Recovery

 

 

 

“You need direction Eddie and you shouldn’t still be livin’ at home in my basement.  This is no kinda life you lead…”  He had yet to really get a good look at her face.

She droned on, but at this point he was no longer paying attention to what she was saying.  He needed to find out more about today’s landing spot.  Apparently, today he would be Eddie.  He looked down at the flannel pajama bottoms with holes in them and frowned.  Slowly his eyes made their way up to see the t-shirt that had once been white but was now yellow.  As he sat down, he wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of smoke that wafted up from the jacket on the back of the chair.

Inside, he felt something stir.  It was that feeling again— recognition.  Whoever he really was, that person loathed the smell of cigarette smoke.  He made a mental note of the hint and added it to his collection.

Looking up, he took a look at the woman to see if there was anything to her.  He studied her grey hair pulled into a bun just above the line of the tattered blue robe but no memories came forward.  The woman, who had to be Eddie’s mother, continued to lecture him. “…Greta’s boy’s down at the bank.  And he didn’t even finish college, but he landed a good job.   Why?  Because he went out and…”

He turned away from the nagging voice to better examine the dining room.  A shelf to his right was lined with knickknacks: a glass whale, a silver bell, a framed picture of a family of four.  To his left was a poorly done oil painting of a vase full of flowers.  It was a modest and a well-kept house, but so far it had yet to reveal any secrets. 

He then looked back to the brown door leading to the basement.  Below, the dark, musty cave that Eddie called home had clothes strewn about and dirty plates and dishes stacked on every shelf.  And although it was hard to believe an adult lived down there, the truth was that he had come to find himself in worse places. 

This morning, he had only a few moments after gaining consciousness to attempt to get his bearings before Eddie’s mother’s shrill voice had insisted that he come upstairs.  He only had those first few minutes after his eyes opened he had to quickly assess each new landing spot— that had become his term for it.  And each morning now for hundreds of mornings, he landed somewhere different with a new cast of characters regardless of where he laid his head down the night before. 

Over the years, he had searched for ways to beat this phenomenon.  He had tried staying up— sometimes remaining awake for days.  But eventually, sleep always came.  And when it did, he always awoke the next morning as someone else and the search continued. 

“…I just worry about you Eddie.  It’s not good you know…”  He looked down at his hands as he turned them over.  He hadn’t looked in the mirror yet, but these hands confirmed that he was in his twenties or thirties.  That had become steady since he gained confidence that this was part of his true self.  And the landing spots now were always male— at least since those first few when the whole thing started.  He reached up and rubbed his scalp; a full head of hair had become constant too.  Each day he picked up new clues to his true self and then these traits remained constant with each new day.

“…it’s a shame you know.  You could still go back to school…” 

Staring at the woman, nothing felt right about her.  She didn’t seem to be part of the puzzle.  He looked back to his right hand to find the familiar scar on his index finger and then down at the beer gut that met the table.

A puzzle— that was how he saw the whole thing now.  At first, the experience had been maddening.  During those first few mornings, he had tried to explain to people that he was in the wrong body.  When that approach didn’t work, he just waited in bed for the nightmare to end.  But of course his path remained unaltered and he eventually realized that he had to face the world so he started to investigate each new life.  During those early months, he wandered around lost and miserable.  It was only when he experienced that first hint that everything changed.

He never did know what exactly that landing spot did for a living, but he could remember the guy’s name— Curt Holden.  Curt was loaded, filthy rich— he remembered that too.  He had gone out to the garage and stepped into Curt’s Porsche when it happened.  There was a faint odor, but just enough so that it still lingered in the driver’s seat when he slid in.  A scent of perfume hung in the air that he was able to catch hold of before turning the key.  That moment wasn’t quite déjà vu, but he was awash in a feeling of familiarity.  The fragrance reminded him that he loved someone somewhere else.  And although he couldn’t picture her or come up with a name, he knew that she was important.  It was then that he began to search for answers.

Since that moment, there had been other hints that brought him satisfaction in knowing that he was uncovering a secret.  He had discovered that his true self was a fan of the Detroit Tigers, owned a Labrador, hated olives, was allergic to cats, had been to Paris, and had lost his grandparents.  Over the years, he had unlocked many truths about himself and recovered enough files so that it almost made a whole person.  All of these discovered hints were stored in his brain and he could retrieve them in moments of despair when it seemed like he would never arrive at a solution. 

“You gonna eat it or stare at it Eddie?”

He lifted his head.  “Sorry about that.”

“Eddie,” she shook her head as she set down the juice next to the plate of eggs and sausage.  “things have gotta change.  You can’t just drift from part-time to part-time, you gotta find real work.”  The wrinkles that spread out from the corners of her eyes had been caused by him.

He nodded, “I know.”

“I know what a good boy you are… and smart too.  And I know that you could get any job you want— you just gotta want it Eddie.  What about talking to Russ to find out when they’re hiring?” 

“Okay, I can do that.  I can do it today.”  Being that he would only be Eddie for a short while, it didn’t matter what he promised her.

Her brown eyes danced at the prospect and it made him feel a little better.  “That… that would be something.  Do you think he’s in?”  Her mouth slowly creased into a smile.

“I’ve got his number, I’ll give him a call,” he said between bites.

“That’s great Eddie.  I gotta good feeling about it.”  She beamed.  “Text me later and let me know how it turns out.”  She was glowing at the possibility as she nodded her head.  “I gotta good feeling that things are gonna change for you.”

She headed back to the kitchen and ran water over the pans in the sink.  “I’m running late, so I gotta go.  You just leave these for me and I’ll get to them when I get home.  You just shower up and give Russ a call.”

“Okay,” he nodded from the seat and watched her dry her hands on the dishtowel. 

She came over and kissed his forehead.  “Lemme know as soon as you hear from him.”

He nodded again.  “I will.”

“Things are gonna be better Eddie— just wait and see.”  She gave one last smile and grabbed her purse.  She then headed for the door.  “Don’t forget to lock up.”

“I won’t,” he answered as the door closed behind her.  The house was finally quiet. 

He smiled as he pushed back from the table.  These moments were the best part of his day.  When he was alone, he could investigate as much as he wanted.  And for the better part of the next hour, that is what he did.  Although he thoroughly searched the entire house, it appeared that there were no other clues here. 

He returned to the basement and showered.  In digging through Eddie’s drawer afterwards, he went with jeans and a Metallica t-shirt that both seemed relatively clean.  He grabbed the keys that he saw earlier on the dresser and headed back upstairs.  Stepping out the front door, he felt a few drops of rain start to fall and felt uneasy.  Rain always gave him a bad feeling. 

Turning his head to the driveway, there was a black Grand Am.  He wasn’t sure of the year (cars apparently weren’t his thing), but it must have had almost twenty years on it.  As he stepped closer to it, he paused and stared at the car.  There was a tingling sensation in his brain.  He squinted because the feeling was so powerful that it almost hurt.  It was the car.  Something about this car was incredibly familiar.

He stepped towards it and then walked around it, taking note of every dent and scratch— and there were plenty.  The car was important.  And although it didn’t feel like it was his car, this was clearly a hint for his collection.

The drops now became a drizzle as he made his way around the side to the door.  Taking a seat, he took a look around the inside.  The floor was littered with fries, Taco Bell wrappers, and salt and pepper packets— and it reeked of smoke.  Eddie apparently took no better care of his car than his room.

He turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway.  He didn’t know where he was going as he left Eddie’s neighborhood behind him.  It felt like he was headed somewhere important though.  Above him, the skies lightened and the rain let up slightly.    

The car gathered momentum on the hills of a country road.  After a few miles, he saw the outline of an upcoming stop sign.  As he approached, he tapped the brakes but was surprised to find that the car was not decreasing in speed.  He pumped the brakes harder, but nothing happened.  Panicked, he slammed his foot down on the pedal but the car rolled through the stop sign and slammed into the blue car ahead that had just entered the intersection.  For the briefest but most meaningful of seconds, the two drivers made eye contact.

To most people, the shock of the collision would have been jarring and horrifying, but oddly enough he found a comfort in the feeling.  There was something very familiar about the thud of the impact and the eyes of the other driver.  As the Grand Am spun off the road, he made a mental note of the strong, satisfying hints— he had clearly been in a car accident before and he knew the other driver.

As the car came to a stop in a ditch, he took a deep breath as he felt throbbing pain in his head.  He looked up to the rearview mirror to examine his face.  His nose was swollen and most likely broken— it ached.  But more importantly, there was something vaguely familiar about the dark-haired Eddie that stared back at him.  Perhaps dazed or perhaps enjoying the retrieval of the memory, it took him a minute before he managed to unbuckle himself and open the car door.  He stepped out and looked across the street at the overturned car against the fence.  Midway across the road, he paused.  The blue car was a Volvo.  He knew that he owned one just like that; he was sure of it immediately.  Despite the pain in his face, he smiled at the number of hints that he was collecting today.

The smell of gas snapped him back to the reality of the situation.  He hurried over to the wreck to make sure that everyone was okay.  The busted window of the Volvo provided a chance to check in on the driver.  He leaned down to look inside.  Although upside down, he immediately recognized the unconscious man belted into the driver’s seat.  He fell to his knees as the shock overwhelmed him.  Sprawled on the ground, a wave of remembering swept through him.  Just before the world went black, he smiled in satisfaction knowing that after hundreds of days the puzzle was finally solved.  

Blackness remained for what seemed an eternity.  Knowing that he was still alive, he willed himself to open his eyes.  Slowly, there were slits of bright light.  Pressing forward despite the blinding radiance, he managed to force his eyes open.  With time, he could begin to make out shapes.  A metal railing.  A machine.  A bag of liquid.  He tried to turn his head, but it hurt.  There were noises— beeping.  He blinked and began to recognize that he was in a hospital.  This was not a landing spot. 

In the background, there was movement.  Slowly, the outline of a woman appeared.  She was trying to talk to him.  “…Mr. Turner?  Mr. Turner, can you hear me?  Nod if you can hear me.”

He nodded.  Yes, he was Mr. Turner.  The woman smiled at him.  He labored to form words.  “Where… am… I?”

There was what looked to be a tear in the eye of the doctor holding the clipboard.  “You’re at St. Christopher’s.  You should rest, you don’t have to talk.  Don’t strain yourself.”

It was tiring to try and talk, but he wanted to know more.  “How… long?”

The smile faded slightly.  “You’ve been asleep for a long time Mr. Turner.  But you’re back now.”  The smile returned and she was joined by others.

He wanted to know so much more, but he couldn’t stay awake.  He faded off to sleep just as they wheeled him out of his room towards recovery.