Lost Life {1}

He opened his eyes to a big wide room.1

A man stood over him-- old, overweight, but with keen and intelligent eyes. "Simon? Can you sit up?"2

After a moment, Simon recognized his own name. He pushed himself upright and only paused for a moment as a spike of pain shot from the base of his spine to his neck. He looked dully at the pastel picture on the other wall as his eyes focused, then turned back to the man who had woken him. "Morning." He muttered.3

A smile. "Hello, Simon. Do you know where you are?"4

Simon took a moment to look around. His bed was really more of a raised cot, with a low nightstand that he couldn't even reach. The rest of the room was empty except for a white table and a TV mounted on the wall. "No."5

"Can you take a guess about what type of place this is?" the man asked. He now had a clipboard that Simon couldn't remember seeing before.6

"Sure, we're in a--" Simon stopped. What was the word? Where they brought sick people? "A mortu--no, wait, sorry..." Why couldn't he think of that word? Where doctors worked. He gave the man a helpless grin, though his heart was racing. "I don't know why I can't remember..."7

"Hospital?"8

"Yes!"9

The man--a doctor, Simon guessed--smiled sympathetically. "Mister Easton, you had a pretty bad bump on the head in that car crash. From where you got hit, I'd guess that speaking and reading might be hard for a little while. Almost certainly temporary."10

Simon understood the words, but the effort made his head spin. He forgot the word to describe this sensation, so he didn't mention it. He said only, "Car crash?"11

"Yes." The doctor lowered his eyebrows. "The memories just before a physical trauma are often blurred. Can you remember the car crash?"12

Simon felt as if something very big and scary rested just outside his understanding. "N-no."13

"That's fine, don't worry. What's the last thing you do remember?"14

Simon sat bolt upright, ignoring the pain encircling his head and trying to focus. Trying to scan his mind. His breath quickened in panic. The tiny bit of him that wasn't trying to remember something--anything--noted that it was morning outside and the sounds of traffic were just beginning. "I--I--"15

"Do me a favor and just tell me basic things you know about yourself Simon. Just a little exercise."16

"I'm Simon Wayne Easton, I'm from Alberta, grew up in New York." In desperation, he added, "Black hair, green eyes, five foot ten, my friends call me Sy...um..."17

The doctor nodded. "How old are you?"18

A number popped into Simon's head, and a quick glance at his own body told him it was in the right ballpark. "Twenty-nine?"19

"Yes, good." The doctor relaxed an inch. "And what year is it?"20

"1991." He answered promptly.21

The tension returned. "Simon, now, how old were you in '91?"22

"Eleven. Or twelve."23

"And how old are you now?"24

"Twenty-nine."25

"So what year is it?"26

"1991." Simon knew the answer was ridiculous, but it had to be true. He couldn't think of anything that had happened between then and now, so it had to still be then. Had to.27

The doctor went on, standing. "Do you know what you do for a living? What car you drive? What your apartment number is?"28

"No, no, no." Simon felt like screaming in frustration. What the hell was happening? Did he even have an apartment?29

"Now, don't panic, everything will be fine. At the moment, you seem to be unable to access large parts of your long-term memory." Doc had continued crossing to the door, and now he opened it and spoke to someone outside. She stepped hesitantly in.30

The woman's beauty was all Simon could take in at first. She was tall, maybe a couple of years older than him, with cropped black hair and a tan face that looked only half white. er black marble eyes scanned him with a worried expression as her arms folded tightly. Her body was slim and muscular and basically perfect, dressed in casual jeans and a gray t-shirt. She said, "Hi" in a smooth but quiet voice.31

"Hi." Simon said.32

The doctor crossed back and put a hand on his shoulder. "Simon, who is this?"33

"A nurse?" He answered weakly.34

Her almond eyes widened, then narrowed as if looking into a bright light. "What?" 35

"Son," the Doctor sighed, "this is your wife."