Chapter 2

Early dawn woke Addison. For a brief moment fear returned. But then, as if her brain had been working all night, a plan of action formed. And the prospect of action, of doing something, anything, calmed her.

She jumped out of bed and dressed, choosing simple blue shorts and a Tee. In the living room, next to the couch, she found Dad’s Smartphone and scrolled through his contacts until she found Richard Deer’s number, then dialed.

A groggy, “Hello?” answered.

“Mr. Deer? It’s Addison Roth calling. I’m sorry it’s so early but I need to talk to you. Something’s happened.”

For the next ten minutes she told him what had happened to Dad. She knew Richard. He was Dad’s right-hand man at the company, short and portly, always quick with a smile, with a wife and four kids and, according to Dad, indispensable to the business. She hoped he’d be able to run things until Dad was able to. He assured her he would, much to her relief.

Next, she hunted through storage boxes kept in a spare room, pulling out shoe boxes of photos, rifling through others to find old videos. Satisfied, she carried them to the kitchen and turned her attention to breakfast.

Dad might not remember, but she was going to arm him with knowledge. Maybe it would spark a memory. Maybe it would displace the confusion and fear in his eyes.

Dad’s favorite breakfast was scrambled eggs with bacon - lots of bacon - and toasted English muffins. She prepared.

Sun intensified. Glancing out into the back garden, she looked at it through new eyes. What would Dad think about it? Would he like gardening as much as he used to? Could he remember how to swim? Or how cook on the barbecue?

Before she could get frustrated at the thoughts, with breakfast almost ready, she headed to his bedroom.

He was sprawled across the bed sideways, uncovered, one arm hanging over the edge, and wearing pajamas; he never wore pajamas, always complaining they were too restrictive. His sandy hair was a mess.

She approached and shook his shoulder, secretly hoping he’d wake up and be his old self. He didn’t respond. She shook him harder and he stirred, opening his eyes, looking at her without moving.

“Addison, right?”

Relief flooded through her. “You remember?”

His light grey eyes clouded. “Just your name.”

Her brief moment of happiness evaporated. “I’ve made breakfast. It’s time to get up.”

He rolled off the bed and stretched. “That’s an uncomfortable bed.”

When he followed her into the hall, she asked, “Aren’t you going to shower?” He always started his day with a shower.

“Maybe later.”

As he walked, he studied everything; the framed paintings of spring flowers in the hall, the furniture in the living room, and in the kitchen, while Addison made scrambled eggs, he inspected all the appliances, cupboards, and drawers before sitting at the eat-on island counter.

“I made coffee,” she said, pointing to the machine.

He hunted back through the cupboards, found a mug and poured. Back sitting at the counter, he sipped. “Coffee. This is good.”

“Don’t you want milk and sugar?”

He contemplated it for a moment. “I don’t know.” Rising, he went to the fridge, poured milk into the mug, and sipped, his face wrinkling with distaste. “Yuck!”

“Try adding sugar,” Addison suggested.

“Is that how I drink it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How many sugars?”

“Two.” Noticing him glance around, she added, “Up in that cupboard,” nodding towards it. “No. The other one.”

He added two sugars, sipped and frowned. “Double yuck!”

“Then pour another.” Addison was amused with his reaction. And “Yuck?” He’d never used that word before.

With a fresh cup of black coffee, he sat, looking around. “Did your mom design the kitchen?”

“She decorated every room except for the study and kitchen. Those were your two rooms.”

“So, I can cook?”

“You love cooking,” she told him while spooning scrambled eggs onto the plates, adding bacon and English muffins. She passed a plate across to him, wondering if he still liked eggs.

He did.

“The doctor told me I should help you remember, but he said take it slow. After we eat, I’ve got some stuff to show you, if you want.”

Dad studied her, then nodded. “Okay.”

Addison briefly thought about calling her school to tell them she wouldn’t be coming, then decided not to. Dad didn’t even know she was supposed to be in school anyway.

After breakfast, they sat on the couch and Addison started showing him photos, explaining each. At first, he just listened and looked. Eventually, he started asking questions, starting with one of a younger him standing next to a race car.