I Do, Don't I?

Chapter Two

After mom’s three o’clock appointment from the salon, Jude greeted her with the news of my condition in a low voice I could barely hear by the plastic table across the door where mother placed the fruits she bought.

     She turned with such affection.  “Oh dear,” she sat on the plastic chair beside me.  “I’m so sorry.”  She caressed my hair with her hand.  She held my hand with warmth and looked straight to my eyes.  “Do you know who I am?”

     “You’re my mother, right?” I said, uncertainly.

     She clasped her hands in delight.  “Wonderful, darling!”

     “Jude told me,” I said timidly.

     She looked up at my husband—I just love saying that—who was standing on the opposite side of the bed across her with his hands in his pocket.  “Oh,” her voice sounded shrill with glee than a moment ago.  “Is that so?” she said then, looked back at me.  “That’s wonderful!”  she said, thrilled.

     I felt a little bit strange but then, I thought that maybe it’s because they’re supposed to be the people I know but I have no clue about who they really are.

     Mom took my hand once more and grasped it tightly as she stared straight through my eyes.  “Rachel, I'm your mother,” she placed one hand on her chest and she spoke as if she was teaching a hard-headed four year-old.  “My name is Eva Scott.  Do you understand?”

     “Mom, I have amnesia not Alzheimer’s," I snorted.

     She froze in place.  “Right.”  She brightened up then let go of my hand as she went to the table where she placed the fruits.  She handed an orange to Jude as she said, “Jude, darling, would you please take care of Rachel for a moment?  I’ll get Frank and Jessica.”

     Jude gladly took the orange from my mother’s French-tipped fingers.  “My pleasure.”  He sat on the white plastic seat mother was sitting on and began to peel off the fruit.

     I adjusted myself in a sitting position that no longer made my head throb.  “Who’s Frank and Jessica?” I asked Jude.

     He looked up from the bright-colored fruit.  “Frank is your father and Jessica is your younger sister,” he said patiently.

     I have a sister?

     I have a sister!  I can imagine doing things together like shopping, having our nails done together, asking me advice on boyfriend dilemmas…I just can’t wait to meet her!

     The door opened and closed as my family arrived.

     “Hey, baby, how are you feeling?” a good-looking man, somewhere in his fifties, in a long-sleeved blue striped shirt and cream pants put his arms around me and gave me a kiss on top of my head.

     “Frank, you know she doesn’t remember you,” Mom warned.

     The man, whom I assumed is my dad, backed off and held two hands up.  “Sorry, I just got a little carried away.”

     I smiled shyly then, focused on a brunette girl who looks younger than me.  “You must be Jessica.”

     “Seriously?” she said then, rolled her eyes.

     I winced, a bit offended.  “Sorry, I just don’t remember…” I faltered.

     Dad flipped his hand.  “Just don’t mind her.”

     “Here,” Jude fed me with a slice of the fruit he was peeling earlier.

     I swallowed a slice of the orange and chewed it tentatively.

     “Awe!” mom cooed as she clasped her hands under her chin and tilted her head to one side.  “That is so sweet!  It’s nice to see you two back together again—“

     Back together again?

     Dad immediately placed an arm around mom’s shoulder and cut in.  “What your mother meant is that you’re quickly recovering from your memory loss and returning to what you and your husband normally do.”

     Oh, right.

     “Uhm, can I ask you something?” I asked and an unexpected unison of responses returned to me.

     “Sure,” dad said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

     “Anything,” mom said, her face full of concern.

     “Of course,” Jude said, placing a compassionate hand over mine.

     Oh, God, I love him so much already.  I don’t even have to wonder why I fell in love with him.

     And a “Whatever” from Jessica who just rolled her eyes.

     I hesitated for a moment, thinking twice whether I should ask this humiliating question.  “How old am I?”

     “Twenty-eight,” they all answered, then again, Jessica rolled her eyes.

     I turned to Jude slowly.  “And we’re one year and a half married?”

     “Yes,” he nodded once in affirmation.

     “Then, why don’t we have kids?” I said, utterly baffled.

     “Do you want to have kids?” he seemed bewildered.

     I thought for a moment then realized what kind of a happily married couple doesn’t have kids?

     “Yeah,” I said.

     Mom brightened up in delight.  “That’s wonderful!”

     “Are you sure?” dad asked then had his tummy slapped by mom’s hand as if to say “Shut up, Frank.”

     I looked at mom, dad then, back to my loving husband.  “Why?  Is there something wrong?  Am I not able to bear children?—“

     “No!  No, no, no,” Jude shook his head steadfastly.  “No, it’s not that.  Listen,” he leaned and placed a gentle hand on my arm.  “Once you get better, we’ll think a lot of names we'd call our future children.  Would you like that?”  He smiled.

     I smiled back, feeling a bit better.  “Yeah, I’d love that.”

     I can’t believe how great I’m doing so far.   As Jude continued to feed me with orange slices, I made a mental run-through of what I learned today: my name is Rachel Scott.  I’m married to Jude and when I asked him what my new family name was, he said Stanton.  Just how sexy is that?  Anyway, Frank Scott and Eva Scott are my parents and the girl who’s consistently rolling her eyes every time I give her a glimpse is Jessica Scott, my sister.