Forgetful

Letter Seven; Brother

Dear Brother,

I was outside earlier with that lady again. She takes me out there sometimes even though it's getting really cold. She shows me the birds and points out her favorites. I think she likes the brown ones. In another life, I think I was a bird with beautiful wings. I think I flew up higher than airplanes, up with the stars and the moon like an astronaut except I was a bird and I didn't go into space. I want to go to space.

I can't ever remember what birds they are even right after she tells me. Just brown ones... Red ones... Black ones.... No names. Nothing has a name anymore honestly, Brother.

 Not even you.

 I know that lady has a name too. I see her all the time. I think she lives here. She coddles me, Brother. She treats me like a baby. Why does she do that? Am I sick? I know something is wrong with me, but what? Every morning, I wake up, and it's a new day, a new slate. It's like the first day I've ever been alive. I think that's what's wrong with me, but I don't know how to change it. How do I change it?

 She took me inside when the sun disappeared behind dark cloud, bringing me inside the cold house. She touches me a lot when she's walking me places, but other than that, she never lays her hands on me. She led me back to this dark, dark room and let go of me. She said goodnight, and then, she disappeared. I don't understand why she leaves me in this room. I think she does it often, but I can't ever remember.

 I sat down at this desk and stared at the wood for a real long time. I counted to a million. I turned the desk lamp on and off about a hundred times till it started making a buzzing noise, so I stopped. Then, I started rifling.

 My hands went to every single cabinet, pulling it open. I ran my hands over the many pens and pencils. I smelled a purple eraser. It reminded me of some fruit. It even smelled like a fruit! It didn't taste like a fruit. I threw it away.

 I went back to digging, my long fingers going to every drawer. I saw some paper, some empty folders, and then.... I saw something strange. It was on it's face, a white slip of silky paper with something wrote in the back. One word. I drew it close.

 "Frank."

 Who's Frank? Confused, I flipped it over, and a grinning blonde man stared back, his hazel eyes glazed with pride and youthful glee. He looked like a very happy man. I wanted to know him. I wanted to know him very badly. I'm not sure how long I stared at the picture, but it felt like forever. Brother, I did not know the man in the picture. I wish I did. He looked like a nice guy.

I put the picture away back where I found it, and I went back to rifling.

I found a piece of paper with a phone number on it. I unwrapped a mint and ate it. I found safety scissors and cut up the piece of paper with the number on it. When I started looking for some tape to fix the paper, I opened the big drawer I never open for some reason, and that was when I found the letters.

They were sealed, so naturally, I opened them.

I read the first letter very slowly. I wondered who Gerard was. I wondered who Alicia was. I wondered who had wrote the letter, and why he was so sad. I wondered what Alzheimer's is. When I got to the end, I read my name, and I didn't believe it. I never believed that I had ever wrote it. I still don't. Somebody was pretending to be me, obviously. I never remembering being that sad. Besides, if I had wrote it, wouldn't I remember the people mentioned?

I read the second letter. When I saw the name Frank on the cover, I immediately pulled the picture from the cabinet. This was Frank. Whoever was pretending to be me must have known Frank. I kept the picture beside me as I read the second letter. I learned that the person pretending to be me was in love with Frank. I had frowned when I had read that, and I stared at the picture again. For a moment, there was a flick of affection inside me, but then, I realized I had never met Frank before, and I went back to reading. Whomever was writing was very, very sad, but I still didn't believe it was me.