Free Happily Ever After: A Novel by Elizabeth Maxwell

this place.”
    It takes my brain a second or two to catch up. Cousin Harry thinks I’m going to spring him.
    “Oh,” I say, sitting down beside him. “I’m not sure I can, or that I should, you know, take you out of here. You’re not well.”
    He stands abruptly.
    “I’m fine,” he says. “I’m perfect.”
    “I know,” I say soothingly. “But you can’t remember who you are, right?”
    He sits back down, deflated.
    “No,” he says.
    I shrug to indicate I can’t take a stranger with memory loss to my house. It just doesn’t make any sense, all good intentions aside. He takes my hands in his again, moving in close to me on the edge of the bed. I experience a sharp moment of déjà vu.
    “They served me canned peas,” he says, looking viscerally offended. “And Jell-O. I’ve never seen food like that before in my life. I’m desperate. But they won’t let me go unless someone vouches for me. You know who I am.”
    “No, I don’t.”
    “Well, you just pretended you do.”
    “Okay,” I say, “let’s say, just hypothetically, I sign you out. Where will you go?”
    “I’ll go, well, I’ll just head for . . . maybe I’ll go to . . .”
    “I think it’s best if you stay here,” I say. “Safest.”
    Cousin Harry slides off the bed and down onto one knee, as if he is going to propose marriage. He smiles. It’s a beautiful smile, and I’m momentarily overwhelmed by its sheer loveliness.
    “Please,” he says. “There’s something I must do. For the love of God, please help me.”
    “What is it?”
    He falters but does not let go of my hand. “I . . . I can’t remember exactly, but it’s urgent. I can feel it. It’s . . . love.”
    Well, that seals it. Generally speaking, if an apparently homeless, familyless man who cannot remember his own name starts muttering about love, it’s time to call for a net because he is clearly loony tunes. Nothing against Bugs Bunny, but you know what I mean.
    Yet there is something in his face that gives me pause, a radiating anguish that demands I pay attention and really consider his words. Before I can answer, the doctor walks in. He’s young with round glasses and a mop of unruly hair. The black bags beneath his eyes indicate he’s been here for days, perhaps even years, probably eating canned peas down in the cafeteria. He stifles a yawn with his fist. His eyes flutter. He’s going to fall asleep on his feet right in front of me. I make a fast, illogical, and slightly ludicrous decision to get Cousin Harry out of here before this exhausted doc accidentally removes his liver or his right leg below the knee.
    “Doctor,” I say. He startles. Behind him, Nurse Cathy glowers.
    “Ms. Fuller,” he says, studying his clipboard, trying to remember why he is here. “Nurse Cathy says you know our patient.”
    “Might know,” Nurse Cathy corrects.
    “Oh,” I say, “I definitely know him. His name is Harry Plant. He’s a second cousin. We practically grew up together.”
    Nurse Cathy snorts. “Old enough to be his mother,” she says under her breath. Bitch.
    The doctor sighs, and sways on his feet. He wants only to get this guy out of here so he can take five in the break room. And he’s not going to let some batty old nurse derail him. With a wave of his hand, he dismisses Nurse Cathy from the scene.
    “Mr. Plant doesn’t appear to have anything wrong with him,” the doctor says. “We fixed up his leg, but his CAT scan was clear. No brain trauma. I suggest you get him to his primary care physician as soon as possible and let them monitor the memory issue. My feeling is it will all return within the day. That’s how these things usually go.”
    “I have total confidence in your decision, Doctor,” I say. “I’ll take care of him.”
    “It’s great to have family,” the doctor says.
    “Isn’t it?” I say, kicking Harry’s shoes and socks in his direction.
    “Well, just sign here and you’re all set.”
    I don’t bother