Picture Perfect Memories

I could hear two voices cutting through the darkness, transitioning from muffled to crystal clear, sending chills down my spine. Two women were arguing just a few feet away from me, and I took a moment to identify them. Eventually, I recognized one voice as my mother’s. "M-m-m-mom?” I called out. That was enough to silence them. For a brief moment, there was nothing, and then chaos erupted. "Oh my god, he's alive?!" a mystery woman exclaimed. Another voice chimed in, "Didn't they say he was dead two minutes ago?" "DEAD?" I croaked, acutely aware of how dry my throat was—drier than a stripper's pole. "Here, drink this; it may help," the mysterious woman urged, handing me a cup of cold, refreshing water. I took a long sip, grateful for the relief it brought. After clearing my throat, I addressed them directly. "So, can someone explain what’s going on? Why is everyone looking at me as if they’ve seen a ghost?" "Darling..." the mysterious woman said before glancing at my mother. I couldn't help but notice her puffy eyes and the fact that she called me "darling." I'm sorry—I feel like I should know this, but I do not. "Who the f**k are you?" I asked, clearly confused. Everyone in the room exchanged perplexed looks before someone said, "I'm going to go get Doctor Jay, because… what the f**k?" I followed the sound of a silky, deep voice that sounded a lot like… "T.J?!" I yelled. "Yeah, it's me, bro. I'm going to go get your doctor," he replied in a serious tone that almost made me wet the bed as he walked out the door. I've known T.J. since we were pretty much in diapers. Our parents became friends after attending the same yoga classes together for three months after their pregnancies. That's a story for another time. We were born two days apart, so sharing birthday parties was easy. Trust me when I say this: I haven't seen him this serious since he stood up to his father. His seriousness is like a soldier in battle with no way out. After T.J. left the room, I looked at the mysterious woman in front of me and repeated my question, but in a more relaxed tone, "So how do we know each other exactly?" She glanced at my mother and then back at me. She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture of us together. "We're married, Junebug," the woman said. I was lost for words and somewhat in a trance because the picture could be fake, but it looked too real to be that, and she used my childhood nickname. So, I looked at my mother. She seemed to understand my confusion. "She's…" My mother paused, looking at the woman up and down, "Unfortunately, she's telling the truth." The woman looked defeated at that moment. For some reason, it made my heart drop, and I felt frustrated with my mother. "I married that?" I asked, not considering how my words could be taken the wrong way. There was a knock on the door, making us all jump and breaking the tension in the room. As we turned to look, we saw T.J. and who I assumed was Doctor Jay. Reading the room, it was clear they sensed the tension. "Seriously, can't you all hold the feud until after we figure out why he can't remember his wife?" T.J. said as he walked behind the doctor. Just from that, I could safely assume they argued often. He hit a nerve with my mother because she opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a pixie-cut, pink-haired woman with a lip piercing, ivy green eyes, a tattoo of a butterfly on her right hand, wearing a common white lab coat and an ID badge. "He's right. Right now, we need answers. I'm Doctor Bailey Jones—I've been the doctor handling your case. How are you feeling?" I looked over at her, realizing she was no more than 4'11 and was wearing heels. I answered her question, though, "Confused, way too confused. Like who's she? They say she's my wife. "Okay, cool, but why can't I remember her, and why am I even here?" My hands make so many hand gestures. I felt like a puppet on display. The doctor pondered what I said and asked another question. "Do you remember anything at all?". I looked at her a bit confused. When I made it clear, I had no idea about what was going on and why I was even there. Doctor Jay tove right into the facts and evidence of how I ended up knocked for almost a month. My organs weren't too hot and, oh, I was pronounced dead for two minutes. Then she goes on about how it seems to her I have amnesia. She wants to talk to someone before confirming her diagnosis, but she swears she's the best there is within fifty miles. I can see why her parents named her Jeila. She also suggested we all seek some type of therapy for different things: for example, me dying and coming back with no memories of my life in the last two and a half years. There were some strict guidelines about how getting my memories works and not to push myself to the breaking point of a physical break. The mystery woman's name was Lillian came to find out, and I guess she understood everything Doctor Jay was saying, but in her eyes she was hurting.