With Me (35 page)

He takes a breath and begins, “A friend of ours was having a party at a hotel downtown, and as usual we had a room there so you could get ready. As we were waiting for the elevator to go down to the party, you became impatient, and decided to take the stairs instead. You were wearing some really high heels and lost your footing on one of the steps and hit your head pretty badly on the way down.” He pauses like he’s concentrating on what to say next, then carries on, “When you arrived at the hospital you had some really bad swelling in your brain, so the doctor here suggested that we put you in an induced coma.”

I’m trying to absorb all the information he’s just given me, then I look over to the doctor, still really confused about the whole situation.

“How long have I been in a coma?” I whisper, staring at the wall ahead of me, holding back the tears that are fighting to come out.

She looks to Bill first, then directly back at me answering, “It’s been a little over four months since the swelling in your brain reduced and we reversed the medication. You didn’t wake up right away,” she calmly states, as if reassuring me everything is fine.

I look over in Bill’s direction and ask again, “Who are you?” I want confirmation.

He’s now starting to look irritated by my question, but he responds again. “I’m Bill, your fiancé, baby.”

His answer still throws me for loop and I panic a little.

Why would my fiancé want me to stay in a coma? He had looked relieved to see me awake, but I keep replaying the conversation in my head, wanting to doubt it. I know what I heard. It was loud and clear, even if my eyes weren’t open.

Another thing that comes to mind, is why does he have someone else as a fuck buddy?

My panic is obvious to Bill, so he says, “We’ve been together for over a year now. We met at one of your shows over two years ago when I became your agent and we started dating a little while later. It was love at first sight for me.” He tries to reassure me with a smile. But I’m not buying it.

I look over at the doctor with a look like, “Please tell me he’s kidding.” From the way she’s looking at me, I know she believes his story. Bill looks up to the doctor and begins asking how soon I’ll be able to go home.

While she goes over the lecture about needing my rest before leaving, I block out their bickering at each other.

This is when I start reciting a number in my head, 951-555-2945. It comes to me naturally, like I’ve called it regularly.

That’s weird, why would I be thinking of a phone number at this moment? I’m happy that at least something is coming back to me.

“Bill, what’s your number?” I ask, loud enough so they both can hear me.

They both snap their heads in my direction in confusion for asking such a question, but Bill automatically answers. “555-6213, why?”

Mmm, not the answer I was expecting, so I try again, “Is there any other number I would call you at?”

I must have excited the doctor because her face is beaming. “Are you remembering something Abigail? Whatever it is, it might help. What is it you remember?”

Bill looks excited as well, but knowing that it isn’t his number, I just fib. “I thought I remembered, but it was only a glimpse of an area code, then it disappeared.” I lie to both of them, keeping the number to myself.

“By the way, what is the area code here?”

The doctor is the first to speak up, “206.”

That is definitely not the area code I’m remembering. They’re both still patiently waiting for me to say something, so I answer with the only excuse that I can think of at the moment. “That’s why I asked Bill to recite his number hoping it would spark something, but I was wrong… I’m sorry.” I look at them, disappointed.

Seeming just as irritated about the whole situation, Bill turns to the doctor, barks at her to order more tests, wanting to know why I’ve lost my memory.

The neurologist decides to steer the conversation by saying, “Although she has a bit of a memory loss, she might get it back in time, especially once she goes home and begins to see things more familiar to her. Give her time; she’s just woken up,” she says before her lips go into a frown of disappointment as well.

“Then how soon can she go home so she can start remembering?” he barks at her, making me flinch from the anger in his tone.

He turns to me and with a nicer voice says, “Baby, your name is Abigail Adams. You’re a famous model. Is it ringing a bell?” he questions with desperation.

I shake my head and pick at the imaginary lint on my blankets. The name doesn’t ring a bell at all. I want it to, but it doesn’t.

Bill notices my lack of response and begins fumbling with his phone like he’s looking for something and once he’s found it he brings the phone close to my face for me to look into the screen. On it is a photo of myself with a whole bunch of make-up, and I’m half-naked.

“See, that’s you at your last photo shoot, it’s for
Vogue
!” he says with enthusiasm. “Of course you know who you are, you’re legendary since this cover came out.” The phone is still in front of my face as if he expects the light bulb to turn on in my head.

When I shake my head at him he only sighs again, clearly disappointed. I think I’m really beginning to irritate him.

He moves to the corner of the room dragging the doctor with him, by the arm, and in hushed tones he begins speaking with her. The nurse walks in at this moment saving me from having to look at both of them, knowing that they are discussing me and leaving me out of the conversation. The nurse entertains herself by fluffing my pillows, in an effort to make me more comfortable, but I know she’s really just trying to be nice about the whole situation.

They both stop talking and look over in my direction and he smiles. The only trouble is that his smile is worrying me and I want it to go away. It’s the type of smile meant to reassure me that everything is okay, when in reality it’s not.

Knowing the situation is not going to get any better until my memory comes back, I bring up the excuse that I’m tired so they will leave me alone. Right now I want to be alone and sleep. My body feels drained, even though I just woke up a couple of hours ago. What I really want is for Bill to leave, so whatever excuse I can give them to make him leave works for me.

They all leave me to get my rest and as I’m left alone with my thoughts. I wonder again if I’m wrong about Bill. I keep trying to convince myself that maybe it was someone else, or maybe I had dreamt the whole conversation. I begin to get drowsy and my eyelids start to feel heavy, dragging me into sleep once again.

In my dream, I feel happy, and I see this guy who's laughing with me.

He’s young, early twenties, good looking, and really fit. He’s taller than me, enough so that I have to look up at him. He has a narrow looking face, his hair is a dark color, with dark chocolate brown eyes, and thick lashes that are long, curl, and make you jealous that he has them. But what really catches my attention is his smile. He has a smile that just makes you melt inside and it makes you smile with him. He's all sweaty and I note that he looks like he just finished working out. Or has done something that has made him breathe really fast and heavy. His shirt is soaked and he's chugging water from a water bottle like he's dying of thirst. I look at my surroundings and notice that we are in a park, at the end of what I think is a trail, and in the background there are a lot of tall trees. He then throws his arm around my shoulders and says, “Keep up that pace and we’re definitely going to PR this race.”

What race and what PR event is he talking about? My dream begins to fade away, and I'm trying really hard to ask him what’s going on, or who he is?

Unfortunately, I can't get the words out of my mouth. I want to know his name, but he quickly fades away.

As I open my eyes, I notice it's morning again, with the light coming in through my hospital room window and a new nurse is taking my blood pressure, which is what must have woken me up.

Now that I’m awake, I take the time to focus on trying to bring back some type of memory. When the nurse sees that I’m awake, she informs me that Bill came by early this morning while I was still sleeping and dropped off my stuff.

I turn my head and notice an iPad on the side table and I reach over and grab it. Wanting answers fast, I start to Google my name, “Abigail Adams.” Right away all kinds of articles and images come up.

According to the Internet, I’m not a world famous model, but I am in high demand in the states. Thanks to my current fiancé, slash agent and manager, I was on the way to becoming the most highly sought after model in recent history. Before my accident, I had wrapped up an interview and photo shoot with
Vogue
that was going to get me those international shoots I was working towards.

I was born in Seattle, but raised in the foster system. My mother died when I was twelve, leaving me to be raised by the state in different foster homes until I was discovered at the age of eighteen. I had begun with small photo shoots for a local agency that kept me financially above water for a couple of years, until I met Bill, making him my current agent and manager.

On the Internet there were a ton of pictures of me, some from different interviews, photo shoots, or pictures that must have been taken by paparazzi when I was out and about. There were so many, it's almost like I wanted to be constantly photographed or spoken to, which feels a bit disturbing.

After reading a couple of articles and flipping through what seems like thousands of photos, I feel even more confused than when I started. The only thing it’s proven to me is that I was a shallow and conceited person who only cared about herself. For some reason this makes me feel like crap.

After sitting in my room for most of the day, I notice that I start to feel jittery and stressed. Eventually, I start twitching my leg, swinging my foot back and forth and feeling trapped like I want to get out and do something. It is driving me crazy.

I blame it on being immobile for so long.

On this second day since I've woken up, the doctor is in my room giving me my routine daily check-up. Bill showed up this morning, but most of the time he’s on the phone barking commands at someone about a deal that he's trying to close. He's been coming to visit me as often as he can, but I have a feeling that he'd rather be at his office than with me.

He claims that he is really busy at work, but that he misses me badly and wished that he could spend every waking hour with me, but I doubt it. It takes all of my willpower not to roll my eyes at his response. Even when he kissed me that first day, it didn’t feel right. There was no emotion in it on my part. As if to confirm that my body didn’t really know him. It had worried me, but I had made it a point to Bill that I just needed time and space, giving him an excuse to stay at a distance.

Before I could even allow him to think things were back to normal, I had to figure out what normal was.

To my husband and children for putting up with my grouchy attitude during this journey, it was a tough one, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. You stood by me during my frustration and I love you so much for that.

To my blue box girl’s aka BBG, who are all in the same box with me:

Juliana Cabrera, who puts up with my crazy demands, my never ending change of decisions, and plea to let me do things. You’re always there on the other end of a phone call to listen and give reason. Thank you so much for everything you do and continue to do for me. I’ll take the curse words with a smile, because at the end of the day I know you really meant to say, I love you.

Cezanne Dilbert, you are my right hand girl who does everything that needs to be done without me having to ask. I’m so glad you won. It’ll be a crazy ride from here on out, but I know you’ll be at my side, no matter what.

Yamara Martinez, it started with a simple postcard, which turned into helping C take over my world. Without you, I wouldn’t know where to go. Thank you for directing me in the right direction.

Lisa Ravenscroft, aka my Lisa, you’re my grammar Nazi, always there to remind me why I do this, why it’s worth it, and who I will one day be. Without your lectures, I would have probably given up a long time ago. Thank you.

I wake up saying good morning to these ladies and can’t fall asleep without saying goodnight to them every… single… day. Without them, my day wouldn’t be complete. They are my voice of reasons, my free therapy, and my bitches that support me, no matter what I decide. I can’t imagine my life without them and hope I never have to.

To Edee Fallon, it would take me forever to explain in words why you’re
my
heroine
, so I won’t, but know that you are. Thank you for salvaging
With Me.

A huge, thank you to my fresh pair of eyes: Lisa Ravencroft, Cezanne Dilbert, Yamara Martinez, Janett Gomez, Rebecca Marie, and Colette Noak. You helped “With Me” sound perfect.

Julie Titus, who makes my words beautiful, and puts up with my never-ending delays, I swear I’ll get better with time.