The Memory of All That - Nancy Smith Gibson Page 0,11
your mother?” she asked.
He shrugged and examined the plastic dinosaur in his hands. “I don’t know.”
“Where do you sleep?” she asked.
“In here,” he said, taking her hand once more to lead her through a door that connected to the next room.
At least in this room someone had taken the time to make the room more child friendly. The bed was an ordinary twin bed, but the spread on it resembled a racecar, and a bright blue fuzzy throw rug was placed on the floor beside it, tempting little toes to curl into its softness. The draperies at the tall windows were the color of a bright summer day, and there was a large stuffed bear on the bed.
“Oh, what a lovely bear. Does he have a name?”
Jonathan shrugged again. “Just Bear.”
“Did someone special give it to you?”
“My mother,” he said, still looking down at the toy in his hands. She could barely hear him as he answered.
“That makes it special, then, if your mother gave it to you.”
He was silent at that pronouncement.
Jonathan and Marnie were together most days, walking the length of the hall as Marnie’s strength returned. They would walk to Jonathan’s playroom, where she would sit in the big overstuffed chair and read to him from one of the few choices available. Then they would walk to the far end of the hall and sit in the window seat, which was just like the one that was close to her room. They would rest a while before returning to her room. As the days wore on, Marnie felt stronger and no longer felt the need to nap as often.
A week or so later, Marnie was dressing for the day in a pair of jeans and a yellow cashmere sweater. As she stood in front of the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice the changes in her appearance since she had arrived. Her color was better. Her cheeks were pink instead of the sickly white she had seen when she first ventured out of bed. Her face had filled out, and she no longer looked as gaunt. The clothes, which had been loose when she started wearing them instead of pajamas, fit nicely now. She felt better physically, if not mentally.
She decided the time had come to venture downstairs. Alice and Mary, another maid, took turns bringing Marnie’s meals to her, but that was bound to be an extra duty for them. Marnie thought she was probably strong enough to manage the long flight of steps to the ground floor, and she knew it was time she started taking her meals in a more convenient location. She wondered if everyone in the household took their meals together.
Let’s see. There’s my husband, David. It’s odd that he doesn’t visit me more often, but that must have something to do with him being mad at me. I wish the doctor hadn’t told everyone to withhold information from me so I would remember on my own. It isn’t working. I’m not remembering anything. I wish I knew more about this odd family and how they are related to me and each other. Jonathan and his mother—how do they fit into the family? And who was the woman who said I was going to jail? It won’t be very pleasant dining with people who are angry with me and no one telling me why, but if that’s what it takes to remember my past, I’ll do it.
Marnie thought about Jonathan’s mother. She had seemed pleasant enough, but Marnie remembered thinking how odd her smile was. It looked like the fake smile you give someone you didn’t really like. Or the smile someone gave when they knew a secret. Maybe she’s mad at me, too, for the unforgiveable sin I committed.
Going downstairs for breakfast and exploring the main living quarters afterward seemed to Marnie like a great idea. Maybe something will seem familiar. I can rest before going back up to my bedroom. Or if I don’t wear myself out with that, perhaps I can stay downstairs for lunch. Marnie wondered how she had spent her days before she lost her memory. Surely she had something to occupy her time. Evidently there were at least two maids, Alice and Mary, and a cook, so she doubted she did the housework. Maybe she had a job. A glimmer of memory flitted through her mind and then was gone. A job. Yes, that is it. I worked, but what did I do?