Page 21 of Forgotten
Most of all, I have no idea how I will be able to break the news that I still don’t remember anything. I’m still not the Ford that lives in 2024. And no matter how desperately I wish I was, this Ashford isn’t the one Ash isin love with. I’m just the childhood friend, Ford thebestie.
Doctor Parker does not let the subject drop. “We were not told about any medications,” he points out and for once I’m useful and I think I have an answer.
“I have never taken any.”
“Have you been in contact with a psychotherapist?” Parker asks next.
I don’t need to think twice. I have been seeing Dr. Bakari twice a month since I turned twenty and couldn’t ignore my parents’ divorce any longer. “I used to,” I say, unsure what the state of that is in 2024.
Luckily, Ash is always there to catch me. “Still happening. Sometimes.”
The confirmation doesn’t surprise me.
“Perhaps we could arrange a meeting whilst you are still here, Ford. Otherwise, I strongly recommend seeking support early after discharge.” The doctor proceeds to summarise my current state. Standing? Check. Short walking trial? Not without support. Peeing on my own? Work in progress. Elbow? Healing with notably reduced swelling. Bruises in various locations of the body, slowly fading.
Feeling brave, I ask whether I could attempt a shower, and I receive a discouraging frown.
“I appreciate your quick progress, Ford, but perhaps let’s not be too ambitious. Lindsey here will be more than happy to provide you with a washcloth and support you at the sink for the next week or so.”
I nod. “Pee first, shower after.”
Then, the doctor decides to offer his own recap of my miserable brain—my mind, my memories. Nearly three weeks awake and the progress can be summarised with half Deja-vu and a panic attack. I cannot remembermy boyfriend, nor my child. A neurology check is booked and Doctor Carter is very excited to see me.
Great. Everything is going great.
After Doctor Parker leaves the room, I meet the gaze of Lindsey the nurse. “Do you think we could try a trip to the bathroom?”
It is not a success, but it also is not a failure. I lean heavily on the nurse and let her carry most of my weight. When Lindsey suggests we grab a wheelchair, I scoff. I’m a big strong man. I can manage ten meters and back to take a leak. When I drop on the toilet, a dead weight, I fear for a second I might break it.
On the way back, Lindsey chuckles that I’m way heavier than I look, and she suggests Ash helps me nexttime.
Once I return to the bed and Lindsey leaves Ash and I alone, I suck a breath in. “Do you remember it?”
Ash is silent, brows furrowed.
“The accident,” I specify.
Ash shakes his head, lowering his shoulders. “Honestly it’s a bit of a blur. You were driving…” Ash leaves the words there, hanging between us.
“Your car?”
“It’s ou-…” Ash doesn’t get to finish the sentence andthe doctor’s voice echoes in my ears.No more panicattacks.
“Yeah. My car,” Ash settles.
“I drive?”
“Here and there. Much prefer to be driven.” There’s something in Ash’s voice that makes me shiver. Almostas if he’s talking about another person, someone who isn’t right in the same room with him. It’s gone as soon as it comes.
“Why, did you remember something?” he asks.
Lowering my head, I purse my lower lip. Ash clicks his tongue in understanding.
“It will come back,” Ash says and it’s been weeks now. The words are losing their meaning with every passinghour.
“Yeah,” I reply. It’s deflated, weak. I barely recognise my voice.
“Hey Ford?” Standing up, Ash walks closer to the bed. There’s hesitation in his movements. He looks almost scared of what is about to come out of his mouth.
