Relentless by Emily Kimelman

Author:Emily Kimelman [Kimelman, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emily Kimelman

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The neurologist’s office is in a strip mall, the facility new and scented of lemon cleaner. John carries James’s car seat, the little boy sound asleep. The nurse at reception whispers when we check in, smiling down at the little bundle of joy. He makes people happy even when he’s asleep…

The wait isn’t long and soon we are in Dr. Field’s office. He’s younger than I expected. Tall with the kind of hair politicians kill for—it looks like he didn’t do a thing to it, the thick brown locks just tame themselves because he is that good.

Dr. Field smiles down at sleeping James before turning his focus to us. “So,” he says, his brown eyes warm. “Tell me how it’s going.”

John and I look at each other. He gives me a smile, subtle but there. It’s going well, really well, his smile says. My own lips tighten because I’m not so sure.

“I started to remember some stuff today—quite a lot actually,” I say, turning back to the doctor. “I was basically a total blank before that.” I wave my hand, encompassing my entire history and how it floats in the air around me waiting to dive and peck—waiting to destroy what John and I have built. “But now it’s coming back to me.”

Dr. Field nods, his expression serious. “I took a look at your MRI, and there is no obvious damage to your brain. This is not a totally unique reaction to seizures—it’s unusual for sure, but not unheard of. Have you experienced any neurological disturbances in the past—any loss of memory, hallucinations, anything like that?”

“No.” I shake my head, turning to John again.

“Nothing,” he affirms my lie, then turns to the doctor. “My wife has always been very healthy. She’s an avid exerciser and eats well.”

“No head injuries?”

“I was in a car accident,” I say, “years ago.” I raise my hand to the subtle scars on my face—left by a dead man. When I touch them, the memories come back fast and furious, absorbing me into them, so that for a brief moment, I’m fighting for my life, choking, dying, struggling, and then I’m back in the doctor’s office, breathing hard. “Sorry,” I say. “The memory of it just came back to me.”

I swallow, adrenaline coursing through my system. My body thought it was real, happening right now.

“Jennifer also saw something today—a person who may or may not have been there,” John says.

I turn to him, anger chasing away the memories.

“Oh?” Dr. Field asks.

“It wasn’t a hallucination,” I say. “My dog saw him, too.”

“He did?” Dr. Field asks.

John’s lips press together, as if this is hard for him. “Maybe,” he says. “But I’m worried.”

Dr. Field takes a breath. “The brain is still so misunderstood,” he says, drawing my attention back to him. Is it normal for a neurologist to admit how little he knows? “We could talk about medications but you’re still nursing,” he says, looking at his computer screen. “And unless these hallucinations become dangerous, I wouldn’t want to put you on anything until you’ve weaned.

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