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The nurses are unhurried, but they move with a serene purposefulness through the room. There are vases full of beautiful, colourful flowers and framed art on the unsightly looking walls. The wallpaper is peeling in places, off-white and flecked with little pink flowers.
I stretch, my body feels stiff and my mouth feels dry. A metallic taste lingers in my mouth and pain pulsates through my skull. I reach my hand up to my head and let out a throaty moan.
The shuffling around the room continues, monitors beep and bells ring in my ears. "Olivia? Can you hear me?" A man in a white coat asks. I look at his coat, his name tag says Dr. Allan. He is tall, has dark hair and bad breath. I can smell him as he shines a torch in my eyes. I can hear his words, but I am struggling to speak.
"Water please," The doctor says to a small nurse and she disappears, coming back with a plastic cup of water. She adjusts my bed and soon I am sat upright, gulping down the clear liquid. "Thank you," I smile, looking down at my leg. It is plastered in a white cast with a small heart doodle on one side. "What happened?" I ask.
"There was an accident," Dr Allan says. "A high speed head on collision. Do you remember?" I shake my head, resulting in a squeeze of my hand from the small nurse. She offers me a warm smile and I smile back. The door swings open and the doctor steps aside as a tall, bald man rushes to my side.
"I was so worried," he says, his piercing blue eyes staring into mine as he takes my hand in his. I gulp, withdrawing my hand and holding it to my chest. Behind him stand three brunette girls, nervous looking. They are definitely sisters and they share his electric blue orbs.
The taller of the three has her hair in a messy bun, smeared mascara lines and heavy eyelids. She is wearing a grey flannel shirt, oversized and skinny black jeans. Her fingers are interlocked with a smaller girl, the same brunette hair hangs down her shoulders. Her face is bare and her clothes are dishevelled, like she just found something to throw on quickly. An oversized NYPD t-shirt and cycling shorts, thick winter socks and blue crocs. Her fingers are also locked with another girl, taller than her. Her brunette hair is curly, tight ringlets cascade down her back. She is wearing a white, chunky, knitted sweater. Blue flared jeans and sneakers.
"Are these your daughters?" I ask the man in front of me, his grey beard peppered with white. "They're all so beautiful," I tell him.
"Olivia," Dr Allan says, stepping closer. "Do you recognise these people?"
"I'm sorry," I shake my head. "Should I?" I look at the man before me, tears spill out of his frosty eyes and I frown, wondering what's happening.
"Olivia, this is your husband, Elliot," Dr Allan says, "These are your daughters. Heather, Serena and Margaret. Do you remember?"
Everything turns into a blur, the world and all of the sounds. I feel numb and I pause, trying to hold back the strange rumbling inside of me– but I can't. A lone tear races down my cheek, and just like that– the flood gates are open. I have a husband and three grown daughters. Are they also married? Do they also have children? I can't remember.
The bald man– my husband, climbs onto the bed beside me and wraps his arms around me. I don't recognise this man, but I don't pull away. It feels right; being in his arms. I have a tight grasp of his shirt as I sob into his chest. He is giving me comfort and for that, I am eternally grateful. The tears burst forth, like water from a dam, spilling down my face. I gasp for the air that simply isn't there, and I tremble like a small child. My throat burns, forming a silent scream as my alleged husband strokes my forehead, smoothing my damp hair away from my face, filling me with calmness and optimism.
He rocks me in his arms until I am completely still, only the occasional hiccup escapes my lips. He kisses my forehead and I sigh heavily. I have a husband who clearly cares deeply for me– and three daughters whom I don't remember. I can see why I fell in love with this man, though– he seems completely perfect.
"I'm sorry," I say and he frowns, stroking my cheek.
"Sorry for what, my angel?" he asks. My angel– I like that.
"I don't know who you are, I don't remember," I whisper, ashamed and he shakes his head.
"That's not your fault," he assures me. "And you will remember. We have made too many amazing memories together for you to forget."
I nod, motioning for the three girls to come to me. Maybe if I speak to them, I will remember. "Tell me your names," I say, smiling warmly. I always wanted children, and now I have them and have no idea who they are. The taller of the three, the one with the messy bun steps forward and I take her hand, stroking it with my thumb.
"I'm Heather," she smiles.
"Heather," I smile, "Like the purple plant, my favourite colour," I say and she grins. "Yeah, mom."
The smallest girl, bare faced and messy looks at me and I nod. "I am Serena," she says and I grin. "My mother's name, I hope you're nicer than her."
Everyone laughs before I turn my attention to the other girl, curly haired and covered in freckles. "I am Margaret," she says quietly.
"That's my middle name," I smile, looking into her sharp blue hues. "We picked beautiful names for beautiful girls." The girls are closer now and I notice the smaller brunette has a belly, I can see the outline when she moves. "Are you–?" I start, stopping myself in case she isn't. I don't need to offend someone I've just met.
She smooths the blue cotton over her rounded belly and smiles. "Pregnant?" she grins. "Yes, I am." I gasp. My daughter is pregnant and I don't remember anything about her life.
We all spend hours talking– to one another and to doctors. They come to the conclusion that these things just happen sometimes after severe head trauma– and that hopefully my memory will return soon. It isn't fair, but I am ready to start over if I have to. I am ready to fall in love with my husband all over again and I am ready to learn everything about Olivia Benson. Ready to get to know the girls that are supposedly mine, they have my hair. I'm ready to experience life, all over again.
