I push harder on it in my mind, like it's a boulder in my path and if I can only get it to slide away, all will be revealed. I look out the window next to my seat to the parking lot, half expecting the next car to pull in to have all of the answers written on the hood. No cars come.
"I think it's probably been a long time since I've been to that particular home," I start, trying to choose my words carefully and watching the dancing pencil in his hand. "I'm not even sure I would recognize it anymore if I were there. For all I know, there is here."
I start to scan the restaurant again for information. Clues. The waiter hasn't brought a menu to the table yet. There are the familiar company logos--CocaCola, Heinz ketchup--but multinational company brands aren't exactly identifying.
"Well, I can tell you we aren't in Wisconsin anymore, Dorothy," Terry says, smiling at his own weak joke. "It's March 5th and you were outside without shoes on."
It's a start. Out the window, the first bits of sunshine are starting to push above the horizon line and I can start to make out the fronds of palm trees in the distance.
"What else can you tell me about what you do remember, Ella?" Terry asked.
Just then a fuzzy feeling starts to rise behind my eyes, and I close them. I can almost hear yelling in my ears. As I concentrate, a memory of my feet again hitting the ground, but this time smooth hard floor, then something softer, maybe grass?
"I was running from something before. I think I lost them. Or they lost me."
I look down at the bag of old clothing that I've brought back to the table with me, realizing that I hadn't really given much thought to what I had shed so gratefully in the bathroom a few moments ago. It's full of thin, blue, rumpled fabric, something like hospital scrubs.
"I think I may have escaped a hospital."
Terry's eyebrow raises. He slowly sets his pen down on his paper, then places the pad on the table.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well," I pull a handful of the fabric out of the bag, "This isn't exactly an evening gown. Someone was yelling at me. God, what were they yelling..." I trailed off and retreated again behind my eyelids. The voices were still unintelligible, but there was a quality to them. They didn't sound angry. They sounded...scared.
"I think it's probably been a long time since I've been to that particular home," I start, trying to choose my words carefully and watching the dancing pencil in his hand. "I'm not even sure I would recognize it anymore if I were there. For all I know, there is here."
I start to scan the restaurant again for information. Clues. The waiter hasn't brought a menu to the table yet. There are the familiar company logos--CocaCola, Heinz ketchup--but multinational company brands aren't exactly identifying.
"Well, I can tell you we aren't in Wisconsin anymore, Dorothy," Terry says, smiling at his own weak joke. "It's March 5th and you were outside without shoes on."
It's a start. Out the window, the first bits of sunshine are starting to push above the horizon line and I can start to make out the fronds of palm trees in the distance.
"What else can you tell me about what you do remember, Ella?" Terry asked.
Just then a fuzzy feeling starts to rise behind my eyes, and I close them. I can almost hear yelling in my ears. As I concentrate, a memory of my feet again hitting the ground, but this time smooth hard floor, then something softer, maybe grass?
"I was running from something before. I think I lost them. Or they lost me."
I look down at the bag of old clothing that I've brought back to the table with me, realizing that I hadn't really given much thought to what I had shed so gratefully in the bathroom a few moments ago. It's full of thin, blue, rumpled fabric, something like hospital scrubs.
"I think I may have escaped a hospital."
Terry's eyebrow raises. He slowly sets his pen down on his paper, then places the pad on the table.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well," I pull a handful of the fabric out of the bag, "This isn't exactly an evening gown. Someone was yelling at me. God, what were they yelling..." I trailed off and retreated again behind my eyelids. The voices were still unintelligible, but there was a quality to them. They didn't sound angry. They sounded...scared.
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