Anamnesis (Mature)

Chapter 01 - Day 36

                 

                 

"Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart."
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

"Take this." The guy beside me hands me a set of pills.

It's been a month and I already know the drill. I took the the colorful pills and listened to the guy's endless explanations as if I haven't heard it a million times from him. Sure, this guy must have been a nagger. A handsome, scruffy-looking nagger.

But oddly, I can't still grasp anything. My body is still unfamiliar of everything when I should've been accustomed into it after gazillion times of repetition. But I told myself I shouldn't be an inconvenience, if anything. I just need to give the appropriate number of nods for him not to realize that I can't really understand him. And it works too, for other people. I just can't. I just nod and nod until they're satisfied and assured I am listening. But I'm lost. Still.

The guy beside me is my husband, Francis. Well, that's what they told me. Although I almost wracked my brains out but I can't even remember him. No sense of familiarity. Nothing at all. And I've only become accustomed to it because it's been a month now since I started this routine. A month since I woke up having no memories at all.

"Freya..." Francis gets up and tried to smile. "You can do this." He gave me a sad smile before he left my room.

And just like the other days, I just reclined on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I have an amnesia they tell me. It's not like I didn't realize it myself. Waking up inside the hospital chamber having no memories pretty much explains everything to me. Back then I panicked. I really freaked out asking for explanations why I can't remember a single bit of my lifetime. My age, my name, my face. Everything. Everytime I think about it, it's just a stream of silver thoughts and an excruciating pain. But aside from that? Nothing. Nada. Zilch.

It was Day 02 when I  they started to feed me with information. I had an accident. Like it needs a lot of explaining why my lower body hurts like hell.

I learned my name is Freya Grace Alfonso-Lazarte. I'm apparently just 23 years old but I've been married to Francis Augustus Lazarte for almost 5 years. I can't imagine it! I got hitched so early to a man I've no idea why I'll fall in love with in the first place.

I didn't know I'm into messy-looking guys because damn, Francis' stubbles are all over. I mean, I've been kissing him probably for half a decade without developing the right amount of rashes on my face? And he looks so indifferent and cold. Like the stone Buddha in the magazine I've been scanning. I've guessed he wouldn't really care that much about me if the accident didn't happen.

I got out of the hospital at Day 22. Though it was really my 136th day if you get to count the 1st day I got admitted.  But I started counting from the days that I can only remember. Like it's literally my second life. Like a reset of everything. A second chance.

The first time I stepped inside our house, I find it really odd that I lived a very luxurous life in the past. And it was apparently a Porshe Cayenne that I've crashed into a concrete barrier at EDSA. I have no recollection what kind of car was a Cayenne, but they told me it's really expensive. A gift from Francis. So I assume it's really my husband who's affluent.

I started having sessions with a shrink. And from there they started to feed me information on how I really got myself into a big accident.

Everybody was scared I might bawl my eyes out or cry Pasig river or cause another ruckus like what I did inside the hospital so they didn't tell me.

I was pregnant.

I was shocked, yes. But having no memory of conceiving a child, or being into a family, I tried to stroke any feelings inside of me. But no, I'm not sad. I'm not depressed. I reacted differently from what everybody is expecting. I am not feeling anything at all.

I asked the shrink if I'm normal or what because I can't even trace a single familiarity in me. I can't be sad to something I can't even remember. It's like I'm an actress playing somebody else's role. It's as if I'm a different soul.

They tell me I'm going to remember everything in due time. That my amnesia was triggered by my accident and probably because of pregnancy, or both that it completely shattered my memories. I don't know.

It's just that now I'm trying to get familiarized with this new kind of life.

My husband told me we're not gonna share rooms until I remember something about us, so now I'm sleeping in one of our guest rooms. And now we've slept separatey for 14 days. I never told him my psychiatrist suggested I finally share the bed with him tonight hoping it'll help my memory.

But I don't know. I'm contemplating if I should really sleep with someone so strange to me.

I told myself a million times. Francis and I have been married for 5 years now. This shouldn't be a problem. There's nothing wrong. I'm his wife. Francis is my husband.

I put on my robe and puffed out a deep sigh as I walk out of the guest room.

"Babe." I knocked on the door of his bedroom. OUR bedroom. Babe, our term of endearment. It's awkward using it because he never called me babe since I woke up. But I've been reading old letters and messages. We call each other babe or baby.

Francis immediately attended his door. His expression seems alarmed. But I am more surprised to find him in boxers. Just boxers. I try to remind myself he's my husband, I shouldn't be flushed but I can feel the heat spreading through my face. I know I'm red all over. Like a serial blusher.

"What is it?" I can see it. Written on his face, he knows I'm abashed.

"Let me sleep with you..." I didn't know how I got the courage to say that.

*later*

Oh explicit content next chap. Consider yourself warned...