Page 50 of Sacred Vow

Maybe my amnesia issue is contagious because she seems to have forgotten who Andrei is. He’s never going to just let me live separately from him.

“It’s better this way. Trust me.” I take another breath and reach for the door handle.

“You want me to come in with you?” she asks after I check in, as I am filling out the paperwork. I check the no insurance box and instantly worry if my credit card has enough room to cover the bill.

“No. I’ll be okay.” I clip my ID and my credit card to the board and bring it back to the receptionist. If this works, I’ll have my memory back. Which is great, because then I can navigate this mess I’m in with open eyes. Andrei will have to back off once I’m not in danger anymore. He’ll realize we aren’t good together. I’m just the remnants of a friendship he had years ago. A burden left over.

Then he’ll let me go.

So, where’s the excitement over that fact?

“Isolde?” A woman in her late thirties calls me from another door. The receptionist hands me back my cards.

“I’m here.” I leave my purse with Marlena and follow the woman.

“Right in here.” She stands outside a smaller office and waits for me to enter before following. I take a seat on the black leather couch. She turns on a white noise machine and pushes it outside the door with her foot before shutting the door.

“So.” She settles into the chair across from me. There’s a glass coffee table separating us with a box of tissues and a floral arrangement on top. Behind her is a small desk with a computer and several framed certificates and diplomas on the wall.

I cross my legs, then uncross them. Where do I put my hands?

“What brings you in today?” she asks, folding her hands in her lap.

How to start?

“I have amnesia,” I blurt out.

“All right.” She tries not to look fazed.

“Well, not full amnesia. I know who I am and all that. It’s just a few days that I can’t remember. Like at all.” I explain what the doctors told my mom and what I do remember while she scribbles notes on a notepad. “The last thing I remember is Craig telling me to wait for him.”

She lifts her pen. “And where was that at?”

“What do you mean?”

“A parking lot of a store, were you at someone’s house? Where did he want you to wait?” she asks.

I think back. “Wait here, Izzy.” I can’t even see his face as he says it, only hear the words.

“It’s all right if you don’t remember.”

“No. It’s right there.” My whole forehead squishes up. “He said wait here, Izzy.” I realize now how much like Andrei he sounded. Forceful. Authoritative. How dark his eyes had been, but beneath the gruffness there was fear. Real fear.

A second later the whole thing goes away, fades into blackness that I can’t navigate.

I groan. “It’s gone.”

“That’s all right.” She scribbles some more then puts down the pad and paper. “So, you definitely do have a block. That’s obvious. So, here’s what we can do. We’re going to go through the events prior to the accident. And afterward. You said you witnessed the accident, so for now, I think it’s safe to assume that’s the triggering event that made the block. So, we need to sort of massage the memories before it and after it, you know, to let your brain understand that it’s a safe place for the blocked memory to come back to.”

“How long does that take?”

“Well, it depends. It can take a couple of sessions, or it could take months. Sometimes people who have this block see something or smell something that triggers the memories to come back. I don’t prefer that to happen though. It can be traumatic that way.”

“So, if I were to go where the accident happened, that might trigger it? I’ve tried going places that Craig used to hang out with me, and so far, nothing has happened.”

She nods. “It’s possible, but I don’t suggest it. The places you’ve been probably aren’t where the blocked memories take place. Whatever you’re blocking is traumatic on its own. Forcing it to explode into your consciousness could make it much worse.”

I sigh.

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