Page 20 of Possessive Doctor

The apartment is empty. My new phone is sitting on the charger, and I pick it up and turn it on. Part of me feels excited, but a bigger part is scared of what I might find.

There’s a note from Andrew sitting beside it, telling me he had to run to the hospital and would be back later with dinner. The phone boots up to the home screen, and I carry it over to the sofa, my heart already racing. I stare at it as if it’s a bomb ready to go off in my hand. It’s me in there. It’s all of the things I can’t remember about myself.

My hands shake as I touch the screen, but my investigation of its contents is cut short when it rings. I see the number across the screen. Naturally, I don’t recognize it.

“Hello?”

“Amy? Amy, is that you? Oh, thank God! Finally. I didn’t know if I would ever hear your voice again.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I guess you still don’t have your memory. This is Michael. God, I miss you.”

“Michael? I’m sorry, how do I know you?”

“Oh, Amy. I was so worried when I found out that the doctor was taking you out of the hospital. I didn’t know what he was planning to do with you. Then seeing you with him at your house yesterday made me even more concerned about his intentions. You don’t belong there, Amy. You should be with me so I can help you to remember.”

My mouth drops and I repeat his name silently in my head. Why can’t I remember him? He seems to believe he has some special connection with me. The sense of urgency in his tone is also a little alarming, like he’s trying to push this fact on me—something Andrew never did.

“I’m sorry, Michael, but I don’t know you. Andrew has been helping me with my recovery. Whoever you are, you don’t need to worry about me. He’s treating me well.”

“Amy, that’s why you have to leave there. As long as you’re in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people, you might never get your memory back. Let me come and get you. I can show you pictures and take you places that will help you remember. If by the end of the day, you haven’t remembered and want to go back there, I’ll take you back. What do you have to lose?”

This makes me pause. What if…what if it works? What if this can do a better job of jogging my memory than going back to my house? “I-I don’t know. I think I should talk to Andrew about it first.”

“I don’t think you understand, Amy. I don’t think he wants you to remember. That’s why he kicked me out of your hospital room. I know that you think I’m a stranger but I’m not. I know it’s hard but you have to trust me.”

I don’t believe Andrew has anything but good intentions toward me, but he did bring me here under false pretenses and hid my purse from me. Shouldn’t that be enough for me to question him even just a little bit? What will spending the day with this Michael person hurt? If Andrew cares about me, he should understand my desire to be a whole person again.

“Okay. I can’t get around very well yet, but if you can meet me outside, I’m willing to give this a try. Let me give you the address…”

I give him the address, and he tells me he’ll be here in ten minutes. Thankfully, I’m still dressed from the trip to the phone store this morning, so I fix my hair, put on my shoes, and take the elevator down to the lobby.

Several cars pass by as I make my way slowly to the door. By the time I step out, a red car is parked at the curb waiting for me. Michael gets out and walks over to help me to the car. I’ve seen him three times now, and I still don’t recall anything about him.

“You got here fast. Why were you so close? Do you work near here?” I ask him.

“No, I was just in the city for some personal business,” he replies.

“It’s crazy how you decided to call so soon after I got my phone situation fixed.”

“Lucky break, I guess.”

“So, where are we going?”

“I thought I’d take you back to my place. I have high school yearbooks and other things there that might help you to remember.”

“You never really answered me on the phone. How are you and I connected?”

He looks at me and sighs, “I’d like to think that I’m your boyfriend. I mean, we hadn’t made it official yet, but we definitely headed in that direction before the accident.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” I turn and face out the window. There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach that I try to ignore. I’m still hoping to get home before Andrew.

We arrive on the street where I lived with my parents and pull into Michael’s driveway on the other side of the street.

“What are the chances?” I mumble.

“What’s that? Chances of what?”

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