Memories of Another Life

Memories of Another Life

Emma Grayson

Copyright 2012 by Emma Grayson

Smashwords Edition

Chapter One

It started out as a day like any other, which seemed unfair in retrospect, considering what was lying in wait. Entirely oblivious to the ominous clouds gathering over her karmic horizons, one would have thought she’d feel unsettled or perhaps even fearful. Instead, Ana sat in her fuzzy housecoat and slippers at the breakfast table, obligated to attend this family ritual, although she would so much rather have slept in. She was not a morning person and had no desire to become one. This reluctance made her an oddity in her own house, surrounded by family members whose eyes popped open at the crack of dawn, infused with an evangelical zeal about the new day. Ana’s husband manufactured optimism in his sleep and brought it down to the breakfast table with him, ready to pour his overflow into everyone else’s cup. Their children took one look at his affable face and saw the checkered flag wave, slamming themselves into the highest gear of silliness. It was a human re-enactment of The Cat in the Hat, with her husband in the starring role and her children as Thing One and Thing Two. She’d sit at the far end of the table watching them warily, wondering if an angelic version of her threesome had been misplaced in another dimension.

This morning was no exception: they had faithfully begun their daily ritual, first scuffling for control of the cereal box, then moving to the theft of each other’s utensils until, predictably, a bowl of cereal was knocked over, sending its white viscous contents on a collision course with last night’s homework. They jumped up to move papers and belongings but left the bowl upside down. Ana righted it without remonstration. At some point, there was just no sense in repeating instructions that, like the milky mess, would find the path of least resistance. For her children, that was in one ear and out the other. Her husband sat down with his own bowl of cereal, completely unaffected by the tiny sliver of white liquid slowly snaking its way toward his side of the table. There he was, making designs in the milk mess with his fork, sipping his coffee and smiling at her as only a morning person can.

It’s going to be a great day, he enthused. How are you going to spend it?

Ana pulled apart her muffin - two hundred and thirty calories if she didn’t eat the sugared top - and watched the steam escape before gingerly popping a portion in her mouth. I’m going to go for a ride. It’s supposed to be hot out today.

If you go out near the point, be careful around Montrose Bay. There’s construction there at the moment and the re-routings have made the traffic right of ways unintelligible. There was a pile up there Friday morning and it took forever to get to work. He turned from her and his voice found an extra thousand decibels.

C’mon, you guys, he shouted good-naturedly, time to go! Let’s get a move on.

Ana turned to see the children re-enter the kitchen, carrying backpacks and lunch boxes. Her son still had a dab of toothpaste on his chin which he removed by hugging his father. Ana’s daughter made her way past them and reached out for her mother’s hug. She smelled of lavender soap and her glasses rested behind her hairband. Ana put them down properly on her nose, kissed her head and held her.

You’ll come for me after school? her daughter pressed her.

Gracie, when do I ever not come for you?

In case you forgot or something.

You, my lovely, are unforgettable. I will always come for you, every day, every month, every year until I need to get my hips replaced.

The gentle teasing was lost on her daughter, who waved as she went out the door, properly reassured. Ana made a face at her husband.

What a worrier that kid is, she said as she moved towards him and attempted to bring order to his hair, which stood on end no matter what she did with it. He smiled and shrugged that after all these years, she kept trying to tame it. Don’t be late, she called after him as he made his way out the door. I’m making your favorite dinner tonight: Fettuccine Alfredo. He gave her his two thumbs up sign and got into his car.

When the kitchen was no longer oozing breakfast, Ana headed outside. She withdrew her bike from the garage and threw a toned leg over its light frame, fiddling with her iPod. One headphone in her ear and the other tucked into her shirt, she pushed the water bottle into its holder, strapped on her cycle gloves and slid a couple of granola bars into the pocket on the back of her jersey. She could feel the sun on her skin and smiled to herself before heading off down this street where she had lived so long. A slipper-clad neighbor waved a cheery hello but the street was otherwise quiet, most people either having already headed off to work or not needing to, so the wide roads were peaceful and uncluttered. The sun peeped through the leaves of the trees lining the drive, alternating between dappled light and bright flashes of morning sun. She passed her children’s school and the village-like block of local shops: an old-fashioned bakery that had the best French pastry on the planet, the coffee shop with an outdoor patio, the stationery store that sold beautiful writing paper and finally the florist who, at that moment, was pulling enormous urns of fresh flowers onto the pavement, stopping just long enough to wave to her friend cycling by. Ana smiled and happily returned the wave. It was this sense of community that made her love the area so much. She knew most of the people who lived here, intuitively understood its sensibilities, felt protective about its distinctive old-fashioned charm and couldn’t imagine a circumstance that would cause her to move from this little refuge in the big city.

There was a blinding flash of light on her right hand side. She turned naively towards it but the rapidly advancing bulk hit her back tire hard and spun the bike violently, launching her out of the seat. She was propelled through the air, more stunned than afraid, moving in slow motion on an unnatural trajectory through a giant arc, lifted up and out of the intersection and toward the idyllic city garden on the corner. She descended slowly too, watching the advancing flowers in their tidy, color-coordinated beds with a curious detachment and then heard, more than felt, the accompanying thud as her other-worldly flight came to a sudden and decisive end.

She didn’t try to move. Lying very still, she witnessed a scene of chaos unfold. Cars pulled up short in mid-intersection, doors opened and drivers stood stricken and uncertain. Some began shouting and others came running.

She didn’t want them to come. Go away, she pleaded silently. Don’t touch me. Don’t move me. Their presence interfered with the peacefulness of her repose. There on the sidewalk lay her shoe on its side and she could see the worn logo on its interior. There were some pieces of her bicycle further out on the street in an untidy mess and in front of her face, a slightly bent tulip. Something wet trickled down her cheek.

Did they move her? Her shoe was gone and she was now looking up at the sky. The sun was shining through the leaves of the big maple towering over her. The branches moved in the wind so that the sun was on her face, and then it wasn’t and then it was again and the sounds of commotion all around her were like the buzzing of bees. As she lay there watching, the brightness of the sun began to dim and her world’s hubbub was reduced to a little whispering, from which she turned away. And then, despite the fact that she wanted that shoe, everything turned slowly from gold to grey and, finally, to black.

Chapter Two

The sun was gone and leaves no longer danced overhead. She lay completely still, hearing the low rumble of a jargon that she could not understand. They lifted and turned her but she could not feel their hands, only the sensation of movement. When she was there with them, in that place of muted light, they talked quietly and soothed her with the lilting rhythm of their voice, but it was unfamiliar and dull, even though she sensed they were caring for her. But she didn’t stay there all the time. Sometimes she went to that other place where she was happy. She loved it there: rich and exotic, like a spectacle at a grand theater, with velvet curtains and gilt angels in relief. It was luxurious and vibrant, familiar faces and permeating waves of joyousness, a celebration in which she was the host, or perhaps the guest of honor. There was sweet music, the tinkle of the lullaby that put her to sleep as a child. The proportion was grand, even immense, and she wanted to stay. It felt like she belonged here but the grey place with the hovering people intruded on her sumptuous serenity, pulling her unwillingly from her happiness until she returned, dazed and confused, not yet able to feel angry for her abduction.

Ana, they pressed her, can you hear me? She blinked and turned her head away; trying to return to where she had been so happy, but she could no longer feel its embrace. She tried to offer herself, hoping to be lifted up and taken but it left her there, moving away without her in its receding tide: the child the Pied Piper left behind. Ana, do you know where you are?

She opened her eyes, desolate with abandonment and tried to speak but was unable. Someone gently pressed a cup of water to her dry lips and Ana tipped her head toward it, sipping at its edges. It felt unnaturally visceral, as if the little river carved out its path for the first time, down her throat and all the way through to her stomach, where it amassed in a sparkling little pool. She nodded gratefully, shifting her body and feeling it resist and then ache. She instinctively touched her fingers to her forehead but a gentle hand guided them away.

It’s bandaged and is healing nicely. You’ve been in an accident and are now in hospital, a young voice reassured her."

You’ve sustained significant trauma to the head and have been in a coma for the past five days, a large fuzzy shape on her right hand side intoned, in a much deeper bass than the one before. We’ll keep you under observation for a time and run more tests, but thus far, you appear to have emerged with only minor injury. You are incredibly lucky. It could have been far, far worse.

Ana’s eyes scanned the dismal green room that fell in and out of focus. In the foreground, were two shapes; a large white one and, on the other side, a smaller green one that held her hand. The room smelled like apple juice. She blinked. Behind the hovering figures were an abundance of machines and, off in the corner, a small shape which she tried to identify.

Gracie? she whispered into the quiet, with no response. Gracie, are you there? She narrowed her eyes and squinted at the shape but only a spare wooden chair with a faded, upholstered seat came into view. She turned back to the people and the movement hurt her, causing her to moan. Where’s my family? she whispered, her mouth dry again.

Try not to move too much right now, the woman said to her. You’re on pain medication through your IV but you’ll still be very sore. She adjusted Ana’s pillow and brought the cup back up to her mouth. Don’t worry. Your family is fine. They’ve been here every day and we’ve assured them that you are doing very well. They’re just down in the cafeteria and will be back again after lunch. Ana relaxed into her pillow. Before she could ask anything else, the fatigue closed back over her and carried her off. She did not wake up again that day. Her dreams began to shift away from the opulence and back into a memory entirely besotted with images of her own family.

She had turned on her daughter’s bedside lamp, closed the curtains and pulled the duvet back on the single bed. After laying out a school uniform, her wet-headed ten year old came through the door in her pajamas.

Hop up and I’ll do your hair.

They settled on the bed and Ana began combing out the long strands into straight lines, dividing them into three clumps and then deftly began braiding, starting at the crown. So I was talking to Isabella’s mom this morning, and she says that Isabella would like to invite some of you girls up to their farm for a few days over the holidays.

Uh-huh.

Would you like to go?

I’m not sure.

Ana waited, but her daughter was not forthcoming. That doesn’t sound fun to you?

Well it does, but I think I might just like to stay here.

Ana tied the braid with an elastic band, settled her daughter under the covers and then lay down beside her, gazing at the child. Just so you know, I don’t have anything too exciting planned for us here.

I don’t mind. Gracie snuggled in closer and closed her eyes. She had always been like that, very deeply bonded, preferring her mother’s company to all others. She was happy playing in the garden if that’s where Ana was, or having a long bath if Ana would stay in the room chatting. When Ana popped out for groceries, she’d return to the house to see the little face at the window, smiling and waiting patiently. Gracie’s brother was the complete opposite. He ran from her side on the first day of preschool to disappear among the toys and new faces without a backwards glance. His favorite parent was whoever was more active at a particular moment. Ana knew that a time would surely come when Gracie would be embarrassed by Ana’s mere existence but that was somewhere in the future and she was happy enough to enjoy the love-fest now. She rested her cheek on her daughter’s wet locks and breathed in its strawberry scent.

Waiting for her wakeful periods to coincide with the hospital’s visiting hours was a torturous game of drug- induced hide and seek. The medication was strong and the coma seemed reluctant to release her completely from its drowsy grasp. She couldn’t control when she slept or was awake and each time she opened her eyes, she would hope to find her husband and children waiting there for her, but in eternal frustration, she would find herself accompanied instead by a television which nattered on incessantly and a young, newly minted nurse for whom Ana seemed to be the only patient.

Callie was atypical as far as Ana’s stereotypical notion of nurses went; eating the food off Ana’s little touched trays, applying her make up in the adjoining bathroom and sitting down for long chats in the sole chair beside the bed. Perhaps the hospital was not busy at the moment. Callie was ebullient and witty and regaled Ana’s divided attention with funny tales from the hospital in the short time since she’d started. Most of the stories were unethical, including a name or a personal aspect of the patient’s care but Ana was glad of the company and listened to her animated companion with bemusement.

You sure you don’t want this? Callie asked her one morning while polishing off the yogurt from Ana’s breakfast tray. If I eat the leftovers from breakfast and lunch, then I really only have to buy dinner for myself.

Student loans?

Huge ones but I’m not worried. So, Callie began, with obvious curiosity, I’ve been wondering what it’s like to be in a coma. Do you remember anything?

Ana smiled. Just dreams.

Oh, Callie said, disappointed. Nothing out of the ordinary?

Like what?

Oh, you know, like a light at the end of a tunnel or voices or a vision.

Ana shook her head. Sorry, no, just dreams.

Hmm, that’s funny because coma patients aren’t really supposed to dream. You’re supposed to be in a deeper state of unconsciousness than REM sleep, the kind you dream in.

Ana shrugged. Maybe it was when I was coming out of the coma, I really don’t know, but, and she smiled in remembrance, they were spectacular: grand, like heaven.

Callie moved closer to the bed, clearly more interested in the non-clinical aspects of people’s medical experiences than bedpans and IV drips. Like heaven? she repeated, impressed. What if it actually was heaven? What if you had an out of body experience?

Ana’s eyes widened. Why? Was there a time after my accident when I was clinically dead?

Well, no, but sometimes you hear about people who…

Another nurse poked her head in the door and smiled at Ana before saying, Can you help me next door for a few minutes? Callie nodded and Ana watched her walk toward the door, not quite knowing what to make of the young woman. She was entertaining and that was a much appreciated quality in a setting with so much ennui, but she also wondered what the hospital’s position would be on a member of staff who suggested to patients that they had been momentarily dead. Admittedly, it was an improvement on the tale she told of being present in the emergency room when a patient died and she had seen the soul leave the body. That had been insufferable but, when hooked up to monitors, it was difficult to tell someone you have somewhere else you have to be. Despite Callie’s fascination with it, all this mystic stuff simply wasn’t Ana’s cup of tea. She’d gone to a fortune teller once but it was just for a laugh and she was more than content to leave séances and extra-terrestrials to others.

Callie stuck her head around the door once more. Don’t forget that your family is visiting at one o’clock this afternoon, so try to sleep as much as you can this morning. Maybe we can keep you awake long enough to see them this time! She disappeared back down the sterile hallway and Ana squeezed herself in excitement. She had to see them today. She simply could wait no longer and if it was hard for her, she couldn’t imagine how impossible it would have been for her children to handle, especially Gracie. They must have been worried sick, probably in tears around her bedside while she slept in oblivion. There had never been a morning in the lives of either of her children when she hadn’t been there to welcome them to breakfast. She sat in their bedrooms every night reading a book until they fell asleep and her son still asked her to stand outside the bathroom while he peed, just in case something came up through the toilet. An image rushed through her head. Oh lord, she laughed to herself, imagine the chaos of the morning school runs…

Mom, where’s my backpack?

Mom, where’s my lunchbox?

He’s using my toothbrush.

She pushed me.

Ana shuddered to think what the children would’ve looked like when they arrived at school. Her husband would be run ragged, the poor man, but she had to acknowledge the upsides. She could tell him a thousand times how hard it was to run a household or he could find out for himself: trial by fire. Even if she had to arrive home to a disaster zone, it would be worth it. Having said that, she was certain that he would have kept their children busy and happy, reassuring them with his eternal optimism that mommy would be home soon. She smiled in happy anticipation of the upcoming reunion and closed her eyes to attempt to do as her nurse suggested. Despite being desperate to see them, it wasn’t that hard to relax. Being at home these past years had been so full-on, so utterly exhausting, that at times she had jokingly wished for a scenario similar to the one in which she now found herself: an excuse to simply rest and do nothing, no responsibilities or exertion. Once she’d seen them again, she might even be able to enjoy this enforced respite and, with that amusing thought in mind, she fell into a deep slumber, awaking only because of the tenacity of Callie’s tugs on her forearm.

C’mon, sleepy head, you’ve got visitors. Let’s not make them stare at you drooling! Ana opened her eyes and saw a whole crowd of them at the end of her bed. Her nurse grinned at her, whispering, Happy now? Your family is finally here! I’ll see you tomorrow, and disappeared from the room discreetly.

Ana sat up in her bed stiffly. Despite the fact that not everyone had arrived yet, she was delighted to see them and she grinned from ear to ear. Everyone looked great, curiously young and refreshed and she was mesmerized by their appearance. Her father had shaved off his beard, her sister had lost weight and her mother had obviously dyed her hair. All the gray was gone. Ana didn’t want to mention it in front of everyone but the scope of change was perplexing considering her accident had surely caused them a good deal of worry.

Everyone chattered at once and she struggled to keep up. There were jokes about Ana doing anything to get out of work and whether any of the male doctors were cute enough to turn her fickle head. She smiled but was confused by the suggestion that she would care what her doctors looked like. Despite the unusual banter, her parents were clearly happy and relieved, her two eldest sisters and their husbands laughed and joked and her aunts and uncles smiled at her kindly. Her eyes kept returning to the door until her sister commented on it.

Are we boring you? Got a hot date or something?

Ana smiled self-consciously. I’m sorry. I’m so happy to see you but I was kind of wondering when everyone else is going to get here.

Oh, honey, Sasha couldn’t come. She left this morning on a plane to Japan. She was so sorry to have to go without talking to you first but the ticket was already paid for and the school starts in a few days. She’s teaching English there, do you remember that?

No, I didn’t mean Sasha.

Her mother cocked her head. Well, who else do you mean, then?

Ana laughed. Michael! Michael and the kids.

Her mother seemed confused. Is that a friend from school, honey?

Ana’s smile wobbled and then disappeared. Of course not, I mean my husband Michael. Mirroring the path her own smile had taken, the mirth of those near her also evaporated and a blanket of solemnity descended on the room thick enough to be palpable. No-one spoke. Ana shook her head. Is something wrong? she demanded. Her own thoughts raced and she began to panic. Had something happened to them? Where are Michael, Gracie and Ben? she repeated.

Her family exchanged glances among themselves. Their discomfort spread its malodorous breath throughout the room. One sister nudged the other one, silently nominating her to be the bearer of bad news. Reluctantly, the chosen one reached out and laid her hand on Ana’s blanket-covered leg. I’m sorry, Ana, Olivia murmured quietly, but we don’t know those people. She looked towards the door for help and finding none, asked I’m wondering if the medication could be causing you some confusion.

I’m not confused! Michael is my husband. We’ve been married almost eleven years and we have two children, named Gracie and Ben and you do know them. You were at my wedding. You’ve babysat my children a hundred times. Of course you know them.

Her family stared at her as if she’d just let loose a string of deeply offensive profanity. Olivia shook her head. I’m sorry but I don’t, and I don’t think anyone else does either. She looked around for back up but the others stayed unhelpfully silent. Ana didn’t understand. Was it a trick or a horrible joke? She looked at their faces and saw nothing but confusion.

Ana, her mother said, quietly but firmly, you’re not married and you do not have children. You were going home from your university graduation ceremony and were hit by a car when crossing the street. You’ve been in hospital for almost a week now, undergoing tests and we’ve come up to see how you are. Her voice stopped and she looked unsteady.

Not married? University? Ana repeated, dumbfounded.

Ana’s father shifted from foot to foot, deciding that taking decisive action meant bringing in someone else.

Maybe something’s going wrong. We should get the doctor, and he disappeared from the room before Ana could say anything. She stared in silent anger at the group of them, standing there united, denying a reality that was as natural to her as breathing. The doctor appeared at the doorway and her family hesitated, unwilling to discuss their fears in front of Ana.

We’ll leave you for a bit of peace and just go outside for a while, her mother said in a voice of forced calm that she normally reserved for her grandchildren’s temper tantrums. The bunch of them trundled outside awkwardly and Ana glared after them. Tears welled up in her eyes as she listened to the voices in the hall, laden with worry and the doctor responded in a voice trained by experience to deal with situations like this.

Something is wrong with her, her mother insisted. She’s just a girl but she’s talking about a husband and children.

The doctor lowered his voice, She has sustained a very hard knock to the head. Memory loss and confusion are to be expected with head trauma and generally resolves in time. She’s just beginning the healing process but I must emphasize that so far, our expectations are overwhelmingly positive.

Her mother’s agitated voice reiterated fears of brain damage but Ana could hear the doctor repeatedly saying, It’s very normal, and, It’s to be expected. She simply needs time and patience. You must allow her time to heal.

Her mother re-entered the room alone with the Mother Mary demeanor she used when she spoke to their pastor. It was entirely serene and gentle. All is well, Ana, she said and patted her daughter’s arm. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. The doctor says you’ll have everything you need here and the one thing you don’t need, of course, is a big group of people fussing over you and keeping you from your precious sleep. She gave Ana another brief kiss on the forehead and straightened her sheets pre-emptively against future wrinkles. "All righty, then. You have a good rest and we’ll be back very soon