LYDIA
Long after Joey left, I kept staring at the ceiling. I was alone with my thoughts, and no matter how hard I strained my brain, all I got was the blankness.
Nothing came to me. My brain kept looping around the words Joey and I exchanged, and even though a part of me believed him, I could not shake how uncomfortable I felt.
No.
I wasn't uncomfortable. The feeling was more than that.
There was something wrong. Something I needed to know, something that was very very important. My heart kept racing with fear, and my entire body and soul was submerged in an abyss that was making me tremble.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
I had no idea if it was the marriage itself, or if it was my body's way of telling me to stay away from Joey. I had not a fucking clue.
And no matter how hard I tried to coax my brain into revealing what was wrong to me, nothing happened.
My efforts were futile.
But I had to remember. This part of my life wasn't inconsequential, and it made me very mad that I couldn't even manage a sneak peak into my life before marriage.
At least, knowing who I was before I got married to this strange doctor might have helped in boosting my brain, but even that was out of my reach.
All I had was air, and it frustrated me to no end.
The door to my ward opened, and the nurse who was with the doctor when I woke up earlier walked in.
She smiled at me, but said nothing as she hung a drip into the stand beside me. Taking my arm, she was about to inject the needle point of the drip into my arm when I spoke without thinking.
"Is he telling the truth?" I asked, my voice coming out small and exhausted.
She stared at me with eyes filled with pity, and I instantly knew that I had asked the wrong question.
Without answering my question, the nurse gently placed my hand back down, glanced at the door to confirm that no one was there, and brought out her cell phone.
I waited with my heart in my throat as she clicked on a few buttons before handing the phone to me.
And staring right back at me, was the wedding picture of Joey and I.
The nurse had opened what apparently, turned out to be my Instagram page, and it was named LYDIA& JOEY BASSETT. Right on the screen, there was an image of me and the doctor.
My smile was wide, and I looked happier than I could ever imagine. Joey wasn't staring at whoever was taking the picture, his eyes was on me, and they were full of love.
Unable to stop myself, I scrolled through the page. Pictures and pictures of Joey and I being so fucking obviously in love stared right back at me, and my heart sank into the abyss of my stomach.
If I had been this happy with him, then why did I ever leave?
Why?
What could have gone wrong?
"Why?" I repeated, the word slipping past my lips to hover about me.
Why did I leave?
Very gently, the nurse pried the phone out of my hand, and placed it back in her pocket.
"Memory loss can be cruel, Mrs. Basset. I can't even begin to imagine how torn up and confused you must be right now. But sometimes, some things come back in pieces. And sometimes… well, they stay gone forever. This is something you can't help. We can only hope that you regain your memory as soon as possible," she said softly.
Her voice was kind and soft, and her words wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
Without saying another word, she picked up my arm and injected the needle, connecting my body to the drip.
And just like that, before I could even watch her walk away, blissful sleep claimed me.
I drifted off into a fit of restlessness, and images that I could not make any sense of plagued me. They seemed relevant, but no matter how hard I tried to hold on to them, they always vanished.
Always.
My mind transported all of my worries right back into my head, and I kept seeing the wedding picture deep into slumber like I was.
My restless mind and brain also seemed to have decided to torture me endlessly. I was supposed to be sleeping without any form of…disturbance, but images of what could have been the life I shared with Joey replayed over and over.
And no matter how hard I tried to stop them, my mind was simply not strong enough to beat the hallucinations.
After what could have been mere minutes or hours of trying to actually fall into the drug induced sleep, I managed to pry my eyes open at last.
My waking up also happened to collide with the nurse's entrance into my room, and she smiled when she saw that I was awake.
"I was about to call the doctor, but thank goodness that you're awake now," she stated as she walked in, and there was a clipboard in her hands.
My throat was dry, and the back of my eyes were stinging a lot, but I didn't care.
I was so tired. And all I wanted to do was sleep.
If I stayed awake, there was a very high chance of that doctor coming in here again to see me.
And I could not bear to look at him. Not yet. Not after seeing how fucking happy he made me.
The nurse must have seen an expression or something on my face because her smile fell away.
"I'm sorry," she said simply, like she knew what I was going through.
"Please make me sleep," was my response. A slight frown furrowed on her brows.
"You still need to do a couple of tests before I can administer another dose of painkillers for you. Please, you have to be patient."
I shook my head, my entire body trembling frantically.
"No. You don't understand. I…I don't want to be inside my head. It's too blank. It's scary. I need to sleep and not think or see anything," I begged as I thrashed, and the pity in her eyes won over her practicality.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bassett. I am really sorry," she whispered, and with another furtive look towards the door, the nurse drugged me again.
I managed to give her a thankful smile before I fell back into the abyss of oblivion again.
When I woke up again, I had no idea how much time had gone. It was dark, and I could have been asleep for days or mere hours.
My brain was still blank, and the whispers that had eventually quieted down in the face of the painkillers were beginning to come up again.
I had no idea what I was supposed to do with all the inflow of information, but I knew I had to start somewhere.
And that somewhere was in form of the doctor who, coincidentally, was walking into my room at the moment.
Joey smiled at me, but his eyes were guarded. Wary.
"Hey. How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
I responded immediately, not bothering to mince words.
"I'll accept that I am your wife. I believe all of your words," I deadpanned.
His jaw dropped open in surprise, and I looked away from him. I wasn't doing this because of the Instagram page and pictures, or because of what he said.
My main reason was because I had no answer, no where else to go. He was the only clue, the only tie I had to the real world, to the life I used to live before the accident.
And I was going to use him to find out everything about my past life and why I left.
Joey might have been my husband in the past, but right now?
He was nothing more than a means to an end.