Angels Of Hope

Chapter 30

My clothes aren't right and I don't know this room. It looks like a hospital, a nice one. There are flowers, clean sheets and soft music playing. As I go to leave the bed an alarm sounds and in comes a nurse.

"Jace, there you are. Remember me? Nurse Nicola?" I shake my head. She isn't the least bit familiar. Her smile falters a little. "You need the washroom? Come now." 

I shake my arm. "Get off. I don't know you. Don't touch me. I'm leaving." She isn't surprised. Quite the contrary. She wears an expression that says she's heard all this before and a level of confidence that suggests she knows what to do and say next.

I don't know why I was at the hospital or why I can't remember anything. All I know as that I am in a hospital and that for some reason I can't leave the room. 

I have bruises and stitches on my face and upper body. I feel like I was hit by a semi truck. Knowing my luck I was.

Where there should be memories is blank space, like a soft beige wall bereft of photographs. The man who visits daily is so kind, he tells me about some children and sometimes they come too.

"Daddy," they say and hold my hands. I smile, they are so cute. Yesterday I remembered their names and the man cried, I didn't have the heart to tell him that the nurse reminded me before they came in. Tomorrow he's taking me home. Apparently we're best friends.

When did that ever happen?  I want to please them, recall something, but it just isn't there. It's so odd, they know me so well and I can't return the favor.

Every time he comes it's like meeting someone in a bank who grins and waves and you can't place them at all. I've known these folks for a week and now I'm off to live with them. The kids don't even look like me; I must be a big pool or recessive genes. How odd that the university education is still crammed in there and they aren't even ghosts, you'd think the brain might prioritize better.

As I was put back into the hospital bed I couldn't help but wonder why or for that matter where I was going when from what i was told by the doctor in a horrific car accident. 

Where was I going?

What was I going to do when I got there. 

We have feelings that are not visible, we do things to prevent ourselves from being miserable. Being honest is what makes us believable, for our feelings may not always be reachable  There was a time in my life I expressed my feelings in a true way, but we can't go on like that, right? We can't keep bawling like babies and throwing tantrums like toddlers; we do need to get a grip on our own minds. But there is a balance, a point of virtue, that I went passed so long ago. Every negative emotion is buried before I can even feel it, making me passive and weak. Everyone loves me for my smile and twenty-four-seven happy disposition, meanwhile every other feeling is crammed into my chest. Problem is, that space is getting so full, so much harder to ignore, and the disparity between my outgoing personality and inner pain is so difficult to bare. I wish I'd learnt to get these emotions out instead of bottling them up; there is no "healthy release" when the internal pressure is this high. How do I defuse this bomb without triggering the damage I seek to avoid?

  The doctor , Doctor Emily Walker,had the posture of a soldier. Every action she took was precise and purposeful. She smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do. I can never relax around such expressions. I need a genuine face, preferably a smile, but if not I'd really rather they didn't fake it. Her eyes were devoid of any make-up and her hair was in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Through the examination she gave commands rather than requests. The nurse had hovered two feet behind, her relaxed expression of earlier replaced with a grim slash for a mouth and knitted brows. When the prodding was over I dropped my eyes to the covers in anticipation of her speaking to me, but when I raised them again the room was quite empty; they weren't even in the corridor. My hands stretched over the cold linen like an infant in search of a comforting toy and closed on the thick itchy fabric. I was alone before, but then I felt ever more so. The walls seemed far away and I felt trapped- tethered by tubes.