City Of Strangers

Looking through a stranger's eyes

I woke up in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. I didn't recognize anything, not the street lights infront of the window, not the pictures next to the bed, not even the woman laying next to me.

I stood up, unsure what to do next. I decided to put on my clothes, not searching for my phone or some car keys because I couldn't remember owning any of this.

I couldn't even remember my own name.

I looked for the door and stepped out in the cold night. As I was walking down the street I stopped at a nearby store window and watched the person staring back at me. He looked confused with his disheveled dark hair, the dark circles underneath his eyes and the slightly visible signs of a growing beard, not seeming to be older than thirty.

My reflection fiddled in its jacket, trying to find something recognizable. But there was nothing in my jacket ... in my jacket ... Jack.

Jack seemed to be a proper name for the appearance I was, so I kept that in mind in case someone would want to talk to me.

Some time later I made my way up to a park, set in the centre of the city I was in, and watched some people doing their morning routine. I myself couldn't remember having something like this.

All of the sudden I heard a familiar sound and turned around to find its source. I wasn't able to control myself to stay calm wherefore I began to hastily jog and look around for the only thing I felt belonging to. I almost jumped when I finally saw what I only had heard some seconds ago and ran towards it. I only stopped when I was standing infront of him. Infront of him and his masterpiece of music.

Music.

Was I a musician?

The old man passionately played the piano and a crowd was already forming around him. I listened to his joyful melodies and for the first time this day, I didn't feel alone. As I was about to fully give in and slip into some kind of daydream, a deep and loud voice interrupted the calm atmosphere that had created itself around the man and his listeners.

"Peter! Pete, hey!"

I looked around and almost jumped as someone tapped on my shoulder. "Peter, nice to see you! What are you doing here? And where's Margaret?" some man asked me smiling brightly.

"Excuse me, but you must mistake me with someone else. I don't know you," I tried to explain, still confused.

"What, Peter ... ahh! Now I get it, you're fooling me again, aren't you? Just like in the old times." The man infront of me started to laugh whole-heartedly, like I just told him the best joke in the world. Not knowing how to explain him my situation I simply turned around and walked away. I could still hear him shouting "Peter" towards my direction but I ignored it, not being interested into enlightening him.

As I was beginning to feel hungry I looked for something to eat. Just when I was about to enter a bakery I remembered that I would have to pay for the food and abruptly stood still. Again I sought through my jacket and even my pockets, but again I was unable to find something.

As I was about to think for another way to get something to eat, another voice began to yell "Peter!"

This time it was a female voice.

"Peter! Thank god I finally found you," the woman said relieved.

"I'm sorry, this is the second time this day someone mistook me for some 'Peter', we must look very similar," I answered, feeling slightly sorry she didn't find for whom she was looking for. "See, if you don't mind, I'm feeling a bit hungry. Could you lend me some dollar? I know you don't know me and I don't look that poor in these clothes, but I don't have any money in my pockets and can't remember where I could have some. Actually, I can't even remember my own name."

The young woman looked at me sympathetically and pulled me to her side.

"Listen, if you would like to we can have breakfast together, I know a nice café right around the corner," she proposes friendly.

Not thinking too much about it, I agreed and we made our way towards the little coffee shop.

As we settled down and ordered something to eat, the woman smiled sadly at me. "I have to tell you something. I know you don't recognize me, but I do recognize you. In fact ... you are my husband - please don't leave," she begged uneasily as I abruptly stood up.

"We are married since two years, but about three weeks ago you had a horrible accident that damaged your memory. Please let me explain." Uncertain I slowly sat down again, looking at her bewilderedly. I knew her ... she was the woman laying next to me this morning.

I nodded to signal her to go on with her story after thanking the waitress who just brought me some coffee and sandwiches and also some coffee for the woman sitting at the other side of the table.

"Before you go on ... what is your name? You didn't tell me earlier," I asked her, trying not to sound too roughly. She smiled at my miserable attempt.

"My name is Margaret ... Margaret Johnson. And your name is Peter Johnson." After thinking about it I asked "May I call you Maggy? I think it suits you better."

Her smile widened as I asked this and she happily nodded in agreement. "After we first met, this was your first question. Your explanation was that 'Margaret' sounded too old-fashioned for such a young cheerful girl like me." I smiled at her response. "It seems like I was quite the gentleman. But what exactly happened to my memory? Will I ever get it back?"

Her smile faded as I asked her this and she slowly shrugged with her shoulders. "The doctors said there was a thirty percent chance that you will regain your memory and only a ten percent chance that you will get it back completely. Till this moment arrives you will suffer of daily dementia." She spoke quietlier at the end but I still understood every single word.

Cheerless I looked out of the window to my left at the outside where rain drops started to fall. It occured to me as if I would look into some strange place. Into some strange world where day by day only strange people with strange faces would surround me and I myself wouldn't recognize a single one of them. Not even the one of the woman, of Maggy, who was sitting across from me, her blond hair falling in waves over her shoulders, framing her gentle beautiful face. And tomorrow I would have forgotten it. I would have forgotten her face, her name and what she meant to me.

We continued to speak a little and she told me about when we first met and how we passed the last years until my accident. By the end of the day we were walking home and as we arrived, I eventually really felt like I was at home. With my wife. And as we were laying in bed together, I could only hope for the thirty or even ten percent chance to remember this day when I would wake up the next day.

With this hopeful thought, I fell asleep.

As I opened my eyes, I woke up in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. I didn't recognize anything, not the street lights infront of the window, not the pictures next to the bed, not even the woman laying next to me.

End.