Regression (3 page)

“ –
aggression and
paranoia at the high end, depression and apathy at the low
end.”

“
Will it improve?” A
familiar female voice, soft with worry.

“
Hard to say. She’ll
be under observation here for at least a week.”

“
What does it mean? Is
she going to be normal?”

“
She might exhibit
paranoia and delusions. Serotonin is involved in the control of
emotions, but I expect levels will return to normal after she
recovers from the shock of awakening.” The sound of quiet weeping
echoed in her ears before she succumbed to shadows
again.

Adya could barely take her eyes
from her mother’s more youthful visage as she woke.

“
Hi.” Samantha’s voice
quavered.

“
Hi.”

“
How do you
feel?”

“
Okay. I…”

Samantha approached the bed and
gathered the young girl in her arms. Softly caressing her
daughter’s back, her voice was thick. “I love you so much. I’ve
been worried about you.”

A tide of tears welled from deep
within Adya, great wracking sobs rocking her shoulders within the
confines of her mother’s embrace. The flow slowed and finally
stopped.

“
I heard from the
nurse you lived a whole lifetime in the past week…” Uncertainty
dulled Samantha’s eyes. “I’m supposed to ask…”

“
I guess I was really
out to lunch when I woke up.” A tremulous smile crossed her lips.
“Have we ever been to Brighton?”

“
We’ve driven through
on the way to grandpa’s house but we’ve never stopped there. Did
you dream about Brighton?”

“
Yes, that’s where I
lived.” She shook her head, pushing out the memories. The lancing
pain rising from the sharp movement twisted her lips.

“
Are you
alright?”

“
Yeah, shouldn’t have
moved my head so fast. Is Dad coming to visit?”

“
Your father will come
in tomorrow. He’s working out of town tonight, dear. He really
misses you.”

“
How’s everybody? Evan
and Annie are okay?” She shrugged her shoulders with a wry smile.
“It really feels like years.”

“
Evan got the job at
Colbert’s he was shooting for. He’s been working lots of hours.
They’re really pleased with him.”

“
Colbert’s?”

“
The grocery store
downtown…you don’t remember it? It’s been there for years, hon.”
Samantha gently patted her child’s head. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. We
don’t know what effects the coma will have. Do you remember the
accident at all?”

“
No, not
really…everyone else okay?”

“
Yes, but the deer
didn’t make it. Aunt Sarah felt terrible about that but she felt
even worse about you. She asks every day if you’re gonna to be
alright; you really should write her a letter to reassure her
you’re fine. She won’t take my word for it.” At Adya’s continuing
puzzled expression she added, “You were on the way to grandpa’s
cottage with Aunt Sarah, Uncle Jack, Penny and Cyndi when the deer
ran out.”

“
Oh, no, I ruined
everyone’s holiday.” The cottage, located on the shore of Lake
Huron, was a favourite family activity each summer.

“
Don’t think of that,
honey, just get well, okay?”

A nurse entered the room. With
businesslike brusqueness she turned down the lights and ushered
Samantha out. Adya sat quietly in the darkness, barely moving. A
chill shook her body, then another. One small, muffled sob escaped
before she regained control. Inhaling deeply, she collected
herself. Resolve straightened her spine. She would make the best of
this, and figure out if she was crazy, hormonal, or just recovering
from a head injury. Turning on her side, she fell into a restless
sleep.

A technician collected her after
breakfast the next morning to wheel her down to the diagnostics
laboratory for an electroencephalogram.

“
Have you had an EEG
before?”

“
I…uh…no, but I’ve
seen it done.” She eyed the transfer gurney he positioned beside
her bed. “I can walk, you know.”

“
Sorry, procedure. I
hafta wheel you down; we don’t want to risk any injury. You did
only wake up yesterday from a serious head trauma.” He lowered the
sides of her bed, pushed the lighter transfer bed up close, and
assisted her in moving from one bed to the other while keeping her
discreetly covered with the blankets. She blushed as the handsome
young man helped her reposition.

“
Thanks.”

“
No worries; I’ve had
lots of practice. Now, the nurse told you yesterday not to use any
conditioner in your hair, right?”

“
Yes, she was quite
clear.”

“
And you ate your
breakfast?”

“
I love
oatmeal.”

“
No
coffee?”

“
No, can’t stand it
anyway.”

“
Great.” He wheeled
her into the hallway to the patient elevators, pressed the down
button, and waited for the doors to open. “Nervous?”

She shook her head.

“
Good, there’s no need
to be anyway. We always run EEGs on patients with a head injury to
make sure everything is firing normally in the brain. ”

“
Hopefully you’ll find
something working in there.”

The corners of his mouth crinkled
as the technician grinned, the smile reaching his eyes. He deftly
manoeuvred the bed out the doors into the Diagnostic Imaging
Laboratory while continuing the small talk.

“
You can just stay in
this bed; the less movement the better it is for recovery. I’ll
elevate the head, though.” He used the foot pedal to raise the bed
slightly. Adya rearranged her weight on the bed more comfortably. A
second technician joined them, placing electrodes carefully on her
scalp.

“
It’s very important
you remain still during the entire procedure, even your eyes. Eye
movements can interfere with the readings.”

“
Okay.” She kept a
straight face in spite of the patronizing tones of the middle-aged
man.

“
Please keep your eyes
closed as best you can for the entire two hours. We’re ready to
begin.”

She dropped her lids, her
situation sinking in as she listened to the hum of the machine. The
year was 1985, she was fourteen. Memories of a former life were
undeniably strong in her mind. Was it all a dream? Not only could
she recall faces, names, and numbers, she could remember specific
concepts from her university degrees. The sort of details she
really would not understand as a fourteen year old. Meeting her
husband at Lakeport University in Brighton came to mind…

“
Wow, that one came up
quickly.” The slim young man with wildly curling brown hair joined
her under a campus bridge during a sudden and violent
downpour.

“
Not much warning,
no.”

“
I’m Daniel.” His
aquamarine eyes glittered with humour and interest as he proffered
his hand. She did not hesitate to shake it while thinking he was
not quite her type.

“
Adya.”

“
Adya. Nice to meet
you. You go here?”

“
Yeah; second year.
You?”

“
Yup. One more year
left. If I can stand it. Seems like everyone thinks they know
everything but really knows nothing. Guess you might not know what
I mean.”

“
Actually, I think I
know exactly what you mean. I wonder how they ever got admitted.”
She looked out from under the bridge to see the storm had
passed.

“
Perhaps we can figure
that out over a cup of coffee?”

She glanced again into
the green eyes, full of entreaty, and a thrill of interest burned
through her stomach. “We can try.”

The coffee led to
drinks and then dancing until the early hours.

“
Thank you for being
such a cooperative patient, time’s up.”

The baritone voice of the
technician startled her out of her reverie, her heart dropping as
she returned to the present. The image of her husband lingered just
a bit longer as the men removed the electrodes. The acrid smell of
the acetone had her crinkling her nose.

“
My nose seems to work
fine.” The older man levelled a glare at her before returning to
his work. The younger caught her eyes and rolled his. She smirked.
He wheeled her bed toward the elevator. Adya smiled up at him.
“Could we stop at the gift shop? I’d like to purchase a
journal.”

Gesturing at the bed, he
explained, “I can’t really wheel you in there.” Her face dropped,
but he continued. “One of the candy stripers can come up with some
for you to choose from. Will that work?”

The smile returned on her face.
“Yes, thanks so much.”

Back in her own bed, she grinned
again as he gave her a last salute. Shortly, a teenage girl arrived
with a selection of six journals. A deep red book with a golden
ribbon was perfect, and Adya immediately began to write.

WHO AM I?

Adya Faith Jordan
(Davies?)

DOB: April 28, 1971

WHO IS HE?

Daniel Jacob Davies

DOB: September 7, 1967

Phone (parent’s)
555-555-2222

Phone (ours)
555-222-1234

Lakeport U:
555-333-1234

AM I CRAZY?

The Kids

Will

Luke

Serina

Jessica

Tyler

Hope

She kept the journal by her side
to record as much information as possible, furtively hiding it when
someone entered the room. Phone numbers, addresses, concepts and
ideas rapidly filled the pages, as did small sketches of her
children’s faces. The image of Hope especially drew her and she
returned again and again to the page with the tiny, cherubic face
topped by a mop of curls which had been the talk of the floor when
she was born. “Why do you haunt me?” she whispered as a tear
dropped from her cheek to the cheek made of paper.

“
Here’s a mirror,”
Adya’s father Matthew presented the blue handled article, a huge
grin splitting his face, “try not to break it with your
reflection.”

“
Thanks a lot, Dad.”
Raising the glass up to look at her image, she made a silly face.
“I look just like you, you know.”

He laughed and then sobered.
“Actually, love, you’re the spitting image of your mother. So
beautiful.” Reaching forward, he hugged her tightly. “I’ve missed
you, can’t wait till you come home. Just a few more
days.”

“
Love you too, Dad.”
After he left the room she picked up the looking glass again,
staring at the unfamiliar face. “Who are you? Look at those
cheeks.” Prodding her cheekbones first, she gently traced one
across to her nose and around her eye. “Ah, why do I expect to find
wrinkles?” She poked at the slightly protruding incisor. “I swear I
already got you fixed once. Braces again. Oh, joy, oh, bliss. The
memory of pain sure lingers even if imaginary.”

Adya slid out of the bed and
placed the mirror beside the sink before making her way down the
hall to the shower room. Slipping off her hospital gown, she stood
in front of the wall mirror, twisting and turning to view her
reflection. She patted her firm belly and ran her hands over her
thighs and buttocks. “Not exactly what I remember. Six kids do
things to a body.” Spinning one more time, she smiled. “Won’t
complain, though.” Stepping into the steaming hot water coursing
from the showerhead, she washed away the remaining aches from her
mind and body.

She awoke from a dream that night,
fading images quickly described and sketched in her journal. A
large crowd had walked with her, almost pushing her, toward a
precipice. Their indistinguishable voices began to blend into one,
uttering a word not quite audible in the dream. She looked at the
faces around her, only to see her own visage everywhere she turned.
The crowd tilted their identical countenances in unison to the sky,
fear reflected in their eyes. She raised her own, following their
gazes. Try as she might, she could not remember what she saw when
she looked heavenward, but the sense of both hope and desolation
remained long after the final words were drying on the pages of her
journal.

“
Okay, enough tests already.” Adya could not prevent a
muttered oath as she returned from another barrage of tests. Six
days in the ward had dampened her spirits even with her family’s
daily visits.

Carefully and secretly, she wrote
biographies for each of the six children while resting per the
doctor’s order. Sketching their faces at various stages of
development, she made them come to life on the pages. Many of the
sheets were tear-stained. Daniel had more pages devoted to him than
the children, documenting a love affair she had to believe never
happened, else confirm herself as crazy. She stuffed the journal
under her pillow as the doctor entered the room.