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  Clara reached up with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the rabbit and held the locket in her palm, studying it longingly. She rubbed its surface with her thumb and then answered, “It was a gift from my mother.”

  “Ahem.” Karen made an exaggerated throat clearing sound. Lydia found it to be obnoxious but didn’t let it show.

  Clara rolled her eyes teasingly, “And Aunt Karen. We were at the Plunderer’s Paradise. We had been shopping all day and hadn’t found much. Aunt Karen came running up to Mom holding the locket and pretty much made her buy it. It’s broken,” she raised her other hand and tried to pry it apart with no luck and with no surprise, “but she bought it anyway and gave it to me. I’ve been wearing it ever since.” Clara let the locket fall between herself and the bunny and resumed petting. She thought maybe she and the rabbit were becoming friends. She hoped so, she needed all the friends she could get.

  “Oh my God, Clara. Do you remember that place we ate at after? That hole in the wall with the greasy burgers and undercooked chicken? Even the tables were sticky, but we were so hungry, we ate anyway. Oh, God, remember how sick your mom and I got!” Karen chimed in. Lydia welcomed any added information, so she studied Clara’s physical and verbal reaction. It was clear she did remember.

  “Ugh. Yes. I remember! Poor Mom thought she was going to die!”

  “But we survived!” Karen cheered.

  “Yeah, you did! Barely…” Both women laughed.

  “And the bandana?” Lydia prompted.

  “Oh,” Clara smiled fondly, “this headband?”

  “It’s not a headband, Clara,” Karen chimed in mockingly, “It’s not a headband, it’s a hankie-blankie!”

  Clara’s cheeks flushed, “Shut UP, Aunt Karen,” she laughed, “it’s a stylish headband,” she continued in her most sophisticated voice. Both women laughed again.

  “It used to be a baby blanket, then a handkerchief, but since you brought it to me in the book the other day, I’ve been wearing it as a headband.”

  Lydia recorded notes as usual on her legal pad. The day was heating up. The morning dew had evaporated and any clouds that had been in the sky that morning had dissipated giving way to a hot midday sun. Clara raised her face to the sky to feel the warmth full on her milky skin. She felt for a moment she was overheating, but she shook her head from side to side and the thought faded. Lydia suggested the women move inside out of the sun, but Clara wasn’t yet ready to forfeit this tiny freedom.

  “Clara, Karen and I looked at the scrapbook together this morning. The scrapbook that your necklace which you recognize and your bandana—“

  “Hankie-blankie!”

  “Yes, thank you, Karen, your “hankie-blankie” which you recognize came out of.”

  “Yeah…?” Clara replied, knowing what was coming next.

  “Bug-a-boo, it’s you. It’s you and your mom and your dad in that book. Hell, I’m even in that book, kiddo!”

  Clara didn’t speak. She waited for more words.

  “Listen, kid, do you see me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have I ever steered you wrong, Bug.”

  “Always!” Clara joked.

  “Right,” Karen laughed, “But seriously, Clara. Can you trust me?”

  “Yes. Of course I can.”

  “Clara, kiddo, I have the book.”

  Karen dug in her oversized bag and pulled out the scrapbook Dr. Lindenhurtz had shown her this morning. Lydia thought if Karen presented Clara with it, things would go more smoothly. She was beginning to think she was right.

  “This book is full of memories, hon. Memories we are all a part of. And I promise you, do you hear me?” Clara said yes, “I promise you, these are your parents. The mother and father to the sweetest baby girl I have ever known. A baby girl who grew up and lost her way. Parents to the young lady sitting at this table. I promise, when you open that book, no matter what or who you think you see, they are your real parents, okay?”

  Clara thought for a long moment, stroking soft rabbit fur. Finally, Karen spoke again as she pushed the book along the table toward Clara. “Can you trust me, bug?”

  After much deliberation, Clara responded with a troubled and whispered, “Yes.”

  “Clara, what I’d like you to do, when you’re ready, is to open the book to the first page. Take it as slowly as you want.”

  Clara tensed. The rabbit in her lap, instead of mirroring her emotions like it had seemed to do earlier, was counteracting them. He burrowed in closer to Clara as if he wanted to tell her everything would be alright. Clara had to admit to herself that it did help to have him snuggled so tightly against her.

  Clara decided it was now or never and gingerly opened the book, worried about what she would find on the pages within its stretched bindings. She looked down at the first page and stared at the pictures in silence. The tears were back, but there was no joy in her eyes as far as Lydia could tell. The women sat void of sound for several minutes. Clara turned the page and traced the outlines of the photographs. Her tears were silent and streaked her cheeks. Finally, she spoke.

  “All the pictures have the same people in them. Last time,” Clara looked down ashamedly and picked the rabbit up to hold it to her chest. She buried her face in its downy fur. “Last time the pictures had different people in them. Some were Mom and Dad…I mean I recognized some as being Mom and Dad, and others were strangers.” Clara explained to Karen.

  Karen had already been apprised of the situation before meeting with Clara, but she just squeezed her shoulder and said, “It’s alright, hon. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Who do you see now?”

  Clara’s lack of an answer gave Lydia all the answer she needed. She flipped her yellow paper to the back of the pad and continued with notes.

  Clara’s tears increased in volume but not in sound. She returned to the book and turned the page. On this page, there were two more pictures, one of which was of Karen holding Clara’s hand as she toddled along in a Barney t-shirt and a diaper. In addition to the pictures were a couple of Band-Aids labeled “FIRST SHOTS” and a sticker with her height at weight on it at a six month well-baby checkup. Clara touched the Snoopy Band-Aids and remembered seeing them in another album at some point. Occasionally, she would dig her mom’s old pictures out and reminisce, so even though she didn’t remember physically receiving the shots, she remembered thumbing through the albums and seeing the Band-Aids a time or two.

  “I remember these,” Clara offered apologetically.

  Karen understood that to mean she didn’t recognize her parents in the pictures. “That’s a great start, Bug. Don’t worry. Okay? We’ve got this, you and me.”

  “I know Aunt Karen. Thanks for being here. It means a lot.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Clara looked at Lydia with extreme exhaustion. “Dr. L?”

  “Yes, Clara.”

  “Can we be done for the day?”

  “Of course we can. It’s almost lunch time. Would you like to eat in the cafeteria?”

  Any other time, eating in a hospital cafeteria would seem like a punishment, but on this day, after eight long days of being locked in a box, Clara felt as if she’d won the lottery.

  “Yes. I would like that.”

  “Clara, I’d like to eat with you. Are you up for it? I mean, if Dr. L’s okay with it, of course.”

  “Yes! Can she, Dr. L?” Clara begged.

  Lydia was annoyed. It’s not like she could say no after Karen had already suggested it. She’d lose ground with the bond she was building with her patient. Besides, it wasn’t really a big deal, other than the fact that Karen rubbed Lydia the wrong way. It might actually be a good stress-reliever for Clara.

  “Sure, Clara. I think that’s a great idea.”

  Clara gently placed the sleeping bunny in the chair she had just got
ten up from. “C’mon, Aunt Karen, let’s go find the food!” Clara had not yet been to the cafeteria, their adventure would consist of the blind leading the blind. Clara felt like she needed a good adventure.

  “Clara, before you go…the book…do you want to take it, or would you like me to put on your nightstand. Or we can keep it at the nurses’ station if that would make you more comfortable.”

  Clara debated for a moment, and then reluctantly answered, “Can you put it in my nightstand?”

  “Of course. Remember our rules though. Stay with Karen and only speak to her. You ladies enjoy your lunch.”

  When Clara and Karen had finally found the cafeteria—Clara had stopped to ask Jamil directions, knowing this was breaking the “rules”, but figured asking an orderly for directions wasn’t really breaking the rules—they pushed their trays down the metal grid. Clara chose chicken strips and fries. Karen opted for a Cobb salad. Karen paid and sat down at a table in the corner facing a window.

  “C’mon Clara. Have a seat!” she patted the chair next to her. “Let’s really talk. Without your babysitter.” She laughed.

  Clara laughed too, but felt bad. She liked Lydia and didn’t like that she felt as if she was making fun of her. Dr. L had been the only person she felt comfortable around since…it happened.

  Clara and Karen laughed and reminisced for the better part of an hour before Clara was escorted back to her room. She spent the afternoon watching talk show reruns. They reminded her that life could always be worse, especially Maury. You are NOT the father (or the mother for that matter), she laughed to herself, but inside she was dying.

  That evening after a meal of meatloaf, if you want to call it that, and cold, lumpy mashed potatoes, Clara pulled out her diary.

  Monday, May 25th , continued

  Today was great! I finally felt normal for a second. Aunt Karen came to visit. We talked for hours. It was so nice to see a familiar face. Weirdness, though, I was thinking of when I walked out to the courtyard with Dr. L and she showed me the consultation room and I touched the door. It felt weird. Like, I knew someone was in there—someone I knew. How could I have known that? It might be that Aunt Karen and I have such a close bond. I don’t have any real aunts, but Karen and I have been inseparable since before I was even born. Even when we moved around, she always came to visit me, sent me gifts, or invited me to stay with her. I’m so glad she showed up today. It was nice of my parents to let her come see me even though I’m not ready to see them. That’s very adult of them, I mean, they are adults, but, well...whatever. Maybe I’ll give them a chance. Maybe…

  But I still don’t understand why I don’t recognize them. What happened to make me this way? If Aunt Karen says it’s them, then I know it’s them. She’d never lie, and if she did, I think I’d know it. I’ve known her too long. She’s that stereotypical “cool” aunt. I’m sure if I asked her, she’d bust me out of here…and probably take me to a tattoo shop—a clean one, I’m sure—and buy me my first tattoo. But, still, it was hard to look at those photos. It makes my heart hurt. I hope Dr. L can fix me. I think I’ll work harder to let her try.

  That night Clara fell asleep holding her locket and dreamed that she was standing in front of Dr. Lindenhurtz saying, “I’m ready.” It felt so real. When she woke the next morning, she knew what she had to do.

  Chapter Thirteen—Tuesday, May 26

  After breakfast, in the courtyard, Dr. Lindenhurtz met with her patient.

  “Clara how do you think yesterday’s meeting went?”

  “It was good. It was so nice to finally see someone familiar. I feel much better about things. And last night, I looked at the book again. And I thought, for just a second, that I might recognize them,” Clara lied.

  Lydia squinted her eyes in suspicion, “You were able to recognize your parents last night?”

  “Yes. Well, I mean, only for a second, and I’m not entirely sure, but maybe.”

  Lydia wrote.

  “Dr. L?” Clara asked nervously.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m think I’m ready.” She said, but in all reality, she wasn’t. She just wanted to speed the process along, no matter what it took.

  “Ready for what?”

  “To see them. To see my parents. I’m ready.” Clara added as confidently as she could.

  After analyzing the situation, Lydia placed both hands flat on the table, pen in hand, and leaned in toward her patient gently, “Clara, it’s my recommendation that you wait a few more days before you see them. The fact that you may have recognized them briefly last night is wonderful. And knowing exactly who Karen is? That shows sure sign of progress. I worry that if you see your parents and they don’t look familiar to you, it could be extremely traumatic and set you back. I don’t want that, and I know you don’t either,” Lydia tried to explain. She could reason that by the look of her patient’s face, that her argument was being ignored.

  Knowing full-well that she probably wouldn’t recognize her parents, because she hadn’t really recognized them last night, Clara decided that seeing them would not set her back in treatment. She was already terrified, she was already confused, and she was just plain tired—exhausted, really. It was her fervent hope that seeing them in person, hearing their voices, and feeling their love would actually help her remember. It was worth a shot anyway.

  “Dr. L, just…just let me see them. Tell them I’m ready, tell them why you think we should wait, and then tell me what they say.” Clara suggested what seemed to be a compromise, though both women knew that as soon as her parents heard she wanted to see them they’d be there within the hour, no matter where they were or what they were doing. Clara knew what they would choose. Lydia knew why her patient offered that conciliation. She had to appreciate the intelligent, manipulative powers of that fourteen year old girl. She knew what she wanted, she knew what she needed to do to get it, and then she devised a plan to make it happen while still allowing her to look innocent and helpful. Kudos, to you, kid, thought Lydia, Kudos to you.

  “I’ll call them now.” Lydia reluctantly complied.

  “Thank you. And, Dr. L?”

  “Uh-huh?” Lydia answered as she dug for her cell.

  “Can we ask Aunt Karen to be here too? I mean, if my parents come? And just in case I need her.” Clara knew she’d need a lifeline during their meeting, someone to keep her anchored in the face of anxiety and sadness. Someone to help her hang on to hope that soon, she would know these people again and that her life could be the way it was just over a week ago.

  “That’s a good idea, Clara.”

  Lydia searched her paperwork for Mark’s phone number. She knew if she spoke to Melanie, there would be no chance, but Mark seemed more level-headed and there was a slight possibility he would listen to what she had to say.

  “Yes, hello. This is Dr. Lindenhurtz. Is this Mr. Marcel?” she asked into the phone. “Oh, no, Mr. Marcel, everything is absolutely fine. I was just calling because—what, oh, okay. Mark—I was just calling because your daughter,” she looked at Clara when she said this, “has expressed interest in visiting with you and your wife.”

  There was a pause while Lydia grimaced and pulled the phone from her ear. Clara could hear his voice, which unfortunately didn’t sound familiar, coming from the earpiece, but she couldn’t make out what was being said. Lydia could. Mark was screaming to Melanie that their baby wanted to see them. So much for calling the level-headed one, she thought.

  After the excited shouts subsided, Lydia warned, “Mark, listen. I think we should wait a few days. I’m worried reintroducing the family too soon could have a negative effect on Clara. She’s fragile right now, and even the smallest hiccup could deter her from her treatment plan.”

  “Family is family, Dr. Lindenhurtz. My baby girl wants to see me, I’m there.” He explained, still excited. He hung up the phone. Lydia placed her cell back into her bag and sighed.

  Clara laughed knowingly, “So, what did he say?”

 
; “They’ll probably be here before I could repeat it,” Lydia answered with a forced smile.

  Clara felt bad again, like when she had laughed at the “babysitter” reference yesterday, but she pushed it out of her mind. The ends justified the means, she thought, another mom-ism.

  When the call had come in, Mark and Melanie had just parked their cars, having driven separately, in the larger lower lot and were walking toward the building in silence, until the ringing in Mark’s pocket broke it.

  He looked at his phone and stopped short, but Melanie, who was unaware, continued on a few steps before she realized her partner was lagging behind. He answered the phone, said, “Call me Mark,” paused, and then yelled, “Oh my God! She wants to see us! Melanie, She actually wants to see us! I told you if we waited, it would pay off. I told you this would work!”

  Melanie rolled her eyes at the “I told you so’s, but was elated all the same. “When? Now? Let’s go!”

  Melanie and Mark dashed for Mark’s car as Mark loudly proclaimed into the receiver that they were on their way. They sped toward Breemont Medical Facility discussing how they should proceed.

  “Just take it slow, Melanie,” Mark instructed. “She’s had such a shock recently that she doesn’t need us to bum rush her when we get there. Calm, cool, collected. That’s the key.” He continued.

  Melanie sat quietly in the passenger’s seat playing out scenarios of the “reunion” in her head. In the first scenario, she and Mark hugged Clara and cried with her, but Clara struggled to break free from the strangers before her. She ran to her room and slammed the door. Just like a teenager, Melanie thought.

  In the second scenario, Clara recognized only Mark. Melanie was still an imposter. She cried like a baby in Mark’s encompassing arms, tossing hateful, suspicious glances at Melanie who stood a few steps away awkwardly and wondering how she could possibly win her daughter over. She wondered if it would be easier now that she trusted Mark. She hoped it would.