TWO
Napping in a hospital waiting room chair was not good for Fletcher's back or neck, but he was feeling the set backs of moving boxes up and down stairs in the scorching California heat. If he didn't get some rest, he wouldn't have the energy to deal with Olive's amnesia. So after finding out he was a complete stranger to her, he went to the least occupied area in the hospital and curled up in one of the chairs. Mainly he didn't want people to see him cry. He didn't get much rest because of the wooden arm rests digging into his arms and elbows-though it didn't matter. Olive's parents, the Doyle's arrived at the hospital. They found Fletcher resting in the corner.
"Fletcher how is she?" Mrs. Doyle approached him with a worried look in her eyes. Fletcher opened his eyes and shifted in his chair to a comfortable sitting position. He looked at Mrs. Doyle then Mr. Doyle. Having to tell Olive's parents that their daughter had amnesia was worse than finding it out in general. He pressed his lips together, looking up at them with sorry eyes, like he was guilty, even though Olive fainting and hitting her head was not his fault.
"She has amnesia," he announced, letting out a deep breath.
"Really. How bad is it?" Olive's dad asked.
"Well, she doesn't recognize me," Fletcher told them blatantly. "So I think that answers the question."
Mrs. Doyle's face dropped. "So she won't recognize us either?" her voice shook.
"Most likely," said Fletcher.
"Then should we still see her?" Mr. Doyle wondered.
Fletcher stood up. "Well, I did, even though she screamed at me to leave because I was a stranger to her. But hey, who knows? Maybe she'll recognize her parents."
"Okay then let's go see her," Mrs. Doyle said.
Fletcher suggested he be the first to enter, so she wouldn't freak out since Olive had already seen him before. He knocked on the door lightly, peering inside the room. Olive was focused looking at nothing in particular. Her eyes were squinted as she touched her forehead. Fletcher knocked again. She jerked her head towards the door.
"What are you doing back here?" Olive said, but much calmer than before. Fletcher took short, careful steps into the room. Followed behind him were her parents.
"Who are these people?" Olive asked. "Are they your parents?"
Fletcher looked back at them. He couldn't find his words. "Yes." He nodded. "Yes these are my parents."
"Good. Than maybe you'll listen to them," Olive said. She looked at her parents, who she didn't know were her parents. "Could you tell your son to stop coming in here? It's very weird."
Her mom and dad's eyebrows narrowed and they both frowned. They took a glance at Fletcher who had his hand through his messy, curly hair. For Olive, she was in a hospital room with three strangers. For Fletcher and the Doyle's, they were looking at the girl who just hours before, knew who they were.
Fletcher was struggling to figure out what to do because he didn't want to send Olive's parents off. Their daughter just injured her head and they deserved to see her. But because she had amnesia, there wasn't much they could do.
"Are you guys just going to stand there or...?" remarked Olive.
Her parents exchanged worried looks at Fletcher. "We'd better go," he whispered, guiding them to the door. Mrs. Doyle took one last glance at her daughter on the way out.
"What now?" Mr. Doyle asked, as if Fletcher knew all the answers.
"I'll get the doctor," Fletcher suggested. Just as he was about to find her, he ran into Chyna who was coming from the front desk.
"Fletcher!" she gasped, thrusting herself forward to hug him. Fletcher felt her squeeze tighter and he held her as if Olive would miraculously be cured from her amnesia. He buried his face in her shoulder, hiding the light tears into her jacket. When they pulled apart, he quickly composed himself for Chyna; he didn't want to worry her too much. Though with the serious expression on her face, it seemed too late for that.
"How's Olive?" Chyna asked.
Fletcher touched her shoulder as if to prepare her. "Olive had to get stitches. She injured her head because she fainted from a minor heatstroke..." he told her. Chyna nodded slowly, but she could sense there was more.
"Fletcher...?" Chyna said.
"She doesn't recognize me," he revealed. He watched Chyna tense up just like he'd done when he found out from the doctor.
"You mean...?"
"Yeah, she's got amnesia."
"Wow," was all Chyna said. She spotted Olive's parents standing behind Fletcher and she went to hug them both.
"So what's going to happen now? Can I see her?" Chyna asked after hugs were exchanged.
"We were just about to ask the doctor that," Mr. Doyle said.
After inquiring to Olive's doctor on what they should next, Fletcher found himself pushing Olive in a wheelchair out of the hospital. They stopped next to his car where Chyna and Olive's parents surrounded her.
"Please take care of her," Mrs. Doyle told Fletcher after they stepped aside to talk.
"Name, I'm her boyfriend, of course I'll take care of her," he reassured.
She wiped her eyes. "I know, I just...she's not the calmest person and I think you know that. Just be easy on her okay?"
"I will don't worry." Fletcher gave one last hug to Mrs. Doyle.
After Olive's parents said their final goodbyes and they headed home, Fletcher and Chyna began to help Olive into his car.
Olive had a look of terror and panic in her eyes as Fletcher tried to lift her out of the wheelchair. "Wait where are you taking me?" she freaked. "Let me go!"
Olive slapped Fletcher's hand away from her arm. She squirmed in the chair and attempted to get out herself. Chyna immediately jumped in and stopped her.
"No it's okay!" she said, carefully sitting her back down. Olive's face lit up and she opened her mouth wide.
"Hey I think know you," Olive gasped, pointing a finger at Chyna. Fletcher almost thought she recognized her.
"Your best friend?" Chyna asked with a hopeful smile.
"No you're Chyna Parks the singer. You were a prodigy," Olive said.
Fletcher leaned into Chyna and whispered, "How does she not know who I am, but kind of knows you?"
Chyna shrugged. "She may know of me, but she still doesn't know I'm her best friend."
"Wait, I know who you are," Olive said, referring to Chyna. "But I still don't know he is." She pointed to Fletcher.
"This is Fletcher Quimby," Chyna explained. She looked at him, searching for a way to describe him to Olive. "He's your...caretaker."
Fletcher nodded quickly, agreeing to the title Chyna gave him. It's was way better than anything he could come up with, which was nothing.
"My caretaker?" questioned Olive with a puzzled look. Fletcher and Chyna crossed their fingers that she would accept.
"Ohhh so that's why you kept coming into the room," Olive realized. "You know you should have just told me that in the first place. I though you were trying to kidnap me."
"Nope just doing my job," Fletcher said. "Can we help you into the car?"
"Sure, but one question. Who am I?" Olive asked. "I've been trying to figure that out."
"You're Olive. Olive Doyle," Fletcher answered as he helped her into the back seat next to Chyna. He pulled down the seat belt and stretched it over Olive's body, but she stopped him.
"I can buckle myself. Thanks," she said. Felling stupid, Fletcher let go. He closed the car door and went to the drivers seat.
"So is Chyna your girlfriend?" Olive asked while buckling herself. Fletcher eyed Chyna in the rear view mirror.
"No. She's just a friend. A very good friend," he corrected. "My best friend."
Olive smiled at Chyna, then leaned in with her hand up to her mouth like she was about to reveal a secret. "Don't worry, you'll get out of the friend-zone one day," she told her.
Chyna smiled nervously, while Fletcher knuckles turned white as he clutched the steering wheel. He wasn't really the type of person to have patience, especially when it came to Olive. When they were attending Webster High as A.N.T.S, Fletcher's patience was always tested from Olive's constant rambling of interesting factoids and her teasing. Now it was being tested because of her amnesia.
"Where are we going?" wondered Olive as she stared out the car window.
"You're apartment," Chyna answered. "I mean Fletcher's. That's where you'll be staying."
"Is he certified?"
"Who Fletcher?"
"Yeah. Is he certified to take care of me? Because I don't need any help."
Fletcher made eye contact with Chyna in the rear view mirror.
And so began the journey.