You Can't Just...

Author's Note: I am writing again in a genre that I am not normally prone to write in. Yet I feel compelled to do so. A conversation I had with a very good friend of mine has caused my thoughts to be all "twisty" and "topsy-turvy" in a manner of self-reflection. Then I had a couple of days spent in my local hospital and this short flash tale took shape.

The last time I wrote in this particular section, half of you told me that it was in the wrong area, the other half thought it was in the right area. So once more I go into this wonderful world of criticism with a story that will soon be torn into little tiny pieces and analyzed down to the atomic level and beyond.

...fun times ahead!

Sincerely,

Payenbrant.

*****

Chapter 1

I open my eyes and stare up at one of those square ceiling panels you see in office buildings. Not exactly an earth-shattering thing to see, but I don't remember closing my eyes looking at one. My eyes flitted around the left side of the room and I saw rails of thick plastic on the sides of my bed. The mattress was elevated under my head at an angle.

I am on a mattress? Huh...I don't remember going to sleep. Strange.

I heard some soft beeping and felt a draft of air being gently blown up my nose. I took a deep inhale of it and thought that it smelled kind of like disinfectant in a way. There was some dim light coming from the window, not artificial light like a streetlight, but warmer, so it must have been the sun. Daytime at some time or another. I turned my gaze to the front and saw my toes sticking out from under an exceptionally ugly off white blanket. I raised an eyebrow at that!

Well! I must not be at home, I would never have something like that on my bed!

I continued scanning in front of me and saw a dry erase board on the wall. I squinted a little to make out some of the worst handwriting I have ever read before in my life, at least I think it was the worst, my head was a little fuzzy. The words written there as near as I could make out were,

"Mr. Douglas Comstock. You are at St. Vincent's hospital in Portland, Oregon. You were admitted January 30th 2016. The current date is July 7th 2016. If you need any assistance, the call button for the nurse is next to you on your bed."

That at least explains the ugly blankets that I am currently being kept warm by! I knew I would never under any circumstances purchase such dreadful linens! At least I don't think I would. Hmmm...Douglass Comstock? Odd name. For some reason it seemed familiar, but at the same time it wasn't a name I would choose for myself. A name like "Jason" or "Justin" sounded good. Manly! Or maybe a softer sounding name like "David" or maybe...

Hang on.

I glanced up from where I was contemplating my toes under the hideous sheets and stared at the board again. Most prominently my name. It was familiar, my name was familiar. I had been in this hospital for a little over 5 months and I don't remember spending any time here. My name should have more meaning to me, I should remember people calling me by it, but I didn't. I tried to think back to my house, or did I live in an apartment?

Was I married?

Did I have friends?

Did I have a dog, cat, parakeet, or pet wildebeast!?

Fuck!

Do I commonly use vulgarities, or are they a rare occurrence?

Fuck!

Seems appropriate though, feels kind of good. I should say it out loud. All this thinking is getting me nowhere.

I opened my mouth to speak and nothing came out except a wheeze. Which is when I felt something stir from the right side of the room. My eyes snapped over that direction and I saw...

A sleeping woman's face. Dressed in, pajama's I guess you could call them. A giant black hooded sweatshirt with a big yellow "O" in the center of the chest. She had bright pink fuzzy pants on, I call them pants but they could be shorts since I could only see them down to the knee since she was sitting. They could be fuzzy shorts, but I doubted it.

Her face was slightly oval shaped, with thin lips turned into a light frown as she slept. Her face was framed in the aforementioned hood from the sweatshirt, with straight shiny dark brown hair falling a few inches in front of her shoulders.

I had a sudden strong desire to see her eyes. I knew this woman. I just couldn't place her! My right hand maneuvered closer, and bypassed the button I was supposed to press for the nurse. I didn't care about nurses! I wanted to see this woman's eyes! My hand found the plastic guardrail on the right side of the bed and weakly I pulled my arm up to the top of the rail and reached towards her.

She was too far away!

Fuck!

No, that didn't feel right. I don't think I use vulgarities so often, even though I really think it's appropriate right now.

My poor head raced as I tried my instinctive response to wake someone. My mouth opened up and...nothing.

Just a dry wheeze.

Infuriated, I started tapping my fingernail against the plastic guard rail, the hollow clacking like an autistic wood pecker sounded loud to me in the sterile confines of this off white room. At least the walls matched the sheets. Hospitals may choose bad color schemes, but at least they match!

The woman twitched and scrunched her nose. Her arms unfolded while her mouth yawned broadly as she stretched her arms over her head. I noticed she had the cute, but bad habit of holding her hands inside the sleeves as she stretched. Terrible to stretch out good clothing like that, ruins the elasticity of the garment. Definitely a good Therma-Fit material I would wager. Probably set her back a good $120 if she paid retail. She smacked her lips a few times, opened her eyes and looked directly into mine.

Beautiful soft brown eyes the color of freshly poured black coffee cooled with a touch of cream. Dark enough to still be properly biting, but just sweetly light enough to hug your taste buds. The kind of eyes that could crackle with storm clouds and also shine with happiness. Come to think of it though, does that not describe most women?

It was by accident, sheer happenstance that her eyes happened to be looking at my face, but I was so grateful she had done so! You see, for the first ten minutes of my "Awakening" as it were... I had to put up with having a strange name, a strange place, and uncomfortable poorly made linens. Her eyes though, I knew! What's more I saw the recognition in them as well!

"...Doug?" I heard this angel say.

"...(wheeze)" was my reply.

"Wait there a moment, I will get the nurse. I don't know if I can give you water yet or not and I don't...just...wait right there!"

My shoulders began to shake a little as she backed out of the room, and my lips creased into a smile as I wheezed brokenly a few times.

She asked me to "Wait," really?

Where did this lovely creature with the soft brown eyes think I would be going?

In a display of prompt efficiency I had a nurse who was followed in almost on the heels by a doctor. Much fuss was made and I wanted to see the brown eyed woman in the fuzzy pink sweat pants. I saw her as she had scampered out. Pants, not shorts...with a shapely rump that looked absolutely delectable! I would not mind seeing her again in the slightest.

They adjusted the nasal canula that was where I felt the breeze blowing in my nose. They first plied me with small sponges for me to drink from. Then moved to chips of ice, and finally lukewarm water from a plastic bottle with a ridiculous bendy straw! My voice was coming back to me after responding to tests with a bright flashlight. The test of asking me to tell them the day and the date seemed silly since I could read it over their shoulders!

"(Cough cough)...who was that woman who was here?" I asked in a dry voice. The doctor glanced at the nurse.

"She is a visitor for you. We need to finish these test questions first, alright?" He replied.

I sighed and nodded for him to go ahead.

"Do you remember the accident Mr. Comstock?" The doctor asked.

I thought about it more. Hearing him say the word accident tickled at something in my mind, but it was like scratching at a brick wall. I could hear it, but nothing was getting through. I shook my head in response.

The doctor frowned and then said slowly, "Considering you have been unconscious for close to six months, it might be best to let your memory come back as it wants. It might not be good to force it. I will need to speak with an associate of mine before we make the final determination."

The Hell you are! MY brain is just fine and my body is...well...it WAS just fine! I want those holes in my brain filled.

"The woman...?" I asked again. The doctor nodded and smiled.

"I will get her, just needed her out while we examine you. Just wait here and I will be right back."

Doctor asked me to "Wait" as well! Everyone is a comedian.

He left and the nurse asked me if I needed anything. She seemed surprised at my chuckle. I didn't have the energy to tell her the joke of being asked to "wait right here" to a man in bed with tubes still attached to various parts of my anatomy!

Wait a moment? I slid my hand down under the sheets and grimaced. Yes, I had a catheter! I would have been most appreciative if that had been removed while still asleep! Next time I will make sure to put that in the hospital notes to the concierge if I should ever happen to visit this fine establishment again.

A few more minutes passed and then the Doctor brought the woman back in. I could only see her side profile as she shook hands with the doctor, but from the side angle I saw, she did have tremendously luxurious curves.

Her hood was pulled back and she walked into the room, the doctor did not follow. She came to my bedside and took my hand in both of hers. A deep inhale and an equally long exhale. She must have brushed her teeth. She smelled of crushed mint and lilac with a touch of sandalwood. Absolutely intoxicating!

"I want to ask how you are feeling, Doug..." she began. I snorted, which made me cough a little. I squeezed her hands tighter since it felt like she was going to pull them away.

"Name? Please, your name?" I rasped.

Her eyes tightened and I saw tears form at the corner of her eyes. She blinked and looked up a little at the ceiling and let out a shuddering sigh.

"Oh...this is harder than I thought. To hear you say that. Damn!" She gave me a small smile and wiped her tears away with the fingers of one hand.

"My name is Melissa Shelton. We have been, ummm, roommates for about 9 years. We have known each other for over 25 years and been friends for, well, ever since I was 17 and you were 18."

I blinked a few times and let my addled brain ponder this information. Melissa kept a hold of my hand and seemed to automatically know to wait, as if she knew this about myself. A good sign. She probably did know me well to automatically do that. What's more is that I believed her.

Visions of a small girl with twin pony tails and muddy overalls flitted in my minds eye. A young woman with a peasant blouse and shorts with long hair and a scowl aimed my direction came next.

"Enemies...?" I asked. I tried not to use too many words, my throat felt like I had gargled sand and then drank some rubbing alcohol!

She grinned and wiped some more tears away. "Yes! Of all the things to remember you had to remember that."

Melissa carefully let go of my fingers and scooted one of those visitor chairs closer to the bed. She gave a thin lipped little smile as I reached for her hand and she took it again.

"We were neighbours growing up. I saw you in the yard playing with your toy trucks in a mud puddle. I was about 4 and you were 5. I squeezed between the fence and your house and wanted to play too. First time our parents met we were covered in mud and building a dam before crashing it down!"

I remembered that too, sort of. Like an odd and fuzzy dream sequence. Something else though, I wanted to know about the scowl on the lovely young woman. Melissa must have seen it in my eyes, she let out a breath and continued in a tone of resignation.

"Silly at the time. We were in highschool. Senior year for you, I was a Junior. You had been my best friend. It is so childish now, but these are not memories I wanted to bring up. Can't we talk about when we went on a mule ride in the Grand Canyon?"

I thought about it and decided that it was fine. I mean, I had been asleep for a half year. She had been by to visit, I am not very talkative right now, let her talk to me and fill in the gaps!

We had lived together for nine years, I was an interior decorator and she taught college students. We owned a house together over in Beaverton. A nice two story affair, she said she was going to go and air out my room since I could be coming home soon. Something didn't add up, I mean, it all made sense. It just seemed a little off somehow.

"...Melissa?" I asked.

"Mhm?"

"We live together, why didn't we...Married?" I questioned.

Her eyes shot down to my hand and she squeezed them tight. "You asked me once before. I answered you. Lets leave it alone for now until you are stronger." Her eyes snapped back up to meet mine and I saw in them a heat that would melt lead at 20 paces!

"Be sure about this, I love you! You are my best friend, and we have lived together for 9 years. You have been the most wonderful...roommate I have ever had in my entire life. The only roommate I have ever had. I have had friends tell me about college dorm roomies who were worse than rooming with a Viking barbarian. I thank my lucky stars I got you..."

Then she snickered, "Besides, now you can start doing more of the consulting work instead of going out to the different job sites. You can practice now since you will have to stay home!"

We wound down the conversation and I leaned back in the bed, tired. I watched as she leaned over me and kissed me tenderly on the forehead, her cascading down to brush my cheeks like a velvet curtain.

"See you soon Dougie." She whispered.

"Toodles,.. Missy..." I replied.

I heard her give a small sob, but my brain was telling me it had done enough work for the day and wanted sleep.

Chapter 2

I had a wonderful few weeks of Physical Therapy (ie: Torture!) that let me regain a lot of motion in my shoulders and hips. Bits and pieces of memory were coming back at odd times. I remember being on a motorcycle, or was it a bicycle? Something with handlebars at any rate, and something either hitting me or falling on me. Made me think suddenly of Tom and Jerry cartoons where Tom has a piano fall on him or something like that!

Still nothing firm, well plenty of firm memories. Such as flower arranging and remembering corresponding colors that go with each different month. The same with birthstones and flowers and foods and art. Of knowing when to install curtains or blinds and how to deal with contractors to make sure we were not getting in their way during a remodel.

Then I was allowed to go home. Kind of an anti-climactic moment, except when I got to see Leslie. Leslie cried on my shoulder as I was sitting on the couch. I could see Melissa rolling her eyes and giving me a grin. It seems that Leslie was my girlfriend!

"Girlfriend?" Both Leslie and Melissa said, echoing each other. Then they looked at each other for a moment and something seemed to pass between them. Melissa walked back into the kitchen, and Leslie gave me an impish smile.

"I work for you, Mr. Comstock. It would be improper to date you." She was blushing as she looked to the side and then seemed to try to be coquettish as she quietly said, "Though, since you HAD been helping me move to another company soon, I could be your girlfriend in a few months?"

What an interesting tangle this is? Sitting next to her, I was remembering more of her. Not everything, but I was remembering late night talks and cups of coffee at the office. Me wanting to pull her hair out over a huge blunder she had made. I think it was her mistaking salmon colored paint for pink and the disaster that was nearly diverted in our client's bathroom.

You could almost call it a "Crime of Color!"

I did not remember having any feelings for this woman though, but I put it to the back of my mind and gave her a noncommittal answer. If I ever needed a relational complication it would be probably best after I had reached a more optimum physical state. I had gotten winded just walking from the cab to the front door of my home!

Other people had come to visit me, but they were not very important to the context of my tale, so I need not mention them.

What is important is that I could see Missy...er...Melissa I mean... I could see her watching me with a tightness around her eyes. Oh she laughed and joked with our friends and family, she had the cutest way of laughing where her eyes would scrunch up so they were almost closed and the tip of her nose would turn up a little while her lips were pulled tight and thin over her grinning teeth.

Just reading that as a description it sounds like a horrible smile. It must be one of those things you would have to see to understand.

Her face would turn my way every so often, I assumed she was just checking on me, but the tightness to her eyes showed she was worried. I had already promised her if I felt at all tired I would sit again, preferably in a chair and not on the floor. It was only after everyone had left that I learned what it was she was concerned about.

"Remember anything else? Anything more about me? I am sorry if I am pushing...the doctor said that I shouldn't push..." she told me this almost apologetically.

I just chortled and put my arm over her shoulder and hugged her sideways as we sat on the couch in the living room.

"You are just fine Melissa. I remember your brother Arthur. I remember learning how to change the oil filter on my old Impala from him. I remember bits and pieces of Leslie. I remember your Dad, but I don't remember your Mom passing away, or the funeral. Was it a nice one?"

Melissa turned a little to rub her cheek against my arm and sighed, "Yes...you suggested the horse drawn hearse since it might rain and said it would be bad if the pole bearers slipped in the grass. You were right too. You even..."

"I coordinated the funeral, yes!" I said interrupting her. That was a nice little piece of information and when the gap was filled in, a lot of other thoughts floating around in the aether of my mind fastened on it. Soon I had a reference point and many other connections were made. I had a whole complete set of memories that filled in one of the gaps!

Still...I had a bunch of stuff that I didn't remember. That would be worked out over time. For now, I had a headache that would not quit!

Melissa helped me up and we walked up the stairs to my room. My cab had been late so the small gathering of people had gotten the lions share of my attention. Now I took a good look at my room and it...surprised me.

A large king size four poster bed with heavy velvet drapes tied off with gold silk cord. It was made of dark walnut with inlays of white laid into the headboard and the posts. It was absolutely gorgeous! But inside my chest I knew that something was wrong with this. I continued looking around, at the dark beige walls, and the rich matching dresser. The walk in closet with dark trim and shelves was a nice touch. All in all it felt similar to a room I would have designed but still...off.

Not that anything was overtly wrong but it felt empty. Maybe it was the fact my tastes had changed? Or just that with missing parts of my memory, that was affecting something in my judgement?

Let me try to explain. I am an artist of a sorts. I design personal and business spaces. Areas for comfort and areas designed to help the busy mind to focus on their tasks. With that in mind as I look over my bedroom I could see that something was missing. This room was designed by me so I would have designed something comfortable and also would have eased my mind for rest.