Brain Child Page 0,41

finally said. “It’s like sometimes I see something, and I think I remember it, but I really don’t.”

“But that’s just it,” Torres told him. “I think you do remember, but your brain isn’t healed yet. You’ve had a lot of damage to your brain, Alex. I was able to put it back together again, but I couldn’t do it perfectly. So there are a lot of connections that aren’t there yet. It’s as though part of your brain knows where the data it’s looking for are stored, but can’t get there. But it doesn’t stop trying, and sometimes—and I think this will happen more and more—it finds a new route, and gets what it’s after. But it’s a little different. Not the data itself—just the way you remember it. I think you’ll have more and more of those half-memories over the next few months. In time, as your brain finds and establishes new paths through itself, it’ll happen less and less. And eventually, everything left in your mind after the accident will become accessible again.” A buzzer sounded. Torres picked up the phone and spoke for a moment, then hung up. “Your parents are here,” he told Alex. “Why don’t you go over to the lab, and I’ll have a talk with them? And when you’re done, that’s it. We check you out, and you only have to come back for a couple of hours a day.”

Alex got to his feet and started toward the door in the shambling gait that, most of the time, got him where he wanted to go. He was still unsteady, but he hadn’t actually lost his footing for a week, and each day he was doing better. Still, he wasn’t allowed to attempt stairs without someone there to help him, and he used a cane whenever he wanted to go more than a few yards. But it was coming back to him.

The door opened just before Alex got to it, and his parents stepped inside. He stopped short, leaning his weight on the cane, and bent his head to kiss his mother’s cheek as she gave him a hug. Then he shook his father’s hand, and started out of the office.

“Alex?” Ellen asked. “Where are you going?”

“My tests, Mom,” Alex replied, his voice flat. “Then we can go home, I guess.” He turned away, and shambled out of the room. Ellen, her brows furrowed, watched him go, then stood perfectly still for several long moments. When at last she spoke, she still faced the door.

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stand this, Raymond,” she said, her voice trembling. “He isn’t changing, is he? He doesn’t really care if he goes home or not.”

“Sit down, Ellen.” Torres gestured the Lonsdales toward the sofa, but remained standing himself, preferring to roam the room while he brought them up to date on Alex’s progress.

“So that’s it,” he finished thirty mintues later. “Physically and intellectually, he’s doing better than we could possibly have hoped for.”

“But still no emotions,” Ellen said, her voice dull. Then she sighed, and forced a smile. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve got to learn not to expect miracles, don’t I?”

“We’ve already had the miracle,” Torres replied. “And I’m not through yet. But I think you have to face the fact that Alex is probably never going to be the same as he was before.”

“I don’t expect him to be,” Marsh said evenly, determined that today he would keep his dislike of Torres under control. “I’ll be honest—I never expected him to come as far as he has.”

Torres shook his head. “Some of it may be deceiving. There are still enormous gaps in his memory, and when he leaves here, he may become completely disoriented. He says he doesn’t remember what La Paloma looks like, or how to get to his house.”

“We’ll get him there,” Marsh said. “Anyway, we’ll try,” he added, grinning ruefully. “I’m afraid I still go to the old place a couple of times a week. But I’m getting better.”

Torres didn’t respond to Marsh’s grin. “Actually, I think Alex could get you there himself. We gave him a map, and after he studied it, I asked him to tell me how to get home from here. He didn’t miss a turn. But he says he doesn’t have any idea of what any of it looks like. He simply can’t get a mental image of anything he hasn’t actually seen since the accident.”

“Is that possible?” Ellen asked.

“Possible, but unlikely.” He