Roy pushed his way past her door with his blue eyes hopeful and the lines in his face turned upwards, and with her head spinning and those blue eyes seeming to pull her into a trance of comfort and ease and this is your future, she let outstretched arms pull him to her chest, burying her nose in the line between his pecs.

“Hey,” he started with a sad laugh, “what’s going on?”

“I...I just...missed you.”

Though the words came with a sniffle, she found herself forcing them out, almost feeling guilty at her own lack of tears. This was Roy. It shouldn't be this difficult. 

But it was different. His chest was harder, more defined, devoid of the comfort it had once nestled her in. His face, too, was thinner, sharp lines outlined by carefully manicured hair. She could still smell the lake on him, but it was oddly devoid of his typical post-lake wafting of alcohol on his breath and painted into his skin. She felt his chest heave against her in a sigh before he whispered I missed you too, Pam into her hair.

Dr. Livingston entered then with Jim closely in tow.

“Well, Ms. Beesly, I see we may have outdid ourselves already, huh?”

His smile was accusatory, reminiscent of the way her mother would look after catching young Pam with her hands in the cookie jar before they’d eaten dinner. When Roy pulled back, straightening his body with a slight cough, he stayed rooted to her side. The glance that passed between Roy and Jim worried Pam, as it spoke with tensed brows and large eyes. It was as if a standoff was ensuing right in the middle of her hospital room, and if that were the case, she wasn’t actually sure who she wanted to win that fight.

“I think what we’ll do is take your time down to ten minutes a session, accompanied by an orderly. You’re welcome to have one of your visitors accompany you, of course, but we’ll keep medical personnel involved just as a precaution. I’d also like to order a CAT scan tonight, just to be on the safe side. And then I’d like you in bed for the rest of the evening.”

It was like a prison sentence, so close and yet so far, all because of a lousy boat that was now proverbially flooding her thoughts. In the end, she decided to go it alone, leaving the two tense men to fend for themselves in her absence as she was wheeled to her scan, letting the waters of that night drown over her like a tidal wave. If she concentrated hard enough, she could see him, standing there on the deck of the boat, those eyes shining and hopeful, dipping into worry and doubt, and then hauntingly sombering.

She knew it was Jim, knew that in that moment, he was thinking about what he wanted to say in response to whatever their conversation had been. She felt reluctance in her chest, the guilt, the overwhelming congestion in her heart that didn’t know which way to turn.

Her CT was normal, but with elevated blood pressure causing unnecessary stress, she was advised to send her guests home for the evening and rest. She was torn though, as the men passed knowing glances back and forth, both seemingly trying to be the last ones in the room with her. She passed her own eyes back and forth slowly, this dynamic clearly the case for her rise in blood pressure.

It was odd, immensely so, as each of the two men knelt to embrace her before departing. Roy’s body around her was comforting and familiar with an ache that had certain parts of her heart jumping, but it was also stiff, reticent, and desperate maybe? He clutched her biceps before letting go, the look in his eyes full of sorrow and regret, contradictory to the way his lips were trying so hard to smile.

When Jim’s long arms wound their way around her, they were tentative at first, careful and reserved. But once her hands were up and under his arms and on the small of his back to return his embrace, she swore she felt an exhale of relief against her neck, the quick tightening of his arms, a small strangled sound in his throat, when she squeezed him back.

It was so sad, the way he hugged her as if he was afraid she would slip away. For that, she squeezed him once more for good measure, a tickle in the back of her mind slowly spelling out the word home.

Monday began bright and early with breakfast, pain meds (now on a lessened dose), and physical therapy--this time with an actual PT instead of James Halpert, M.D. It was frustrating to no end, the fact that she had to take frequent breaks during simple tasks like walking up and down the hallway, but she was determined to become a normally functioning human being again by Friday when she--hopefully--got to go home.

There was that word again.

Home.

It was Monday, four days away from potentially being released from the hospital, and she still didn’t know where exactly she’d end up when that time came.

It was a conversation thad unfolded when mom came to visit for lunch, Pam’s fingers twiddling in her lap as her mother picked at the salad she had brought.

“Are you excited to be out of this place?” Helene started between crunches.

“Definitely,” Pam said with a chuckle, eyes still fixed on her fingers rather than the stale bread of her barely touched sandwich. “I just...I want to be home.”

Her eyes fluttered closed on the word home, seeing several different places, different beds, different people. Mom and dad, Roy, Penny, no one, Jim.

It was Jim’s appearance that had her eyes popping open, the words jumping from her lips.

“Mom, where...I mean, who...How do I….? I can’t take care of myself when I get out of here, right? Like, I’m going to...need someone at first...”

Her eyes were pleading as Helene Beesly’s hand moved to cup her daughter’s cheek, the Pammy in this bed no different than the girl at five years old with the springy pigtails and the fever that kept her home from school.

“Oh, sweetheart, we’ll take care of everything, don’t you worry.”

“Yeah but...I mean, am I going to go...do you think I should go home with you, or back to my place with...Roy works a lot, and...do you think they’d give him the time off?”

Her mother’s eyes and expression were tentative, walking on eggshells like they’d all been doing since she had woken up. But setting her lips firm, she chose careful and decisive words.

“I think, under the circumstances, they would, but honey, I think it’s going to be in your best interests to...stay with your father and I for awhile. Come home, let us get you situated, and once you’re back on your feet, we’ll...we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?”

It wasn’t exactly the answer she’d wanted, but it gave her heart respite from the worry that had been lingering. She could put it off, at least for a little while longer.

Jim returned after lunch, which she was still wary of. He was taking half days? To come visit her in the hospital? Yet, here was Roy, absent and distant and running off to the lake and, well, not here. If he couldn’t give her--his fiance for crying out loud--the time of day while she was still in the hospital, would he truly be able to take care of her after? Maybe mom was right. Maybe it would be best for her to recuperate at home, her childhood home.

When Jim, always accompanied by a mystery bag, came with a larger package today, she was immediately pulled into a different sense of wondering.

“Hey,” he said, his smile soft, smoothing her worries like melting butter. “How’s the patient today? Any hallway catastrophes to report?”

“No,” she retorted, her eyes falling somewhere between embarrassed and Seriously, Jim? “I made it down the hallway and back in one piece, thank you very much.”

“Alright Beesly.” From across the room, he lifted one hand in the air. Somehow, her brain understood, and no sooner was her own hand up in the air than they were extending hands towards each other, the gesture clicking as they simultaneously dropped their arms.

Air five.

Huh.

Jim’s head dropped momentarily, in an attempt to hide the grin that was creeping around his cheeks, shaking slightly from side to side.

“So, I have to assume you’re probably exhausted from all of that physical exertion today?”

“Obviously,” she retorted, falling so easily into the wall of banter he’d presented her with so early on. To accompany her charade, she flung dramatically against her pillow, throwing an arm over her forehead. “God, Jim, walking up and down the hallway is just...I don’t know how you do it. Is there any way you could give me some pointers? Because I don’t think I can take this much longer.”

He chuckled, stationing himself at the opposite end of the room as he began digging through his large bag.

“I think something like that could be arranged. Just be cautioned though, last time I tried helping a patient in this hospital, I made her swoon so badly, she almost passed out.”

He glanced over his shoulder watching her expression fight between rolling her eyes and creeping with blush.

“But I’m glad that you’re zonked out, because my plan today fully relies on you being a zombie.”

When tangled cords wound up towards the TV, it made sense.

“Did you seriously cart a DVD player into my hospital room?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Did you sneak in something X-rated to keep us occupied?” she retorted with a waggle of her eyebrows.

“Not quite, although I could probably arrange that, if you’re up for it,” he said with breathy laughter, his hand casually rubbing at the back of his neck. “No, but, uh, I kind of took the liberty of making a little tape for you at work. Kind of like Flash Cards 6.0, I guess.”

He shrugged then, bringing the remote with him when he shut off the lights and settled into his chair.

“What, no popcorn?”

“You severely underestimate me, Beesly.”

After producing two bags of popcorn, and offering a smile and sheepish roll of the eyes, Jim pointed the remote at the DVD player and pressed PLAY.

Suddenly, flashing before her eyes, shaky camera angles and all, were the faces that he’d glued to multiplication cards, only now they had voices to match the inscribed personalities.

“Hey Pam, this is Oscar. I work in accounting here at Dunder Mifflin. You and I get along pretty well, actually. Don’t tell anyone else I said this, but I consider you one of the only other intellectuals here that can keep me sane. I hope you’re feeling better, and that your recovery is going smoothly. We can’t wait to have you back at work.”

The Latino man’s smile was warm and friendly, kind. Familiar.

“Wait this is for Pam, right? And she has no memory of who I am, right? Nice.” No sooner was the large bald man licking his lips and running a palm over his bald head than he was uttering, “Hey, Pam. This is...Johnny Depp. I’m on a break from filming some awesome movies with a ton of smokin’ hot babes right now, so I thought I’d take a shot at accounting.”

From somewhere behind the camera, Jim’s voice pleaded, “Kevin, come on man.”

The other man, Kevin, just giggled.

“Just kidding. This is Kevin. It sucks that you can’t remember anything. But I’ll definitely help you out when it comes to keeping reception stocked with candy. You usually do jelly beans, but sometimes you mix it up. I like it when you put those little Rolo things out. But Jim likes the jelly beans, so…”

He waggled his eyebrows, and as Jim ventured to the next patron, he turned the camera towards his own face, shaking his head with wide eyes.

“Oh my god! Pam! Pam, I miss you so so so much! Oh my god, we have so much to catch up on. So, Ryan--”

“Kelly, this is supposed to be about you.”

“Uh, Jim? This is about me. I haven’t even told the story yet.”

Behind the camera, she heard him mutter I didn’t bring enough tape for this, his breath hidden behind the high-pitched stories of Kelly.

“Hello, Pam. My name is Angela Martin. It is unfortunate to hear about your accident. I pray that you find your way to a speedy recovery. Can I go back to work now?”

With wide eyes, on-camera-Jim shrugged, as if to say, That’s Angela for you.

“Hey sweetie, this is Phyllis. We’re all gunning for you. I was so heartbroken to hear about your accident, but I know you’ve got plenty of people with you who love and support you. That Jim Halpert guy certainly seems to be taking special care.”

Her video diary ended with a wink, and the real-life-Jim next to her had his head turned slightly away from her as his hand crept to the back of his neck.

“Can you just say your name for the camera?”

“Stanley Hudson.” The deep voice that came from the annoyed looking black man suited him, she thought.

“Awesome. And what is it that you do here?”

“Pass the time until I can go home.”

“Spectacular. Anything you’d like to say to Pam?”

“Cherish the time that you have without your memories of this place, darlin’. Cherish it.”

The quirky guy, Andy, played his banjo, and their HR rep, Toby was all sorts of awkward, but there was something in him that she felt that she needed to hug.

And then, there was the one face whom she recognized and could pull consciously into focus, Michael Scott.

“Pamalama! Wow, this is weird, isn’t it? I haven’t been nervous around the cameras in forever, but now that it actually matters, I’m kind of afraid of saying something stupid. Anyway, this is your boss, Michael Scott speaking. Some might call me the master of comedy, others might call me the World’s Best Boss,” he said, gesturing to the mug of coffee in his hands. “Our young Jimbo here often refers to me his best friend forever.” On-camera-Jim turned the camera around for a split second, furiously shaking his head. “But we have a lot of fun in this office. And you’re a big part of that. It’s not the same without you here. Your sub, Ronnie? She’s terri--she’s not you. And we’re really pulling for you over here. So, get your rest and get better so I can see your pretty face every morning instead of that ugly mug. We really miss you, kiddo.”

She was then led on a guided tour of their office building, one she remembered visiting only twice: once when she had lunch with Roy and needed to grab a soda, and then for her actual interview. Although she was familiar with so many of the places he brought her to, it was just somehow better with that shaggy hair at the wheel, especially when he was giving her a thorough tour of the coffee mugs and who they each belonged to (apparently critical information, according to on-camera-Jim), and reminding her of little things like which clock ran ahead by four minutes (and therefore was the one to pay attention to).

By the end of the video, she was using her blanket to dab at her sniffling nose.

“Hey, what’s…?”

“Oh, god, I must be in the mood for embarrassing myself this week, apparently,” she said, taking the box of tissues that Jim was now offering.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he chuckled, feeling a surge of confidence as he reached up to lightly stroke her arm while she settled down.

She could only nod her head, offer a grateful smile, the realization dawning on her that You’re being way nicer than my fiance and I’m entirely unsure of how to react here might not quite be the appropriate response. But instead, on the subject of their workplace environment, she knit together a question that had been nagging her for some time.

“Hey, this might sound, I don’t know, weird, or random but have you...have you...seen Roy and I together? Like, at work?”

His eyebrows pinched in the middle, knowing that this Pam wouldn’t find Yup, and I’m still in the process of kissing that out of our systems, so could we maybe not go there? funny or charming. His face hardened as he chose his words carefully.

“Uhm, I mean, yeah, I have...in the past. He eats lunch with us sometimes, and he’ll come to get you at the end of the day if he finishes before you get downstairs, but uh...yeah. That’s it, I guess,” he finished with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh.” His answer made sense, but she wanted more, needed to continue digging. “So...how do I even word this? Uhm...how...how is he? How is Roy?”

“How is Roy? I don’t…” His hand was at the back of his neck again, and she was beginning to wonder if this was a nervous tick of his.

“Like, how is he...with me? How does he seem?”

Out of all the conversations they’d been having, explaining to Pam--Pam who thought she was still engaged to Roy--what her relationship with Roy looked like to an outsider--an outsider who just so happened to be in love with her--had not topped that list in the slightest. It dawned on him that this might be his chance to break through to her without really letting on to what was happening with her mental status, to show her, in no uncertain terms, that Roy didn’t treat her well in the past, connections to his current whereabouts solid proof of that fact. But he would have to be careful, which is where he let his apprehension lie.

“He seems...I don’t know, Pam. I mean, he comes to eat lunch with you sometimes, but he’s not...and then sometimes when he’s waiting for you to be ready to leave he’s really...Pam, honest to god?” She nodded, encouraging him with eyes and lips paused in worry. “He’s...not always the greatest. I know you’re...you’re engaged and everything, but I just...as your best friend? You deserve to be treated so much better.”

Her eyes glistened as her head bobbed slowly, wanting, needing him to continue.

“There have been times when the three of us will be having lunch, and it’s almost like, like you’re not there. Like, his comments are off the wall, Pam. ‘Set my sandwich down because I’m kind of disgusted’ off-putting. Or, he’ll find someone else to talk to, and you just...Pam, you get this look on your face, and it kills me. Like he came up here to spend twenty minutes with you and he can’t even give you that much. And you don’t say anything about it because you know it will start a fight and it just...it breaks my heart, Pam. You should have so much more than that.”

She could hear it in his voice, the way the sadness ripped him apart, but it was the look in his eyes that really solidified everything. He looked so little, so much like a child in that moment of large, wide eyes and a new, chilling softness coloring his cheeks. The innocence of fear and utter dejection at her pain cast a shine over his eyes, a slight pale in his cheeks, as if her suffering sucked his life, too.

She shuddered at the thought, trying to piece together a life where another man was so pained by her mistreatment that his heart was breaking. It was odd, too, that in just three months, Roy had gone from seemingly perfect to this bad. Was Jim exaggerating? She had no recollections to prove either way, but there was something fuzzy about all that was going on.

Sure, Roy hadn’t always been the most perfect man for the seven years that they’d been together. He left her in Wilkes-Barre on their first date, enjoyed his liquor, and had a foul mouth. Her parents weren’t his biggest fan, and his sister positively loathed him. But they didn’t know the real Roy. The man who had bought her a tiara from the Dollar Tree, and held her hand in the hallway on their way to classes even when the cheerleaders were giving them all nasty grins, and held her tenderly when they made love.

As those thoughts cascaded, so too did a still small voice that reminded her that, while most of those memories were nice, they were all from their days at Valley View High, when the brick walls of a school building defined their lives, Friday football games and homecoming dance pictures reminding everyone of their status. It was when they hit the real world that she saw his true colors shining past the reminders that she tried to front that This was the future.

So he enjoyed the nightly beer or three? Didn’t many?

He swore like a sailor, but it was most often when his friends were around, so did it matter? Did it matter more that his friends were always around?

Or more, when they weren’t around, because he was leaving her to be with them instead?

Jim’s words hung heavy, Set my sandwich down because I’m disgusted and breaks my heart and more than that.

But what more could there possibly be?

She was engaged to be married. She had a home. She had a career--well, not quite a career, but a job that provided them with income enough to live comfortably.

Maybe not comfortably, but they had a roof over their heads and food and running water and heat in the winter, didn’t they?

Eventually, after the wedding, they would have a family, and she would have a bunch of littler Roy’s that loved her. Little Roy’s who learned how to hock a loogie before they could speak in full sentences, probably, and whose dirt bikes would tear up her front lawn. But wasn’t that what being a mother of boys was all about?

The silkiness in his words, their warm timbre, pulled her from her twister of thoughts, his Hey, you okay in there? presented with a warm smile that contradicted the sadness that still painted his eyes.

She sniffled again, closing her eyes as she managed a tight smile.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just...I’m trying so hard to remember all of this, Jim.”

To remember a time when Roy would be so terrible to me that it would put that look on someone’s face.

“...and it's like I can feel it in there…”

I can feel that something isn’t right...

“It’s like a, a sneeze is built up inside of me and I just need to go...I don’t know, snort some pepper or something.”

...and I so desperately need to put the puzzle together that it’s painful.

“It sucks. It’s hard. But this gave me so much, and I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful, because I so totally am.”

He was grinning behind eyes that still spoke his truth of frustration and hurt, her words obviously still wrecking him inside.

“Oh, you so totally are? Are we back in high school, Beesly? Because I’m pretty sure you’re just faking this injury to get out of the basketball unit in gym, and until you have a legitimate doctor’s note, I’m going to be giving you some serious stink eye from the court.”

She snorted, countlessly thankful for his uncanny ability to brighten her mood.

When her eyes fluttered, he patted his thighs, stretching from the chair.

“I should probably let you rest for a little bit, but hey, on the subject of high school, I almost forgot.”

Out of his Mary Poppins bag, he pulled a folded bundle of clothing, handing them to her with a grin and a shrug.

“I figured these would be way comfier than that stupid gown.”

She simply shook her head, chuckled, as he surprised her again that afternoon. He waved as he left the room to let her change and rest, not releasing his held breath until he was safely in the waiting room.

It was a bold move for sure, to give her one of his t-shirts from high school. He knew that she preferred the ones with his last name on the back, but that would have been a total can of worms he wasn't yet prepared for, and neither was she. He opted instead for the maroon tee, CONFERENCE CHAMPIONS 1994 emblazoned in gold at the chest. It was still sitting folded on her bed when he’d keyed into his apartment that morning, so he’d taken it as a sign.

Sure enough, she was entirely curious when, after putting on her black yoga pants, the t-shirt that he’d given her was entirely foreign. Roy played basketball. Roy went to Valley View. But here, as she pulled the worn cotton over her head, a scent that was so familiar and yet so startling choked her senses, a warm fuzzy tingling spreading from each nerve ending.

All at once, she was transported to a bed that wasn’t hers, a chest that wasn’t Roy’s, but a voice at her ear that had become all too familiar in weeks past whispering God, this is so surreal, and I love you so much and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life than I am right now.

The flashes that had come thus far were hazy, fuzzy around the edges, blobs at best. But this was so inherently different, sharp images of messy chocolate hair and bright green eyes and that smile curving so lopsided around his cheeks as he peered at her from a distance close enough for their noses to touch. And that smell, that smell that was spicy and minty, with chocolate on his breath from their dessert, was so potent that she had to look frantically around the room to be sure a new stimulus hadn’t entered her environment.

It was Jim.

It was so obviously Jim, his t-shirt under her cheek, his smile so close to hers, the tickle of his hair on her forehead.

His arms wrapped around her so warmly, his legs encasing her body, the heat that was present not necessarily stemming from the fact that they were both fully pajama-ed and tucked under a comforter.

It was a memory, her first vivid memory, and all she could do was sit in terror.

The terror that she couldn’t place it.

The terror that she had this memory of lying in bed, with Jim, when she was still engaged to Roy.

The terror that she wasn’t feeling remorse.

Her worries exhausted her into a fitful rest until later that afternoon when blue eyes sat across from her.

She could just ask him, as awkward as that would be.

Have you been distant because I cheated on you?

Is this why you and Jim keep looking at each other like you kicked each other’s puppies?

What happened to us, Roy?

But instead, it was How was the lake?

And the answer she received gave her everything she needed, and more than she bargained for.

“It was fun, I guess...I mean...no, that’s a lie.” He chuckled, hanging his head, as she pinched her eyebrows and felt the tingling spread from her head to her fingertips.

“I spent the whole time thinking about you, Pam. How I should be here, and not on a goddamn jetski.”

He was hanging his head now, shaking it back and forth, his hands clasped between spread knees.

“God I...I fucked it up, Pammy. I fucked it all up. This...I don’t deserve you, ya know? I just...I want to prove that I can.”

The puzzle became fuzzier still. He messed things up? What did Roy have to do with it? The guilt was still mounting, a tightness in her throat making her words strangled.

“Roy what are you--”

“I’m so sorry, Pam. For...god, for everything. I didn’t...I spent so much time not even seein’ you. I took you for granted so much, and all you ever did was try to make it right. And I threw that all away. God, even after...even after what happened with Melissa, you let me back in, and god knows I didn’t deserve that.”

“Wh...what are you talking about?”

Roy's stream of consciousness was wrecked, like a rowboat in a tsunami. She knew all too well that she and Roy had their fair share of problems, but didn’t every relationship? As the lines in his forehead shifted from apologetic to tension and regret, something was obviously wrong. But what it was, she couldn't tell.

Melissa happened six months after they’d gotten the jobs at Dunder Mifflin. Six months after he’d met the warehouse guys and starting frequenting that bar several times in a week. Six months after he let the guys talk him into needing to hit something else before he got hitched and branching out from mousy little Pammy Beesly.

Six months after her memories came to an abrupt halt.

“Pam--”

His words were choked, eyes wide like saucers as he tried desperately to reign in those words, send them back across the universe where they belonged. But it was too late.

Her face was red hot, palms tingling under fingernails that clenched, a pressure she couldn’t even feel as too much too much too much mounted within.

“Roy, who’s Melissa?”

He sat, mouth agape, grasping at open air as his eyes shifted rapidly from side to side.

“I...god, Pammy, I...you knew though. Before the accident, you...you knew. We talked...I…”

“What do you mean I knew?”

Her voice was growing now, heat in her words as she sat up straighter in bed, wires becoming tangled with every move she made.

“You...I mean...fucking christ almighty, I just fucked this all over, didn’t I?”

He didn’t seem to be speaking to her anymore, as he shot out of the chair, hands clutching either side of his head as the color drained to his feet, his body shooting into the air as he began to pace.

“ROY.” She was shouting now, the beeping in her heart monitor quickening in a pace that she ignored.

“I...Pammy, I swear, we didn’t...it was the doctor’s idea! I didn’t even want to do this! You gotta believe me on that, I wanted nothing to...with Halpert and all...but Pammy, you knew. You...you saw it happen.”

His voice broke on that last phrase, the one that cut through at the same depth as it was the doctor’s idea and with Halpert and all. Was Jim involved in this little charade, too? As blood boiled behind her eyes and flushed her cheeks, she needed answers before her head truly popped.

“I saw. What. Happen?”

His sigh was equal parts pleading and defeat, palms prone towards the sky as his lips pulled downward in protest.

“Pammy...I…”

The look he gave Jim as a tall body edged through the partially open door was dually Save me, please and I fucked this up, dude.

“Hey, is...everything okay in here?”

Their twisted expressions were answer enough, but Jim needed to pry, to discover why her voice had just ripped through the hallways, causing heads to peek out of doors four rooms over.

“Uh, Halpert, man…”

“I want you out.” Her voice cut like a razor, both sets of eyes darting to her face to discover which one of them she was actually talking about.

“Both of you. Out. I want the doctor. And I want my mom.”

It was Jim’s soft Pam that was cut off by her sharpness, Please. Just. Now, and he took it upon himself, with eyes soft but alert, to head out of the room.

“Pam, just--”

“Roy. Go.”

The way her eyes bunched together and her mouth was situated into sharp, downward angles screamed anger, frustration. But her eyes told a different tale, one of immense fear, as she stared into the equally petrified eyes of a man who was clearly hiding something.

In her impatience, the feeling of desperation, the haziness of it all, she was somehow pressing the call button for the nurse repeatedly, maybe somewhere in there yelling for her mother, and a flurry of concerned bodies were suddenly in her doorway, obtuse behind frustrated tears, but there all the same.

The Ms. Beesly’s? and Is everything alright’s? and Sweetheart, what happened’s? were too loud, too insistent, and she pinched her eyes shut, her lips pursed, as she somehow managed I want to know what’s going on in a voice that sounded to her own ears like she was underwater.

Knowing glances and parted lips happened in slow motion, as an amalgam of phrases and words entered her consciousness.

Things like retrograde amnesia, loss of memories, best course of treatment, doing what we thought was best leaked from their mouths like betrayal.

But it was three years that had the nurse wrapping an oxygen mask around her nose and mouth as her body sank lifelessly to the bed, twitching uncontrollably as the sobs ripped from her tired lungs into the walls of Geisinger-Community Hospital.