The Girl With Lost Memories - Parts 1 & 2 (An OUAT Fanfiction)

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 36: 𝐼𝓉'𝓈 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈

After much persuading, Killian leaves. I remain at the table for the rest of the afternoon, observing the comings and goings of the people around me, then move to the counter for a change of scenery. As I settle in, I notice a forgotten business card lying there.

The card reads, "Storybrooke Clinic," and bears the name of Dr. Archibald Hopper, a psychiatrist.

"That's Archie's," Granny says, drying her hands with a rag. "He has a psychiatry office in the brick building across the street." She cocks her head toward the door to indicate the direction. "You'll find the main entrance between Storybrooke Country Bread and Modern Fashions. Can't miss it."

For a moment, I consider calling the phone number, but if it's across the street, might as well go in person.

Beside the main entrance is the Storybrooke Heritage Seal—a tree behind a beehive. According to the seal's plaque, this is the Heritage Building.

Doctor Hopper's office is on the second floor, and I find it at the end of a long hall. I poke my head through the doorway, and a coatrack wearing a black coat startles me...I thought it was a person.

The walls are covered with striped yellow wallpaper, and cricket green wainscoting and crown moldings add a touch of elegance. Two brown leather couches occupy the center of the room, and a wooden tray on the coffee table holds a pitcher of water and four tall glasses.

I am drawn to a red-haired man sitting at a cherry writing desk in the corner. He wears a tweed jacket and amber-framed glasses, giving him the appearance of a nutty professor. Envelopes fill the desk's compartments, and the top of the hutch carries a white bust of someone I don't know, a small plant, and a smaller bust of someone else I don't know. A framed Doctor of Psychiatry diploma from the Stanforth University School of Medicine hangs above the desk. There's also—

Oh, shit, the man moved.

I flinch back into the doorway, then peer in again. There's a half-devoured burger sitting in a styrofoam container on the man's desk. I hesitate, unsure if it's an appropriate time to approach him.

I could be dying, and so the urgency of my situation pushes me forward because I can either get answers now or regret not being pushy back when I was alive.

Summoning the courage, I tap my knuckle on the cricket green door. "Yoo-hoo. Excuse me." I cringe at the sound of my voice. Since when do I say, "Yoo-hoo?"

The man, seated in a Windsor chair, glances over his shoulder, chewing his food. His ginger hair is wispy, and his sweater vest, tie, and crisp collared shirt further add to his scholarly demeanor. "Yes?" he says once he swallows.

"I don't mean to interrupt," yes, you do, "but do you have a minute?"

He wipes his hands with a wrinkled napkin. "Of course." That's nice, I suppose. This is his lunch hour, yet he's allowing me to take up his time. Interesting. Maybe it's not just the Nolans, Belle, Delilah, Ruby, and Killian who are kind. It must be a common trait in Storybrooke.

I step into the office as he heads to a leather armchair that faces away from a window overlooking the Marine Garage. The tops of the window panes say, "Dr. Archibald Hopper, M.D. - Psychiatrist." However, it's written backward since the decal's pasted on the outside.

I take a seat on one of the couches. "My name is Bella, and—"

"Bella? As in Bella Palmer?" Doctor Hopper says, leaning over with interest. Why must everyone know who I am?

I sigh. "Yeah, that's me."

"Gosh, I was wondering when we would run into each other. Henry's been raving about you since he found your story in his book. The name's Archie, but around here," he says, referring to the clinic, "they call me Doctor Hopper." He outstretches his hand, and I shake it. Then, he reaches into his pocket. "Since you're here, I assume you already know I'm a psychiatrist," he hands me his card—a duplicate of the one in my pocket, "but here's my card, anyway, for future reference."