The Persistence of Memory
by David Lee © 2019
Waking up in an unfamiliar environment was a surreal experience. He had no idea what day it was or where he was. His surroundings looked like an institution of some sort, but what? Worst of all was the fact that he didn't have a clue as to WHO he was.
After an initial glance, he shut his eyes again, trying to make sense of it all. Did he have a dreadful disease? Had he been in an accident? Was he the victim of a mass shooting? There had to be a cause.
Cause and effect... I think, therefore I am... Where did those notions come from?
A voice near the side of his bed inquired about how he was feeling. He opened his eyes a crack – enough to see that it was a lady in pink scrubs. She smiled kindly, so he figured he might be able to trust her. But something inside told him to be wary of everyone and everything.
"I think you're beginning to come around, Rob. Your wife and parents will be pleased to have you back. Try to wake up. I'm sure the boys will want to see their daddy when it's permissible."
Wife? Parents? Kids? None of these people rang any bells with him. He would have to search his mind for clues as to who they were. Was he married? Was his name Rob? Somehow, none of it made sense. Yet, he had no reason to doubt it other than a niggling feeling at the edge of his mind.
He'd always been good at puzzles. He wasn't sure why he felt that way, but he knew it. If he faked being out of his head, perhaps he could learn something to aid him in his quest.
Sensing the presence of others coming into the room, Rob, or whoever he was, began to babble softly:
"Saffwan wabbits coming in the window!" he exclaimed.
"I think they've fried his brain!" a quavering voice sighed. "I never should have agreed to the intervention."
"Hush, Martha. You were all in favor of it when Pastor Roberts mentioned it. He said it's worked perfectly in most cases."
"But what if this is the one where it failed? What if Grant has been turned into a helpless, blithering child?"
"Shh, you shouldn't be using his old name. You know they say even comatose people can hear things.
"Anyway, wouldn't you rather see him child-like than have his soul condemned to Hell? Is that what you want for our son?"
"Wabbits all ovew my bed!" Grant mumbled a bit louder.
"Of course not, Richard! But what if the treatments have given him a stroke? What if he'll never be normal?"
"Do you call being married to another man normal?"
"No, but Brad was a nice young man."
"Nice is as nice does! You know they lay together. That's an abomination!!!"
"I still feel sorry for Brad. I think about how heart-broken he was. He cried so hard at the funeral that I feared he might die. I'm sure he'll go out to Cedar Memorial to visit the ashes frequently."
"There you go again, Martha! You're using real names and places. What if he can put this all back together and return to his old life?"
"Oh, stop it! You can see he's completely out of it. He can't process anything we're saying."
"Wabbits!" Grant sobbed, as he pulled the sheet over his head.
He hoped that his action would reinforce what this woman, who was evidently his mother, had just said because he was on a roll. By faking it, he had learned several important bits of information. He wasn't the victim of a natural calamity but of something far more sinister. He must be gay, and he must have a grieving spouse somewhere. Perhaps this knowledge could provide a breakthrough for him.
So far, he knew his name was Grant, his parents were Richard and Martha, and they were in on whatever had been done to him. Some guy named Brad was his husband, and they must love each other dearly if they got married and Brad was distraught over his `death.'
"Maybe he'd have turned out differently if you hadn't let him play with that Cabbage Patch doll," Richard grumbled.
"It was a boy doll; YOUR mother gave it to him. Maybe he'd have been normal if you'd have played baseball with him. You were never around to be a male role model."
"That's because I had to work overtime to pay the bills and help support Pastor Robert's vision of a world with no queers!" Richard replied.
This second reference to the minister conjured up a picture in Grant's mind of an old man with a shock of white hair and eyes that glowed like hot coals. He could hear the man's words echoing in his head.
"You'll go to Hell, Grant Delaney for your wicked ways! You've mocked me again like the youths did the prophet Elisha in Second Kings. God may well prepare two she bears to eat you alive, or you may suffer a worse fate!"
It was coming back in bits and pieces like a jigsaw puzzle. Franklin Roberts had been outraged when Grant, at 15 years of age, had challenged his belief that the world was only 6,000 years old. Grant had cited scientific evidence which countered the old man's "truth."
The final straw, which had brought the reference to the bears, was when Grant had called the man a hypocrite for saying homosexuality was an abomination, but it was okay to eat shellfish and wear clothes made of mixed fibers. Tattoos were still suspect, but nothing was as bad as lying with another man! Grant had insisted that if one of these was an abomination, they all were. That had been the last time he'd seen the old goat.
With the remembrance of Robert's outburst had come more of Grant's identity. He was making progress!
Richard turned on the TV in the room to help mask the gibberish his son was spouting. He surfed through the channels hoping to find something inspirational. There weren't any televangelists on at the moment, so he settled for a show where the host was interviewing a man of faith - the legendary quarterback, Terry Bradshaw.
"Well, Mr. Bradshaw, you had a distinguished career in professional football, been a commentator for years, and written a book in which you talked about God's grace toward you. What's your fondest memory of all your experiences?"
Grant didn't hear the response because something else had been triggered in his brain. Bradshaw. What was there about the name that intrigued him? He wasn't a big sports fan. Why couldn't he let go of it? Wait, that was it, his partner's name was Bradley Shaw – Brad Shaw! He was so elated that he nearly forgot to continue the ruse about being plagued by rabbits.
"Mr. and Mrs. Smith, how are you doing?"
"Oh, Doctor Marsh, I'm so afraid Robbie will never be himself again," Martha despaired.
"Well, you don't really want that do you? I mean, you did have him brought here to change his personality."
"Oh, yes. But I mean, will he ever be able to function normally? He keeps going on about orange rabbits! He had nightmares about rabbits when he was very small, but those went away before he turned six. It's like he's regressed!"
"Some of that is a normal reaction to the treatments. We've never had any bad results. Occasionally we have clients who regain their full memories. Of course, that's in cases where the Devil was deeply imbedded in their souls. Then, the only thing to do is to let the Evil One take them. Even exorcism fails with people like that.
"If this keeps up for another 24 hours, we'll give him a shot to stop the delusions. That will likely set his therapy back a month, so we don't want to do it unless it's absolutely necessary."
"So, we shouldn't bring in his wife' and kids' yet, I suppose," Richard frowned.
"No, seeing him like this would be far too upsetting to the children. They're almost too old to bring it off anyway. We may have to use a different plan."
"Go away, bunnies!" Grant screamed.
"Can't you give him a pill or something?" Martha asked.
"Anything like that could cause a set-back. Maybe you'd be better off leaving for a while, so you don't have to hear it."
"We'd better go, Martha. We can't afford to have him here much longer. It's draining our savings as it is."
"Please Mr., um, Smith, understand that we're not lining our own pockets. It's very costly to develop the drugs and therapy. We have to, um, pay some of our providers extra to keep them from sabotaging our work, if you know what I mean."
"Yes, it's a sad world when you have to bribe people in order to do God's work," Richard nodded.
With the departure of his parents and the doctor, Grant could spend more time formulating a plan when he didn't have to cry out about rabbits every few minutes. Peeking through slits between his eyelids, he checked for monitoring devices as best he could. He suspected there might be cameras, possibly cleverly disguised.
Opening his eyes wider, he did a more extensive visual search, glancing around while pretending to be looking for "wabbits." He figured that would pass as his motive for examining the room, if someone caught him.
He wasn't in restraints, and the door didn't seem to have a lock on it. Grant wondered how difficult it would be to escape. There had to be personnel at the nurses' station and other places – probably guards of some sort. If he did get out, where would he go? He had no money or transportation. He had no idea where he was or where he should go.
There was a phone in the room, but he dared not use it for fear of being caught. Besides, he didn't know whom he could call. Obviously, his husband could be counted on, but he couldn't remember his phone number.
Lunchtime arrived, and with it, a young male LPN had been sent to make sure Grant ate. Grant acted somewhat goofy but did manage to consume everything. He would need his strength if he was going to escape from this place.
The young nurse was very kind and kept up a running monolog in an attempt to fill the silence between Grant's mild gibberish. From the young man's conversation, Grant learned that the guy's name was Todd and that he had been hired on very recently. Todd seemed to be a very caring individual. Grant wondered if he might become an ally if he could be convinced to help. He decided to test the waters.
"I think we could make the rabbits disappear for a while if you'd take me outside in the fresh air," Grant suggested in a very normal voice.
"Would you like to talk in private?" Todd asked, seemingly not surprised by Grant's sudden rational behavior.
"Very much so. Can you arrange it?"
"Most likely. Since I'm a new hire, they've been giving me assignments like that to fill part of my day. I don't think they know exactly where they want me yet."
"Cool, I'll babble something about `wabbits' on the way out. Will you be taking me in a wheelchair?"
"That would be best."
Todd left, but returned a few minutes later with a wheelchair and made sure "Rob" was strapped in so he'd be easier to `control.'
In the shade of a large oak tree, with flower beds nearby, Todd sat on a concrete bench across from Grant. He did a quick reconnaissance of the area before speaking.
"So, what's going on, and what do you want from me?"
"What do you know about the mission of this place?"
"When I interviewed, they said it's a facility to help people with amnesia. According to them, they work miracles in restoring people's memories."
"Did they tell you they erase everything first and plant new ones?
"Not long ago, there was nothing wrong with me, as far as I know. I'm beginning to recall bits and pieces of my life, but the older people who seem to be my parents don't want me to return to that life.
"I'm sure patients all tell you they don't belong here, just like most guys in prison. And they probably indicate that something sinister is going on."
"Some do, but not so succinctly. What happened to the orange rabbits?"
"That's all a subterfuge, and they're saffron, I'll have you know!"
"Okay, I'm listening. What IS going on?"
"First tell me if you're wired."
"Wired?"
"Yeah, if you have a mic on you that's recording our conversation."
"No, I swear I don't, but wow, you're paranoid!"
"For good reason. I've been brought here against my will in some sort of misguided intervention program. My name isn't Robert Smith, it's Grant Delaney. By listening carefully to conversations, I've managed to put some details back in place. Here's what I know, besides my real name.
"I'm married to a man named Brad Shaw. We've evidently been living in a place which has a cemetery named Cedar Memorial. I'm not sure of the city or even the state. If I had a phone number for my husband, I'd call him. By the way, he thinks I'm dead."
"This is almost too strange to be made up," Todd frowned. "How can you prove it?"
"Can you pull up White Pages on your phone?"
"Yes! Why didn't I think of that?"
"You're not as desperate as I am," Grant grinned. "Please do a search for Bradley or Brad Shaw – any state."
"Okay... Whoa, there are quite a few."
"Can you narrow it by age?"
"Let's set 20 to 40," Todd suggested.
"Now see if any of them list a `Grant Delaney' as an associate."
"Bingo! There's one in Cedar Rapids, Iowa that fits exactly. He's 26."
"Is there a cell number listed?"
"Yup! I'll call it right now."
"Wait, can you save it while I do my `wabbit' routine? I think my parents are headed this way."
The couple didn't stay long because Todd figured out a way to get rid of them without making it too obvious.
"Is this `rabbit thing' an old childhood memory?"
"Yes, he had nightmares about them when he was three," Martha confirmed.
"He's been really calm for a while out here in nature until you showed up. I know you want to be with him to help him, but I don't think it's helping right now. Perhaps something about you sets off those memories."
"Come on, Martha. Let's go back to the motel and take a nap. I think we're more of a hindrance than a help at this point, and I'm tired."
"So, are you convinced?" Grant asked after the couple was out of earshot.
"Definitely! Let me call the number and see if we can get in touch with Brad."
"Hello."
"Is this Brad Shaw?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"My name is Todd and I'm calling because Grant asked me to."
"Are you some kind of sick pervert? Grant is dead, and you can go to Hell!"
"Brad, I'm alive. Please don't hang up! I'm alive!"
"Grant...? How can this be?"
"My death was faked by my parents and I'm in a place where they've tried to erase my memory."
"Oh God! Where are you? I'll get there as quickly as I can."
"I don't know... Where am I Todd?"
"Okay, it's called, Peace of Mind Institute and it's a little south of the Iowa border near a tiny town called, Lancaster, Missouri."
"I'm searching MapQuest. Yup, here it is. It says I can make it in about three hours. I'll bet I can do it in less."
"Brad, please call the number I'm giving you and tell Agent 3 that our operation has to be moved up," Todd said. "Um, I'm Agent 42, by the way. I know it sounds kinda corny, but that's how my boss is doing it. I think he reads too many spy stories. Anyway, you can keep in touch with him by texting so you can arrive at about the same time.
"God speed, but don't you go too fast! Drive carefully. I'll make sure Grant stays safe even if I have to blow my cover."
"How long can we stall out here?" Grant asked. "I hate to go back inside and wait it out. I'll go crazy for real!"
"Let me report to the nurse at the desk on second. I'll tell her how much calmer you are and ask what I should do. I'll say I really don't mind being out here with you. I'll tell her you could be making a breakthrough in this pleasant garden area."
"That would be true for sure!"
The nurse called Todd after two hours to say that Rob was supposed to take his nap. Todd told her he was asleep in the wheelchair, and he hated to disturb him. She gave him permission to keep him out a bit longer.
Todd decided to take a circuitous route back by way of the main entrance. He stalled a little in the reception area, getting Grant a glass of ice water.
Seeing his parents coming through the door, Grant decided to confront them. He was so pissed that he didn't want to wait until Brad got there. He undid the strap and stood to face them as he spoke his piece.
"You are lower than any other life-form I've ever encountered on this earth! You're evil and despicable! I don't ever want to see either of you again except in court. I'm gonna sue your asses off for false imprisonment, and anything else a lawyer can come up with!"
"Rob, you're talking normally. Your mind is back!" Martha exclaimed.
"You're damned right it is. I've figured out everything and I know who's in it with you,"
"Come on, Martha. Let's go. The Devil has surely taken him over. Dr. Marsh warned us."
"I'm going to sue him and Roberts too! I'll bring this place down!
Dr. Marsh, accompanied by two guards, came into the lounge in response to calls made by other staff members that a ruckus was going on. The guards were about to put Grant in restraints when Brad and another man raced in from the parking lot. There were several armed lawmen with them.
Marsh was put in handcuffs and read his rights. The stranger, who was evidently `Agent 3," announced that a licensed hospital administrator was on her way to oversee the operation until everything could be straightened out.
Richard and Martha Delaney were still in the parking lot when several of the upper echelon of staff were led away in handcuffs. Their car had been blocked by the authorities' vehicles.
"I never did trust those people!" Martha said. "Now we've lost our son."
"You went along with it. We've lost half our retirement savings too, and our son wants the rest!"
"Maybe he won't sue us once he cools down."
"Oh Baby, I love you so much! I'm so glad you're alive! I prayed every day that I'd wake up to find it was all a bad dream. What can I do to help make you whole again?" Brad exclaimed as he embraced his husband.
"I can think of something that would make me better," Grant said, licking his lips.
"Oh, you men are all alike! Sex is the only thing on your minds," Brad joked in an exaggeratedly campy voice.
"You'd better include yourself in that declaration because I didn't say anything about sex. Agent 42 suggested I check in at Mercy to see what therapy they advise. Like any red-blooded male, he also recommended a good roll in the hay."
"Maybe we should we look for a motel and stay the night instead of driving home."
"That's a good idea, but let's search for one in Iowa. I want to get away from here! And, let's find a restaurant that serves a good steak while we're at it. I'm starved!"
"Sex and food. That sounds like my baby for sure. Welcome back!"
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Author's notes: Thanks to David who edited this piece. Thanks to Nifty for providing the venue. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
If you enjoyed this tale, I'd love to hear from you. Please write to me at: dlee169@hotmail.com