Page 38 of In a Haze

I want to ask him if we loved each other—but I don’t.

I want to ask him if my children remember me, ask about me, love me—but I can’t bring myself to do it.

I want to know so much more about myself, but I’m afraid my overloaded brain and heart can’t take anymore today.

But what brought me here? That I want and need to know right now.

“Do you know what might have made me depressed?”

“I’m no psychiatrist. But it’s your brain, Anna. It’s defective.”

Does that mean I’ll never get out of here?

The door behind me opens. This time, it’s a different tech, not Rose, and he asks, “Everything okay in here?”

Don’s voice, authoritative and commanding, reaches across the room. “I’ll need to talk with Dr. Wilson before I go.”

Maybe he’s going to get me out of here.

Then he shifts his eyes back to me. “I do have a schedule to keep. I’ll see you next time, Anna.”

“But I have so many other questions,” I say as he takes the photo from my hand.

The tech says, “Come on, Anna. You’ll get to see your husband again soon.”

I want to argue, but I know it won’t do me any good. “Please bring the children then. Please.”

Don gives me another short nod but says nothing.

I look at the tech. “Can they visit soon?”

“We can ask Dr. Wilson.”

I calm myself. Knowing my husband is going to arrange perhaps to get me out of here and, if nothing else, to bring my babies to see me soon helps me relax.

Should I say goodbye? Tell him I love him?

It all feels too foreign.

Instead, I say, “I’ll see you next time.”

Again, he nods and then sits back down as the tech guides me through the door.

After he closes it behind me, I hear the click of the lock, so I know I can’t just rush back in. And maybe it’s wrong, but now more than ever I want to see Joe, tell him everything.

Obviously, whatever’s been happening between us romantically must stop. Now. But he’s still my friend and maybe as a team we can put together this weird puzzle of my life. I feel more lost now than ever, but I need to prepare myself. This will likely happen again and again as I learn more information about my past. Not all of it will feel familiar or…right.

I walk in the rec room and stand just inside the doorway. I have no idea what my doctor looks like and maybe I can avoid some surprises in the future.

At least five minutes pass and, in that time, only one other patient has come through the door to the rec room. For that, I’m glad, because I don’t want anyone asking any questions. Another few minutes, though, and a middle-aged woman approaches the door to the waiting room. She’s wearing a light brown tweed suit and she lumbers through the hall as though her feet and back hurt. She’s a large woman and I can’t quite see her face but, from this angle, she appears defeated and irritable.

I hope Don can handle her all right.

As soon as she’s through the door, I leave the rec room. Joe and I have a lot to discuss.

15

Where is he?

---