Ebony and Frank

‘Do you remember anything? Anything at all?’
She shook her head. 
‘No snippets of vision, no names you remember? A landmark? Or where you lived? What it might have looked like?’
Suddenly, old barn doors flashed in her mind. Just the doors. Closed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ She stared at the ceiling. At the circle light fitting. They’d been going over and over this for the last few weeks, and no, she didn’t remember anything.
‘Ebony?’ 
She continued to stare at the ceiling. ‘Are you even sure that’s my name?’ She finally spoke. A hint of resignation in her voice. She was tired. She was getting nowhere with finding out who she was. She was also getting a headache. She turned to the man she knew as the resident psychologist, Dr Graham. ‘How do you know that’s my name?’
Dr Graham showed no emotion, no sign that he was any more caring about her than the flower vase on his coffee table, with wilted flowers crawling over the rim. ‘You were found with a charm bracelet that read…’
‘Ebony. I know, I know,’ she rose from the chair. Had had enough for the day. ‘I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind.’ She headed for the door.
‘Ebony,’ his placid voice caused her to shiver. It was a voice that noone could grow to love. ‘Do try, yeah, to remember. Every little bit helps. Fran tells me you were asking to join the art sessions. I think it’s a wonderful idea. Maybe you’ll draw something that you can recognize.’
‘Sure, doc.’ Ebony slipped out the room, into the wide wheel-chair friendly corridor. She saw Cecile pushing her walker at a snail’s pace in front of her, probably trying to get to the dinning hall.
‘Here, let me help you,’ Ebony pushed her arm below the old woman’s elbow and helped her along. Cecile smiled, her dentures missing this morning. ‘You forgot your teeth, Cecile.’ Ebony smiled.
Cecile nodded. ‘You don’t look so old.’ She shuffled her feet. Cecile always said that to Ebony, everyday. Same old thing. In fact, Cecile was right. Ebony wasn’t really what you’d call nursing-home material.
As Ebony walked alongside the woman she caught glimpses of herself on the glass surfaces they passed. No, she wasn’t old. Just unfortunate. 
‘Who are you?’ Cecile turned. Already forgotten that Ebony was helping her. 
‘Call me Eb, Cecile,’ the words just slipped out and she caught herself. Eb. Was that her nickname? 
‘Eb.’ Cecile pushed her walker along. ‘Your children dumped you here too?’
Ebony shook her head. Going by her reflection, she couldn’t have been more than 30. At least that was the guess of hospital staff when she’d been brought in from the side of the road. Not a stitch of belonging on her bar the clothes and the bracelet she wore. The police had assumed hit and run. But then again, she’d been found on the side of a highway in the middle of nowhere. Where had she been walking to, or from?
Since there was no missing persons report matching her description, no one had come forward either. The local channel had even had a bulletin or two on her, but no calls had come in. So, the hospital did what hospitals do, they moved her along to a nursing home after her bones and fractures had healed. 3 months on, and still, Ebony didn’t have a single shred of memory come back. Not yet anyway. Except the barn doors she kept seeing in her dreams. 
‘I don’t know if I have any children, Cecile. I don’t even know if I’m married. Or whether I have a husband, a family. Anyone really.’ 
‘That’s nice dear.’ Cecile smiled as they finally reached the dinning area. Ebony forced a smile, sat her down on the nearest chair and rushed out into the garden area. Some days she panicked. What if she could never remember who she was. What if this was her life, living amongst people who barely remembered who they were or where they were.
She slipped out into the downpour. It was cold, it was miserable, but for just a moment, she didn’t have to pretend she was fine. Ebony, or whoever she was, she was not fine. The cold rain latched onto her, forcing those thoughts away, but another replaced it…
Who are you? The thought streamed across as always. Who the hell are you?

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Ebony and Frank

  1. Eva, as you know I’m a big fan of your writing. Would you be willing to look over the first 2500 words of the thriller I’m currently working on? I would love to hear your thoughts, and of course I’d be willing to do any favor for you. Thanks.

    1. Hey Tom,
      You know I don’t mind. You have email. πŸ™‚
      If you’re not in any hurry and don’t mind waiting for 3 weeks or so. I’m currently occupied full time doing my uni placement, which is killing me as it’s taking all of my writing time. πŸ™‚

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s