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Start From Scratch
The tv flashed to life.
The anchor urgently called out, “The brain now in this young man’s head is the one of the late Michael Digg, an icon in the business and economy world. This young man has suffered brain death and was held unconscious until the doctors decided to go through the risky process of removing his brain and installing a new one.”
How stupid. It’s like the man is a type of lab rat. One where they could do any type of experiment on. He could live, sure. But he could die too. Of course the doctors don’t care. He’s just an experiment. Oh, but the doctors say this man is me. What was his name? Started with a C.
I looked around. The stark white walls were closing in on me. Pressing me. Almost killing me. Just almost. But then they moved back. All the way back. Even farther than they were before. What’s the opposite of claustrophobic?
I looked out the window of the door that kept me contained in this rat cage. A woman was coming. A beautiful woman. So beautiful. But did she look like she was crying? It seemed she had poured her whole face with water. Tears streamed down her pink face. She was coming toward my door. Where was my breath spray? While I was searching, the door creaked open. My head whipped up.
She had soft brown hair. Beautiful blue eyes. Lush pink lips.
Anonymous beautiful lady: “Um…hi.”
“Do you remember me?”
Tears start streaming again. Not that they ever stopped.
Me: “Sorry. Am I supposed to know you?”
More tears roll down.
“My name’s Casey. We’re married.”
Me: “Oh, hi.”
I was married to this lady? Wow, I had good taste. Why don’t I remember her? It feels like I don’t remember anything. Wait, I don’t even know my name!
“Your name is Chance.”
I knew it started with a C. What a perfect name for me, the lab rat.
Casey: “We met at a club in Manhattan: the Vinyl. The music was pumping. I was dancing. You came over to me. We started dancing together. A slow song played. You grabbed my waist and we swayed to the music. You won me over in thirty minutes. The best night of my life.”
Why was this lady, I mean Casey, telling me all this. I didn’t remember. I never will. And I can’t stand her crying.
“One week later. We were on the Brooklyn Bridge. You grabbed me. You kissed me.”
“One year later. You proposed to me. I said yes.”
Now Casey was slurring her words.
“One year and six months later. The perfect wedding. Black. White. Beautiful. By the beach. Then the honeymoon. Hawaii. It was amazing.”
This girl could redefine crying.
“Two years later. I’m pregnant. I’m due in July. We’re laughing. Talking to my tummy.”
“July. Sweet little Isabel is born.”
“And then happily ever after.”
Happily ever after? I don’t even know Casey. My memories are gone. Nothing around me is familiar. And THIS is a Happily ever after?
If I was Chance before, I’m not Chance anymore. I’m not Casey’s husband. I’m not Isabel’s father. I’m not anything. I’m not me.
A light knock on the door. A head pokes in. The most beautiful head in the world. A little girl. With soft brown hair. Beautiful blue eyes. Lush pink lips.
She comes to my bed.
She kisses my forehead.
I could feel her smile on my head now. Tears were coming. But why? These strangers come to me claiming I’m supposed to know them. I don’t. I wanted to shout, “Just leave me alone.” But I knew I didn’t mean it. Somewhere I felt like somehow I did know them. But that’s impossible. My memories are gone. I have to start from scratch.
Isabel whispers, “Daddy…”
Tears are streaming.
I do remember.
I grabbed her. Hugged her tight.
I remembered in my heart.
The memories still stuck to my heart. My heart. Not someone else’s. How would I ever forget?