Come Back to Me

Questions

Luke

My head felt like a troop of angry squirrels were launching organized attacks on my skull. Dr. Nichols was talking to me, but I only caught a few disjointed words. The only thing I could focus on through the pain was that woman. I'm married? And to someone I don't even know? Nothing made sense. Last I remember, I had just broken up with Becca three months ago. How the heck did I meet someone, marry her, and then forget her in that time? With a jolt, I realized that Dr. Nichols was waiting for a response.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm having trouble focusing. Could you repeat that last part?"

Dr. Nichols smiled patiently. "Perfectly understandable. I asked if you have any questions."

"Yes," I said immediately. "Who was that woman? Am I really married? How and why don't I remember that or her?" I'm fighting to keep the rising panic down. I'd heard about amnesia in books and movies, but never thought it could happen like they said. It was disorienting and terrifying. Dr. Nichols took a deep breath.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" He asked, gesturing to the chair beside my bed. When I shook my head (ow, don't do that again), he sat down with a sigh. "Mr. Kuechly, there's no easy or gentle way to say this. You have some memory loss. It's October 14, 2018."

My mind whirled. 2018?! Is he crazy? It's 2012! There's no way I've forgotten six years of my life! An idea struck me. "Could I see the date on your phone?" Dr. Nichols nodded and handed me his smartphone. The screen lit up: October 14, 2018. I dropped the phone onto the bed sheets and stared at the wall. I've been in the NFL for 6 years. I'm 27 years old. I'm married. MARRIED. I keep coming back to that, unable to wrap my head around it. I know myself, and I know that unless I've changed drastically, I would not have married someone without loving them deeply. And somehow, I still feel a tenderness toward this woman, when I don't even know her name! I wonder how she is, where she is. This can't be easy for her either- in fact, it may be even harder. Then another thought strikes, and I turn to the doctor, who had just stood up. "Do I have kids?" I stare at him hard while he thinks.

His answer is slow in coming. "I'm not sure, but I don't believe so. Your parents are in the waiting room, if you feel up to seeing them. They are probably better suited to this conversation than me."

Suddenly, all I want is a hug from my mom. "Yes, please."

Dr. Nichols nods and leaves the room. I'm left alone with my thoughts for a few minutes, allowing for me to begin panicking about the possibility of having forgotten my children. The door opens, and my parents step through. They look disheveled and exhausted, and my mom is obviously doing her best to hold her tears back. "Mom." I say, and hold my arms toward her. She immediately sits on the bed next to me, holding me like she used to when I got sick as a kid. With her arms around me and my dad's hand on my shoulder, I break down. I sob harder than I have in years, releasing all of the pain, confusion, and fear of the day. After what feels like hours, I lift my head.

"Tell me about her."

They know instantly who I'm talking about. My mother begins. "Her name is Niki, maiden name Shayer. You met in 2013 at church, and became good friends. A year later, you began dating, and got married last year. She's the head of a non-profit organization that battles the ivory trade, and is the answer to all our prayers for you." I'm silent for a few minutes, processing her words. It sounds like I married a powerhouse, and everything in me wishes I could remember the things my mother told me. Hearing about my relationship like it's a story was one of the worst feelings I'd experienced. The guilt over forgetting, even though I knew it wasn't my fault, was overwhelming. My mother, seeing my inner struggle, added, "She's also one of the sweetest and most understanding women I've ever met. She isn't angry with you, nor does she blame you. And you shouldn't blame yourself."

I smile a little at her insight. Then I remember my other question. "Do we have children?" It seems unlikely after only a year of marriage, but stranger things have happened.

My dad spoke up, the first words he'd said since entering the room. "No, Luke. You don't have to worry about that." A wave of relief washes over me. I can't imagine having to explain to a child why their dad doesn't know them, or the hurt of knowing I don't remember my own flesh and blood.

"Can...can I see her?" I ask quietly.

My parents exchange a look. "Are you sure, honey?" My mom asks. "You could rest first. You've had a big shock, and need to process."

I shake my head carefully. "No. I won't be able to rest until I at least talk to her briefly, alone."

My mother starts to say something, but my dad lays a hand on her arm. "He knows best what he wants, love. Let's go find Niki."

They hug me once again, and leave the room quietly. As the door closes, I try to figure out what on earth I'm going to say to the love of my life, whose name I just learned.