The Other Side

Paul sat in his usual seat at the bar, staring into his unprecedented third beer. Usually he never got further than two, but for some reason he had drunk a third today. He was worried, though he wasn’t sure why.

Joel was late that day, but that wasn’t why he was worried. Joel was often late. Sometimes he was late because they were busy at the vet’s. Sometimes he was late because he was involved with Theresa. Sometimes he was late just because he felt like being late. Paul wasn’t worried about Joel’s lateness.

No. Something else was worrying him. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. Something serious.

He didn’t really have anything to worry about at that moment. His job was going well, he had a place to live, and he had managed to save up a significant amount of money. He had friends at work and outside of work.

But he couldn’t remember his name, where he came from, or who his parents were.

But, even that wasn’t really worrying him. He had learned to live with amnesia over the past eight months. That was not the problem.

Joel arrived eventually, interrupting Paul’s thoughts. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” he apologized as he took the seat next to Paul.

Paul shrugged it off. “No big deal,” he replied. “You’re always late.”

“Not always,” Joel replied. “Just a lot.”

Paul didn’t bother to smile. He looked back at his beer with a frown, studying it.

“What’s the matter?” Joel asked. Paul was never this depressed-looking.

“I keep thinking about this dream I keep having,” Paul confessed, and Joel could detect the slight slurring of words. He wondered how much beer he’d had.

“Oh?” Joel asked as he ordered himself a beer. Paul’s dreams might be clues to his past.

“I’ve been having it for a while,” Paul explained. “In fact, since this whole mess started. I’m with a woman…I think I’m in love with her…and then she disappears and a dark figure appears. He declares that she’s his now. I ask him not to hurt her, but he just laughs. He does the same when I ask him to leave the boy alone. Then there’s a bomb…” He paused, thinking.

“A bomb?” Joel prompted.

“Yeah…A time bomb. With big bright numbers that are staring at me, saying ‘haha, you’re going to die.’” He looked at Joel. “Not literally, of course. It just seems like it. Then I see the figure’s face, I scream, and the bomb goes off.”

“Whose face is it?”

“I can never remember when I wake up,” Paul explained. “I just wake up being angry and scared at the same time. But it goes away after a few moments.”

“Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“You want me to drive you home?”

Paul frowned into his beer. “I dunno…”

“C’mon.” Joel stood up and placed the money on the bar. “You need to sleep a bit. I’ll come over tonight and talk to you some more.”

Paul looked up from his beer. “Okay…” he agreed reluctantly, and stood up. Joel grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the bar.

Paul groaned and downed a couple of aspirins, hoping to relieve his huge headache.

“Shouldn’t have had that fourth beer,” he mumbled to himself. He looked in the mirror at his bloodshot eyes and sighed. Even after a four-hour nap he still looked half-dead.

The phone sitting on his nightstand began to ring, making his ears hurt. He groaned. Someone else picked up the phone, and he heard Monica shouting from down the hall that it was for him.

“’lo?” he mumbled into the phone.

“Ah, you’re alive. Good.”

“-Uh?”

The voice on the other end laughed. “I was afraid you’d be dead after this afternoon. You sound half-dead anyway.”

“Joel?”

“Yep.”

“Whaddaya want?”

Joel laughed. “Dinner. Let me buy.”

Paul didn’t object. “Where?”

There was a moment’s silence. “Tony’s?”

“Okay,” Paul glanced at the clock on his stand. “Gimme a half hour.”

“Okay. See ya there.”

Joel was worried about his friend. He was concerned that the long term amnesia was beginning to take its toll on Paul.

For the first month that he had known him, Paul had appeared to Joel to be a fairly well adjusted man, especially for an amnesiac. And he still was. But even Joel could see the dark circles that began to form under his friend’s eyes, and he was concerned. Paul seemed listless lately, and it occurred to Joel that if he didn’t gain at least part of his memory back soon, there might be a problem.

The real problem was that Joel didn’t know what to do about it. He could offer an ear for listening, of course, but Paul didn’t feel much like talking about it. That worried Joel even more, and when he had explained the situation to Theresa, she had agreed with his sentiments.

She didn’t know what to do to help him either.

For the meantime, therefore, Joel was going along with life as though Paul was just fine. He headed for Tony’s restaurant, a small Italian place not too far from either his home or Paul’s. When he got there, he found his friend in the back, munching on a slice of pizza and sipping a soda.

“Headache’s almost gone,” he reported as Joel sat down.

“That’s good, that’s good.” He dug into the pizza and began to scarf down his own slice. “How ya been feeling?”

Paul shrugged. “Not bad, I guess,” he replied. He took a bite of pizza and swallowed it.

“I was thinking about the dream you told me about,” Joel said without preamble.

“Oh?” Paul drank a gulp of soda.

“Yeah.” Joel gulped his own drink and thought a moment. “D’ya think it’s a clue to the past?”

Paul shrugged. “It might be,” he replied noncommittally.

“I really think you should see someone,” Joel told him.

Paul shrugged again and finished his slice. He didn’t say anything.

Joel sighed and changed the subject somewhat. “Do you remember anything else?”

Paul shook his head. “I don’t think I ever will,” he mumbled into his soda.

Joel shook his head adamantly. “Of course you will!” he told him. “You can’t give up!”

Paul shrugged yet again. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I just don’t know.”

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* Yes, I know that I skipped the seventh month. That's because nothing of interest happened then and I'd like to eventually finish this story. Comments? Complaints? Send 'em here.