally.

My audience’s eyes grow wide and I realize that they think I’m serious.  I can almost read their thoughts. 

They think I have brain damage or something.

“Hah…”  I groan.  “Just kidding Doc.”  I say and just to prove I have some sense I tell them I’m in the hospital.

They act like I’ve just told them the winning lottery numbers and I wonder what’s the big deal.  Anyone with half a brain could tell this was a hospital.

“Disneyland.”  The older bearded doctor chuckles.  “What a fine joke.” 

Like he knew I was joking.  I saw that look on his face.  It would have curdled milk. 

The handsome one in front hasn’t taken his eyes off me.  It’s unnerving and I’d try to squirm away if it didn’t hurt to move.  He smiles triumphantly at me and I wonder what the big deal is.  I was only asleep.   “Not Disneyland, but you can go there as soon as you leave.” He chuckles and pats my hand. “There’s that sense of humor I love!”

Who in the heck is this?  I wonder to myself.  I know him but then again I don’t. It’s like we met a lifetime ago. I start to drift off but he brings me back with a question.

“Do you know what happened?”  He asks and this time I don’t have a cute answer.  My face crumples up as I try to remember.

“Do you remember anything?”

“No.”  I croak.  I sound like a bullfrog.  Real attractive.   

“It’s okay, honey.”  The doctor says.  “Don’t worry.  You’re safe and I’m here. That’s all you need to know.” 

This guy has the best bedside manner I’ve ever heard of calling me honey and telling me he’s here, not to worry- where did he come from?  I look back into those strange blue eyes and think that he needs a raise. 

I’m going to feel like an idiot I think to myself.  I know but I ask anyway. I’ve seen him before.  I should know him but the memory flirts on the edge of my consciousness, just far enough that I cannot reach it.  I can feel it there but I can’t make myself remember.  I know this man.   

“Who—“I manage.  “Are you?” 

They look at each other like I’ve just asked them what planet I’m on.  The redhead and the blonde exchange nervous glances and the good looking doctor turns a little pale.

“Andrea.”  Dr. Blue eyes says.  “Honey…I’m your husband.”

Now it’s his turn to joke.  “Hahahaha” I manage but the stricken faces around me tell me it’s the truth. 

My husband?  No.  He can’t be my husband.  I’d know my own husband right?

The room spins and my eyes roll back in my head.  I’m out.  I fight to regain composure but I’m down for the count.

I wake up later.  I don’t know what time it is or how long I’ve been asleep. 

Dr. Blue eyes is here, holding my hand.  I resist the urge to take it away from him because it’s not normal for a doctor to act this way with his patient.  It’s a little lifetime movie of the week if you ask me…

“Andrea.”  He says when he sees me looking at him and he gives me a shy smile.

“What’s up Doc?”  I say.  He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind but then he recovers.

“Ah yes.  I remember.  Bugs Bunny.” 

Where did he come from?  The moon?  Come to think of it, he does have a slight accent.  Maybe they don’t have Bugs Bunny where he’s from. 

I look at him and try to think of something to say.  When I can’t he takes my hand.

“Hi, honey.” 

There he goes again.  Calling me honey.  I start to pull my hand away from him but then I remember.  Oh, yeah.  He’s supposed to be my husband. 

I don’t know how to explain it.  He doesn’t feel right.  I close my eyes and imagine my husband.  Images come to my mind but not complete images.  Impressions really.

A large muscular man.  Dark hair.  Strong, rough hands.  The feeling of being enveloped in a tight embrace, listening to a steady beating heart, the taste of tender, knowing kisses and the warmth of another body wrapped around mine like so many blankets.   

Yes, that was my husband.  The thing was, when I looked at this stranger in front of me I felt none of those things. 

This is some kind of joke.

I’ve never seen him before in my life. 

No… I have… where had I seen him? 

“It’s me.”  He says nervously.  “Your husband.”

What am I supposed to say to that? 

“Glad to meet you.”  I tell him.  It was the best I could do given the present circumstances.

He laughs.  The skin around his eyes crinkles when he does. 

“You’re confused.”  I tell him.  “I think you have the wrong person.  I can’t be your wife.”

He laughs again but his face is sad. 

“But you are.”  The words make him sound like a lost little boy. 

“I don’t even know your name.  I’ve never seen you before.”

That’s when he starts crying.  A little.  Not pitiful like the guy in the next cubicle, but his eyes tear up and he wipes the tears away with the back of his hand.

“I—.” He starts and doesn’t finish.  He looks away and swallows.  “My name is Doyle.”

“Doyle.”  I repeat.  The name sounds unfamiliar in my mouth.  “Doyle.”  I say again but it doesn’t ring a bell.  I swallow hard.  “Why don’t I remember you?”

“You have amnesia.”  He tells me.  “Do you know what that means?”

Amnesia?  Am I trapped in a soap opera?  Yes, that’s it.  I’m asleep in front of the television.  A soap opera is playing. 

“Amnesia.”  I repeat when there’s no commercial break. My brow crinkles and I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think. How did I get amnesia?  I can remember the accident.  This is ridiculous. I’m going nuts. “What?”  I ask.

He shifts in his seat and leans in.  “Amnesia.  You suffered an injury to your head” He starts into doctor mode but I stop him with a wave of my taped up hand.  It pulls at the IV and I wince. 

I’m irritated by all of this.  I know what amnesia is and I tell him so.  He looks impressed or shocked.  I’m not quite sure which.

I know. I return his nod of disbelief.  I can’t believe it either. 

“Do you know how you got amnesia?”  He asks.  “Do you remember anything about the accident?”

The mountain.  The car.  The dark.  Falling.  Water.  Yeah, I have a vague recollection of what happened.

“I—was in an automobile accident.”  I say and he looks at me to finish.

“I think I went off the mountain… into the water.”  I guess and from the horrified look on Dr. Blue Eye’s face I was either dead right or terribly wrong.  I couldn’t tell which.

He leans in to me and shakes his head.  His color is gone from his face and he’s already pale.  Now he looks like a ghost,

“Andrea.  You were hit by a car.  Crossing the street.”

I shake my head and it hurts. 

“No.  I remember the water.”  I tell him and he leans closer and puts his hand over my lips. 

“Andrea.  Not too loud.”  He looks around like he’s trying to keep something secret. “Listen honey, you were crossing the street right here.  You were leaving with Marilyn and Jackie to get some lunch.  Some guy ran the red light and hit you.  You were thrown thirty feet into another car.” 

“No.”  I tell him.  “I remember water!”

“Honey.  We’re half a mile from the river.  Of course you remember water.  But you weren’t in it.  You may have dreamed it.”

But I do remember water.  I remember the mountain.  How it felt to fall.  The sound that the water made as it seeped into the car.  I remember being pulled out…I try to convince him but he just shakes his head.

It infuriates me and I raise my voice. 

“I remember!”  I tell him and he puts his fingers over my lips.

My eyes flash in anger.  How dare he try to silence me like that?  If I wasn’t all hooked up I’d get out of this bed and show him a thing or two…

“Darling.”  His eyes look up at the next cubicle like he can see through it.  “Beloved, listen.  The lady in the next cube was on the mountain.  She’s the one that fell in the water.  She’s – not doing -- well. You—you must have heard everything and dreamed it was you.  You were brought in around the same time… Be quiet please.  Her family is distraught.”

Then it dawns on me. 

The man I’ve heard crying! 

Can you hear in a coma?  Yes, I think so.  I look up at him and my eyes well up with tears of my own.  The woman next to me may lose her life and the only memories I thought I had aren’t mine at all.  They belong to her!  I’m angry and sad and I feel a little betrayed by my own mind.  I can’t remember my parents, my childhood, my wedding.  This man in front of me who claims to be my husband is a stranger. I want to go home and crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head and make this whole crazy dream go away, but I don’t know where my house is.

That’s when I lose it.  For the first time since the accident- I cry.

Doyle leans over me and puts his head on my shoulder.  I think if he were able he would have crawled in the bed with me.  He comforts me as best he can and cries with me. 

When there are no tears left he looks at me.  His violet blue eyes draw me in and I wonder how I could have forgotten them?

“We will work it out honey.  I’m… just glad you’re back to me.”  He offers me a small smile.  “Can I kiss you?”  He asks sheepishly, almost like a nervous teenager and I’m not sure if I should be comforted or scandalized by it.

I don’t know what to tell him.  He’s a stranger to me but at the same time, he’s my husband. 

I nod.  On television they say doing normal stuff might help bring one’s memory back.  I’m willing to give it a try but I wonder if I will know what to do. I close my eyes and hope that this is the kiss that brings all my memories back to life! 

It works that way in fairy tales. 

He leans in, and his lips touch mine and I feel the fireworks instantly. 

I’ve done this before!  I know I have, even if I don’t remember- my body seems to and responds to his kiss. 

But that’s all.  No sudden surge of memories, no life flashing before my eyes.  I sigh a little disappointed that my memory hasn’t returned but my body tingles and I respond.  The kiss deepens, and for an instant I am swept up in a torrent of longing and desire and I know I could lose myself… or what’s left of myself in this man. 

It scares me.  My hair seems to stand up and it feels like I have had cold water poured over my body.  I pull in a shaky breath as he moves away from me. 

He smiles almost triumphantly at me, like he has won some battle that I didn’t even know we were having. The look is both sinister and sexy and it unnerves me for the most part. If you give in to him, you will lose yourself.  Something in the far corner of my mind warns me. My heart pounds in my ears and I take a breath. 

“I’ll be back soon.  Sleep my love.  You need your rest.” 

I nod and lean my head back.  I cut my eye to the window.  It is night again.  I never wake in the daylight.  He leans over me and kisses me again on the forehead .  I feel a strange tingly sensation in my body, almost like an electric shock.  I look up at him in surprise but suddenly feel like all the energy has been drained.  I never get a chance to say anything more.  

© L. T. Crane 2012