Today's Heartache (Peterick)

Part 5: Same Body, New Brain

Pete's POV:

I watched him sitting there in the very corner of the cafeteria all alone at an empty table with those sullen eyes highlighted in the darkness of lines underneath them and hair frazzled as if he had ran his fingers through it a million times over. My heart hurt. It hurt and cramped and gnawed at me, and there was nothing I could do to lift the sadness in my soul. He was here, and he didn't know me. I'd followed the nurses, seen him yell and cry and beg for mercy, but they were cruel.

It only sparked a fire in my belly when I saw them walk by me in the hallway afterwards as if what they had done to the poor boy was necessary. I thought I could take it upon myself to see why he was here, but all I got in return was an empty stare. Jon walked into the line, blocking my view of him, with a tray in his hands.
"Someone told me that there's specials everyday. What's for today?" he asked.

"Um-spaghetti."
"Oh. I love spaghetti."
"Actually, Jon, is that your patient over there?" I questioned, gesturing with a tilt of my chin.
He glanced back and nodded.
"Yes. Why?"

"Nothing. I-I just saw him getting a little wild with the nurses."

"He's been confused lately with his memory loss. He'll adjust," Jon replied.
"Memory loss? From what? What caused it?"

Jon smiled politely and looked past me at the pot of noodles, so I took the cue and made him a plate. When I had placed it in his tray he leaned in close.
"It's not my right to say this, but since you've been so kind to me unlike the other staff, I suppose I can disclose it to you. He tried to kill himself, and in doing so caused the memories in sync with the suicide to just vanish into thin air. It's still there. I wholly believe it is, but it's going to take time for them to resurface."

"Why can't you just tell him what he's forgotten?"
"Oh, Pete, if I were to do that it might be too much for his fragile mind to grasp. He needs to get strong again and allow for his brain to do all the work naturally."

Jon walked off toward Patrick and placed the food out in front of him. Patrick stared at it a second or two and shook his head like he was refusing it. I wished he wouldn't. He looked frail like if someone were to touch him he'd break and fall apart right then. His sunken cheeks and pale skin made him look sickly and saddened to the core.

I was devastated, knowing I couldn't remind him of who I was. Did I even want to? Maybe what I had done had led him to wanting to end his life. He probably hated me with everything in him. I didn't deserve to be in his memories anymore.

Despite that, when I looked at him I couldn't help but feel the selfish desire to hold him and hug him and tell him I was sorry for putting him through so much pain and misery. Patrick picked at the food, taking a few bites only to cough it out and gag. The food wasn't gross. Everyone else was eating it fine, and I had even had some of it earlier, but he probably hadn't had anything solid in his stomach for a long while.

He seemed hopeless- the entirety of him- as he threw his head in his hands and stayed like that until one of the nurses came to take him back to his room.
"I'm going to take my break now," I yelled out to Spencer who nodded in response.
I followed them and waited in the hallway until the nurse had gone. Patrick was sat cross-legged on the bed with a magazine in his lap. He wasn't turning the pages, just looking at the same page with a dog chewing on a bone.

His eyes shifted when he heard me, and he turned to look.
"Hi," he said.
And I didn't know how to respond. I didn't even know why I'd gone there. It had been an impulse, a spur of the moment kind of decision that left me wondering what was left to do next.

"You're Pete?" he asked, squinting at my name tag.

"Y-yes."
"You were-uh-you were serving food, weren't you? I saw Jon there getting me some spaghetti. What are you doing here?"
"Nothing. I-I guess, I just wanted to welcome you here. I usually like to say hi to new patients, help them get situated. A lot of them don't like the help- the nurses and caretakers I mean. They dehumanize you guys, make you seem like you don't have feelings and thoughts to consider," I told him.