The girl tried to maintain a cheerful facade, but when she looked up, fear and doubt showed through the mask. “I guess they haven’t filed a missing-persons report yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”
“Have you remembered anything at all about your past?”
“Not yet. But I will.” She straightened the collar of her hospital gown and smoothed the covers over her lap as she talked. “Dr. Hannaport says everything’ll probably come back to me if I just don’t push too hard at remembering. He says I’m lucky I don’t have global amnesia. That’s when you even forget how to read and write. I’m not that bad off! Heck, no. Boy, wouldn’t that be something? What if I had to learn to read, write, add, subtract, multiply, divide, and spell all over again? What a bore!” She finished smoothing her covers and looked up again. “Anyway, I’ll most likely have my memory back in a day or two.”
“I’m sure you will,” Carol said, though she wasn’t sure at all. “Is there anything you need?”
“No. They supply everything. Even tiny tubes of toothpaste.”
“What about books, magazines?”
The girl sighed. “I was bored out of my skull this afternoon. You think they might keep a pile of old magazines for the patients?”
“Probably. What do you like to read?”
“Everything. I love to read; I remember that much. But I can’t remember the titles of any books or magazines. This amnesia sure is funny, isn’t it?”
“Hilarious,” Carol said. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
At the nurses’ station at the end of the hall, she explained who she was and arranged to rent a small television set for Jane Doe’s room. An orderly promised to hook it up right away.
The chief RN on duty—a stocky, gray-haired woman who wore her glasses on a chain around her neck—said, “She’s such a sweet girl. She’s charmed everyone. Hasn’t complained or uttered a cross word to a soul. There aren’t many teenagers with her composure.”
Carol took the elevator down to the ground-floor lobby and went to the newsstand. She bought a Hershey bar, an Almond Joy, and six magazines that looked as if they would appeal to a young girl. By the time she got back to room 316, the orderly had just finished installing the TV.
“You shouldn’t have done all this,” the girl said.
“When my parents show up, I’ll make sure they pay you back.”
“I won’t accept a dime,” Carol said.
“But—”
“No buts.”
“I don’t need to be pampered. I’m fine. Really. If you—”
“I’m not pampering you, honey. Just think of the magazines and the television as forms of therapy. In fact, they might be precisely the tools you need to break through this amnesia.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you watch enough television, you might see a show you remember seeing before. That might spark a sort of chain reaction of memories.”
“You think so?”
“It’s better than just sitting and staring at the walls or out the window. Nothing in this place is going to spark a memory because none of it is related to your past. But there’s a chance the TV will do the trick.”
The girl picked up the remote-control device that the orderly had given her, and she switched on the television set. A popular situation comedy was on.
“Familiar?” Carol asked.
The girl shook her head: no. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.
“Hey, don’t get upset,” Carol said. “It would be amazing if you remembered the first thing you saw. It’s bound to take time.”
She nodded and bit her lip, trying not to cry.
Carol moved close, took the girl’s hand; it was cool.
“Will you come back tomorrow?” Jane asked shakily.
“Of course I will.”
“I mean, if it’s not out of your way.”
“It’s no trouble at all.”
“Sometimes…”
“What?”
The girl shuddered. “Sometimes I’m so afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid, honey. Please don’t. It’ll all work out. You’ll see. You’re going to be back on the track in no time,” Carol said, wishing she could think of something more reassuring than those few hollow platitudes. But she knew her inadequate response was occasioned by her own nagging doubts.