Hospital Beds and Memories

So… how do I start this. I guess I’ll just introduce myself. My name is Ireland Knight and apparently, I’m 23 years old. I say apparently because I don’t remember a thing from when I was 16 to 21. A few days after my 21st birthday I got hit by a drunk driver. My car flipped over a couple of times and I passed out, nearly dead. The only way for me to survive was a medically induced coma. There was barely any hope for me, but my parents and my brother kept wishing. When I woke up from the coma I thought I was 16, but no, I was 22. I literally have no memory from those years.

The doctors told my family that they shouldn’t tell me about things that have happened in those years. They say I won’t be able to actually remember and instead believe I remember, which would then stunt my progress or something. It’s complicated. So, slowly but surely I started to remember stuff at the most random moments. For example, I was just casually taking a shower when I suddenly remembered when my brother accidentally pushed me a bit too hard and made me fall down the stairs. I was left with a concussion and a broken wrist. But then there’s also more logical times I remember stuff. Like when I picked up a camera I remembered taking a photography class.

This leads me to what I am doing now. I had just gotten my daily coffee, yes just plain coffee, no fancy stuff, and was about to walk to my dance classes. Files with photos I had taken at a photoshoot were in my arms since I had to send them in that day. I had been procrastinating a lot and it was the deadline, I definitely couldn’t afford loosing my job.

So, let me get back to the story.

I was exiting the shop and wasn’t paying attention. Of course, me being me, I managed to bump into somebody and get coffee spilled all over my shirt (shit) and files (double shit). I didn’t care about my skin burning, all that was on my mind was that my photos were probably ruined. It actually took me a while to register the voice talking to me.

“Are you ok?” They asked.

“Yeah, it’s all good. That was my fault,” I said while pouring the coffee, which had pooled on the file, on the floor.

“No, really, that was my fault. Let me buy you a new coffee.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.”

I sighed and gave in. It seemed like this guy wasn’t going to give up. We walked back inside and stood in the line. I smelled like coffee and probably looked very crazy with a gigantic stain on my shirt.

“I’m sorry about your shirt.” The guy frowned.

“I got a change, don’t worry.” I pointed at the sports bag I had brought along with me. The guy nodded and looked at his phone.

As we neared the counter he turned to me again, “So, what do you want to have?”

“Just a plain coffee, thanks.” I smiled.

“Really? I really don’t care if you want something else, you don’t have to take the cheapest option.”

“Still just a plain coffee. I don’t like the other fancy shit.”

“Ok.” He shrugged and turned to the girl behind the counter. “Just a plain coffee for her, and I’ll have an iced vanilla latte.”

After our names were called out we sat down at an empty table. I placed my files in front of me and sighed. I was terrified of how the photos were going to look. This was the first time I had taken photos for a larger magazine. It wasn’t a magazine like 'vogue' just yet, but I was slowly getting there. Some people might have called my progress fast, though. I had just been in this business for a year or so and was already taking photos for indie magazines that were known quite a bit. If these photos were ruined, I would probably lose my job.

“So, let’s assess the damage.” I breathed out, trying to straighten out the paper that started wrinkling.

I opened the file and saw coffee stains all over the pictures. The photos were no longer white and crisp. Some of the edges were curling up and shadows were counteracted by the brown liquid dying the highlights.

“I can make this work, right?” I looked up at the guy. “If I just write some bullshit along with it they’ll buy it and hopefully not fire me, right?”

“I guess.” He shrugged. “Let me see them.”

He studied them for a while and occasionally nodded his head, “I guess you can write some bullshit along with it. The photos aren’t technically ruined.”

I frowned and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. Staring off into the distance, I suddenly got an idea. The pen touched the paper and words started flowing out. I managed to write the whole note without having to scribble out anything, so I luckily didn’t need to rewrite it.

“How does this sound?” I held up the piece of paper, “The coffee stains are part of the creative process. It represents how our minds have patches of certain emotions. These can be any emotion, but it is often an emotion that we can’t suppress and don’t have control over. If we aren’t careful it can cloud over our whole mind and heart.”

I looked at the guy who was staring at me. He wasn’t saying anything, so I took my time to stare back at him. I noticed he had a white streak in his spiked up black hair. His eyebrows were rather bushy and he had some scruff that suited him. I reached out my hand and snapped my fingers in front of his brown eyes. He jumped slightly and shook his head.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he stammered.

I grinned at him and started packing my stuff up. “So, I really have to go to my dance classes or I’ll be late. If you want you can join me.”

Why did I just ask this guy to join me? I didn't even fucking know him. He might be a serial killer or a rapist. I never even asked my brother or closest friends to join me. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Sure,” he replied, “I don’t have anything better to do.”

Why did he reply so easily? Maybe he was actually going to kill me. But he brought me coffee, he probably wouldn’t do that, but maybe that was part of his plan. He wouldn’t do that, right?

I let out a nervous chuckle and picked up my stuff before walking away, motioning for him to follow me. We walked past the many tall buildings and walked in silence… awkward silence. I cleared my throat and decided to break it.

“So, what’s your name?” I asked

“Umm, Jack. What’s yours?”

“Ireland, but for some reason my brother calls me Field. Probably because he associates the country Ireland with a lot of fields.”

Jack laughed, “I can see why he would say that. There’s a lot of open land in the countryside, but the cities are large as well. I’ve only ever stayed in the cities.”

“You’ve been there before? That’s so cool! I never really left Maryland.” Or at least that I could remember. That was always the worst part: meeting new people and not being able to talk about experiences because I just couldn’t remember. It was just blank for me.

“I’ve been all over the world, but I guess it belongs to the job.”

“Hmm, really? What do you do?”

Jack seemed to hesitate but eventually decided to answer anyway, “I’m in a band. All Time Low. Maybe you heard of it before.”

Something about the name sounded familiar, but I could swear I never heard it before. It probably was just something that sounded like another common phrase or saying.

“Nope, I don’t think I’ve heard of it before, sorry.”

“At least you’re being honest. Just promise to listen to our music sometime.”

“I will.”

I stopped in front of a modernized building and entered. Jack quietly followed me. We walked up 3 flights of stairs and I opened a red metal door to the studio. Everybody was already in and talking to each other. I told Jack to sit against the mirror and quickly went to change my shirt. When I came back I saw three girls surrounding and talking to him. I heard them asking about All Time Low and autographs and how he knew me.

I raised my voice, “Ok guys! Let’s start with some warm ups. I promised that guy over there that I would listen to his music and since some of you guys seem to know who he is, I expect you to have it on your phone.”

It was always weird to give instructions to people my age and up. I was quite surprised that they actually listened, but then again I was their instructor, so they technically had to listen to me.

One of the girls ran over to their bag, took out their phone and put it in the speaker we had in the corner. She put on a song and somehow I started humming along with the song. I hadn’t heard it before but yet I knew exactly which lyrics were about to come next. I shrugged it off and started the warm up routine.

----

After I had finished the dance classes and people started to leave, I walked over to Jack. He gave me a big smile and stood up from his spot on the floor.

“I did not expect that.” He grinned.

“Expect what?” I queried.

“That you were the instructor, and that you were able to sing along to some of the songs.”

“Well, yes, I’m the instructor. And I also don’t understand the song part. I swear I never heard the songs before.”

“Weird. I guess you’re psychic.”

“Maybe.”

I was honestly confused. Normally in these situations I would have remembered, especially with music. But for some reason there was no memory. The songs didn’t sound familiar, yet I knew the melody and the lyrics. It was really weird. Maybe I checking up with the doctor again wasn't a bad idea. I hadn’t had a memory in quite some time, maybe my progress was slowing down.

I was about to tell Jack that I was going to go home and that I had to let him go, but I looked at one of the walls and saw a large canvas. It was a photo I had taken which I printed on a canvas, but I had kept it in here for the last week. I asked my brother countless of times if he could come over to help me, but he always seemed to find an excuse. However, now there was somebody else here that could help me. Maybe I would be risky telling Jack where I lived. But then again I was almost certain he wasn’t dangerous.

“Hey, Jack. Can I ask you for a favor?” I asked.

“Umm, yeah, sure.” He smiled.

“You see that canvas over there. I need to bring it home, but it’s too big to take by myself. I was wondering if you could help me. My place is literally just around the corner.”

“Yeah, no problem."

I took one end of the canvas while Jack took the other. Somehow I managed to grab my bag as well, the files were already sent off when we went to the dance studio. We slowly walked down the stairs, laughing as we almost tripped on each step. The walk to my house was short, it was just 2 blocks down.

We entered to old industrial building that had been renovated to house lofts. Unfortunately, the place didn’t have an elevator so we had to climb up 4 flights of stairs. This time I actually did trip once, making Jack freak out. However, when Jack fell down I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I reached for the key in my bag and opened the door. The TV was on and I groaned. Jack and I put down the canvas against one of the walls.

“Are you being fucking serious,” I growled.

I took a deep breath and raised my voice. “Cameron!”

My brother shot up from the couch, still in his pajamas. A bowl of popcorn flew through the air. It was already 3 in the afternoon, how the fuck was he still in his pajamas! I sighed at my brother’s appearance. His hair was messy and sticking up in weird angles and it looked like he hadn’t showered in days.

“You said you were going out to look for a job today! Why are you still here looking like this!” I scolded.

“I was going to, but then, you see, I didn’t,” he trailed off.

“I can see, but I don’t care. You’re going to take a shower and go outside and find a job.”

He looked past me and focused on Jack who was standing a couple feet behind me. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened.

“You do know who that is, right, Field?” Cameron pointed at Jack, his face still in the same expression.

“Yeah, that’s Jack.” I shrugged.

“Jack from fucking All Time Low.”

I squinted my eyes and Cameron when I suddenly hit me, “Oh my god. I remember!”

Cameron focused his attention on me again, “You do! What do you remember!”

“You used to blast their music. The number of times I had to bang on the wall for you to turn it down is way too high.”

“Yes! That’s right!” He exclaimed, “Now… can I stay in?”

“Nope, not happening, and clean that up.” I pointed at the popcorn scattered around the bowl on the floor.

“Nah.” He shook his head and scrunched up his nose as he retreated to his bedroom.

I looked over at Jack and groaned. Jack raised his eyebrow at me, causing both of us to laugh.

“So, that’s my brother Cameron.” I sighed.

“I figured, he’s the one who calls you Field.” Jack remembered.

I nodded and grinned. Jack reached into his pocket and took out his phone before frowning. He looked up at me with a sorry look.

“One of my friends wants me to meet him in 10 minutes, so I have to go. But I really liked hanging out with you, so would it be bad if I asked for your number?”

“No, of course not.”

I took his phone out of his hand and created a new contact, putting my phone number in and saving it as ‘The coffee spill girl, also known as Ireland’. I handed it back to Jack and he thanked me. He said goodbye and showed himself out.

All I was left with was the mess on the floor. This used to be just Cameron’s loft, but I moved in with him after I was released from the hospital. He was supposed to care for me until I would be able to move out and live by myself, but instead the roles slowly reversed. He used to play in a band, but they broke up, leaving him without a job. Now all Cameron did was lie in bed the entire day and sleep, occasionally coming out to spend time watching TV. I tried so hard to make him get a new job, but it was like he didn't want to. It’s like he was fine with me caring for him and paying all the bills.

He’s a great brother, right?