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Chapter Seven: Silas

"Am I interrupting something?" Dr. Lawrence says as she walks in with another doctor.

"Nope," I say. Annika seems deep in thought after my proclamation. I really hope it wasn't too much for her. But I will profess my love for her every chance I get. She will always feel loved.

"You must be Annika. I'm Dr. Owens—"

I cut him off, "it's Ah-nnika" She doesn't mind too much when people do that, but I think it sounds prettier that way.

"My apologies. I'm a Neuropsychologist; we will need to meet once a week for the next four weeks. We will then go from there."

"What exactly do you do?" Annika beats me and asks. I may work at a hospital, but that doesn't mean I know absolutely everything that goes on within these walls. I have definitely never heard of a neuropsychologist before.

Dr. Lawrence cuts in, "where my job is to work with the physical parts of the injury. His job is to look at the psychological effects of the injury."

"I mean... I don't think I need a therapist. I'm a little overwhelmed, but not that much. I think once I get my memories back, then I should see you, Dr. Owens, to sort it all out."

"My professional advice is to meet with him a few times, at least. Your long-term memory is in tack, which is great. And I am positive that with time you will remember this gap in time, but he can help you with that."

"Okay..."

"The sooner you get back to your regular routine, the better, and there is no reason for you to stay another night. So, I'm going to release you." I've never been so excited to sleep in a guest room. Her being home is going to make the house feel like my home again. "No driving till I see you again, which will be in 4 weeks, we will assess if you can drive then." She writes a script. "This is for any headaches that you may feel. See the front to schedule your following appointments. You two have a good rest of your day."

"Thanks, doc." I turn my attention to Annika. "Ready to go?"

"Yes!" She grabs her bag and purse. She goes to the door and turns right. I can't help but laugh at her. "What?"

"It's this way," I say, pointing to the left.

"Oh..." we walk over to reception. Lucy is working behind the desk. I wonder if seeing familiar faces will trigger anything. Or familiar places. We will have to walk St. George Street. She loves walking around the heart of town.

"Hey, Lucy. We need to make some appointments."

"Sweetie, how are you doing?" She asks eagerly.

"I know you, don't I?"

"Annika, this is Lucy. She is one of our neighbors." She stares at her... nothing. I shouldn't get my hopes up. If her family didn't, if I didn't, Lucy certainly wouldn't trigger anything.

"It's nice to meet you, Lucy." She nervously shakes her hand. We make appointments for the next four Mondays with Dr. Owens and the fourth Monday with Dr. Lawrence as well. "Nice car." She says as we get to my red Ford Mustang convertible. It's a classic model from the '60s.

"My grandpa left it to me when he died a few years ago."

"Has anyone else died?"

"No one in your family. I only have my dad left." It's not hard for me to talk about it anymore... well, about my grandparents, that is. They all died years ago as much as it sucks its part of life, and it happens to everyone. My mom's death still stings.

"I'm really sorry. I'd like to go to your mom's grave."

"She's not buried anywhere. My dad has her ashes. They had decided a long time ago that whoever died first, they would be cremated, and then they would be buried with the other." We had decided to do the same thing as well. I choose not to tell her that, though. I don't like thinking about one of us outliving the other.