Amnesia (Completed, Being Edited)

Three: Happy Belated Birthday

"Why the hell is this so hard?" I mutter to myself.

Remember how I missed two of Evetta's birthdays? Well, I've decided to buy her two presents — one for each birthday that I missed.

I already got a violin bow for her. It isn't some grand, expensive, £2000 bow from 1752, but it's from me; I'm pretty sure that she's the sentimental type.

Now, I'm looking for a black doll, and none of them seem perfect. Every single one that I've seen — which is actually only a total of two dolls — have processed hair. For some reason, I feel like she would want a doll with natural hair.

I'm about to give up and just get her a bracelet or something, when I see it through the window of a store. It's called "little Jamaica", and a black rag doll with what looks like twists on her head is smiling through the window.

I walk into the store, which smells like lavender, and am immediately greeting by a middle aged woman with locks. Her face looks halfway between black and Chinese; full lips, dark skin, sharp cheekbones, tiny nose and slanted eyes.

"Good afternoon sir," she says in a warm voice, but with an accent that sounds identical to Evetta's.

"How may I help you today?"

I look at the window, and see the doll.

"I want that doll; the one by the window. Upon inspection, I realise that it has "Jamaica" written across the front. She looks like she's crying, and she's facing me.

I think I might be losing my mind. Maybe it's more than just amnesia. What if there's temporary brain damage? What if I'm going to completely lose my mind, and have to live the rest of my life in an asylum?

Before I have a full blown panic attack, the woman speaks again.

"The doll has too faces; one side is smiling, and the other is crying," she says, seeing my confused expression, and following my gaze to the doll.

I walk over to it, pick it up, and flip it. Sure enough, it has a face stitched on the other side — the smiling face that I originally saw.

Thank god. I'm not mad. Yet.

This is so... special. I love it, and I know that Evetta will love it, too.

I pay for it and walk out, feeling rather proud of myself.

Yes, she's gonna be so pleased.

Of course, my day can't possibly be that easy.

As I'm walking on the sidewalk, one of the pink ear rings from the doll fall off and break on the pavement.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath.

What the hell am I going to do now? I can't give it to her like this.

Think Caleb. What else can be used as ear rings?

Paper clips?

No.

Hairpins?

Am I stupid?

Nose rings?

Wait. That's not a bad idea.

At least this isn't that hard to find.

After a few minutes of walking, I find myself in a shop that is stocked full with all kinds of body jewellery, and I pick up a pack of nose rings. Now that I see them, they look far thinner and flimsier than I'd imagined.