Page 10 of Just My Puck
My mouth goes dry, and my palms feel suddenly clammy. I look at the girl again, trying to make sense of all this, then sink into the chair in the corner of the room.
She has amnesia because of me? She came to a hockey game hoping to have a good time, and she ended up in a hospital bed, not knowing who she is. I knew this sport was dangerous, but it never occurred to me it could be hazardous for the fans as well.
“Can you repeat those words I told you earlier?” Dr. Silva asks her, pulling me from my thoughts.
I glance up at the girl. She’spretty—stunning, actually. Not that it matters. I’d feel awful even if I didn’t find her beautiful. But the fact that I do somehow makes it worse.
She lifts her chin and answers, “Plane, bird, red, book, car.”
“Great,” Dr. Silva replies, jotting something down on her clipboard.
“Wait, so you do remember stuff?” I ask, confused.
Dr. Silva looks up. “I gave her those words about two hours ago. I wanted to confirm she was able to form new memories, and that only her older ones are impacted.”
I swallow hard. “So, is that a good thing?”
The girl snorts. “I can remember five words, but my entire life is a blank slate, and you wonder if that’s a good thing?”
She has a point. “That’s not what I meant.”
Dr. Silva offers a warm smile. “It is a good thing, actually. It’s a lot harder to recover memories when your brain isn’t able to create new ones.”
Someone knocks on the door, and Dr. Silva invites them in.
I expect another doctor, or maybe a nurse, but instead, a familiar face appears in the doorway.
“Caleb!” Detective Wright says, flashing a smile.
I blink. “Garrett, what are youdoing here? It’s been a while.” I shake hands with him and his partner, Denis. Garrett Wright is a good friend of my dad’s.
“I’m working this case,” he says. “Saw the video of the accident. It was brutal.”
“Yeah.” And it doesn’t take a detective to figure out I’m the man responsible for this girl’s problems, and I hate myself for it.
“So,” he says, turning to Dr. Silva and the girl. “We analyzed your fingerprints, and they’re not in the system.”
“Yay, I’ve never been arrested,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Garrett scratches his temple. “Well, yeah. But that also excludes you from a large job list.”
“And possibly unemployed. The good news just keeps coming,” she mutters, and I can’t help but smile at her sass.
I turn to face Garrett. “Didn’t she have any ID on her, though, or a phone?” I ask, feeling that I’m probably missing some key information.
“No personal belongings,” Denis says. “We went back to the arena and had a look at the lost and found, but we didn’t find anything. Nothing in her pockets either, except for the two hockey tickets.”
“Two tickets?” The girl and I say at the same time.
“Yes, but apparently, you wentto the game alone,” he continues. “We watched the tapes, and no one was sitting next to you. The second ticket wasn’t scanned, either.”
“Great.” She averts her gaze, her eyes brimming with tears.
Garrett clears his throat. “We also compared you to all the missing persons around the country, but we didn’t find a match.”
“So, what now?” she asks, her lips trembling. “How long until I remember?”
“It’s hard to say,” Dr. Silva says, her hands clasped. “It could take days, months, or even years. You’ll work with a therapist, of course, but even then, there’s no guarantee. I already checked Dr. Stuart’s schedule. He’s one of our best practitioners and can see you first thing on Monday.”
