As Yet Untitled



I woke up, with bright lights around me causing a blinding effect, and stared into an unfamiliar face. I heard someone calling a name and listened intently on what the other person would reply.

“Payne? Payne? Payne, can you hear me?” the person called. Suddenly, the person talking was standing right over me. “Payne, can you hear me, honey?”

I struggled to make my mouth work to confront the longhaired figure standing over me.

“Who’s Payne?” I asked, my voice sounding much like a bullfrog attempting to sing a love song. The figure I now observed to be a middle-aged woman burst into tears. Why was she so upset? I had just asked who this elusive Payne was. Suddenly, another figure took her place; this one seemed to be a middle-aged man.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” the man asked.

I smiled a little. That seemed like a silly question. I opened my mouth to answer him, and suddenly I was struck dumb. “My name is….” I trailed off, searching for my name. Nothing came to me.

“Can you tell me anything, dear? Your address, your parents’ names, your favorite color?” he questioned, watching me intently. I could now make out his bushy eyebrows and two perfect rows of teeth. I looked at his clothes and noticed a white lab-coat and a name tag.

“Dr. Harris…” I read aloud

“Yes, that’s me. Can you tell me anything? Do you remember anything?” he asked again.

“I-I….” Looking around, I suddenly wondered where I was and why all these people were standing over me. I sat up, suddenly concerned with this situation and felt painful tugs at my arms. I yelled in pain as the doctor gently pushed me back down onto my bed. I finally looked around the room and saw everything. Bags of liquids suspended on poles, machines bleeping and flashing, and the IVs in my arms that had caused the pain earlier when I had tried to sit up.

“Honey, we need you to stay still, okay? You’ve been through a lot and we don’t want you to hurt yourself more, okay?” the woman said, still crying.

Overcome with my confusion, I felt the tears forming and quickly they cascaded down onto my cheeks. I tried to understand what was going on around me; I desperately wanted to be able to comprehend everything, but I couldn’t. Finally, I started asking some questions of my own.

“What’s going on? Where am I? Who are you??” I began sobbing and covered my face with my hands, cut and bruised from the events I couldn’t remember. Someone tried to hug me, but I pushed the person away, disgusted with myself and my phantom memory.

“Payne, honey, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not okay! Who’s Payne?!” I shouted through my tears. When I received no answer from them, I lost control. “Just go away! Everyone go away!”

Slowly, each person slinked out of the room, except the woman. The doctor turned around and gently pulled her out as well, whispering something about me needing rest.

Still crying, I laid back in my bed and looked to my right out the window of my room. I didn’t understand it. Who was I?




The next time I woke up, I kept my eyes closed and listened to some people in my room having a conversation beside my bed.

“After doing some cat-scans and running a few tests, we’ve determined that she has developed mild amnesia,” a man, I presumed a doctor, spoke.

“Mild? She’s forgotten her entire family! How can that be mild?” a frantic sounding woman responded as she sniffled and choked on struggled sobs.

“With all due respect, she could be a lot worse,” the doctor replied. “In the worst case, she could have forgotten everything and been reduced to infantile mobility. As far as we can tell, she can remember some things. She knows her basic motor skills and that’s a great accomplishment. Now, have you noticed any difference in her verbal skills?”

“Well, she hasn’t really talked much—“

“You wouldn’t either if you had no clue who all these people were,” I interrupted, tired of hearing the woman talk through her sobs.

“Payne—“

“And for the last time, who the hell is Payne?” I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face.

“You’re Payne. That’s your name. Payne Silver,” she replied.

“And who are you?” I asked next.

“I’m your Mom. Theresa Silver,” her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Listen, I’m really sorry I don’t remember you, okay? Can you please just stop crying so I can get some answers?” I pleaded. She nodded and pulled a chair closer to my bed, ready to answer my many questions.




I sat in a wheelchair in the clothes I had been told were my favorite and was slowly wheeled down the hallway of the hospital. I looked at all the people around me and tried to remember what Theresa—Mom—had told me. It was impossible that I was already going “home.” I didn’t even know what or where home was. I didn’t even know who I was living with. I didn’t remember my siblings or my parents or much of anything, and I was on my way to a house I have supposedly lived in all my life. Everybody was hopeful that being in familiar surroundings would bring back my memory.

I had discovered that amnesia was a strange thing. Selective amnesia would only target certain parts of your memory, yet leave others virtually untouched, like a tornado, ravaging only certain parts of a town. In my case, I couldn’t remember any faces, names, people of any kind, but I remembered that I went running every Tuesday and Thursday and that I had given a speech over gun control in speech class two weeks before everything had happened. I couldn’t remember my dance recitals or steps, but I could remember that I had danced since I was a little girl. I felt like a stranger in my own world.

I stood up and approached the black Cirrus I had been told was ours and got into the back seat, waiting for everyone else to join. As each person got into the car, I began to feel very nervous. The hospital was the only thing I was familiar with and sure of in those moments, and I was about to leave it and go to a home I most likely wouldn’t recognize to live with people I didn’t remember.

Upon arriving at the house, I was again surrounded by unfamiliar faces, only there were many more than had been at the hospital. The lawn of the house was filled with people holding “Welcome Home” signs adorned with flowers and smiley faces. Apprehensively, I opened the door and got out of the car, submerging myself into the crowd. Immediately, I was bombarded by shouts of welcoming. Trying to be agreeable, I smiled and thanked everyone as they thrust small presents into my arms. My mother ushered me quickly into the house, hoping to ease my confusion a bit, but at that point, nothing could help. I was surrounded by literally hundreds of strangers that knew me and all wanted me to know them.

Knowing that the crowd would want some information, my mother went back out on the front porch to deliver a small speech.

“Thank you all for coming today,” she smiled. “We appreciate the warm welcome you have made for my daughter. Unfortunately, she’s still not completely well and needs her rest. We want to thank you all for coming and for all your gifts, letters and prayers. Love and support are things you can’t get enough of in times like these. If you’d like, please, leave a small note or letter and Payne and I will go through them when she’s feeling better and we’ll personally thank each and every one of you. Thank you all for coming.”

With that, the crowd applauded and then slowly dispersed, leaving heaps of signs and presents on the front porch of the house. My mother came back inside and smiled at me.

“Welcome home, sweetie,” she hugged me and guided me further into the house. “Are you remembering anything?”

I simply shook my head no.

“Well, I’ll give the grand tour then,” she smiled and took me by the arm, leading me gently through the front room and toward a larger room with a cathedral ceiling, beautiful furniture that looked like it had never been touched and a grand piano standing nobly, slightly off centered in the room. “This is our front room. We don’t use it much, except for when visitors come over and for playing the piano.”

Next, she moved me through that room and to the connected kitchen. “I think I got this one,” I spoke.

“You remember the kitchen?!” My mother exclaimed.

“No, I just guessed by the stove, oven, microwave, refrigerator...Need I go on?”

“No, no. Anyway...” she trailed off and led me through the kitchen and to the next room. It was large with slightly more worn furniture than the front room and it also contained a towering big screen TV on one wall. “This is the family room. We have a lot of entertainment in here whenever we have family time and...”

I tuned out for much of the rest of the tour. I got the general gist of it, but I got tired of hearing that hopeful tone in her voice every time she mentioned a new room. She ended the tour in my room, which was filled with pastel colors. A large, four poster bed sat in one corner with a canopy adorned with sheer fabric hanging down over parts of the bed. A wooden desk filled with books, a computer and other supplies that I most likely used for school was sitting opposite of the bed. A rather elaborate entertainment center sat near the desk. At first glance, I noticed at least 100 CDs, a 4-CD changer CD player with four speakers placed in the corners of the room; an 18-inch TV sat on top with not only a VCR but a satellite receiver as well. I was in kind of awe of how gargantuan it seemed.

“Payne?” My mother put a hand on my shoulder.

“Yes?” I quickly snapped out of the stupor I had been in.

“I asked if you were coming back downstairs with us,” she repeated.

“Oh,” I looked around again and shook my head. “I think I’ll stay up here and rest for a while. I’m kind of tired.”

She smiled warmly, “Okay honey. I understand. Well, if you need me, I’ll be downstairs making lunch, okay?”

I nodded and watched as my mother, sister and brother each left the room. I closed the door behind them and took another look around. I had pictures of who I assumed were my friends around the room along with many small decorative things adorning my walls. Slowly, I removed my jacket and hung it on a small coat-hook behind my door before walking about the room and letting the feel of it soak in. I went to my bed and sat down upon it where I closed my eyes and attempted to let something come back into my memory. I sat there for at least five minutes and absolutely nothing came back. I opened my eyes, discouraged and got up from the bed. I then headed over to my desk and turned on the computer. It groaned as it started up and I waited patiently for the startup screen.

It was strange. I remembered exactly how to work my computer, but I didn’t remember anything that was on it. When it was finally started, I milled around in Windows Explorer, looking at the sound clips, movies and stories I had saved onto the memory in drive C. There were dozens of sound clips, but unfortunately none of them would play because for some reason the sound on the computer wasn’t working. I then started looking through the stories. I soon became engrossed in a story called Love Under Construction. I only read a few chapters, but I could tell that obviously someone was quite the writer. I wasn’t sure if it was me, but if it was, I secretly hoped I still remembered how to perform that ability. I closed the story and rose from the computer desk. From there, I approached my bookshelf and casually looked at some of the titles.

“Cry the Beloved Country, A Separate Piece, Romeo and Juliet, The Crucible...” I read aloud. “Apparently I enjoy the classics.” Moving on, I saw an address book; I picked it up in hopes of recognizing some names inside. As I flipped through the phone numbers and addresses, I saw nothing that I remembered. By some names I had made small notes such as “My Computer Helper,” “Best Chocolate Chip Cookies,” and “Homework Buddy.” Suddenly I was glad I had made these notes. They would help me when I was having problems with those various things. Finally, I went to the closet. It was important to know what kind of clothes I wore. I flipped through the clothes and it was like flipping through a fashion magazine. Everything was beautiful and appealing. I saw a Delia*s catalog laying nearby, so I picked it up. I flipped through the pages and again looked at my clothes. I found nearly everything in the catalog was also in my extensive wardrobe collection. I made a mental note that the catalog would be a good helper when I needed an idea of something to wear.

Suddenly there was a knock on my door. “Come in,” I called to the person. The door slowly opened and my sister emerged from behind it. “Mom says to come down for lunch. She fixed your favorite,” she told me quietly.

“Thank you....” I searched for her name.

“Sarah. My name is Sarah,” she sighed.

“I knew that. Thank you Sarah. I’ll be right down,” I nodded. She left again and I sighed. I couldn’t even remember my sister’s name.




“Ready honey?” My mother called from the bottom of the stairs.

I looked in the mirror one more time, making sure I looked nice, grabbed my things and headed out of the room. I joined my mother at the bottom of the stairs and smiled at her. “I’m ready.”

“Okay, let’s go. Sarah and Trent are waiting in the car,” she told me. Together, we went out the front door and towards the car. I saw Sarah in the front seat which triggered an old memory.

“Out of the front seat,” I smiled at her. “But I was here first,” she protested.

“Au contraire, Sare, I am a whole year older, which means, technically, that I was here first. Move it,” I pointed to the back seat. She jumped up and hugged me around the neck and happily got into the back seat with Trent.

“Honey--” my mother started.

“I remember that I always get the front seat,” I laughed. “I’m not about to contradict the things I do remember.”

She nodded and smiled happily. It felt good to see her smile genuinely because of something I had said; lately she had become a bit depressed because of the things I couldn’t remember. It upset me daily that I was causing so much strain on our family. I hated to ask about things because then my mother got this hurt look on her face that I couldn’t remember some of the seemingly simple things like my middle name, my age, where the clock was. I couldn’t help it, but I felt completely at fault for it all. Unfortunately, I didn’t really know whether I was or not.

“Ready?” My mother brought me back from my thoughts.

We had already arrived at our destination; I had been so caught up in my thoughts, I hadn’t even notice the car moving. I looked out the window at the massive building and then back at my mother. I nodded.

“Well, if you should need me--”

“I have your cell phone number, but I won’t need it,” I smiled. “Bye.”

With that, I emerged from the car and headed towards what I was sure would be the biggest task to tackle at this tumultuous time: school. The towering doors stood closed and cold, waiting for inhabitants to put them to use. I took a deep breath and began to mentally prepare myself as I ascended the concrete steps towards the entrance.

“PAYNE!” I heard a sudden scream from inside the building. Suddenly, the doors swung open and an onslaught of people swarmed around me. One girl with shoulder-length red hair and a creamy complexion gave me a long hug.

“I’ve missed you so much, Payne,” she whispered to me. Wishing I could say the same, I hugged her back. When we parted, I saw tears form in her eyes when she recognized the confusion in my eyes. “You-you don’t remember me, do you?” I slowly shook my head, regretfully.

“It’s okay,” she smoothed my hair back behind my ear, “I was expecting that. I’m Georgia. I was your best friend before...you know.”

Speechless, I looked at her face and studied her emotions as they shifted from sadness to understanding to happiness and back to sadness again. I felt like I was breaking her heart, and I didn’t even have to say a word.

“Listen,” she started quietly, “I know today is going to be really hard, but I’m here for you. Every step of the way. Anytime you need help or a shoulder, just come get me. We have four classes together and your other two classes, I’ve already made sure you’ll have someone helping you, okay? I know it’s hard, and you’re strong, so I know you can make it through this. Just think, if you make it through this, you can do anything, okay Payne?”

“Thank you, Georgia,” I nodded. She turned and put her arm over my shoulders and looked up at the doors still looming over me that were now surrounded by people.

“Ready?”

I took another long, deep breath, “As I’ll ever be.”




“So, Payne, how’s your first day so far?” Georgia asked me as we got in her car to go eat lunch at Burger King.

“Well,” I paused for a moment as she started the car, “it hasn’t been too bad. I remember everything I learned before the accident, apparently, but I just don’t remember the people I learned it with. I guess I’ve only missed about two weeks, which isn’t too bad, so I think I’m going to pull through.”

“That’s great,” Georgia smiled at me weakly.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

She looked straight forward at the road and shrugged.

“You’re mad that I don’t remember you, aren’t you?” I asked, gathering as much from her attitude.

“Well,” she shrugged, “not so much mad as just kind of disappointed. I kind of felt like we had something that would live through anything.”

“Don’t feel singled out,” I said quietly. “I don’t even remember my own mother. Heck, I don’t even know if I have a father at this point.”

She half-smiled, but I saw through it. She was just acting and beneath the smile; I knew she was still disappointed and always would be. There was nothing I could do to change that, at least as far as I knew.

“They had an assembly about you, you know,” she changed the subject.

“An assembly?” I raised my eyebrows. “About what?”

“About you,” she repeated and paused for a second, “and about what to do around you. I didn’t think much of it was necessary, though. You’re fine.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I agreed, then in wonderment, I asked, “What kind of things did they say to do?”

“Well, the principle told us not to ask you many questions or talk about...” She trailed off, apparently realizing her mistake of almost mentioning the unmentionable.

“What?”

“So where did you want to eat?”

“Don’t blow me off. What didn’t they want you to talk about?” I asked again.

She stayed silent. “It’s the accident isn’t it?”

“Do you just know everything?” She laughed.

“No, but I can conclude a lot lately,” I sighed. “My mother. She won’t talk about it. Every time I ask, she changes the subject. Every time I ask again, she leaves the room. I’m getting so scared about what happened that I think it would be better if someone finally just told me, rather than continuing to hide it.”

Again, she was silent.

“Can’t you just tell me? I won’t tell anyone it was you that told me,” I attempted to bargain with her.

“Talk to your mom,” she stated simply.

I didn’t try to bargain anymore. Knowing that I didn’t want to start raving at her about what had happened, I decided by the time I fell asleep that night, I would know what had happened. My mother would either tell me, or I’d find out somewhere else.




I contained myself for the rest of the day, but when my mother’s car showed up at the front of the school, shining hopeful in the sun, I already felt my anger push from under all the other emotions. I got in and kept my mouth shut for the entire ride home, telling her I was tired and leaning back in my seat. As we neared the house, I could feel the anger and anxiety rising and my heart began jack hammering in my chest as I knew that there was no way we’d get through the day without a fight. I got out of the car and followed her to the front door of our house. I had no sooner set down my backpack and already words flew out of my mouth.

“I deserve to know what happened,” I blurted, my heart beating ever faster as the moments flew by.

“What are you talking about?” The words my mother spoke fell dead between us. We both knew what I was talking about. I looked at her and waited for her next words. “Honey, we should talk about this later.”

“Later?” I laughed thinking of how many "laters" it had been. I had tried to bring it up nearly every day for almost a month. “Now.”

“Honey-”

“Don’t try dance around it again,” I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Let’s not-”

“Let’s do. Let’s talk about it now.”

“Payne, now-”

“I deserve to know!”

“Well, maybe it would be better-”

Like a mighty volcano, the anger erupted. I screamed, whirled around and picked up the nearest thing to me and flung it across the beautiful entry way into the next room. I heard the vase shatter as it hit the cold, tile floor.

“TELL ME!” Tears began flowing down my fiery face.

“Fine,” she spoke quietly, and I could see tears forming in her own eyes. I let out the breath I had been holding since I had gotten back from the hospital in a long, relieved sigh.

“Sit down,” she instructed. I felt the control shift to her side again, and once more I was the child and she was the mother. She followed me into the living room and I sat down in a chair next to where the once beautiful vase now laid in pieces on the floor. She sat down on the other side of the vase on a couch.

“We’re not exactly sure what happened in the accident, but there were a few witnesses who told us what they saw,” she started. “Apparently, you were driving down that side road over next to the fields, coming home from a party. A small animal--maybe a rabbit or a cat--ran out into the road, and you tried to brake a little to keep from hitting it. Your wheels hit a patch of black ice and you spun out of control, going across the road. There was another car coming, and your cars collided. You were in a Ford F150 pickup and she was in a Miata...”

She paused for a moment. As she told the scenes of the accident, I could almost feel it happening to me, like it was coming back to me. I saw tears start slipping down her face.

“There was a woman and a little girl in the car,” she choked up slightly in a struggling sob. Before continuing she took a deep breath and looked at me. “The woman, amazingly, escaped with only a broken arm, but the little girl--”

“Oh God,” I breathed. “Is she...? Did I....?”

“Almost, but no. Luckily, she survived, but not without injury,” she took another deep breath and I tensed, waiting for her to finish. “Her spine was severed just above her waist. She’s paralyzed from the waist down.”

For some reason, it felt like she wasn’t telling me the whole story. I felt like there was something more to it, but I wasn’t about to push her.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” I wiped away the tears that had slipped down my face.

“Honey-”

“Just give me the keys, I’ll be fine,” I shook my head.

“No. You’ve just heard about this accident, you’re irrational,” she refused me.

“I took the driving test, I can drive just fine. I have a license,” I told her. “I’ll be fine. Just give me the keys and the cell phone.”

“No,” she looked at me, begging me to stay with her eyes.

“DAMMIT, give me the keys!” I screamed.

“Calm down, Payne. Just give it a few minutes, please?” She pleaded. Then, I spotted the keys and phone on the table in the entry way. I darted to them, snatched them and ran out the front door.

“I’ll be back by 10,” I yelled and slammed the door on my mother, who was staring at me in disbelief, still sitting on the couch. I ran to the car, jumped in, started it up, and roared off down the street.

Once I had gotten at least a mile away, I parked in the street and sobs overcame me and tears washed down my face. I felt horrible for so many reasons. I had done so much, ruined so many lives with one action that seemed to be pure accident. How could fate be so cruel to me? I tried to calm myself down so I would be able to resume driving and after a few minutes, I turned on the radio, hoping to let the music soothe me. After hearing an unimaginable annoying song for about thirty seconds, I turned the radio back off and started the car. I composed myself, put the car into drive and started off again.

I wasn’t so angry at my mother for not telling me anymore, but I had a general anger about my situation. This girl was just as hurt as I was, and she thought I was completely uncaring about what I had done to her when I was simply unaware. I wished I could tell her how sorry I was for what had happened, but I had no clue where she was, her name or much of anything. I could already feel that I would have this guilt building up in my chest until I did something about it.




“Excuse me,” I addressed the woman in the white uniform, “This is going to sound extremely stupid, but I’m looking for a girl here; I don’t know her name or anything, but I know her condition and the day she would have been admitted. Can you try to help me?”

“Perhaps,” the nurse replied. I had decided to go to the same hospital I had been in, hoping that the girl would be there. “What do you know?”

“I know she was in a car accident--in a Miata. She is paralyzed from the waist down; she came in approximately two weeks ago. I was the other person involved in the accident,” I said. It was then that I realized exactly how little I knew, “I’m sorry. You probably don’t know who it is with just that, do you?”

“Actually, I remember the girl you’re talking about,” the nurse clicked away on her computer.

“You do? Is there any way I could see her?” I felt hope rise inside me.

“Let me check,” she continued to mess with the computer before answering. “I’m sorry ma'am. I can’t let you see her.”

“Why?” I panicked. I was so close. “Is she in critical condition or something?”

“No, she’s just not allowed visitors other than the family. That’s a request from the parents.”

“Well, is there any way I could get a phone number I could reach her at?” I searched for any possible way I could talk to her.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head again.

“Please,” I licked my dry lips and blinked slowly, concentrating on keeping the tears away. “I’m desperate. I have to let her know I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t long before I felt the first tear form in my eye as I looked at her, my last thread of hope fraying away.

“Listen,” she talked quietly, “I’m not supposed to let anyone contact her but family, but I’ll cut you a deal, okay? If you want to leave her a note or something, I’ll try to get it to her.”

I nodded. It wasn’t much, but it was something. “Thank you. You won’t regret it. Will you be here tomorrow so I can drop it by?”

“Yes, from two until four, I’ll be working right here,” she nodded. I smiled at her and headed back out of the hospital. Once outside, I felt a need to find something to make me feel like a teenager again and two words came to my mind: The Mall.




I entered the large shopping center with a feeling of freedom and normalcy. I was an everyday teenager, doing everyday things. I proceeded into a store called “Abercrombie & Fitch” and started looking around. Everything was so expensive. It didn’t matter, though, since I was only looking just so I could feel like a normal person for a little while. I picked up a shirt that I thought would look good on Trent, thinking about coming back to buy it for him for Christmas and smiled at the thought of the holidays coming so soon. Someone cleared their throat in front of me and I looked up. He was facing sideways and I saw his profile, and something startled me. The curve of the half-smile on his face, the hair spilling out from under the baseball cap he wore, something about them... He turned to face me, not knowing I was there and for a moment looked into my eyes and that’s when I realized something. I recognized him.

My mind raced; I knew the face, I knew it from somewhere. It was the first face I had recognized since the accident, but I had no name to go with it, no identity to acknowledge.

I was so startled by this that I dropped the shirt I had been looking at. Quickly, I replaced it and noticed this guy still staring at me. My intuition told me to run, and I did; I ran right out of the store, dodging sales clerks and clothes racks into the open mall, not knowing what exactly I was running from. My next thought was to go someplace else, so he wouldn’t see me standing out here, just waiting for him.

Pacific Sunwear was right across from the store I had been in, and so I hurriedly ducked into it. I made my way to the back of the store, and to be inconspicuous, I began looking at Hawaiian shirts on a tall rack. Who was he? Why was I so scared? I had only hoped to have a moment of teenage normalcy and it was interrupted by my abnormal fatality. There were even more unanswered questions in my head now, and I felt like soon they would be pouring out my mouth, getting me in trouble.

“Excuse me,” a voice said, I assumed a salesperson.

I turned around and stumbled back at what I confronted.

It was him.

Suddenly, I ran into the tall rack I was standing by and it toppled to the ground. My instinct, again, was to run, but this time I was cornered; he blocked the only outlet to the small place into which I had cornered myself. I felt like crying, but I didn’t want to appear even stranger to him.

“Why are you running away from me?” He asked quietly.

I shook my head, “I don’t know...”

“Do you know me?”

“I think I might, but I don't know where from,” I answered. I thought I heard him mutter something under his breath at this. “What?”

“Nothing,” he pulled his hat off and smoothed his blond hair back and put the cap back on again. “What’s your name?”

I stared at him a moment. Something about those eyes, those blue eyes triggered something in my mind, but I couldn’t get anything specific to stand out from the jumble of thoughts that raced through me. “Payne Silver,” I finally responded. “What’s yours?”

“Taylor Ha--” he cut himself off. “Taylor. But you can call me Tay.”

I nodded.

“Why are you scared of me?” He came closer and I backed up a little.

“I don’t know,” I sighed. I wished I knew, but the thoughts were so jumbled that he could have been a serial killer and I wouldn’t have been able to discern it from any other situation.

“Will you stop trying to get away?” He smiled. “I’m not bad; I promise. I’m not a psycho or anything.”

“I know, but I just feel like I know you and there’s something bad going on,” I tucked my hair back behind my ear. I didn’t want to tell him my amnesia story. Obviously, he didn’t know and that was a first for me. Everywhere I went, stories preceded me; everyone has heard of me, the “Amnesiac,” and they all want to know me. They all want to be a part of that claim to fame, and that meant asking me countless questions and loitering around me like I was some prophet that could tell them the meaning of life. I didn’t want Tay to become part of that fame-hungry crowd.

“Trust me,” he half-smiled, “I’m not going to hurt you or anything.”

For some reason, something in that half-smile made me trust him. I felt a smile creep across my face and I nodded. “Okay, I trust you.”

“Here, I’ll help you clean up this mess you made,” he knelt down and erected the clothes stand and began putting shirts back on it. I quickly joined him in doing this and soon everything was back as it was supposed to be, or so we hoped. I stood back up and he smiled at me. We stood there for a moment in silence neither of us sure what the next move would be.

“Would you like to go get a drink with me or something in the food court?” He asked rather confidently. I nodded and that half-smiled appeared on his face again. It was almost devilish, but something about it triggered a place in my mind that brought a feeling of innocence.




“Where did you say you lived?” Tay asked as we sat at a small table with iced cappuccinos.

“I live in Glenpool. You?”

“I live in Glenpool, too,” he smiled. “What brought you to Tulsa then?”

“Had to get away from my family. They’re about to drive me insane,” I closed my eyes and remembered the scene when I left the house and wondered how long I would be grounded when I returned.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

I tried to think of a way to explain it without giving away my situation. “It’s just that....well....I’ll put it this way: My mother wants me to be perfect, and there’s no way I can do that. I’m human, you know?”

“I totally understand,” he nodded. “It’s the same here; my parents are constantly expecting me to act perfectly, not swear, not get mad, not be normal. That’s why I’m here, too; I just needed some time away.”

Suddenly, I heard a group of girls start screaming and when I looked in their direction, they were running right toward us with ams outstretched. I saw a bit of panic in Tay’s eyes just before he grabbed my hand and we starting running away from the girls. I, of course, was completely confused. He pulled me down a narrow hallway and into a janitor closet.

“Tay, what was that all about?” I whispered, but he put a finger to my lips as we heard running footsteps come down the hall. He grabbed the doorknob and held it, which was a very smart move on his part. One of the girls grabbed the knob and jiggled it, and since Taylor held it in place, she must have assumed it was locked. I then heard muffled voices talk about the fact that we must have gone out the emergency exit after which a door opened and there was silence again.

“Those were just some girls that are obsessed with me,” he shrugged and let go of the knob.

“Obsessed with you? Why?”

“Well, I’m in this band, and girls around here are crazy about us for some reason,” he shrugged.

“You’re in a band? That’s cool,” I smiled. “So are you trying to get famous or something?”

He looked away for a moment and then looked back at me and shrugged. “Not really. At this point we’re just having fun.”

I looked around at the small closet and the supplies before asking, “You think it’s okay to leave now?”

“Probably,” he nodded and slowly turned the knob, opening the door centimeters at a time. I peeked out the crack at the empty hallway.

“All clear,” I smiled and led him back into the open. Suddenly, there was a giant bang on the exit door, and I could barely hear the girls yelling. Apparantly, the door locks on the outside automatically.

I looked at Taylor and we began laughing as we headed back out of the small hallway and back into the mall. We began strolling around, with no particular destination, simply talking and getting to know each other. This proved to be somewhat of a difficult task for me, due to my lack of memory about my life and those in it, so I found myself avoiding many of the questions. Soon, we got on the topic of Christmas since it was only two weeks away.

“They already have a Santa set up here,” Taylor pointed to the center of the mall where a rather elaborate “Winter Wonderland” had been constructed, the centerpiece of it all being Santa.

“I remember sitting on his knee when I was little,” I smiled. Then, I realized that I really did remember Santa Claus and asking for Barbies when I was little. I felt the need to celebrate my small breakthrough, yet I realized with the company I was in, I had to be lowkey about it.

“Yeah, me, too,” Tay smiled back at me. Without warning, he grabbed my hand and started tugging me towards the escalator.

I was taken by surprise, “Where are we going?”

“To see Santa.”

“What?” I was caught by surprise. “No way!”

“Yes, way! How are you going to get anything good for Christmas if you don’t ask Santa?”

He led me to the “North Pole,” but instead of getting in line, he led me straight to the exit. He stopped me a few feet from it and told me to stay put while he went and visited with the young lady elf. In only a moment, he was motioning for me to join him, and she led us straight in to meet the Jolly Old Elf.

“Tay, isn't this kind of cheating?” I whispered to him as we waited a moment for the elf to talk to Santa.

“No, it’s a favor,” he smiled that wonderful half-smile once again.

“Oh yeah,” I raised an eyebrow, “and how much did this ‘favor’ cost?”

“I’m sorry; I don’t reveal my means,” he shrugged.

The elf motioned to us to proceed to see Santa. I still couldn’t believe I was about to sit on Santa’s lap at sixteen years of age. The man laughed heartily as Taylor and I took seats on his knees, obviously a bit surprised to see such old children coming to him.

“And what do you want for Christmas, kiddies?”

Taylor chuckled, “I’d like...” He sat in thought for a moment and then leaned over to Santa’s ear and whispered something. Santa Ho-Ho-ed at Tay’s request. “I’m not sure if I can do that, but I’ll try,” he nodded and winked at Taylor who looked at me, smiling.

“And what about you, little girl?” Santa turned to me.

Taking Taylor’s example, I leaned over and whispered my request in Santa’s ear.

“All I want is happiness,” I smiled.

“Well, I think I can do that for you,” he smiled cheerily, “but I don’t think it’ll be wrapped.”

“That’s fine,” I nodded.

“Thank you both,” he patted us each on the back. “Would you like to take a picture with me?”

Taylor nodded and we smiled as the elf took a picture of all three of us together. I waited nearby as Taylor paid the elf and retrieved our two wallet-size pictures. I had to admit they were very cute, and I’m sure my friends would completely flip over the fact that I had visited Santa at age 16.




“Are you sure?” Taylor asked once more as we were walking through the dimly lit parking lot of Sears.

“Yeah,” I nodded, regretfully. “I kind of ran away from home, so I’m sure my mother is so thoroughly worried that if I don’t leave now, she might send the police for me.”

“Well, if you’re positive,” Taylor put his hands in his pockets and looked away as we continued to walk.

“I had a wonderful time.”

The stars shone through the lights and twinkled above as we walked and the moon loomed over us, providing a bit more light.

“I’m glad,” he smiled at me.

We had spent nearly three hours just walking around the mall, talking about our lives. I had little to say about my past, but plenty about my current situation. It was difficult, but I managed not to leak out the details of my perils and it felt good to be able to talk to someone without them constantly asking about my amnesia.

When we reached my car, I unlocked the door and opened it, but remained standing. There were words itching to come out of my mouth, but I held them in. I looked at Taylor and smiled.

“I guess I’ll see you later,” I looked around searching for the strength inside to ask what I wanted to ask, but it was deeply hidden and it would take much more time than I had available.

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but nothing came out, so he closed it again.

Reluctantly, I sat down in the driver’s seat and pulled my feet in. Taylor smiled once more and shut the door for me as I buckled in.

I started the car.

My heart raced.

He smiled.

Hard swallow.

I waved.

He waved back.

Deep breath.

Car in gear, foot on the gas.

Another deep breath.

He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets.

And with my last ounce of strength, I left.




“Honey, will you go show Payne the stable?” My mother said. It was several days after the running away incident. I had delivered my letter to the nurse who had promised to do all in her power to get it to the little girl. My mother hadn’t said much about my actions; I hoped she had understood. Luckily, I didn’t get punished, but she did seem a little distant after that night.

“Sure,” replied Sarah.

I creased my brow, “We have a stable? For what?”

“Horses, of courses,” laughed Sarah. “Your horse and mine.”

“We have horses?”

She replied by pulling me along into our giant “backyard” which was more like a field. We walked over a small hill and to what I assumed was the stable. Inside was a beautiful brown mare standing tall and proud, with a shining coat and long, silky mane. I was astounded by her beauty and approached like she was the holy grail.

“What’s her name?” I was surprised to hear myself speak.

“Cleopatra,” Sarah smiled. “Cleo for short.”

“How long have I had her?”

“Well, you know how all 8 year old little girls and boys ask for ponies for Christmas? You were one of the rare ones that actually got one.” “I was? Really?”

“Yeah. I was only 5 at the time, but I remember you seeing her for the first time, and saying she was so beautiful, like a goddess or something. Mom and Dad had always told you about the beautiful and powerful women in history like the Greek gods and goddesses and about Egypt. At first you were going to name her Aphrodite, but you changed your mind at the last moment.”

I was speechless as I watched the beautiful horse whinny and stomp as I approached.

“She remembers you,” I looked at Sarah who motioned me to pet Cleo.

“How old is she?”

“Nine.”

“Is that old?”

“Not really.”

“Could you help me saddle her up?”

Sarah nodded. Slowly, I opened the door to the stall and entered alongside Sarah. She retrieved the supplies from the railing between the stalls and handed it to me. Together, we attached all the straps and cinches, making sure to get everything on right.

“Do you think you’ll be able to remember all this?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I may have a little problem with it, but I’ll write it down or something.”

“Payne?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“Being so lost. Not knowing anything. Forgetting everyone." I looked away from her, feeling the pain filling my chest as I thought about the past few weeks and the problems I had been having. I hadn’t talked about it, and I wasn’t sure that I was ready to, but I felt I owed Sarah at least that much.

“It’s like someone thrust me into a completely different world and everyone wants to be so close that it’s suffocating. Like being drowned, slowly. And you don’t know who is for real and who is fake and who isn’t saying anything at all, but should mean the most to you. It feels like...I’m....famous.”

“Famous?”

“Yeah, because, whether they know me or not, everyone wants to be seen with me. They want to be part of the big mystery that I’ve become since the accident, and there’s no way I can discern who is worth talking to and who isn’t.”

“What about us?”

“Family? It’s hard. So hard. I want to make you feel like this isn’t your fault, but I don’t know how. I know that I used to love you, but now, it’s like I don’t even know you. I don’t know the people I’ve grown up with and who have been there for me for almost 17 years,” I felt tears beginning to form. “I’ve gotta go.”

With that, I mounted Cleo and rode out of the stable. Once I hit the outside, I willed Cleo to go faster, and to my surprise, it actually worked without me having to do anything phisically to the horse.

The wind whipped all around my body, pulling my hair out of my ponytail. I yanked the elastic band out of my hair and let the long, golden strands flow behind me. Cool air snaked beneath my jeans and through my cardigan, yet I felt untouched by the 50 degree weather. My mind was suddenly freed and the fence that separated our property from everything else wasn’t a barrier as Cleo and I flew over it gracefully. With each running leap she took over the fences in the neighboring fields gave me more and more freedom. Soon, feeling the fatigue in myself and my horse, we slowed to a gallop and I looked around. I was in someone else’s field which made me somewhat apprehensive, but still, I felt free. I noticed a very large, sprawling tree at the top of a gentle hill and beneath it was a figure, writing in some sort of book. I began to turn to leave the field, but when I glanced back, I saw something else. It was the same profile as I had seen only days ago.

I made a clicking noise with my tongue, causing my horse to begin loping toward the figure I hoped and prayed was who I thought it was.

My heart seemed to stop beating.

“Taylor!” I called out when I was about 45 feet away. He finally looked up and stopped writing. I saw him squint and smile as I got close enough for him to realize who it was.

“Payne!” He yelled back.

My heart began beating again.

“What are you doing out here?” I finally reached him and quickly dismounted.

“Well, I live here. This is part of my property. And you?”

“Sorry. I just got a little carried away with the whole ‘feel free’ kind of thing.”

“I see. Fences aren’t any indication of change of property, are they?”

“Not at this very moment, no.”

“Well, then, would you like some company?”

“You have a horse?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he stood up beside me.

“So, where’s your stable?”

“Just over that way a little,” he pointed behind the tree.

I followed him across the field and to the small stable that held the few horses they owned. We walked in and Taylor started pointing out their horses. “This is the one my brothers share,” He pointed to a black stallion, “His name is Stevie. Then this Palamino over here is Angel that my sisters share. Last but not least is Brutus, my very own horse.”

“Why is he already saddled up?”

“Actually, I was going to take a ride earlier, but I decided to go write in my journal,” he held up the book he had been scribbling in when I rode up, “and then come back.”