Dream Shop

Jeanne woke up in tears. The dream she had had was gone like a forgotten memory, yet she could still feel the pain it left behind. These tears that she shed and the name that no longer lingered in her lips were the last of him. Jeanne winced as her vision was distorted by the flowing tears. A beeping sound was ringing in her ears, causing her to groan.

“Is she awake?” a grim voice said. “Why is she groaning?”

“Give her some time,” a second voice said not without a hint of fear.

Jeanne couldn’t understand what was happening. Everything seemed so sudden and foreign. Whose voices were they? Her head felt heavy yet empty at the same time. She hated not knowing, not seeing anything. The helplessness she felt was binding her to the place where she was laid, unable to move.

“Water,” she croaked dryly. “I need water.”

A moment passed before she felt a cold object pressed to lips, a tasteless fluid dripping to her mouth and down her throat. She gulped down hungrily and rapidly, as if her life depended on it. When the flow was too fast for her to swallow, Jeanne jolted as the lump caught in her throat made her cough violently. A large hand patted her back and whispered, “Take it slow, dear.”

Finally rid of the unpleasant feeling, Jeanne gasped, trying to steady her breath. She could see better now. On the floor was a pool of saliva and water, the proof of her violent episode.
Lifting her gaze, she turned to look at an old man with stern expression and gray hair that seemed to lose color the longer she stared. Despite the familiarity in his green eyes, Jeanne couldn’t recall where she had seen them. In fact, the harder she tried to remember, the more it hurt.

Then don’t try.

Immediately, as if another switch had turned on, her attention diverted from her thought, away from her memory.

Now, isn’t it all better? The same voice said satisfyingly in her mind. She ignored it, believing it to be her own.

“Where am I?” she said meekly, pleading the man with her eyes. “Who are you?”

The soft glint in his eyes disappeared as he turned to look at the younger man in a white doctor coat. Nervously, the man shook his head. The old man’s mouth hardened in a thin line as he gazed at Jeanne, while hiding his own misery. Placing gentle hands on her frail shoulders, he said quietly, “Jeanne, dear, I am your father.”

“Jeanne?” she asked. “Is…that my name?”

“Yes. It is.”

“Why? Why can’t I remember anything?” Her hands were trembling as they tightened into fists. “What’s wrong with me?”

Gripping her shoulders, he reassured, more to himself than to his daughter, “Nothing is wrong with you, Jeanne. You simply have amnesia, that’s all. You will remember everything very soon.”

“Really? So…you’re really my father?”

“Yes, I am your family. And you have an older brother too.”

Jeanne and her supposed father spent the next hour trying to recollect pieces of her memories. She learned that she and her brother were caught in a car accident, which they miraculously walked away with their lives intact. Her life up to this point based on her father words seemed extravagant and free of worries. She found it hard to believe that the person she was before was a princess with a sheltered home. She barely looked pleasing to the eyes in the mirror. Jeanne couldn’t say she didn’t enjoy his company; it was only when he mentioned a forgotten part of her life that saddened her. He noticed, of course, and decided that was the end of their conversation.

“Where is that boy” he said with an impatient sigh. “He should not have taken this long to fix his injuries.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Your brother,” he replied with a sudden care.

“Are you talking about me?” a voice as clear as crystal said, startling Jeanne. Like her father,
who had a frown on his face, she turned toward the door. The man, who strode into the room with his hands digging into his packets, had a smile that blinded her the moment she saw his face. With ebony hair that bounced with his every movement, his angular face looked childish and happy. She noticed the fringe of his hair near his left ear was falling passed this eyes, and down to his bandaged cheek. Jeanne felt her heart leaped, as he focused his gaze on her; his eyes were soft yet at the same time, they harbored a yearning so deep that Jeanne couldn’t see the end of it.

“Do you have to drool while you stare at me?” he said, amused.

Jeanne didn’t realize her mouth was opened. She raised her hand and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She blushed when she noticed the fabric was stained by wetness, but she convinced herself that it was the water from before.

She shot him a glare. “Is that how you talk to someone you have just met?” she challenged.

He smiled at her, this time he seemed…nostalgic. “You never change do you?”

“What do you mean?”

Before the rude man could answer, her father cut in, “Jeanne, this is your brother.”

Jeanne turned to stare at him in disbelief. How could this man who shared no similar traits with her be her brother? Besides, he was too conceited to be pleasant to have around. There was something else too, something she wouldn’t dare to admit. She was slightly disappointed.

Confidently, he approached her and reached out his hand. She took it cautiously. The feel of his rough hand was strangely familiar. She didn’t know why but she had the urge to cry. Pushing back the tears, she looked up at him for an answer. He only smiled at her, his eyes darkened with grief that only he can feel.

“My name is Reid. I am your brother.”