Illusion

Chapter Three

“I want answers,” I state for at least the twentieth time since we left the hospital.  I do not have any  memories.  I only know one thing.  My name is Carter Morfey.  I do not recall anything else.  I know some basic things, for instance I know the building we were in before is a medical center, and I know how to walk and speak and recognize other basic things.  But I do not know anything about myself, this man, my surroundings, or specific things really.   

          “For the last time, I will tell you when we get home,” he growls, rubbing his temples.  We are in the back of a carriage being pulled by two large brown horses.  I can remember those and what they are called and how to describe them, but I do not remember ever being in one or ever walking before for that matter.  Anything related to myself is essentially foreign to me.

          “Can I at least know your name?” I bargain.

          “Claxton.  Claxton Morfey.”  He says and my mind whirls bringing even more questions to mind.  So somehow I am related to this man?  I guess that makes sense since he was there at the hospital with me, but it feels so odd that it is someone I should be so familiar with and I know absolutely nothing about.

          After that, I try my very best to keep my mouth shut until we reach home, wherever that may be.   

          “Look who's back!”  The man calls the very second we walk into the small cabin-like house that seems to be in the middle of nowhere.  I shoot him a glare that he unfortunately is not looking at me to see.  I really do not want attention; I want to sit down and have a real conversation so that I can try to start fitting pieces together for this puzzle that is apparently my life.

          No less than five seconds after Claxton’s announcement, a young boy comes barreling out of nowhere and grabs my legs, nearly knocking me down.  My first instinct is to shove him away from me, but I bite my tongue and awkwardly pat his back.  He does not know what is going on with me any more than I do, I remind myself.

          “I was so worried about you, Car.  We thought you might not come home ever,” he says pulling back slightly to look in my eyes.  Although I do not recall the child, when I look in his big, brown eyes I feel a sort of compassion for him, as though we have been through a lot together.  And maybe we have, I would not know.  He has shabby dark brown hair hanging over his pale skin ending just above his large brown eyes.  He is a very cute kid and I cannot help but smile as he looks up at me with more care than I could expect from someone I do not remember.

          “Yeah, well I am here now,” is all I can think to say and I give him one last half-smile, while part of me is silently hoping he will go off to wherever he came from and busy himself again so I can talk to Claxton alone.

          “Come on Seb, let’s go and finish the garden, yeah?”  A woman whose presence I had not even noticed speaks up.  She is short and thin with dark gray hair and wire rim glasses that sit low on her pointed nose.  

          “Okay nana, but can Car come?”  He pleads and she slowly shakes her head.

          “She needs to talk to grandpa first, but she can after,” she says and takes his hand leading him down the dark narrow hallway.

          “So, you are my grandpa?”  I turn to Claxton with a perplexed expression.

          “That’s me.  This is so strange, so you really do not remember a thing?”  He ponders narrowing his eyes almost as if he is inspecting me to make sure I really am me, and making me rather uncomfortable.