Who Are You?

“Who are you?’ She said. A look of confusion in her eyes. I tried to see through them. Read her face and read what was going through her mind. There was no real emotion behind those deep green eyes. The kind of green that floated between emerald and moss green depending on the light. The kind of green eyes that have witnessed more than it should have in it’s time.

As far as I could tell there was no fear behind those green eyes. She was not afraid. The words were spoken calmly. The slight raspiness in her voice was not unusual. I have heard that raspiness before. It reminded me of someone who was been woken from a deep slumber and they haven’t fully realised they were awake and they try to talk, but the mouth is a little dry. The voice is a little relaxed from not having been used for the last 8 hours. Like a creaking floorboard as the morning sun warms up the house.

“Do you know who you are?” I ask.

Her face slightly contorted at my question. Those green eyes began to flick around in the sockets. It’s as if she was thinking of a response. In the distance, a sound of heavy footsteps can be heard coming down a hall. Hard soled shoes clapping along the linoleum floor. She could hear those footsteps. Her eyes stopped to fix on where the sound might be coming from. After a few moments she began to turn her head and look around the room. The white walls. The green light exit sign above the door. The large window to her right, over my shoulder. The view wasn’t much but she could see the late afternoon sky and the tops of the trees from the park across the road. She looked back at me.

“I’m Patty” a hint of frustration in her response. “Who are you?”

The clapping footsteps are getting louder. They stop. The door is flung open. A large man flies into the room. Not large as in fat, but a tall, strong, muscular man. About a foot taller than me and easily twice my size. He rushed to the bed where Patty is laying.

“My god are you ok?” He grabs her hand and kisses her forehead. Before she can even answer, he turned to me. “What happened? Is she ok?”

“She will be.” I respond. “Are you her husband?”

An impatient “Yes”.

“She has quite a nasty head injury. We’ve conducted scans and early assessment is she will be ok. She was brought in unconscious but has only just woken up. She’s likely to have concussion but at this stage we will not know the complete damage to her brain until we get those results. That should be later tonight, early tomorrow.”

The burly man drops his head. “You’re so lucky” he whispers.

Patty, who has been fixated on this man asks “Who are you?” He looks confused. He looks at her green eyes, just like I had done. Like he is also trying to read what is behind them. He looks at me, almost pleadingly.

“Patty, you had an accident. A nasty fall. You were brought into emergency. You are in the hospital. Do you remember the fall? Do you remember what happened?

Her eyes narrow to slits and then open back up again as if she has realised her surroundings. “No I don’t”.

“That’s ok” I answer trying to sound reassuring. “It’s common to have amnesia after a head injury like this. I want to do a couple of checks with you if that’s ok?”

She nodded.

“Can you tell me your full name?”

“Patty Griffin”. The man looks shocked at that answer.

“Ok, do you know what today is?”

She thinks for a moment and answers “Wednesday.”

“Ok good. What is your date of birth?”

Another pause before she answers. “June 13, 1986”. The man shakes his head and I can see his grip on her hand get tighter.

“Thank you.” I turn to the man “If you like to step outside, we’ll give her some rest and I can fill you in on what tests we are doing.” I’m hoping more than anything he doesn’t resist and comes out with me. I already know her name isn’t Patty Griffin. She was brought in with her purse and ID. I also know her date of birth isn’t June 13 and it’s Friday, not Wednesday. There’s clearly more damage than we thought. Telling her she is wrong though, would just create more confusion and upset her and that’s not the best thing to do at this time.

The man nods and kisses her on her forehead again. “I’ll be right back ok?” She has no clue who he is so doesn’t respond. We step outside into the hospital corridor.

“So who are you?” I ask.

“Her husband” he responds.

I take a deep breath. I’m intimidated by this man. He’s huge. But I have to say it.

“Sir, I know you’re not her husband. Her husband was the man who brought her in. The man who comes and has sat by her side every day while she has been in the coma. He only left a few minutes before she woke up. So again, who are you?”

Now this man takes a deep breath. He looks around the corridor. He slowly opens his jacket and exposed a pistol in his right hand, pointed at my stomach. I think Christine’s fall was no accident now.