Chasing Memories

One

A hostile feeling saturates my brain. My skull is expanding, ready to detonate from the force within. The pain, so acute in nature, is foreign to me. I try to wrap my mind around its source, but nothing makes sense. I can’t focus. The constant pressure in my head is taking up all my energy.

Other sensations leak through the blurred recesses of my consciousness.

There are conflicting smells, a vile taste, incoherent sounds, but they’re all shadows next to the torrent of pounding.

Beep.

Beep.

The incessant high-pitched bursts hurt. Make them stop.

Beep.

Beep.

The repetitive noises seem to be coming from a great distance, but at the same time, the source could be located within my skull. With each piercing ting, pressure explodes, and aftershocks of pain follow.

What is that?

Using all my willpower, I concentrate.

Focus.

I hear voices, but I can’t make out the words.

I feel warmth against my hand.

I think.

I’m disconnected from my body. I can sense the different parts, but there’s no clarity. The synapses in my brain are firing, yet it’s as if they have to pass through a maze of confusion and disarray to get to their destinations. When they finally reach their end points, they’re left with more questions than answers. The information sent back to the brain is riddled with uncertainty and turmoil.

I summon an enormous amount of strength, using all my concentration. I open my eyes, only to be assaulted by a bright light. I snap them closed again.

Where am I?

Why am I so tired?

I can’t make sense of anything, and I don’t have the energy to try. The beeping fades as the blackness pulls me under once more, and I welcome it.

Beep.

Beep.

The rhythmic pattern of sounds pulls me from the darkness. Past my closed eyelids, I can feel the light beyond the sleep from which I am awaking. The fog from before has lifted. The pain, although still present, has dulled. An odd combination of scents register—chemicals, aftershave, mint, and lilies.

“Mia? Mia? Can you hear me, baby?” a male voice asks.

I can’t place it, but it’s familiar.

“Mia? Honey, it’s Mom. Mia, can you open your eyes?”

Mom?

Bracing myself for the harsh light, I slightly open my eyes. Two figures are hunched toward me. I blink, my eyes dry and scratchy.

“Mia?” My mom sobs before falling lightly against my chest, her body vibrating atop mine as she cries.

I’m so confused.

“Mom?” My voice is barely a whisper. The simple question scrapes my throat on its way out.

A plastic straw is placed between my dry lips.

“Here. Drink this,” the male voice offers.

The cold water feels incredible as it slides down my throat. The straw is removed from my mouth before I am finished, and I mourn the absence.

“You’d better go slow. I don’t want you to get sick,” he says.

The room slowly comes into focus. My neck aches as I slightly turn it. I blink several times, and my eyes, like everything else, feel irritated. Two women hurry into my view. My mom and the man release my hands and stand back.

A blur of activity surrounds me.

“What a day!” the shorter woman in blue scrubs says as she lifts my arm and wraps a blood pressure cuff around it. “We knew you would be back. Quite the sleep you took, young lady.” She smiles warmly at me as the fabric around my arm begins to expand with air. She watches the monitor on the side of my bed.

“How do you feel?” the taller woman in the white lab coat asks while shining a light into my eyes.

“Uh…fine.”

“Do you have a headache?”

I nod.

“We’ll get you some more pain meds for that. Can you follow the light?” she asks, taking her flashlight pen and moving it back and forth and up and down. “Great. Can you tell me your name?”

“Mia Chapman.”

“How old are you, Mia?”

“Uh…” I hesitate. I almost say twenty-four, but then thirty pops in my head. “Thirty.”

“Thirty?” the doctor questions.

I nod again.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“No,” I answer honestly.

“You were in a car accident. Do you remember anything about it?”

I try to think back.

I don’t remember anything about an accident. I shake my head to indicate as much.

“That’s okay. Sometimes, the memories are slow to return when patients first wake up from a coma. Or you might have blocked out the accident altogether. That’s common as well. We’ll be back in a few minutes to run some more tests, and then Lauren here”—she nods toward the nurse—“will take you down to radiology for some scans. Everything looks great for now, so we’ll let you catch up with your family for a bit first.”

Nurse Lauren and the doctor exit the room, and my two visitors resume their seats on the sides of my hospital bed, each grasping one of my hands in theirs. I look to the stark white walls in front of me and see them adorned with colorful drawings. I focus in on a stick-figure girl with long blonde hair under a rainbow, her lined thin arm extended as she walks her puppy. Although the girl and animal are stick figures, they are in a different category of artwork compared to the multihued scribbles surrounding them. They’re in the same caliber with my drawing talents. I smile because I know it is a gift from my sister, Gracelyn.

“Regan drew those for you.”

I look to my mom’s face. Her lips are turned up into a smile, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Regan?”

“Yes, Grace’s daughter. You remember Regan, right?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I turn toward the other side of the room where every surface is covered with bouquets of flowers. I spot several vases filled with lilies. I knew I’d smelled lilies. There is nothing in the world like that scent. The aroma—fresh, strong, and distinct—brings weddings, summers, and the feeling of love to my mind. It’s one of my favorite things.

My mom notices me admiring the floral arrangements. “So many people have been sending you flowers the entire time you’ve been in here.” She smiles to herself. “You usually have an abundance of lilies, as you can see. To make sure your room is never without them, Grace, Grayson, and I all bring you some each week. We know they’re your favorite.” Her voice trails off, and her smile is replaced with a look of heartache.

“How long?” My voice is still weak.

“Six months.”

I turn to the man sitting on the side of the bed, stroking my hand. His eyes are full of unshed tears.

“You were in a coma for six months.”

I stare at him as I process his words. Memories come back to me, and suddenly, I know him. His name is Grayson Strong. He and I have known each other since we were in high school. His parents are Bob and Shirley Strong, and they run a vet clinic on the south side of Austin. He has three sisters and one brother. I know everything about him.

But why is he here?

“Grayson?” I question.

“I’m here, Mia. You’re going to be all right.” His big brown eyes shine down on me.

In his face, I see pain, relief, and love. He looks to me with an expression so full of adoration. I’m having a hard time processing it, but then I startle, bolting up to sit higher on my bed.

“Where’s Aiden?” I shriek.

Mom and Grayson look to one another. Their expressions cause a panic to work its way up my spine. Something is off.

“Mom, where’s Aiden? Did you call him? Is he with the kids?”

My mom gently squeezes my hand. Her nervous gaze darts to Grayson before returning to me. “Who’s Aiden, sweetie?” She’s trying to use a reassuring tone, but I can hear the quiver in her voice.

“My husband, Mom!” I yell. “Is he coming? Why isn’t he here? He should be here!”

This is so much to take in. I’m not sure what to make of my situation yet, but I know that having Aiden here beside me will make everything better.

“We never got married,” Grayson says. “You got in the accident on your way to the rehearsal dinner.”

I peer up at Grayson. I’m still unsure as to why he’s here, and I have no idea what he is talking about, but I have the overwhelming fear that he and my mother are keeping something from me.

“What’s going on, Mom?” I turn away from Grayson. I pull my hand from his grasp and point a finger toward him. “Why is he here? Where’s Aiden?”

My mom tensely chews on her lip as her eyes shoot toward Grayson again.

I snap, “Stop ignoring me! Why won’t you tell me where he is? Was he in the accident, too? Is he hurt? Please tell me!” Tears roll down my cheeks as fear rises within me.

Terror unlike I’ve ever known takes all my thoughts hostage. The what-ifs are overrunning my senses.

What if Aiden was with me? What if the kids were with me? What if they’re not okay?

The last thought has barely touched my brain before my hands rise to my chest. They splay across the skin where they long to protect the heart within, the organ that is on the verge of breaking into a million unrecognizable pieces.

My mom’s lips press into a line before she takes a deep breath and answers, “You don’t have a husband named Aiden. You don’t have a husband, period, Mia. Grayson is your fiancé.”

“But what about Aiden?” I cry.

She shakes her head. “I’ve never heard you mention anyone named Aiden before, honey.”

“You don’t know where he is?”

She shakes her head.

Dread continues to pump through my veins. My heart is beating so forcefully in my chest that I can hear the thumps ringing through my head.

“Where are my kids?” My plea is almost a whisper.

My mom just sadly shakes her head.

I scream, “My kids, Mom! Where are they?”

She straightens her back and stands, so she is no longer sitting on the edge of my bed. Her hands fidget in front of her body. “Mia”—her voice is unsteady, her tone full of sorrow—“you don’t have any children.”

I stare at her, my mouth agape. How could she do this to me? Why is she hurting me? She loves me. “Please don’t do this to me. Where are Hudson, Gracie, and Caden? Caden’s only a baby, Mom. He needs me. They all need me!”

“Your sister, Grace, is at home. She’ll be up to visit you soon.”

“I’m not talking about my sister, Grace! I’m talking about my daughter! Where are my kids?” I shout, panic overtaking me.

Tears fall down my mother’s face. Her voice quivers as she says, “You don’t have any kids, Mia. I’m sorry.”

“You’re lying! Why are you doing this to me? Where’s Aiden? Where’s my family? Tell me!”

My mom drops her head as she continues to cry.

I turn to Grayson. “Gray, do you know? Do you? Why is she keeping them from me?”

Grayson appears too terrified to answer. “Mia, you don’t have any kids, and you don’t have a husband because we never got married.”

“You’re a liar!” I shout. “You’re both liars!” I sob massive tears as I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I have to stop and steady myself for a moment as a wave of nausea hits me. When it passes, I rip the IV lines from my arm.

I hear my mom yelling to someone, but I don’t pay her any mind. I have to get out of here. I have to find Aiden and the kids. Something is very wrong, and it is clear that no one here is going to help me.

Nurses rush into the room. Hands are on me. Their voices are pleading with me. They want me to lie back down. They’re keeping me from my family, too.

“I’m leaving and going to find my family! Where are they?” I roar as loudly as I can.

I’m overcome with sorrow, confusion, and rage. I don’t know what is happening. I woke up in a world of utter disorder, but the second I find Aiden, I will be okay. He has always made everything right.

The adrenaline fueling my fury falls away, and I’m suddenly dazed with exhaustion. I look to the syringe in the hand of the nurse beside me. My body falls back onto the bed, and my eyelids get heavy. I focus on my mom standing in the corner of the room. Her hands are covering her mouth as she cries. My heart is torn between wanting to comfort her and wanting to scream.

My lids close, and I’m met with brilliant green eyes staring at me through the darkness. I focus on them until the blackness takes over, and I don’t feel afraid.