Do You Remember Me?

Chapter two. Smart.

"Do you remember?"

Dr. Grey's question hung in the air, like an enigmatic riddle, but to the man, it felt like an unsolvable mystery. At times, he was even surprised with his own voice, unfamiliar to him. Sitting up on the hospital bed gave him no clue about Who he was. Every utterance revealed hints of age, perhaps middle-aged, deduced from the timbre of his voice and the weathered texture of his hands. As he examined the room, the absence of a mirror precluded any self-appraisal—his age, it seemed, held no immediate relevance.

After a thoughtful pause, he responded, "There is nothing to remember, Dr. Grey." Her enthusiasm, which had once animated her face, withered under his detached gaze. He contemplated offering reassurance but decided against it; his sense of obligation had not yet been established. "Except, perhaps, for my life," he thought. "If you say I'm Blake, then Blake I shall be." Yet, something suddenly piqued his interest. "Blake what? Do you know my last name?"

"Blake Dominion," the woman replied, handing him a piece of plastic with his name and picture on it. "Your driver's license."

In the brief moment he studied the card, he remained oblivious to the other three doctors, whose exchanged glances hinted at curious discussions, while Dr. Brown seemed to fume with suppressed frustration. Dr. Grey decided to ignore their reaction.

"Do you remember?" Dr. Grey repeated, her voice trailing into a whimsical lilt that almost escaped his notice. Then, abruptly, a song sprung into his mind, and he began to hum its melody.

"'Will You Remember' by the Cranberries!" Dr. Moreno exclaimed, recognizing the tune. Her sudden burst of enthusiasm seemed oddly out of place within the stark hospital environment. The man gazed at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity as she reached for her phone, searching for the song. "Look, you can listen to it on YouTube!"

"Not now," Dr. Brown, however, abruptly interjected, cutting short her enthusiasm. A split second later, her phone vanished into her pocket without a second thought.

"Aunt Ala!" The door swung open, and a whirlwind of a young girl, her hair adorned with a bewildering array of about thirty braids, burst into the room. Five heads swiveled to behold her entrance, raindrops scattering from her coat like tiny constellations. Her uncontainable energy drove her toward Dr. Grey, who appeared entirely delighted—until her eyes fell upon the patient sitting upright in his bed, watching her with a curious intensity. "You're awake!"

"Do you know me?" he inquired.

"Of course, you're the smart one!"

Their conversation pierced the silence, transforming it into infectious laughter as the four doctors joined in, harmonizing with a lighter chuckle from the doorway.

A woman, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Dr. Grey, entered and gently reprimanded the girl. "Millie, that's not how you treat a stranger." It was evident that the three of them were somehow connected.

Millie, pretending to be miffed, whined, "He's not a stranger. We've been visiting him for the past few weeks when I come for my heart check-up."

The woman stepped closer to the patient's bedside, reaching to take Millie's hand. She then extended it toward the patient, their fingers hovering without making contact.

"Millie has been your most dedicated supporter these past weeks. She's visited you every time she comes for her check-up."

Blake regarded the young girl, his eyes moving between her hand and his own. An expectant hush hung in the air, as if everyone awaited the next revelation.

"Why?" he inquired, his gaze moving between her hand and his.

"Aunt Ala says you're a very smart man. My father was also very smart, but he passed away. I wanted you to live on, to keep being smart."

The man relaxed and mirrored the smiles of the others around him, even though joy still felt distant. "Are you smarter than your father?" she asked moments later, prompting another round of laughter.

The reactions puzzled him, and he didn't feel an urge to join in. "Where is my father?" he asked.

Still giggling, the girl took his hand and pointed toward Dr. Brown, who was adjusting his glasses on his nose. "That would be me..." Dr. Brown hesitated for a moment. "Stepfather... You've been living with us for a while... Before the accident... before Japan..."

Blake scanned the room, trying to piece things together. The girl's hand slipped into his, and a gentle squeeze refocused his attention.

"You're the smart one; don't worry, it'll come back to you," she assured him.

Her earnest expression brought a smile to his face. "And you know this because..."

"Because I'm smart too..."