Free Forgive and Forget by Charlie Cochet Page B

soup and who the president was, among various other odd facts.
    “Do you remember everything that’s happened after your injury?”
    “Anything that’s happened since waking up on Joe’s couch I remember just fine. Before that, I get hints of memories, fuzziness. Figures but no faces, more like shadows. I can’t recall any names or feel any familiarity.”
    “What’s the verdict?” Joe asked, his tone filled with concern.
    “You’re in great shape, Tom, apart from the memory loss. Obviously anything more in-depth would require the proper analysis and tests.” She put away her equipment as she spoke, her voice calm and soothing. “I’m afraid without hospitalization, it’s hard to know for sure, but from what I can gather, it’s only temporary. Tom, you’ll recover, and I’m certain your brain is starting the process as we speak, but it could take some time. Your semantic memory is fine. That’s the conscious recollection of your general knowledge. Whatever you knew how to do before, like drive, read, scramble eggs, hasn’t been affected.” She placed her hand on Tom’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
    “I know it’s frustrating, but you were very lucky. Whoever did that to you could have killed you, or if they’d hit you in the right place, just hard enough, your injuries could have been so much worse. Some patients lose the ability to form any new memories. Yours will come back. There’s no telling how it’ll come back, however. With this sort of thing, it’s not just a matter of someone just telling you who you are. That won’t necessarily bring everything back, nor will just looking at something. Listen to your body when it talks to you, your instincts, feelings you get about certain things, smells and sounds. If you need anything, or just need to talk, you call me, okay? Joe’s got my number.”
    “Thank you, Jules, I really do appreciate it,” Tom replied, sitting back glumly. He didn’t know what he’d expected. It wasn’t as if she had some magic pill that would undo everything.
    Joe took a seat beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Tom. You’ll see.”
    Tom nodded and gave him a small smile, glad he wasn’t alone.
    “Joe?” Jules interrupted quietly. “Would you mind escorting me downstairs? I’d like to say hi to Bea and the kids before going.”
    Joe looked a little uncertain about leaving him, so Tom smiled broadly, not wanting to be any more of an inconvenience to Joe. He didn’t want to take over the man’s life. After all, Joe had friends, and a business to run. “You go ahead, Joe. I’ll be fine.”
    “Okay,” Joe nodded. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
    Joe and Jules left, and Tom sat there in silence for a moment, looking around the cozy apartment. One wall was exposed brick, the rest painted a nice cream color. The furniture was slightly worn but comfortable, the sofa and armchair a pleasant chocolate color with quilted throw pillows. A plush clean rug lay on the wood floor, and the rest of the furniture was dark oak, from the bookshelves flanking the small entertainment center to the coffee table. Vintage prints of coffee and old New York City were elegantly framed and painstakingly arranged along the walls. There wasn’t much by the way of trinkets, but the mantel above the small fireplace had photos. It wasn’t fancy, by any means, but it was clean, tidy, and comfortable.
    Tom was used to bigger surroundings. For some reason that occurred to him just then. Something about Joe’s place felt so warm… like his life had been lacking in it for a long time. Did he want to remember who he was? Of course he did. How could he not? He wanted to know where he came from, what he did for a living, his own damned name, for Christ’s sake. Mostly he wanted to know the kind of man he was. He couldn’t lose faith. After all, he had Joe. And for now, that was more than enough.

Chapter Five
     
     
    THIS should be