Chapter 5

As promised, Dr. Payton was back to see me the next day, just in time to see Debbie taking away my lunch tray. I thought I saw a look of apprehension from Debbie, but it was fleeting ... I could have been mistaken.

"It's good to see your appetite is okay, Mark," the doctor said when she saw the empty plates.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a little better," I replied.

"They've cut back a little on his medication, too," Nurse Connor offered.

"I'm glad to hear that! So ... are you feeling well enough to talk to me about some things?"

"Uh, sure. What kind of things?"

"Well," she began, moving to the foot of my bed, "whenever someone has a head injury like you've had, we like to do some assessments. We just want to be sure there aren't any lingering effects before you leave the hospital. A lot of it'll just be conversation; I'll ask you about things in your past, how you came to be at the hospital, that kind of stuff. A lot of it will be just checking out your memory and clarity of thinking."

"Oh. Well, sure, I guess that's okay."

"Good. It shouldn't take too long. But Mark," she said cautiously, "we may talk about things that could be painful for you. Like ... when I was here yesterday."

Debbie looked sharply at her, unconsciously taking on a protective posture between the doctor and me. Her eyes darted to the heart monitor, but this time the beeping remained constant.

"It's all right," I said, trying to reassure Debbie more than respond to the doctor. "I know you didn't mean to, but you kind of snuck up on me yesterday." I paused and looked out the window.

"Some things you just try to put out of your mind, you know? It doesn't do any good to think about it. When you brought up my dad it was kind of a jolt. Anyway, I've never even met him, so there's no point trying to get him to come and see me."

"I'm very sorry, Mark." She went to the bedside opposite Debbie and pulled up a chair.

"Now, don't worry if you can't remember everything perfectly, okay?" she said earnestly. "Nobody can do that. So don't think there's something wrong if you have to say, 'I don't remember, ' or 'I'm not sure.' It's okay."

"Okay," I said cautiously. Not knowing what she was going to ask made me nervous. I did my best to push the irrational fear away.

"We'll start with something recent, and then we'll go back from there."

I nodded.

"Do you remember how you came to the hospital?" she began, pen poised over her notebook.

"No. The first thing I remember was waking up and seeing a dozen doctors staring at me."

Dr. Payton looked over my bed to Debbie with a raised eyebrow. The nurse smiled.

"He's talking about 'morning rounds.' I think they found him ... interesting."

"I see," Dr. Payton said with a small smile. "Alright," she continued, "then what's the last thing you remember before you woke up in the hospital?"

"Hey, that's supposed to be my line," protested Officer Kevin McConnell as he came in the door. He was wearing blue jeans and a University of South Carolina sweatshirt instead of his police uniform.

"Good morning," Dr. Payton said cordially as she rose to shake his hand.

"I'm the cop assigned to Mark's assault case," Kevin replied, gesturing apologetically to his casual clothing.

"I remember," Dr. Payton assured him.

"Debbie let me know you planned to be here now, so I thought it might be easiest on Mark to combine our interview time with him."

"That's fine."

"Is Sharon here?" I interrupted.

"Sorry, Mark," Kevin replied with a glance at Dr. Payton. "My wife was called into work this morning, so your sister's watching our kids for us. But I'll bring her over this afternoon."

"Alright then," Dr. Payton said briskly, "let's get to it."

The cop nodded and also became all business, pulling a small note-pad from a back pocket. "All right, Mark," he said soberly, "tell us what happened."

I took a deep breath.

"I was looking for my sister."

"It's been pretty tough for both of us, since our mom died. But Mom and Sharon were really close; like best friends. Sharon's acted ... frightened ... I guess would be the best word for it, ever since ... the accident."

"Is she afraid of anything in particular?" Dr. Payton asked gently. I shook my head, trying to come up with a good description.

"I think mainly she's afraid of being alone, with no place to go. So she's afraid when I leave the house that I won't come back. You know ... like Mom did. And she worries that without Mom we'll run out of money."

"That's ... understandable," Dr. Payton observed. "Some people deal with something as traumatic as losing a parent in ways that you can see. Some ... internalize their reactions."

When she stopped speaking I could feel three pairs of eyes examining me closely. Dr. Payton in particular was looking at me like a bug under a microscope.

"Hey, I'm alright," I protested.

Dr. Payton shrugged. "Sorry, Mark; you're the one in the hospital, after all. But let's get back to what happened the night you were injured. It's more your short term memory we want to take for a test drive."

"Okay. Well, a month ago we were a little low on money, and it was Mom's birthday. Sharon got pretty emotional about it. She left the house without telling me where she was going and that really freaked me out. She'd never done that before."

"This is still too far back, Mark," Dr. Payton interrupted. "I need you to talk about how you were hurt before you were brought to the hospital."

"It's kind of related."