Strangers

The morning sun strikes James directly in the eyes as it filters in through the slit between the bottom of his blind and the ledge of his hotel window.  He opens his eyes and looks around the room.1

The room is in a cheap hotel.  He senses at one time he might have refused to stay in such a place.  But since he can’t remember before yesterday, he has no way to prove it.  That is just another of those sensations he has had, which he can’t solidify as true since his memory is on vacation.2

In fact if it weren’t for the wallet lying next to his bed with his driver’s license in it he wouldn’t even know his name.  Or would he be able to know without an the id card there that he worked for some business in the downtown part of this city that he has no memories of either. 3

All he knows for sure is that he woke up yesterday, which he discovered was Saturday without a clue on how he got here or about his life prior to that moment.  James knows this isn’t natural, well he senses it isn’t, but he just can’t manage any thoughts before yesterday.4

Sunday in downtown is predictably dead.  The businesses are closed and the only thing open is the bars and liquor stores.  Of course there are also the alleys where the drug pushers and transients roam.  And the street corners where the pavement princesses are open for business.5

James knew them all, but as an observer and not participant.  That much he sensed.  Why he wasn’t sure.  Because in his mind he had no way of capturing a single episode of time to support his sensation.  Still he knew it was true.6

It was just part of the enigma of how his brain worked.  He knew things.  They were obvious stored in his memory, but he couldn’t grasp at them with images, just a knowing and that bothered him.7

Getting out of bed he walked over and turned the knob to power up the thirteen inch black and white television.  This was another expression and reminder of the “affordability” of this small dingy hotel room.8

He takes a moment to look in the cracked oval shaped mirror in a gold frame that hangs on the wall.  The face he sees isn’t familiar.  It might belong to a guy in his thirties who is lean and athletic, but it in now way is one James feels he has even seen before.9

His mind shifts gears back to the television.  At eight in the morning he knew what was on television like he had watched it for years.  His brain couldn’t remember a single previous program of that particular broadcast, but he still knew what was on.10

Walking over to the small refrigerator he opened it and grabbed for a small carton of orange juice.  How did he know it was in there?  Had he bought it?  If so where?11

That’s when the image of a liquor store flashed into his brain.  Ah that’s right he had bought it — god he had no idea when, just that he had bought it.  That was how his brain was rewarding him for his mental effort.  It was being stingy in filling in all the pieces of his recollection puzzle.  He was seeing enough to have a feel of having a life, but not enough to personalize it and call it living.12

The day went by like a blur.  He vaguely recalled most Sundays were like that for him.  There is nothing to attach to in terms of images from the past, but again like so many other things it is something he just knows.  Basically he spent the day doing things to past the time.  James watched television for while and then went out and had some lunch.13

Later he bought a cheap romance novel at this liquor store.  It was one in a series and he could remember reading the other ones, which is why he picked it.  However he couldn’t remember when or where he had read them.  Like too many other aspects of his vague and hopelessly unexplainable life James was forcing himself to accept that his existence was a jigsaw puzzle with several pieces missing.  By night time he went to bed, hoping in the morning he might wake up and reality would restore him from this emptiness and feeling something was definitely missing.14

The next morning arrived thanks to an alarm clock.  And he hadn’t even remembered setting.  But he knew he had somewhere to go.  Work!  That was it.  He had to go to work.  His mind immediately clicked on the reality of where that was located as images of the office building came into his mind.  He was an accountant.15

Funny, he couldn’t remember the first thing about ever learning how to be an accountant, yet without the slightest bit of nudge in terms of thought his mind immediately flashed on all kinds of details about his job and what he did there.  Again he was plagued by the awareness that in part he had no real recollections of having ever been to the place before, but still his mind had vivid images of every intimate detail of the business.16

Getting dressed and forcing down some breakfast of toast, coffee and juice, he left his room and walked down the hall.  Stepping onto the elevator, he pressed the lobby button.  As he walked by the Registration desk, the clerk smiled and nodded at him like he had done yesterday.17

“Pardon me,” James felt an urge to say as he stopped at the desk.18

“Yes Mr. Commons?” the clerk asked in a polite, matter of fact tone.19

James impression of the man was hardly one of admiration.  The man who appeared to be in his fifties was short and thin, but he had jet black hair that looked greasy and unwashed.  His face sported at least three days grow of gray stubble on his face and that white T shirt he wore obviously hadn’t been washed in several days.20

Of course given the fact that the lobby was anything, but seedy looking with tacky worn out furniture and cracks on the yellow walls that at one time might have been white, James wasn’t all that surprised by the man’s image.  At least the old guy sleeping in the one chair who was dressed in a thrift store issue hand-me-down white shirt and black trousers didn’t seem to object to the environment.21

“Um I know this may be a strange question, but could you tell me how long I’ve been staying at this hotel?”22

“Yes I agree that is certainly a strange question.  I hope you won’t mind me saying this, but um are you okay?”23

“I think I’m okay, I’m just feeling a little out of sorts.  So that’s why I was hoping you would cooperate and let me know how long you showed I’ve been staying here.  That way I could match it with my impression as a sort of double check.  You understand I hope.”24

“Of course,” the clerk says, his face hardly revealing the fact that he actually believed him, but the man decided to humor James anyway.  Picking up his ledger he flips back through the pages.  “To be honest Mr. Commons I’ve only worked here a couple of months.  And I know you’ve been a guest here since I started.  Hmmm, as best as I can tell the register suggests you’ve been here for about six months.”25

“Thank you,” James replies as he turns to head for the front door.26

The moment he is outside he turns left.  Why?  Because he knows the office where he works is located in that direction.  How he knows is another issue he has filed away as something else he has no way of explaining and at this point no longer feels a need to even try.27

James stops at the ten story tall building with a black granite appearance.  The third floor.  That is where he needs to go.  He works on the third floor for an accounting firm.  Deep down he could swear he had never been in the place before in his life, but still he can recall ever intimate detail of the building, including the names of the employees, his boss and their customer’s names.28

He takes the elevator to the third floor still haunted by the reality that he seems to constantly know facts and information as needed, but has no sense of any of it being the least bit familiar.  So he goes directly to the door of the office where he knows he works, goes inside, says hello to the woman sitting at the secretary’s desk and then heads for his cubicle. 29

Sitting down he stares at the computer.  It doesn’t look the least bit familiar and he can’t even summon a single thought of how to turn it on or use it. 30

Then like he was some kind of robot, his right hand reaches over and hits this button that immediately causing a humming sound.  Seconds later the monitor lights up.  Placing his hands on the keyboard, he blocks out any worries about not having a clue of what to do next and relaxes as he fingers start typing as if they have mind of there own.  Afterwards he is watching as the screen flashes several different programs and accounting facts about customers.  It might feel like an alien world, but his fingers seem quite at home pounding out the facts like he has done it for years.31

There are moments when his stomach grows tight from anxiety, but slowly he learns to accept that they are very comfortable using the keys and operating the programs.  He is working, well at least his body is working.  His mind is still stumped, unable to fix on anything that reminds him of the past or how he is able to work here or do anything without any memories that he can reach for in his brain.32

Five o’clock comes quick enough.  He shuts down the computer and gets up from the desk.  Walking towards the exit he nods to the secretary.  For a moment his mind toys with the idea of asking her about how long he has worked there, but he restrains himself from that temptation.33

Part of him feels like he’s a prisoner in this reality.  And part of him feels like he is home.  Hopefully eventually his mind will reconcile both.  If not, perhaps in time the questions will stop coming into his brain.  Then he can just pretend to feel like he truly belongs in this world where he has no sense of actually belonging.34

Walking down the street a black four-door sedan slows up and stops next to him.   He hears the hum from the electric window on the front passenger door as the glass slides downward.  A man with dark sunglasses and dressed in a black suit who appears to be in his forties asks, “Care for a ride Mr. Commons?”35

“Yes, thank you,” James replies without hesitation.  Why, he couldn’t say?  The man doesn’t look any more familiar than the rest of this world, but he still has this nagging sense he knows him for some reason.36

When the back door opens, James gets in.  The door shuts by itself.  And then the car slowly pulls away from the curb.37

“I trust you are enjoying your stay?” The man in the front seat asks.38

“Huh?  I mean, well to be honest I feel more confused than anything.”39

“Perfectly understandable.  Here drink this it will help,” the man replies handing James a small silver flask.40

Removing the cap, James drinks the contents.  It has a nutty, sweet taste.  Yet if makes his stomach feel upset for a second then it is fine again.41

A few seconds past and then all of sudden his brain comes alive with all kinds of details.  He can remember who he is and where he comes from.  And he knows he doesn’t come from here, along with the fact that his name isn’t in reality James Commons. 42

“What am I doing here?”43

“Amazing almost everyone asks that same question when they first get their memory back.” The man in the front seat says while continuing to look ahead.  Then he sighs and says, “No matter how many times I have this conversation I always am surprised how it works out.  But for the sake of clarity, you are here as part of our experimental witness relocation program.  We found it simply too much of a failure moving people from one city to another.  So the boys in the lab set up this new system where we change your identity and face as well as change your memory to be sure you are safe.  Naturally we do all of that after you testify.  Then at a later day we stop by to check on your as part of our procedures.”44

As the man speaks, James’ memory comes alive.  “Yes, now I remember.  But I had a wife and —”45

“I’m sorry, but there are some parts of our system that haven’t been refined yet.  We weren’t able to make this change and include your wife.  It was too risky in terms of you possibly remembering the past if she was there too.  All of this was explained naturally before you agreed.  I can show you the release if you need me to.”46

“No, no. that won’t be necessary.  So what am I suppose to do now?”47

The man turns and looks at James and replies, “Live, Mr. Commons.  Live.  Don’t worry, we find that in time people do become acclimated to their new lives.  Just give it enough time.  Now please take this pill.  It will return you to your new life.  And then we will stop and in a few seconds you won’t even remember our conversation.”48

James takes the pill and reluctantly swallows.  Seconds later he suddenly comes to consciousness and finds himself on the street, but not really sure how he got there.  Then his stomach tells him that he is hungry.  He spies a diner and goes in and sits down at the counter.49

“Hi,” the waitress says as she hands him a menu and puts a glass of water on the counter.  She looks to be about his age, wearing a blonde wig and a has a decent figure.  Her smile feels warm and sincere.50

“Thanks,” James replies as he opens it and looks through it and orders a burger and fries.51

The waitress takes his order and then brings it a few minutes later.  They begin carrying on a conversation filled with small talk.  It is as if they have a special chemistry.  It also helps that the place is deserted.52

“Um, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but do you think you would care to go out after you get off?” James surprises himself by asking.  Yet something deep inside stirs him.  It is as if he's known her forever.53

She smiles and replies, “You know, funny, but the answer is yes.  I’ve been asked out before, but for some reason I really would enjoy that idea.  I get off in an hour if you care to wait.”54

James smiles and nods.  He might not remember the past, but the present has at least taken a pleasant turn for the better.55

Around the corner the black sedan with the two men in black suits watch a small monitor in their dashboard where they observed the whole conversation.  Then the one in the passenger seat reaches over and turns the switch to shut off the monitor.56

“Looks like out job here is done.  We managed to reunite James with his wife.”57

“Yes, but as usual neither of them can remember.  They are both strangers.”58

“True, but it was the only way to let them be together without risk of any possible relapses in their memory.”59

“Still it does seem a shame that they will never be able to know that they were once married,” the man behind the wheel observes.60

“The price of justice sometimes can be high.  But then better to leave them as strangers to rediscover each other than risk a security breach.  Besides true love never forgets, does it? ”61

The man behind the wheel starts the engine without comment.  There is no time for debates on the ethics of this program.  They have far too many more former lovers and spouses to watch over and reunite as strangers.  Reigniting the flame of romance is the one aspect of his job that truly gives him reason to smile.62