As The Morning Dew Clings
He woke up in April, and there was mist in the trees that comprised the view outside his bedroom window. It was beginning to get warm and the birds started chirping earlier every day. He was in a familiar bed and he stretched and blinked the sleep from his eyes. He felt like a slug getting out of bed and had a heaviness to his body. He walked to the bathroom on the carpeted floor and stretched one arm across his chest while releasing a deep yawn into the air.
“Hey Mike,” said a woman from the door of a bedroom across the room from his, “you’re up?”
He did not know the older woman on in the other doorway, but she had a familiarity about her that made him feel like she was family, so he was very at ease by her presence in spite of not knowing her and walking back from the bathroom in only his underwear. She had a perplexed look on her face, but she seemed to be in a good mood overall. “Yeah, good morning. I still feel really groggy though.”
“You’re up, Mike?” She repeated. “You’re up.”
That was weird. It might not be early in the day, but it certainly wouldn’t be considered late. And he figured waking up at 9 on a day without the alarm clock set was a good thing.
“Are you okay?” He asked her, a little concerned. She ran towards him. She was hugging him really hard, and he kept his arms in the air and then slowly lowered his arms to loosely hug her back to comfort her. He could feel his chest getting wet from where her eyes touched his bare chest.
“It’s okay.” Trying to comfort her.
“I was so worried.” She squeezed him tighter.
“Why?”
“You were asleep.”
“How long?” Mike was hesitant from the sound of her barely held together voice.
“Eight days.”
What, he probably wasn’t asleep for any more than 10 at most.
“We were so worried. But you’re up.”
He didn’t think that could possibly be true. But maybe she’s right? He didn’t know exactly what day it was, and she certainly seemed like she was telling the truth. He was getting worried.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“Remember what?” That’s funny, he couldn’t remember much of anything, come to think of it.
“Do you remember me?” and she looked up.
“I feel like I’m supposed to?” Her face contorted as her heart snapped in half.
She sobbed more into his chest.
“I am your mother. You are Mike.” She finally said, with ferocity and patience in her voice. “I am your mother and I love you.”
He kind of saw that coming. That would explain their interactions up to this point. But why couldn’t he remember her? It was like he was lost in the forest on a foggy morning. He thought had a pretty good idea of where he was and the direction his body was going in felt right. He might not know exactly where he was, but he was did not feel the slightest bit worried. Finding out that he was asleep for eight days was troubling, though. Something bad must have happened to cause that. He could feel a headache starting at the base of his skull. He didn’t know what he wanted to ask first, so he just thought about it. It felt like a long time before she spoke again.
“You were in the protests. When the police came the crowd started fighting them, and the police fought back. It got violent. You got hit in the head and were left on the ground in the fighting. After it was over we went looking for you and found you lying against a building on the side of the street. We took you to the hospital and they hooked you up on machines for a few days and said your brain was bruised and you were in a coma. After a while they said it would be okay if we took you home, we would just have to hook you up to a feeding tube for a few hours a day. You just kept sleeping and never woke up.”
Why couldn’t he remember that? What the hell. That’s strange. That’s terrifying. He must have been in his 20’s. He looked down at his hands. Could he remember anything? He remembered eating. Not any meal in particular but he remembered that Eating was important. He remembered going to school and what that was like. He couldn’t bring up the names or faces of any of his teachers though. Surely he could remember something. I mean this house seemed so familiar, and he remembered walking straight to it after he woke up. He wasn’t lost in this house. The carpet felt comforting on his toes like he’d walked o it since he was a kid.
He thought some more and couldn’t remember his mom’s name. And he knew he had a dad but couldn’t picture his face. It was an average build and his dad was dressed business casual with no shoes one. But his face was blurry.
He didn’t say anything, he was just thinking, searching through his memory to find something he could remember.
“Say something. Do you remember this house?
“It feels like home.”
“You remember your dad, right?”
“Not really.”
“You remember your name?”
“You said it was Mike.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I guess not really.”
“Do you remember anything?”
“Not really.”
Because he could remember. He couldn’t remember any specific events or details, and the edges were fuzzy. He knew his name, now. And he knew his mom. That seemed like enough to know for now.
“It will all be okay. You’ll remember soon. It will come back to you.”
He wasn’t sure she was directing that towards him anymore. Was he going to remember? Did he want to remember? His headache was getting stronger.