Dr. Kline’s office was basically a box of four walls and no windows. The lighting was always dim, and I always wondered if she did it because she thought it was relaxing or if it was so if she accidentally made a face over something one of her patients said, it would give her some cover.
There was a wire basket filled with glowing rocks sitting atop a wooden bookshelf near the door. They were salt rocks or something. She told me once they made for a calm environment and “cleansed” the energy in the room.
I thought they were ugly.
Of course, I didn’t tell her that. That would just be mean. But as I sat on the leather loveseat that faced her desk during our many sessions, sometimes my mind would drift and I would wonder how something so ugly could make the room look and feel more pleasant.
I guess me not knowing was the reason I was the patient and she was the doctor.
I’d been talking to her since almost the day I woke from my coma. Dr. Kline knew just as much about me as I did—something I often thought of as disconcerting because we weren’t even friends. She was nice enough. Kind and caring toward me.
I was her job. That really should have been a good thing, right? Because she could remain objective. But sometimes objectivity wasn’t personal enough. Sometimes objectivity felt cold.
I looked at her now and realized she didn’t care if I was Sadie or not. It wouldn’t matter one way or the other to her. Either way, her job was to help me deal with it. And if I never found out…?
Wouldn’t matter either.
I couldn’t accept that. More and more, I felt as though I was going to crawl right out of my skin. The need to know occupied so much of my thoughts.
“You’re very quiet today,” Dr. Kline prompted.
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“Such as?”
“Have you ever gone shopping and stepped out of the store and felt like you left something behind? Or on the way in to work suddenly wondered if you forgot to turn off the curling iron or stove? Or went to the office of another colleague and then, when you arrived, wondered why you’d come in there in the first place?”
Dr. Kline accepted my rambling and went with it. “Of course. That sort of thing happens a lot.”
“It’s maddening, isn’t it? Trying remember what you might have left back in the store or if your curling iron was overheating or knowing you needed something from a co-worker, but not recalling exactly what.”
“Yes, it can be quite maddening.”
“That’s how I feel. Every second of every day,” I deadpanned.
She was silent a moment, then began her typical head-shrinker spiel. “I know it’s quite frustrating,”
“Don’t placate me,” I snapped. “You have no idea what it’s like to not know! To want to move on with your life—to actually begin building a life—but having to sit in a holding pattern because the life you want might not be yours to take.”
“You feel like you’re taking someone else’s life?”
I tossed my hands up in the air. “I have no idea!”
“Because you don’t know your true identity. You don’t know if you’re Sadie.” Dr. Kline went on.
I nodded. “Yes.”
Leaning back a little in the giant leather office chair behind her desk, the woman studied me. In front of her, the desktop computer was on, the blue light from the screen cast over her features, making her look somewhat garish.
“Does it really matter if you are? Who you were before your coma, that person isn’t here anymore. You’re just you now. You seemed excited before for a fresh start, a clean slate. What’s changed? Why do you think it suddenly seems so crippling to not know?”
I bit down on the inside of my lip. I didn’t want to say it.
“Wouldn’t it be true that no matter who you were in the past, the life you are creating now and have been for the past few months would still be yours because you’ve been living it?”
Yes. Yes, to all that.
But also no.
“He won’t want me,” I whispered. I spoke so low it was practically just a tortured thought.
“What?” Dr. Kline asked, sitting forward, trying to hear.
I reworded my thoughts, speaking up. “If I’m not her, everything will change.”
“You mean Eddie.” She surmised, understanding.
I nodded. “He says it doesn’t matter… but I think it does. If I’m not her, then I’m not the girl he’s been waiting for the last twelve years.”
“You think he only loves you because of who you may be?”
“I don’t know,” I said openly. It seemed awfully unfair to think such a thing about Eddie. I knew him. I knew he cared about me… so much.
But I also couldn’t shake the way I felt. The way Widow West’s words haunted me. He doesn’t love you.
“Do you think the only thing about you that’s worth loving is your name?”
“No,” I said. I saw what she was doing. “But it’s complicated.”
“Yes. This is a very unique situation.”
“Didn’t you tell me a few weeks ago that Eddie decided you weren’t Sadie? That the allergy to shellfish was proof you weren’t her, and he didn’t care. In fact…” She went on. “I was here the night you both were brought in over a week ago. I heard him tell you he didn’t care if you were Sadie or not.”
I nodded. “I thought it was settled. But it’s not.”
“Do you think perhaps you’re projecting your worries about being Sadie onto Eddie instead of turning them toward yourself?”
“That’s a lot of shrink talk, Dr. Kline. Dumb it down for me.”
She smothered a smile. “Maybe you worry what Eddie will think because it’s easier than worrying about how you will feel if you aren’t Sadie.”
“If I’m not Sadie, then who am I?” I whispered.
“Do you want to be Sadie?”
I shrugged. “At least if I was, I would know where I came from.”
“No other memories that might give you a clue?”
I shook my head adamantly and then thought about the brief, traumatizing memory I had at the paintball field. “No. I don’t want to remember.”
“But you want to know.”
“Exactly.”
“It’s normal to feel as if you’re being held back by things you can’t remember.”
“How do you know?” I challenged.
She blinked. “I guess I don’t.”
It was wrong of me, made me feel guilty, but I felt an inkling of satisfaction when she admitted that.
“What will change if you find out your past identity? Will your future change? Will who you are now change?”
My head was going to explode. I swore it was as though she wanted me to tell her the meaning of life.
“Finding out who I am…” I began and paused. “Will get rid of the nagging thoughts in my head. It will give me some peace.”
“But will it change anything?”
It felt like it would, but in actuality? “Probably not.” Then I changed my mind. “Unless Eddie still wants to search for answers about his long-lost love.”
“I’ve been your doctor for many months now. I do my best to always stay objective and professional.”
“Yes.” I nearly groaned. “I know.”
She sat forward. The light of the computer shifted behind her, changing the garish appearance into one more human. Softer. “But I am going to share something with you, an opinion, if you will.”
“This is better than reality TV,” I said, leaning forward.
She smiled. A genuine smile that lit up her eyes. “We really should talk about your reality TV addiction.”
“I’m waiting.” I reminded her.
“I have cautioned you about your relationship with Eddie.”
“We haven’t listened,” I told her, flat. If she was about to give me her opinion of my relationship with him, I wasn’t interested.
“I’m well aware,” she mused. “However, I see the way he looks at you. I read body language and people for a living. He’s in love with you, and I truly believe it won’t matter to him if you’re Sadie or not.”
I sat back. The weight of her words anchored me in the chair. It felt good to hear her say that. It gave me some relief.
“Eddie was stuck for many years, wondering what-if. Thinking his chance at love was taken from him. Then you came along, and regardless of who you are, you showed him love was possible. In many ways, you gave him back his life.”
I nodded. He’d pretty much told me the same.
“I still think you are entirely too dependent on each other,” Dr. Kline said, slipping right back into shmucky doctor mode. I guessed that meant our “personal” moment was over.
“I still want to know.” I admitted. “Maybe not because of Eddie… because of me.” Because of Sadie. For Sadie.
“I just don’t feel I’ll ever really be able to move on until I know if I’m her… until I know what truly happened to me.”
Dr. Kline was quiet a few moments. “I think I may have a way to find out.” She moved forward, lifted the black receiver off the base on her desk, and punched in a phone number. A few seconds later, she spoke into it. “This is Dr. Kline. Could I speak to Don, please?”
Who the hell was Don?
“Don,” she said warmly after what felt like an eternity of waiting. “How have you been?”
She chuckled at whatever he said, then cleared her throat. “I’m calling on behalf of a patient of mine. Amnesia. She—” Her voice cut off, and her eyes lifted to where I sat. “Yes. Yes, that’s her.”
“I was wondering if you still had records from twelve years ago?
“Ah, wonderful. Could I send her over, get your professional opinion after an exam? We’d like to get a definitive answer, as you can imagine it’s been a difficult time.”
My heart was beating hard, thudding against my chest so forcefully it made me short of breath. There was a way to find out if I was Sadie? Like for real? Why had no one said anything?
I could find out. Today. Nerves crackled beneath my skin and vibrated my tummy.
“Ah, I see. Yes, that’s understandable,” the doctor replied. “How long?”
Some of my excitement deflated. What was she saying? I wanted to jump up, snatch the phone from her hand, and demand answers from someone named Don.
“Okay, yes, that would be great. I’ll be expecting your call.” After a few more moments, she said her good-byes and hung up the phone.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“That was Dr. Don Shaw, the local dentist here in Lake Lochlain.”
“A dentist?” I scoffed. “You called a dentist for an opinion on who I am?”
Oh my God, if she was playing games with me.
“Let me explain,” she said serenely. “Try to calm down.”
I laughed.
“Dr. Shaw has been a dentist here for many, many years.” She began. “He was Sadie’s dentist.”
“Okay,” I said, still not following.
“He would have dental records on her, and even though Sadie is much older than the last time he saw her, the dental records would still be able to identify her.”
I sat straight up. “Really?”
Dr. Kline nodded. “Dental records are used quite often in identifying bodies of people who pass and are… unrecognizable.”
“All this time,” I said, feeling anger bubble up over the hope. “All these months, all I had to do was go over to the dentist! Why didn’t anyone say anything?” I raged.
“Because you weren’t ready.”
I laughed. “Who are you to judge?”
Her voice was indignant. “I’m your doctor.”
I shook my head. All this time…
“There are some things you just need to come to terms with on your own, Amnesia. Finding out if you were the girl who went missing twelve years ago isn’t going to solve all your problems. This is still your reality.”
“I know,” I said, some of my anger deflating.
“Given your progress lately, the recent information that has come to light, and the way you feel stuck, I feel you are ready to know.”
Gee, thanks. Glad to have her permission to find out about myself. I pushed out of the chair. “So I just go over to this Dr. Shaw’s office and let him look in my mouth?”
“Basically, but unfortunately, it won’t be for several days.”
“Why not?”
“Because the records are twelve years old. They’re packed away among many boxes in a storage unit. He has to find them.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. She gave me hope then ripped it away.
“He said he’ll get over there as soon as possible to begin searching.”
An idea popped into my head. “I’ll go,” I volunteered. “I’ll find them!”
“You can’t do that.” She burst my bubble.
“Why not?” I yelled again. I was beginning to sound like a petulant two-year-old.
“Because those records are confidential. Doctor-patient rules apply. Even twelve years later.”
Dejected, I sat back down. “How long do I have to wait?”
“Not long. A few days at most.”
“What’s a few more days?” I murmured. “It’s already been a lifetime.”
“Please remember our earlier words, Amnesia. Finding out will give you what you need to move on, but in reality, your life, the one you have now, is still yours.”
I went to the door, passing by the ugly salt rocks. “Are we finished for today?”
“Yes.”
I started to leave.
“Amnesia?” she called. I turned back. “I’ll call you the second Dr. Shaw calls me and lets me know he has the records.”
“Thank you.” I left the windowless, dim office and walked down the bright corridor. Just a few more days, I told myself.
A few more days. Then all this would be over.