A Fight to Remember

I Can't Remember Pt. 3

Meredith

The fog was slowly lifting... I could hear this voice. A familiar voice that I'd heard before. Someone was talking to me. I looked up, and saw a young man sitting in the chair across from me. He had soft dirty blonde hair in tight curls, and brilliant light eyes. He was telling me a story, I could tell by the way he gestured, and the excited look in his eyes that this was very important to him. But he talked fast, and I couldn't really understand him.

"Sofia..." he said- "... blah blah," he gestured wildly. "...burr hole, and I was like..."

Burr hole. I knew that term. Burr hole...

More jibber jabber. "Rebbecca... Dr. Peters said-"

His lips quirked into a smile- "And, Mom, you wouldn't believe..." he said more stuff I couldn't keep up with, it ended with, "craniotomy!"

I nodded along. He was so intent, so needing of affirmation, I knew I had to try and give him something.

Finally he sighed, drank the last of his juice and looked at me sadly. "Mom?" he asked.

Why was he looking at me that way? I couldn't possibly be his mother. But he was talking about... Medical stuff. I knew a little about medical stuff. I twisted my watch. I should get a new one, this one was broken. Wait. Was he my doctor? I had a thing. A memory thing. Was he here to help me... because... It was getting so hard these days... "Are you the doctor?" I rasped.

The young man smiled but shook his head. "No mom. I'm not your doctor. But I am a doctor."

"Oh." So he wasn't here to help me... but- I knew stuff too, medical things... Like craniotomy. "I think I was a doctor." It was always there, in the swamp of my brain, this... something, that I was something... that I'd done something... extraordinary. Doctor-y

"You were." He said slowly. "You were a surgeon. One of the best." He patted my knee. I found it strangely comforting.

"Oh," I said, and blinked, "Do I know you?" Had I seen him somewhere? At a conference? At a hospital? I looked up, searching his grey-green eyes. We had the same eye color. But those eyes looked so sad. Why was he so sad?

"It's me mom... Bailey." He took my hand in his own, gently rubbing my fingers. "I'm your son."

I didn't understand... Hello? Hostile uterus... but I knew I had a memory thing...

"Bailey..." I repeated slowly, as if saying it would make it true.

"Yeah," he said, a hesitant smile on his face. He gestured to the room, "What happened here, mom?" he asked.

I looked around, the fog in my brain had been lifting by degrees. Oh... what a mess. Papers, and books... everywhere. Like a - a whirltop had spun in. "A mess," I said. "Someone should clean it up." I stood up and reached down for some of the papers on the floor.

"It's okay," he said suddenly, standing up too. "There's broken glass on the floor, and you're missing a slipper."

"Oh." I said.

"C'mon, have you eaten?"

I couldn't remember... "No," I said.

He took my hand and led me out the door of the room I was in... the study place. There was a strange woman sleeping on my couch, but I kept my mouth shut because I had a memory thing... and well, she looked tired and she probably needed the rest. I didn't want to kick her out. Suddenly I was in the kitchen. He led me to a chair and I sat down at the table.

"I was thinking pancakes," the guy said, "but, I'm really tired. Is it okay if I give you cereal?"

Cereal. Yeah, that was okay.