Chapter 7: Let’s Pretend

“Neil’s body shows signs of recent extreme trauma. The bruises are already in the later stages—which is when they look the worst with both purple and yellow showing. They indicate deep internal injuries like broken bones and internal organ ruptures. But other than the bruises, there’s no sign of that. We should get him into the office tomorrow and run x-rays, but frankly, I don’t think they’ll show anything,” Doctor Jamison said to Anya.

“Why do you call him Neil?” she asked, seeming to skip over all the interesting stuff.

“That’s the name he gave me. He read it off his driver’s license.”

“He doesn’t remember being Cal?”

“My guess is there is some short-term traumatic amnesia involved. He doesn’t seem to remember anything prior to being beaten and—as he said—dying,” Doc said.

“Should we tell him everything?” Anya asked.

“That’s always hard to judge. Tell him things that will actually help him. But don’t expect him to remember everything at once. And we need to get him some glasses. He can’t see well right now. He also needs a test kit for his diabetes. I’ll provide an insulin prescription. He seemed to have some recognition of the testing process. That tends to become ingrained behavior. It’s likely that if he gets involved in his work, it will come naturally to him as well.”

“Work. If he was attacked, work could be the reason. He has critical company information in his home,” Anya said.

“I’d suggest you retrieve that as quickly as possible, then.”

I walked into the room, a little self-conscious because of my attire. The pajamas were rather thin, and I kept the robe closed with one hand, thinking of how Romy must have felt when she saw me staring at her. I’d have to mind my manners. There was no sense being a letch.

“Cal ... I mean, Neil,” Anya said, jumping up from the bed.

Shit! Her pajamas were as thin as mine and her robe was extremely less substantial. Eyes up!

“Hi. Uh ... Savior angel. Thank you for rescuing me,” I said.

“Even if I didn’t know you, I’d have done my best to help,” she said.

“You already know me?”

She glanced at Doc Jamison before she answered.

“We’ve worked together and became friends,” she said. “How are you feeling? Better now that you’ve had a shower?”

We became friends? How close of friends? Was this ... What was her name? Was she my girlfriend?

“Um ... I seem to have forgotten some things. Can you tell me your name?”

“Oh, dear! Of course.”

“Let’s test your blood sugar again and make sure you’re stable first,” Doc said. That procedure took all of thirty seconds. “Okay. You’re good for now. I’ve written a prescription for a test kit and insulin. I’ll let you two get reacquainted.” He grabbed his kit and left the room.

“I’m Anya,” she said. “I don’t expect you to remember everything at the moment. Doc says you’ve got some short-term memory loss. But the outlook is positive for a complete recovery, so I’ll just be here and help as much as I can.”

“Anya,” I said, savoring the name. “It feels familiar. Who is the other angel who saved me?”

“That’s my assistant, Romy. She’s always kind of liked you.”

“But ... aren’t we...?”

“Oh, none of us are that close of friends,” Anya blushed. “Not yet at least. We’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks.”

“We’ve been working together?”

“Yes. I don’t know how much of this to burden you with all at once,” she said.