Not the same life

[zydrate]

(closed)

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It was past 3am when Andrea got the call. A call that every wife of an officer dreads. Andrea's husband, Sergent Marcus Russell, was shot. It was a close call, but nothing life threatening, thank goodness. They were going to be sending another officer over to pick her up and bring her to the ER. The doctor wanted to talk to her before they took the Sgt. up to observation for the night. The way it sounded, the news couldn't be good.

Sgt. Russell was lucky. Extremely lucky. He was shot in the head but the bullet only grazed his temple, knocking him out. He came in and out of consciousness but it wasn't anything too serious. They wanted to keep him for the night.

When the doctor approached Andrea, who calmed down a bit, his features told Andrea something was wrong.

"Mrs. Russell, your husband seems to be suffering from a mild case of amnesia-"

"What?!" Andrea had cried out. "How much does he remember?" She thought everything was going to be all right.

The doctor explained it all. Marcus knew that he was a cop but he didn't remember what city it was for. He knew he was married but he didn't know who his wife was or what her name is. And that crushed Andrea's heart. How could this be?

*********************
Three hours later, Andrea was sleeping in a chair (very uncomfortable to boot) next to Marcus' bed. She hadn't left his side since she was allowed to see him. He seemed to be doing OK so far, despite a medium sized bandage on his right temple.

The story was that a small convenience store was being robbed, some junkie who needed money. He freaked when the cops were called and Marcus arrived. Yet, with no provacation, the suspect shot at Marcus but not before Sgt. Russell shot the junkie. Andrea never wanted to get a call from the force telling her that her husband was shot or never wanted someone coming to her door telling her that Marcus wouldn't be coming home tonight.

Although she still loved her husband, they did have their own problems in their marriage...Marcus had cheated on Andrea a few months ago and she never forgave him for it. But they were working things out...the only thing he didn't know was that to get back at him, Andrea had had an affair also.... but that was all in the past, so it didn't matter as long as they were working things out... so did that change things now?

 

[mwaha]

Sgt. Marcus Russell had only a foggy awareness of his surroundings, partly because of the early hour, partly because he had been heavily sedated. He lay there, turning his head from side to side looking around, gradually becoming aware that he was in a hospital. He tried lifting his head but a sharp and heavy pain hit him instantly. He said to himself, “OK. Better just keep my head down for a while. I don’t know how I got here, but at least I’m alive.” He had heard enough stories of other cops who hadn’t woken up in the hospital, either because they were dead before they got there or had been in a coma. He had had a partner who had been in a coma a few months ago, and no one thought he would pull through it. But his partner woke up. He always was a fighter. Good ole . . . what was his name? Weird, why couldn’t he remember his old partner’s name?

He heard traffic. Even though it was only about 6:30 AM, traffic was already picking up. That’s how it always was, though, in this city. Which city, again? Strange, he couldn’t remember that, either.

His wife! Someone should call her to let him know it was alright. Only problem was, he couldn’t remember who she was, or what she looked like, or his phone number, or his own address when he tried. “Great,” he thought. “What will I be able to remember?”

He remembered facts and figures, the names of states, how to do simple math. He remembered he was a cop. But nothing specific to his own life. Well, almost nothing. He had a hazy memory of a woman, a blonde, nude with a small, tight body and a tattoo on her shoulder. He vaguely remembered sleeping with her, and oh it was good. “That blonde woman must be my wife,” he thought. Great. When the doctors ask him how to get in contact with his wife, he won’t know her name, but he’ll be able to describe her naked.

He looked around the room. The alarm clock read “6:38.” He also noticed a woman sleeping in what looked like a really uncomfortable chair. She didn’t look like she worked at the hospital. Oh, shit. Maybe this woman was his wife. This was not the blonde woman he remembered, though. Okay, just play it cool.

He propped himself up on his elbows, in spite of the searing pain in his head, and said, “Hello . . . ?”