The Search

32. Andrew

My first instinct was to burst out laughing and that is exactly what I did. Did they seriously expect me to believe that? Was I supposed to act shocked? Were they seriously telling me I was not... me? 

"This is not the time to throw jokes around, Claire"  

Claire looked uneasy and expressions of concern passed her face. Once again she looked at Henry, as if he could help her out. What was she trying to prove here? 

"Master Andrew, Claire is not joking" Henry said "It's the truth." 

Henry stating this simple statement took me off guard. The scenario changed and my laughing stopped abruptly. The intensity with which Henry had said it was sincere. For the first time, I felt the shadow of doubt creep into my mind about my own self. 

To say I was shocked would be the understatement of the year; I was beyond that. I was so lost that I couldn't even begin to understand whatever was happening right then. 

"Why do you think you are doing this?" Claire asked me "Why are you looking for her?" 

"Because her letter was interesting and I was intrigued" I replied. 

"And why is that?" Claire asked and then held the said letter right in front of my eyes "This is a plain old suicide note. Two year old that too, you don't just throw your life around looking for a person that wrote a random note you found, especially when you are not even sure if it's real or fictional." 

I knew all that. Hadn't I argued the same things with myself? Hadn't a rational part of my brain always wondered that? But the truth was simple then; it all hadn't mattered. The pull I felt towards this letter and Prutha was not something I could explain. It was irrational and hell, it might even have been pointless but it was there. That was the truth and I couldn't deny that. 

Was it possible that there was a rational explanation for my behavior? Was it possible that Claire had just told me the truth? But how was that possible? 

"How?" I asked. 

Henry sighed heavily. 

"Do you remember every single thing that has ever happened to you, Master?" he asked. 

Of course I did, didn't I? 

I clearly remembered my childhood as Andrew. I remembered all the outings to the parks I had ever had with my parents. I remembered asking Henry for girl advice. I remember building that tree-house with Henry. I remembered going out with this girl from sophomore year, Jess. I remembered watching movies. I remembered everything.  

There was no Ayden in those memories and there was certainly no Prutha in there. 

"Yes, I do" I said. 

Henry squeezed his eyes shut for a second before opening them again. They were slightly moist and the expression of concern and helplessness filled them. 

"Are you sure?" Henry asked. 

Of course, I was. Even if the memories were a little hazy after the accident, they were there none the less. 

I nodded slightly at Henry. 

"Who's your best friend, Master Andrew?" Henry asked me. 

What kind of question was that? It wasn't like he expected me not to know that answer. Of course I knew who my best friend was. It was... 

I gulped. Why hadn't the name come to me? I knew I had a best friend, I knew that. But who was she? Wait, she... I thought of my best friend as her. It was a girl, which I remembered. Then where was the name?