Dawson’s face, tear-streaked and smeared with blood.
Dawson hugging himself as he lies on the floor, trembling.
Dawson—
“I’ve been having…dreams,” he rolls the word over in his mouth.
“About Dawson?” She writes it down when he nods. “What kind of dreams?”
He doesn’t really want to think about it, but Carrie should know, right? Maybe she can help him find out what it means.
“I keep seeing him hurt.” He reluctantly elaborates when she gives him a confused look. “Blood on his face. Crying.” An invisible vise closes inside his chest, making it hard to breathe. For a moment, he worries that something might be wrong with his lung again, but the feeling eases off as he focuses on evening out his breathing. “I want to save him. Protect him.”
“It could be just dreams,” Carrie says carefully. “It could be your brain projecting your accident onto someone else as an attempt at remembering.” She taps her chin with the pen. “Or something might have happened in the past to Dawson and you’re remembering. Maybe you could ask him next time he’s here, so he can clarify for you.”
The idea doesn’t sit well with him. Dawson acts skittish when Cal asks him presumably normal questions, let alone something like this.
“Maybe.”
“I have to admit, you’re coping incredibly well,” Carrie says, sounding awed. “Both mentally and physically.Andemotionally.”
It doesn’t feel like it. “There’s not much I can do. I mean, I’m stuck at the hospital, doing the same things every day. It's pretty straightforward. I’m more worried about the people who know me. Well,knewme.”
“That’s the thing about memory loss,” she says ruefully. “It affects everyone around you.”
So why is no one telling him what to do? Everyone talks about how recovery takes time, but what if—
“What if my memory never comes back?”
She sighs, as though she expected him to ask at some point. “I’ll tell you what I tell all my patients who ask that same thing: If you can’t remember the past, focus on building your future. This is a clean slate, Cal. It’s scary and uncertain, but it’s your chance to be the best version of yourself. So take it.”
It sounds…nice. In theory. Starting anew might be easy—easier—for him, but what about Dawson and Ellis? They knew him before. What will they do if he’s never the same person again?
It’s a good half an hour before Carrie wraps the session up. By the time she leaves, Cal’s tired and feels like he might actually have a headache. He thought that his sessions with Eddie were exhausting, but he’s starting to reconsider.
Before he can settle down for a nap, there’s a knock on the door.
He lets out an irritated groan. What now? There can’t possibly be any more tests left to be done on him.
“Yes?”
All the irritation and annoyance disintegrate when Dawson appears in the doorway, timid as usual, and carrying a backpack.
“Hi.” He summons a shaky smile. “Can I come in?”
Cal’s heart gives a powerful thud. “Yes, of course.”
He must be making a weird face, because Dawson asks, “What?”
“Nothing,” Cal says quickly. “I just…I guess I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“Are you tired?” Dawson guesses, looking embarrassed. “I can go if you need rest.”
“No!” Cal blurts out, short of catapulting himself from the bed to make sure Dawson doesn’t leave. “No, that’s not—I’m glad you’re here. I just don’t want to take up your time.”
Dawson laughs, but his expression isn’t amused. “All I have is time.” He slings the backpack from his shoulder and makes his way over. Sitting down, he unzips it and pulls out two rectangular shaped items.
“I brought you something. This is your phone.” He hands Cal the smaller of the two. Cal takes it awkwardly, turning it in his hand. “Sorry, I would’ve brought it sooner, but the screen was cracked from the crash, and I wanted to get it repaired first. And I brought your iPad.” He puts the larger item on the bedside table. “They’re both password protected but you can open it with your—”
