“He’s always been a fussy cat, hasn’t he? Fastidious.”
“Exactly. But now look what he’s done. That chair’ll have to be reupholstered. I guess I’d better find the silly beast, put his nose to this mess, and give him a good scolding. I don’t want this to become a habit, for God’s sake.”
They looked in every room, but they couldn’t find Aristophanes. Apparently, he had slipped out of the house by way of the pet door in the kitchen.
Returning to the study with Grace, Carol said, “Earlier, you mentioned something about Ari tearing up a few things.”
Grace winced. “Yes. I didn’t want to have to tell you — but he shredded two of those lovely little needlepoint pillows you made for me. I was sick about it. After all the work you put into those, and then he Just—,’
“Don’t worry about it,” Carol said. “I’ll make you a couple of new pillows. I enjoy doing it. Needlepoint relaxes me. I only asked because I thought maybe, if Ari’s been doing a lot of things that’re out of character, it might be a sign that he isn’t well.”
Grace frowned. “He looks healthy. His coat’s glossy, and he’s certainly as spry as ever.”
“Animals are like people in some ways. And when a person suddenly starts behaving strangely, that can
be an indication of a physical malady, anything from a brain tumor to an inbalanced diet.”
“I suppose I ought to take him to the vet.”
Carol said, “While there’s a break in the rain, why don’t we go outside and see if we can find him?”
“Wasted effort. When a cat doesn’t want to be found, it won’t be found. Besides, he’ll come back by dinnertime: I’ll keep him in all night, and take him to the vet’s in the morning.” Grace looked at the mess on the easy chair, grimaced, and shook her head. “This isn’t like my Ari,” she said worriedly. “It’s just not like him at all.”
***
The number on the open door was 316.
Hesitantly, Carol stepped into the white and blue hospital room and stopped just past the threshold. The place smelled vaguely of Lysol.
The girl was sitting up in the bed nearest the window, her face averted from the door, staring out at the twilight-shrouded hospital grounds. She turned her head when she realized she was no longer alone, and when she looked at Carol there was no recognition in her blue-gray eyes.
“May I come in?” Carol asked.
“Sure.”
Carol went to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay.”
“With all the scrapes and cuts and bruises, it must be hard to get comfortable.”
“Gee, I’m not banged up all that bad. I’m just a little sore. It’s nothing that’s going to kill me. Everyone's so nice; you’re all making too much of a fuss about me.”
“How’s your head feel?”
“I had a headache when I first came to, but it’s been gone for hours.”
“Double vision?”
“Nothing like that,” the girl said. A strand of golden hair slipped from behind her ear and fell across her cheek; she tucked it back in place. “Are you a doctor?”
“Yes,” Carol said. “My name’s Carol Tracy.”
“You can call me Jane. That’s the name on my chart. Jane Doe. I guess it’s as good as any. It might even turn out to be a lot nicer than my real name. Maybe I’m actually Zelda or Myrtle or something like that.” She had a lovely smile. “You’re the umpteenth doctor who’s been in to see me. How many do I have, anyway?”
“I’m not one of yours,” Carol said. “I’m here because… well. it was my car you stepped in front of.”
“Oh. Hey, gee, I’m awfully sorry. 1 hope there wasn’t a lot of damage.”
Surprised by the girl’s statement and by the genuine look of concern on her face, Carol laughed. “For heaven’s sake, honey, don’t worry about my car. it’s your health that’s important, not the VW. And I’m the one who should be apologizing. I feel terrible about this.”
“You shouldn’t,” the girl said. “I still have all my teeth, and none of my bones are broken, and Dr. Hannaport says the boys will still be interested in me.” She grinned self-consciously.
“He’s certainly right about the boys,” Carol said.
“You’re a very pretty girl.”
The grin became a shy smile, and the girl looked down at the covers on her lap, blushing.
Carol said, “I was hoping I’d find you here with your folks.”
The girl tried to maintain a cheerful facade, but when she looked up, fear and doubt showed through the mask. “I guess they haven’t filed a missing-persons report yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”
“Have you remembered anything at all about your past?”
“Not yet. But I will.” She straightened the collar of her hospital gown and smoothed the covers over her lap as she talked. “Dr. Hannaport says everything’ll probably come back to me if I just don’t push too hard at remembering. He says I’m lucky I don’t have global amnesia. That’s when you even forget how to read and write. I’m not that bad off! Heck, no. Boy, wouldn’t that be something? What if I had to learn to read, write, add, subtract, multiply, divide, and spell all over again? What a bore!” She finished smoothing her covers and looked up again. “Anyway, I’ll most likely have my memory back in a day or two.,
“I’m sure you will,” Carol said, though she wasn’t sure at all. “Is there anything you need?”
“No. They supply everything. Even tiny tubes of toothpaste.”
“What about books, magazines?”
The girl sighed. “I was bored out of my skull this afternoon. You think they might keep a pile of old magazines for the patients?”
“Probably. What do you like to read?”
“Everything. I love to read; I remember that much. But I can’t remember the titles of any books or magazines. This amnesia sure is funny, isn’t it?”
“Hilarious,” Carol said. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”
At the nurses’ station at the end of the hail, she explained who she was and arranged to rent a small television set for Jane Doe’s room. An orderly promised to hook it up right away.
The chief RN on duty — a stocky, gray-haired woman who wore her glasses on a chain around her neck — said, “She’s such a sweet girl. She’s charmed everyone. Hasn’t complained or uttered a cross word to a soul. There aren’t many teenagers with her composure.”
Carol took the elevator down to the ground-floor lobby and went to the newsstand. She bought a Hershey bar, an Almond Joy, and six magazines that looked as if they would appeal to a young girl. By the time she got back to room 316, the orderly had just finished installing the TV.
“You shouldn’t have done all this,” the girl said.
“When my parents show up, I’ll make sure they pay you back.”
“I won’t accept a dime,” Carol said.
“But—”
“No buts.”
“I don’t need to be pampered. I’m fine. Really. If you—”
“I’m not pampering you, honey. Just think of the magazines and the television as forms of therapy. In fact, they might be precisely the tools you need to break through this amnesia.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you watch enough television, you might see a show you remember seeing before. That might spark a sort of chain reaction of memories.”
“You think so?”
“It’s better than just sitting and staring at the walls or out the window. Nothing in this place is going to spark a memory because none of it is related to your past. But there’s a chance the TV will do the trick.”
The girl picked up the remote-control device that the orderly had given her, and she switched on the television set. A popular situation comedy was on.
“Familiar?” Carol asked.
The girl shook her head: no. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.
“Hey, don’t get upset,” Carol said. “It would be amazing if you remembered the first thing you saw. It’s bound to take time.”
She nodded and bit her lip, trying not to cry.