I sat for a moment, my eyes like slits, fighting with me to stay shut because all of the light that was flooding into them added a slight stinging sensation to the ache my body felt. When I finally decided to take in my surroundings in their entirety, I placed my hands gently at my sides, allowing them to sink into the foamy, thin mattress upon which I lay, and pushed with all my might to sit up in my bed.
A clear wire that seemed to be flooding liquid into my body, got in my way as I straightened out my spine, but that wasn't on my mind for long. Suddenly, one of the women who had been standing at the foot of my bed- the one with the cropped blonde hair- raced to my sides, and leaned over, connecting her dark blue eyes with mine. I noticed that she had a sprinkling of cinnamon freckles across her cheeks. Then it hit me. Why was this woman standing over me, so closely, so excitedly? In my shock, I allowed a shriek to escape my lips. The woman was then clearly taken aback, just as I had hoped. She did not run though, no, she backed off, and then stood, continuing to stare at me, but this time the corners of her mouth dropped down, and her mouth gaped open. She looked upset, for whatever reason.
Still having no idea where I was, I peered past her to observe the room. It was rather empty, save for a bed and nightstand that was covered in meaningless little gifts like flowers and cards. There was a large window taking up the entire wall to my right, and in front of it sat a white window seat. There sat the rest of the rooms occupants.
Two young looking girls, both with varying shades of red hair. The first had a blonder red that was cut off at her shoulders. Her cheeks were also smathered with freckles, like the staring woman. The girl next to her had brownish red hair that was pulled into loopy little pigtails. She had bangs cut down above her eyes and her face seemed to have lit up when I looked to her. Her eyes were a rather bright blue, a colour I could distinguish from across the room. They both wore jean shorts and yellow shirts, the older looking girl opting for a floral tank top while the younger wore a tee shirt that depicted an owl. I could tell by the looks of them that is must be summer. Both of them had entirely opposite looks spread across their faces. The first looking like she was keeping whatever emotions she was feeling held behind a dam, and the second, wide eyed with excitement.
Nothing had added up yet. Finally the other adult in the room approached me. She had platinum curly locks and wore a white lab coat. Wait a second... empty room with only a bed, wires attached to me, a lab coat. I'm obviously quite slow today, as I'm even more obviously in a hospital room. That explains the thin blankets and itchy gown covering my body. Something must have really messed me up. She spoked, and I waited on her every breath, hoping that her words would straighten me out.
"Caroline," She began, "Nice to see that you're joining us." She cracked a smile. Wait, who's Caroline? Am I Caroline? This was the first time it had ever occurred to me that I had no idea who I was. Is my name Caroline? Where do I live? How old am I? Are these people my family? I looked at my hands in an attempt to determine my age, and that doctor caught onto my confusion.
"Caroline, how are you feeling? Do you feel any pain?"
I just pointed to myself and stared at her. I'd speak but I was too nervous to find out what my voiced sounded like.
"Can you speak?" She asked again. The woman next to her, who had yet to speak, seemed to be incredibly on edge.
"I'm Caroline?" I wanted to reassure myself.
Now the other woman stepped up beside the doctor.
"Cara, Cara, are you alright?" Her eyes got misty and she shrunk down, wrapping her arms around me. I just sat there, staring to the doctor, pleading for an explanation.
"Caroline, you've been in a coma for the past two weeks after surviving a severe car accident. You're quite a lucky girl, being alive."
Well that answered why I was here. But why can't I remember anything.
"You're my doctor?" It was all I could make out.
"Yes, Dr. Cynthia Hartt. I'll be caring for you for the next few weeks. We are assuming you may need rehabilitation, however you came out of the accident with minor injuries, aside from the fact that you wouldn't come out of your coma. We believe you have a brain injury." She was answering things for me. I continued on with my questions.
"And you're my mother?" The fist question seemed predictable. This one came with shock value. Everyone in the room looked somewhat taken aback, to various degrees.
"Caroline? Do you know who the rest of the people in this room are?" It was as though Dr. Hartt was running a test on me.
"I think this woman in my mother," I nudged in the direction of the blonde woman, "And are they my sisters? They seem to young to be friends... Unless... How old am I?"
"H-how old?" My 'mother' gulped.
"Yes. How old"
She burst into an inconsolable state of tears at my bedside and the older girl came up from the bench an wrapped her arms around her mother, while looking wide eyed at myself.
"You're 17 Caroline. I'm afraid we're going to need to run some brain scans." She then rushed out the doors to my left. With the focus turned to my mother, I looked to the table beside me. Upon it sat those meaningless gifts that I studied more throughly. They were the kind of present you delivered to someone who was in grave danger but you did not know how to show your support and compassion. They were something necessary, but cliché that people didn't put much thought into. All I got from these gifts were that I knew other people, that other people cared for me.
Now that I had time to think, I deducted that the pain that had slowly become less prominent, was due to the fact that I had been thrown around in a car two weeks ago, likely operated upon, and then left to lie in the same position for a fortnight, all added together. I listened to the woman weep for a moment, and then broke the tension.
"Uhm, mother, can you, or-or somebody, fill me in on what happened?"
The older girl stepped in, staying behind her mother, distant from me.
"You and dad were driving on the highway two weeks ago. They police believe dad swerved to miss a dear that darted across the road, and ended up swerving and slamming into a light post. It hit on the drivers side. You were unconscious when they arrived on scene and dad was... gone..." She stopped for a moment as if for me to soak it all in. I did. Someone died in this. Presumably my father. I am lucky. She sucked in the emotions that had been leaking out, and continued, stone faced.
"They performed an emergency brain surgery on you to stop the hemorrhaging in your hippocampus. It's a lobe in your brain that controls your... long term memory..." It's like she's already figured out what was wrong with me. This sister was a genius. She should be a doctor.
"The underside of your hair is shaved off. They needed to, to perform to surgery." She added this little side note as her eyes wondered away. Her face was puzzled as she considered this new revelation. I slipped my hand up the back of my neck, only to find a long, hidden streak of hair, shortened with a razor. It'll be alright, nobody would notice. This would however, serve a short term reminder that should probably be dead.
"Can you tell me who you are now?" Her eyes focused back on me and I could practically feel the words 'Where do I begin?' radiating from her mind. I helped her a little.
"I get that you're my sister, but I need a name and age... To match to your face. Also, where do we live?" She had an idea where to go from now.
"I'm Lindsey Anne-Marie Jones, I'm 14 years old. You're Caroline Amelia Jones, 17. This is our sister, Jolie Eva Jones and she's 7. We live in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. That's our mother, Dana Jones, and our father is Allen Jones."
Our mother perked up at the sound of her name, only to fall back into her messy state at the reminder of her husband's fate.
"Thank you." There wasn't much more to say to her. This was all very basic so the reaction I could give was rather limited.
"We-we've been h-here every single day, waiting for you to wake up Cara." Our mother managed to blubber out.
"Thank you mom." This time, I'm sure I could've showed more emotion, but I wasn't quite sure what else to add on. Instead, I made an action. I looked over to her, and clutched her arm, smiling to her. This caused her to toss herself into my arms and hug me tightly.
"I thought I'd lost you both Cara. I really did! Thank you for surviving."
I patted her arm and giggled to her.
"It was the least I can do mom? Momma? Mother? What do I usually call you?"
She chuckled a bit before answering. "You usually call me Dana, but mom was what you used to call me."
The way she said Dana, with some snotty tone, made me dislike myself. Did I really sound like that? That's definitely does not feel right...
"Mom it is then." Mom sounded much better. She proceeded to stand over me, guarding me, awaiting Dr. Hartt's return with some medical attention. Nobody spoke as we waited.
We had little to say to each other. Or perhaps too much and nobody knew where to start. I'd yet to grasp the brutal reality that I knew nothing about my life. I understood that my memories were gone, but I didn't quite realize how scary that was yet. That, and I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, the doctor would return with some sort of magical device that would kick my hippocampus into full gear, flooding the memories back into my mind, knocking down the dam the had been built up around them in the accident. It's funny how when we think of accidents, we think of things shattering, the glass, the lives, and yet my accident has managed to create. Create a Great Wall, holding my memories back like Mongols. That analogy worried me. I don't think anybody has ever broken down the great wall.
