Chapter 4

I lay in my bed and watched a gecko make slow progress across the cracked white-washed ceiling. A decrepit ceiling fan tried unsuccessfully to move the warm air around.

My head hurt like the devil and I was very thirsty. There was someone else in the room. I knew it was a "she" since she smelled so good.

I turned my head to see her and ask for some water. She was a pretty young woman who looked to be part Spanish and part South American Indian dressed in a set of faded green scrubs. I moaned from the pain as I turned my head and the sound startled her. She came over to the bed with a wide-eyed look. Was I that ugly looking?

Then she smiled and I felt her cool fingers on my arm.

"Good morning. I am glad you are awake. I'll let the doctor know."

She said it in Spanish.

I croaked, "Agua ... Por favor"

She patted my arm.

"After I get the doctor." She had a sweet smile

I listened to her footsteps retreat down the hall.

Wonder what this place is. A small hospital or clinic maybe. But where? South America? Mexico? I gingerly looked around the small room, trying not to move my head. There was a crucifix on the wall opposite the bed, and nothing more on the walls.

To my left was a large open window, which looked out over an expanse of azure sea. I guessed I was on the second floor. There were a number of boats, large and small anchored about a hundred yards out. The most spectacular was a two-masted schooner. It was painted white and looked beautifully maintained. It had the classic look of schooners built a hundred years ago.

I'm sick. At least there's something wrong with my head. I reached up and touched bandages. What happened? Guess the doctor can tell me.

So how'd I get here? Maybe I live here. I know Spanish, but I'm thinking in English ... so I guess I'm not originally from around here.

At that point a dramatically beautiful woman came in with the woman in the scrubs. She was maybe mid-thirties, tall; slim with shoulder length dark hair. She was wearing a faded yellow polo shirt, and khaki pants. She had a dancer's lithe look, and very nice breasts.

She said in Spanish,

"I'm Dr. Vasquez and I'm very glad you're back with us." Her smile was genuine and warm, but it was her eyes that hypnotized me. They were green with flecks of gold.

I replied in Spanish, "I'm happy to meet you doctor. I'm ... I'm..."

I looked at her. She could read the consternation as I tried to remember my name.

"I don't know my name."

I looked at her trying desperately to remember anything about who I was or where I was from ... Anything about my life.

"You've sustained a head injury ... don't worry it will come back." This she said in English.

"But ... I ... I..."

"Please don't worry ... head trauma induced amnesia is not uncommon, but it does happen. In time your memory will come back."

"Thank you ... It's frustrating not to remember anything including who I am."

"Yes ... but some people might welcome a clean slate." She smiled.

"Hummmm ... I hope I'm not one of them."

She laughed. It was a nice laugh.

So, where am I ... and how did I get here?"

"You're in a small town in Belize called Punta Gorda, and a local fisherman found you lying on the pier in the early morning two days ago."

"Two days ago." I said it half to myself. I would have shaken my head had it not hurt so much to move it.

"Yes."

"You said I had some kind of "head trauma"?"

"Yes, you suffered a blow to the back of the head with some kind of blunt object. You also have an injury to the front of your head, apparently where you fell after being struck."

"And I'm not from here?"

"No, nor is there any record that you ever entered Belize legally." She let that comment hang.

Was I some kind of criminal? Did she think I was? I hoped not. For some reason I didn't want to be a bad guy. I didn't want Dr. Vasquez to think poorly of me.

"My head is bandaged."

"Yes, you required surgery."

"Here?"

Her green eyes flared just a bit.

"Yes, downstairs we have a small operating theater ... first time I ever did skull surgery there though." I could tell from her look of concentration that she was thinking about my surgery and it had been a difficult thing.

"So how am I doing?"

"Do you feel up to some tests?"

"Could I have some water first please?"

She turned to her assistant and nodded.

Her fingers were so cool and wonderful on my wrist as she took my pulse. I was disappointed when she let go. The blood pressure cuff came next. She scribbled in the chart.

My water arrived and I sipped it greedily through the straw.

"That's better. Thank you." I smiled at her.

The nurse used the crank at the foot of the bed to move the head of the bed up a bit and then pulled the sheet from my torso. She also pulled it up off my legs. In the end it was pretty much bunched across my mid section. So for the next few minutes Doctor Vasquez tested reflexes and poked and prodded me. Her smell was intoxicating. Maybe Jasmine? I loved smelling her as she moved me around and leaned very close. I started to get hard and I was glad I had a sheet over my nakedness.

Well at least that still works! I thought with some amusement.

Finally she sat back on the metal stool near the bed.

She quickly glanced away from the tent in the bunched up sheet as I was trying to adjust myself so I was not so obvious.

I caught a twinkle of amusement in her eyes as she said,

"Well your physical state seems to be unimpaired. You seem to be in excellent physical shape. There are a number of bruises on your body that may or may not have anything to do with whatever happened to you."

She indicated some pretty nasty bruises on my legs and forearms and shoulders.

"So I pretty much look like I've been rode hard and put up wet?" I laughed. It hurt to laugh but it felt good to be alive.

She looked puzzled for a second before understanding the colloquialism.

She smiled.

"Indeed!"

"Now I'm going to take off the bandages."

I watched her very nice breasts as she stood over me unwinding the dressing on my head.

She then moved to each side.

"Very good."

I felt the breeze on my now bald head

"I like the sound of that."

"You're a very lucky man."

"Oh?"

Your injuries caused your brain to swell and there was blood seeping into the cranial cavity which put more pressure on your brain. My guess is that another day and you would have been dead."

"Oh."

"Head trauma can cause a host of other problems, but the severity of your ... well from the look of you when brought in I'd say it was at least two days, maybe more since you were struck."

"And the surgery?"

I grimaced as she described drilling holes in my head, plus giving me large doses of progesterone which showed promise in clinical trials in limiting damage from head trauma.

"Thank you doctor ... for saving my life."

"You're welcome ... just wait until you get my bill!" She laughed.

"I'm sure it will be my pleasure to pay it ... as soon as I figure out who I am and if I have any money. If not, then I'll have to be your indentured servant..."

"I kind of like that idea ... although I wonder how I'd explain that to the IRS!"

"It would be our secret."

"Right! A tall handsome man who was my constant companion, catering to my every whim ... Now how would that look?"

"Well to me ... Like the man was very lucky."

She gave me one of those women's inscrutable looks so I changed the subject.

"Is this your clinic?"

"Yes, but you're lucky there too. I'm not here all the time. I just arrived the night before you were brought in."

"Oh." I seemed to be saying that a lot.

"I travel from Belize City by boat and we stop at clinics like this along the coast, usually for about two weeks at a time. I then use it as a base to treat patients in the towns and villages in the surrounding areas. Normally this clinic is only staffed by Nurse Alvarez and a helper."

"Can I buy a lottery ticket somewhere close by?"

I liked hearing her laugh.

I yawned.

"Sorry."

"So when do you think my memory will come back?"

She frowned. On her, even a frown was beautiful.

"I don't know ... I have some experience in this area, but with each patient it's different. With some it all comes back at once. With others it comes back in pieces. It's like a mosaic and the pieces start falling into place as the brain repairs itself. Some people never regain all their memories, for example you might not remember how you were injured or by whom. Although I have to say, from the trauma, whoever did it wanted you dead. And maybe when they dumped you on our dock they thought you were pretty much gone. I don't understand why you were left there. There's a lot of water around where you could have been dumped. Plus this is one of the few towns with a permanent clinic. Puzzling."

"A falling out among thieves, and then a change of heart?"

She gave me a long look.

"Perhaps."

I yawned again.

"I'm going to let you sleep for awhile."

"Can you give me something for this headache?"

"Sorry ... I wish I could, but you've been in a coma and with the internal bleeding even aspirin is too dangerous right now."

"Okay, but I'm blaming you for the pain because you drilled holes in my head. You know that might have to count against my time of servitude!"

She smiled.

"Please try to sleep. The headaches will go away soon. I'm going to leave the dressings off and just have you wear a gauze cap for now."

"Okay ... you're the doctor." I closed my eyes and slept.

My dreams were filled with jumbled images. I was on a boat fighting heavy seas, and then a beautiful auburn-haired woman joined me in the cockpit. We were in a storm. She looked very sad. Her hair was blowing across her face. I was angry with her. She kept trying to say something but I couldn't hear her because of the sounds of the storm.

I awoke. It was dark and Dr. Vasquez was slumped in a rattan chair near my bed, head back against a white pillow. The only light came from the hallway. She was beautiful but she looked exhausted. I wondered why she was in my room. I figured I was sicker than she let on. Did she think I was here doing something illegal? Of course I was in Belize illegally. There was no record I had entered the country. That meant I probably came by boat. But what boat? From where? I knew somehow that Belize was a small country, sparsely populated with very little crime. But of course being bordered by Guatemala and Honduras there was lots of opportunities for mischief nearby. Had there been a falling out among thieves? Was I a drug smuggler or gun runner? I searched my memory. Nothing. But I didn't feel like I was. But how to explain my turning up here with an injury that certainly was intended to kill me?

I decided I must have been the victim of a crime, and not some criminal having a falling out with his compatriots. Robbery? Was the woman from my dream looking for me? I would need to get in touch with the American Embassy to see if I could have them help me. Of course, what if I was Canadian? I didn't sound like a Brit. I figured I was American, especially after the "rode hard and put up wet" comment.

The pain in my head had subsided a bit. It seemed to be more localized on the outside. My guess, the pain was around where the drilling was done. The thought of anyone drilling into my head was unsettling. Sure glad I'm not a doctor. Well I guess I just figured out I wasn't a doctor!

I watched the lights of the boats in the bay, trying to identify the type by the outlines in the lights. I was so automatic that I didn't think about it until I was estimating the tonnage on the sloop.

One thing I do know about is boats. So where's my boat?

I looked at Dr. Vasquez. She was watching me.

"I'm worse than you let on?"

"Yes. Head trauma is tough. I would still describe your condition as critical."

"I am feeling better though. The inside headache seems to have lessened and it's these dang holes that are causing me trouble."

"That's progress. Now go back to sleep."

She got up from the chair and stretched, her arms over her head as she yawned, giving me the wonderful sight of her breasts pushed hard against the front of her thin Polo shirt as she was silhouetted against the light from the hall. She caught me staring and seemed to flush.

She came over and took my pulse with those same cool fingers, touched my forehead, then said.

"Well Mr. Nemo, you seem pretty tough. Everything seems to be getting back to normal." I was glad she couldn't see, or ignored my hard on. When was the last time I got laid anyway?

"Nemo? As in the Jules Vern character in Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea?"

"No ... more like the classic Latin use ... It literally means "no one" but I believe was also used to designate an unknown person or unidentified person. Jules Vern's Captain Nemo took that name to hide his identity. He was "no one"."

"I like "Captain" Nemo better than just "no one". And from my observations of the harbor, I think I'm a sailor."

"Oh?"

"I'll bet in the daylight I can identify every kind of craft in the bay."

"We'll try that. A sailor would explain a lot. Although you don't fit the image. Plus where are your tattoos?"

We laughed. This time I had less pain.

"Now go to sleep."

I closed my eyes and smelled the smell of her. When I woke in the morning only nurse Alvarez was there. She said the doctor was delivering a baby in the next town.

That afternoon I was feeling much better. I was embarrassed when Nurse Alvarez had to help me to the bathroom and stand by while I pissed. But it was progress. A lunch meal of wonderful fresh fish and rice was delivered from a local restaurant. I ate it all. My stomach grumbled a little, but otherwise no problems.

Theresa, I found out that was Dr. Vasquez's first name, started me on aspirin for the soreness of the wounds but refrained from anything stronger. Over the next couple of days she got me out of bed more and more. She insisted I hold on to her or Nurse Alvarez as we paced the small room, making sure of my equilibrium. I was happy to do it. I even got to shave and shower, but under the eyes of Alvarez. I found out her name was Maria and she was originally from Guatemala. She had a husband who helped out around the clinic and did other jobs in town, but she sure didn't keep her eyes to herself as she assisted me in and out of the shower.