by Lee Sau Woon
One week ago, I was confused, disoriented, and I had little recollection of the past. I had turned up at a apartment one fine day not knowing who the apartment belonged to, nor who stayed there. I remembered that there was a spare key in a pocket stitched underneath tbe floor mat with the big words 'WELCOME'. The key was gone, but the 'hidden' pocket was there. By instinct, I picked out a key from my keyring, and slotted it into the keyhole of the door. It fitted, and the door swung in to reveal a small, but well furnished apartment.
I slept in that apartment that night, in a bed that is both familiar yet unfamiliar. That night, I dreamt of a woman sleeping next to me in the very same bed, and as she opened her eyes, she gave me a smile.
"Morning, ", she said, as she inched towards me. It was only when she drapped her arm across my chest that I realise that we were both naked under the sheets.
I woke up the next morning, and there was no sight of the woman.
I had returned the rented Benz to the nearest car rental outlet and had taken a cab to the apartment. Taking a risk, I took a cab to the airport. I was in luck, there was a plane leaving in one hour's time.
On the plane, I took out the photograph in my wallet again. Her name is Vanessa. She lived in that apartment in Washington. Or rather, her name should be Vanessa, and that apartment should be hers. There did not seemed to be anything definite about all this. There is only one thing I am sure about - that she was the woman in my dream that night.
In Long Island, George and Ellen, my parents, were at first disbelieving, then confused, then very very happy.
"Oh my god, George, tell me I'm not dreaming," Ellen kept saying. "And you remembered us," she would add, with obvious pride.
It was a long night, as Ellen cooked something simple, and the three of us sat around the dining table, and they updated me on what happened after I was pushed off the fire escape route in Washington.
"So tell me what happen," George asked.
I had to admit that I had no idea.
"They kept me at this little lodge in the mountains. It was only me and a woman called Sophia. She said that my name is Jack Elliot, and she was my wife. I was supposed to be involved in some kind of accident. And she always fed me with medicine. After a while, I suspected that something was wrong. She was caring, affectionate, and she had answers to every question I asked about our so-called past. I'm sure that if I wanted to go to bed with her, she would do it. But there seemed to be something wrong. It was as if everything was too perfect. I started to take note of things around me, and then I really think that I was a prisoner instead. One day, there was a big truck parked near the house, some kind of field trip to check the growth of trees around there. They had a couple of big trucks containing equipment, and when they are about to leave, I climbed into one of them and get out of there."
"So you had no idea where you were all the time?" George probed.
I shook my head.
"I was under medication as usual, and so I fell asleep. Then woke, then sleep. It happened for quite some time before the trucks hit the highway, and I ran off at the earliest opportunity I have. I then try to hitchhike my way, until I met that strange man who gave me all these," I indicated all the documents and money that I had threw on the table.
Ellen, however, refused to talk about Vanessa. She almost refused to admit that she exist.
That was one week ago. I stayed with my parents for almost one week, visited my grave twice, and gained back some of the weight that I had lost before my urge to go back to Washington overwhelms my desire to stay in Long Island and keep my parents happy. In that one week, it seemed that I can remember more and more of my past. I no longer woke up in the morning wondering who I am and where I am and what I did last time. Its the medication, George told me.
Ellen was against the idea, but I gave her one thousand and one reasons, before she gave in relunctantly.
Another short flight, another rented car later, and I was facing that building again. This time, I remembered being held at the fire escape, seeing Vanessa looking up and seeing the fear in her eyes. But there was no one at the fire escape now, and the folding door was opened, and the curtains were flying in the wind. Someone is at home.
I took the lift up, and taking a deep breath, unlocked the door and walked into the house.
The radio was on, blasting some kind of loud rock music, the sunshine flowed in and brightened up the house and Nessa was facing me, her weapon aiming at me. Her painting easel was behind her, and a painting brush was on the floor, dropped when she retrieved her gun.
"Put your - oh my god, Chris." She said, as she lowered her gun.
"Hello," I greeted her. "I'm back."
She swore abit, placed her gun on the table, and then came over and hugged me.
"Oh my god, Chris. I thought you are dead. Everyone thought you are dead. It was so much my fault! And I lost our baby, and it was so - " the other words were all drowned out by her sobs.
Our baby? I was about to ask her about that part when I realised that we are not alone.
"Are we interrupting something?" A man's voice came from the door.
I turned, and saw that man whom I gave me back my identity. Beside him was a Chinese woman who looked as if she was in her late thirties, wearing a suit.
Vanessa removed herself from my arms, wiped the tears off her eyes, and spoke in her FBI tone.
"No you're not. Is anything the matter, sir?"
The man, Green, I remembered his name now, gave a smile.
"No, nothing's the matter. We just popped in to see if everything is all right. Chris, you looked better now. " He said, as if we were old friends who had not met for a long time. "Everything's fine?"
All I could say was "Yeah."
"That's great. Mmmm, look here, Chris, let me tell you this - you'll be fine. No more strange men doing strange things to you. St Vincent's will be informed of your return shortly, and if you want, you can go back there to work. There will be no questions asked whatsoever. Will that be all right?"
Another "Yeah." Obviously I had not recovered fully to deal with such situations.
"Who's doing all this, and why?" Vanessa asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Agent Lee, there are some people in high places who happen to treat Christopher as a friend and will do alot of things to help him."
She nodded, as if she understand what he said. I do not understand though. What friends?
"Everything will be fine. Trust me." He said before he turned and left with his companion.
I found myself staring at the door long after they had left, and it was only after Vanessa nudged me at the side that I got out of my daydream.
"Yes?" I asked her.
"You know that woman?" She asked.
"I have met that man before, but never the woman. Why?"
"You got her eyes," was her explanation.