Forget-Me-Not

meaning: forget me not

Image created with Canva

"Hello."

I looked up to see a girl standing before me, framed by the white flowers that carpeted the alcove of vines growing around where I sat on a cold, stone bench.

I don't know how I got here.

"Hello." I responded. My voice was clear and focused. It did not betray the growing panic in my chest.

"What's your name?" She asked, tilting her head so her curls fell across her face.

"My name?"

She nodded.

I thought for a moment. What’s my name? Who am I?

"I'm not..."

"It's alright, take your time. A name is important and won't have left you easily."

For some reason, I trusted this little girl, even though she couldn't have been much older than ten. I took a deep breath and searched my thoughts, letting my eyes drift over the beauty of this odd little space. It was only when my mind began to wander that a name popped into my head.

"Kim. Kim Louise Anderson."

"Good. Listen, you need to find your journal. They almost took it away from you last time."

"They? Who are they?"

The crunch of mulch came from just beyond the edge of the alcove.

"I have to go. I'll see you again. Promise."

I blinked and the girl was gone. The crunching grew louder and a woman appeared in the opening to the alcove. She was wearing teal scrubs, her hair tied back in a high ponytail.

"There you are, Ms. Anderson. It's time for lunch." She smiled.

"Um, could you tell me where I am?" I asked. Her smile didn't falter as she offered a hand to help me stand on unsteady feet.

"You're at the Memoria Institute. You're safe here."

"Safe from what?" I asked, allowing her to guide me out of the alcove and into a colorful garden edged by a high stone wall.

"Yourself. The memory lapses sometimes make people erratic, but you seem to be doing well today."

"Memory lapses..."

"Yes. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone here has them."

We rounded another corner and a grand, old building towered before us: three stories of grime-stained stone with myriad windows. She led me through one of a series of grand double glass doors allowing entrance to the ground floor. Inside was just as grand, with marble floors and high ceilings. To one side was a sprawling room with round tables spread throughout in a precise pattern. The woman had me sit at an empty table.

"I'll be right back."

I turned to the room as she walked away. There were several other people, patients, I supposed, at other tables. No more than three sat at any one table, and even at those tables, there didn't seem to be much conversation happening. Many of them looked as lost as I felt. All of us wore variations on the same plain shirt and loose pants. I wondered if the different colors meant different things.

A twinge of familiar desperation washed through me at the thought, but before I could follow the feeling, the nurse returned with a tray of food.

"Here you go. Eat up. You have a session in an hour."

She set the tray before me and I gazed down at it. A ham sandwich, de-crusted and cut in half. Apple slices. A carton of milk. A fortune cookie.

Everything an amnesiac needs for a balanced lunch.

Oh, I guess I'm snarky.

The food was sub-par at best, but I managed to choke it all down by the time the nurse appeared again. This time she led me to an elevator that had been fitted with wood paneling. We went up one floor before it stopped and opened again, admitting another nurse, leading another patient.

"Morning, Beth." My nurse said. The other nodded, not quite as cheery. Her charge was staring blankly ahead, no attempt to look over at me or his surroundings. We got off the elevator before them, entering a long hallway made all the more unsettling by the lack of windows and lit by dim lights at regular intervals along the ceiling. It was completely silent as we made our way along the hall. I strained to hear anything as we passed closed door after closed door.

No voices.

No music.

No movement.

By the time the nurse brought me to a stop, every nerve in me was on edge. Nothing should be this silent. I jumped when she knocked on the door and pushed it open without listening for a response.

"Dr. Dedi, Ms. Anderson for you."

"Ah, thank you my dear." The man in the room didn't even look up as he responded. The nurse gave a small nod and left, closing the door behind her. Dr. Dedi continued scribbling in his notebook, letting the renewed silence linger.

Finally, he straightened, proving himself taller than expected, taller even with the long nose he gazed down at me past scratched reading glasses.

"Have a seat."

I lowered myself into the indicated chair, but dared not relax back into it. Something crawling beneath my skin said it wasn't safe, that I needed to get out right now. But I had heard the lock click when the nurse closed the door.

I was trapped.

Dr. Dedi nodded and ducked his nose into his notebook again, scribbling something on the crinkled paper.

"How are we feeling today?" He asked, keeping his eyes following his pen.

It took me a moment to find my voice. "I'm... a little confused."

"Ah, another memory episode, I see." Scribble. "You don't remember anything?"

"Just my name."

Another scribble. "Other than that, how do you feel physically?"

"Normal, I guess."

"That's a subjective statement."

"I... don't hurt anywhere?"

More scribbling. "Good."

He focused on his writing again and I took the opportunity to look around the room. It was a standard office: big brown desk covered in neatly organized stacks of paper, a black roller chair tucked away, an old computer the size of a small car. There were pictures on the wall of picturesque landscapes, but there was something odd about them. It was hard to tell without getting closer, but they almost seemed a little pixelated. Sweeping the rest of the room, it felt the same. Off. The file cabinets seemed too methodically skewed. The stacks of paper were just a little too unevenly spaced.

I jumped as the doctor snapped his notebook closed. He turned to me with a look that was somehow neutral and condescending at the same time.

"Now then, for today's treatment I need you to fill this out." He pulled a slip of paper off the desk and handed it to me on a clipboard.

"A math test?"

"Humor me." He handed me a pen. "You have 5 minutes starting from... now."

Ten minutes later, the nurse returned to save me from the unnecessary silence that had followed the end of my math test. I was relatively sure all the answers were correct, but he didn't even look at the paper when he took it from me, just returned to scribbling in his notebook.

"Your afternoon is free until dinner. Would you like me to show you to your room?" She asked, just as cheerful as before.

"Yes, please." I responded, grateful to be getting onto the elevator and away from the never-ending hallway of silent doors. Up one more floor and we stepped onto a terrace with light streaming in through nearby windows. Before us stood another hallway. This one wasn't so silent, although all the doors were still closed. She led me four doors down and opened the door on the left.

"Here we are. Dinner is at 5. I'll come find you if you're not in the dining room by then." She snatched a watch off the desk and handed it to me. "Here. I think you must've forgotten this earlier. Press the button on the side and I'll come find you. Enjoy your afternoon."

I took it and strapped it to my wrist. Almost 2 already. According to the little girl, I needed to find my journal. But where would I have hidden it? Did I know that I wouldn't remember?

I started pacing around the room. It was a moderately sized room, clinical white linens on a double bed. A desk between a bookshelf and private bathroom. Beneath the picture window was a cushioned bench.

I made for the desk. The top of the desk was clear save for a pen next to a small stack of blank paper. The drawer was just as nondescript: more pens, small scraps of paper, and paperclips. The books on the shelf were all leather-bound classics the like I’d seen in other places in the building.

A buzz tickled the edge of my hearing. It wasn’t the lights, they were incandescent. A glint caught my eye and pulled it to the top of the bookcase. It was tucked back behind an old weather vane, but there in the shadows was a camera.

They were watching me.

If I knew that before, I wouldn't have hidden it here. So where? I sat on the window seat and looked outside. The closed-in yard was even larger than I expected. Close to the building were some tables and benches. A few patients were playing chess and checkers there. Beyond that was a vast yard with various activities available, ranging from tennis to cornhole. At the far end of the yard, just before the stone wall, was a garden maze. That was where I woke up. Perhaps that was where I hid the journal.

I checked the watch. Three o’clock.

Navigating the building was much more difficult without my cheery guide along. I made it to the elevator okay, but the buttons inside didn’t seem to correlate to the floors as I’d seen them thus far. As such, I wound up on the second floor and had to hit a few other buttons until the doors finally opened to the ground floor.

Back outside, I made for the wall of green that loomed at the back of the yard. The alcove I’d woken in was close to the entrance to the garden, a protected little spot made of carefully woven vines with little white flowers dotted everywhere. Starting there, I searched around the little bench, even getting on my hands and knees to see if I’d somehow taped it to the underside.

Nothing.

Farther in, then.

I wandered into the green paths, ducking into each little alcove as I went. Nothing seemed out of place, no dirt disturbed, nothing taped or tucked anywhere. I was beginning to wonder if perhaps I was as crazy as this place seemed to think I was when I heard a child giggle.

Turning, I just caught sight of curls disappearing around a corner and followed. Then another turn, another. Each time I barely caught sight of her.

Where was she leading me?

If she knew where the journal was, why didn’t she tell me earlier?

I rounded one last corner and stepped into a courtyard, a fountain sitting in the middle. Walking to the rim, I found it bone-dry and dusty, as if it hadn’t been used in years. I looked around, hoping to find another sign of my mysterious friend, but she was nowhere to be found. Did that mean the journal was here?

Circling the fountain, I jumped when a man came into view. He didn’t seem as surprised as I. Perhaps he’d heard me coming. We stood there quietly for a moment, watching each other. He also wore a patient’s clothes, but he seemed less confused than the others I’d seen.

“Good afternoon.” He said. A wave of adrenaline ran through me at the sound of his voice and I resisted the urge to run over to him. Interesting. Could the body remember more than the mind?

“Afternoon.” I replied. I gripped my arm and shuffled in place. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

Pain flashed in his eyes then vanished just as quickly. “You don’t need to apologize. I don’t mind company.”

We fell into silence and I looked around awkwardly, studying the cracks and contours of the fountain. I looked up and paused. The top tier of the fountain, backlit by the dimming sky, seemed familiar somehow.

A vibration on my wrist made me jump. The watch had a reminder on the screen. Dinner in five minutes. I looked across the fountain to the man. He smiled.

“You should head out first. They won’t like to see us together.”

I turned to leave, then paused and glanced back.

He shook his head before I could speak. “It’s okay, Kimmy. I’ll find you again. My name’s Ben.”

It took everything in me to turn from him and leave the fountain and hedges behind.

Dinner was as lackluster as lunch and just as quiet, even though there were more people in the room. I even had two other patients assigned to my table. They made a couple weak attempts at conversation, but seemed unable to think of any substantial topics and fell back into silence.

After dinner we all “got” to watch a movie in a small auditorium. It was some old black and white film, poorly made and even more poorly dubbed. In the dim light I scanned the rows before me for the man, Ben, without being obvious. He was near the front, looking for all the world like he was actually interested in the film. Or, at least, zoning out through the film like many of the others were. As the credits rolled, we were directed to our rooms and urged to go to bed.

When I finally managed to fall asleep, I slipped into a strange dream. Running through the hedges, fear clear in my mind.

Someone was chasing me.

I ran, taking turns seemingly at random, until I emerged into the courtyard with the fountain, where I stopped and looked around frantically. Whatever was after me was getting closer. I glanced at my hands and found a book there, leatherbound and secured with tightly tied cord. Looking up, I saw the same outline of the fountain tier backlit by the moon. The journal soared through the air and disappeared into the empty bowl. I took off again, hoping to lead them away. A jolt went through my body, seizing my muscles and sending me careening to the ground right next to an alcove. As I connected with the mulch, I sat up in my bed, gasping for air.

It took a few minutes for my body to catch up with the reality that I wasn’t being chased.

I wasn’t being pumped with electricity.

I wasn’t about to be killed.

Although I couldn’t really be certain about that last one.

I slipped out of bed and splashed some water on my face, thinking about the dream. Was that a memory? Or had my mind made it up to deal with everything I’d been told today? I looked at myself in the mirror.

Dark circles under my eyes. When had I last gotten a full, good night’s sleep?

I wandered to the seat at the window and sank into the cushions. Outside was artificially bright, high lights flooding the grounds with harsh, white light. Except for the maze. Even in my dream, it had been dark. There were supposed to be lights there, I could see the poles, but they weren’t on.

Perhaps they’d been broken somehow. Satisfaction ruffled through me at the thought.

I glanced at the watch. Just past three. Were there night guards in the halls? Could I sneak out without being caught?

The hum of the camera pervaded my thoughts. No, I couldn’t slip out. They were watching.

Later then.

So I went through the morning: choking down a bland breakfast, doing the required exercises, game time in another room. All the while miss cheery was looking over my shoulder. Finally I made it to lunch time and she told me I would have free time after my appointment.

“How did you sleep?” Dr. Dedi asked as I perched on the edge of the chair again.

“Fine. I just slept.”

“Hmm.” He grabbed a clipboard off his desk and tapped the papers there. “It says here there was a spike in your heartbeat around three AM. Did you have a nightmare?”

“My heartbeat?”

He nodded. “Yes. Could you answer the question please? What was the nightmare about?”

It took me far too long to realize how they could know that if all they had was a camera in my room.

The wristwatch. Was that why I hadn’t been wearing it yesterday? Dr. Dedi was still waiting for my answer.

“I don’t remember the dream. I couldn’t say if it was a nightmare or not.” I lied.

His shoulders dropped a tiny bit, but he nodded. “I see. That’s too bad. If it was memories coming back, then that would mean we were making progress. Do let me know if you recall it later.”

“Of course.”

At last it was time for free time. I took my time wandering the yard. I watched a game of tennis. Lounged under a shady tree. Tossed beanbags at the cornhole boards by myself. I reached down for the bags and carefully caught the watch on the edge of the hole, scraping it off my hand into the grass.

Then I calmly made for the hedges.

I marched straight to the courtyard. Thankfully, the fountain was still dry. Climbing into the fountain and pulling myself onto the middle tier, I rose onto my tiptoes to peer over the edge of the top.

There it was, just sitting near the middle of the fountain: A worn leather book.

I reached for the book, but just as my fingers closed around it, I slipped, and found myself with just enough time to imagine my broken body in the bottom of the fountain before I hit.

Except I didn’t.

“You can open your eyes, Kimmy.” Ben’s amused voice rumbled.

I looked up to find myself cradled in his arms, a smirk on his face.

“You need to stop being so reckless.” He said as he stepped out of the fountain, but the amused look stayed on his face. 

“Thank you.” I said, finding my balance when he set me on my feet. I glanced at the book in my white knuckles. This had to be it. The journal.

I glanced at Ben, decided he’d already seen me holding the book, and proceeded to unwrap the leather cord. It flopped open easily, the soft leather serving more to protect the pages within than to give it structure. I wondered if that made it easier to hide. Going to the first page I found only one sentence.

Everything around you is a lie.

Thanks, past me. I figured that out already.

“Maybe you should check the last few entries. I saw you slip off your watch earlier. It won’t be too long before they realize it, too.”

I tossed Ben a quick glare before skimming to the last written pages. Here it had devolved into wild notes, written every direction and seemingly unrelated to each other.

Fifth door on the left.

M.M. doesn’t know anything.

Best time between 3 and 4.

“Anything helpful?” Ben asked, lounging against the fountain.

“I don’t know.” I looked up at him, suddenly suspicious. “And how do I know I can trust you?”

“I can’t remember it all, but I know we’ve worked together before. They wiped you a couple days ago when you got caught. They didn’t know I was involved so I can remember nearly a whole week.”

I sat next to him. “What do they want with us? Why are we here?”

He shook his head. “I wish I knew. When I first woke up, I just… felt like something was wrong. Like I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

The thump of heavy boots filled the quiet air.

Ben shot to his feet. “They’re coming. You need to find a new hiding place for that.”

“There!” Shouted a new voice. A few men in black security uniforms were barreling through the hedges. Ben ran at them.

“Go!” he shouted. I took off, slipping to the half of the hedge maze I hadn’t explored yet. I scanned the alcoves as I ran, hoping for somewhere, anywhere I could hide this journal. Behind me in the courtyard I heard a yell of pain.

I didn’t have much time.

I slammed into crossroads. To the left, a dead end with a dirt-filled pot. Quick as I could, I forced the journal into the pot, shifting the dirt to make it fit. The footsteps were coming closer. Deciding it was good enough, I popped to my feet and ran the other direction, a path that led in a few more turns and, eventually, to another dead end. I backtracked to one of the many alcoves along the path and crouched down in the overly pruned leaves.

Maybe they wouldn’t find me.

Maybe it would be okay.

Maybe I was delusional.

The footsteps didn’t falter as they approached, and a man appeared above me. I tried to jump away, but we were too close. A taser brought me to the ground before a well-placed kick knocked me out entirely.

**

Speckled light filtered in through vines that had been carefully guided to create an alcove. Little white flowers sprung up all over the lush green. My eyes drifted down to a little girl, standing amongst the flowers. She gave me a small smile.

“Hello.”