Page 8 of Unlocking Melodies

With what money? What ID? For all I knew, my wallet was as empty as my memory.

I looked around the hospital room - antiseptic walls, monitors tracking vital signs I didn't know I had, that stupid generic artwork that was supposed to be soothing but just reminded you you weren't home. Wherever home was.

The doctor returned, flipping through her charts with practiced efficiency. "Right, about your release. I know you're eager to get out of here, but we need to take things slow. Memory recovery isn't a linear process."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Caleb asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Actually, yes." She turned to them both. "Show him photos, tell him stories about his life, but don't force it. The brain needs to heal at its own pace. Sometimes familiar places, sounds, or even smells can trigger memories. Music especially might help, given your background." She looked at me directly. "But don't get frustrated if things don't come back right away. Recovery isn't a race."

"And if nothing comes back?" I couldn't help asking.

"Then we deal with that too," she said kindly. "But let's take it one day at a time."

"Yeah," I heard myself say. "Okay. Thanks."

Liam's smile was relieved. Caleb squeezed my shoulder. They were trying so hard to make this okay, to be familiar when nothing else was. I should probably have been grateful.

Instead, I was terrified. Because somewhere out there was a life I had built, relationships I had formed, a whole history of choices and consequences leading to this moment. And right then, it all felt like a story someone had told me about a person I had never met.

After three weeks in the hospital, getting discharged shouldn't have felt like a celebrity meet-and-greet, but there we were. My bandages were gone, though the scars underneath still felt tender. The doctors had hoped my memories would return with time, but beyond vague impressions of music and a few disconnected fragments, my mind remained stubbornly blank.

Every few steps, someone else stopped us with a smile that faded into awkward concern when I didn't light up with recognition, even after all this time.

“Jimmy!” A nurse in blue scrubs hurried over, coffee cup in hand. “I was hoping to catch you before you left. You had us all worried, honey.”

She hugged me before I could dodge it. I stood there stiffly, trying not to breathe in her flowery perfume while shooting Liam a desperate look.

“He's still a bit fuzzy on things, Maria,” Liam explained gently.

“Oh!” She stepped back, coffee sloshing. “Right, they mentioned... but you always remember my night shift coffee orders, so I thought...”

“Sorry,” I offered, because what else could you say when someone was looking at you like you'd personally betrayed them by forgetting their existence?

It happened three more times before we made it to the lobby. An orderly asked about some band I had apparently recommended. A doctor reminisced about a charity event I had helped organize. An elderly man in a tweed jacket waved enthusiastically from his seat.

Caleb steered me toward the exit, his hand steady on my shoulder. “You okay?”

“Sure. Love disappointing strangers who know more about my life than I do. It's great fun. Highly recommend it.”

He snorted. “There's the sarcasm we know and love.”

“At least something survived the head trauma.”

The hospital parking lot gave way to tree-lined streets that were apparently my hometown. Liam took on tour guide duty from the passenger seat while Caleb drove.

“Sarah's Diner on the left - you always get the western omelet with extra peppers. They started adding it to the menu as 'Jimmy's Special' last year.”

Great. Even the breakfast food knew me better than I did.

“The Daily Grind up ahead - Katie still saves your usual morning coffee order. Dark roast, splash of cream, ungodly amount of sugar.”

I watched the coffee shop pass by, its cheerful green awning and window displays stirring no recognition.

“And that's The Watering Hole where you work - well, worked. Nina's been handling things while you've been...” Liam trailed off.

He didn’t have to finish that sentence cause I already knew what he was going to say.

The bar's neon sign glowed even in daylight. The Watering Hole. Such a simple name, but it made my head swim trying to connect it to any memories.

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