When She Remembers

*This story includes some mild language

Helaine 

I am asleep, and it is peaceful. The peaceful sort that makes me feel heavy when I wake, and I have a hard time pushing it away. Had it not been for the unspeakable way in which I was forced to waken, I would have stayed there, in my slumber, for some time.  

But it is not so. 

Intruders are here. 

They are loud and they are frightening. They bang on my door and demand it be opened. They call me by name and that agitates me greatly, for I do not recognize their voices. 

I live alone and it is a small apartment. The kitchen, living space, and bedroom are all in one big area, and the bathroom and laundry occupy another. There is a word for this type of apartment but, in my drowsiness, I cannot think of what it is called. If you were to enter my home from the doorway, you would see my bed on the right, a desk situated underneath a window directly across, and a kitchen to the left. A bathroom doorway is to the left as well, closer to the front entryway than the window. I know this floorplan extremely well because I am mentally preparing an escape in my mind as I clamber out of bed, and put on the pajama pants and shirt I’d left on the floor.  

I am perfectly awake now and my mind races through courses of action that I might take, and it is then that I realize they have set my home on fire. It is a hot and quick and terrible fire, sweeping its way thoroughly through my small apartment. It has engulfed the kitchen and is starting to swallow up the desk and I see clearly how dangerous this horrible arson has become. Panic seizes me even greater than before, but I cannot—will not—let it take me over. If I do, I have an instinctual feeling that a single moment of hesitation will allow considerable advantage to whoever is on the other side of my door. 

I am small enough to fit through the window, but it is with dread that I realize this window of salvation is only accessible if I face the blaze head-on. I know I will not risk the welfare of my body by running through fire. I have a deep-seated terror of becoming physically scarred and damaged, and it outweighs my fear of facing the intruders, so I turn warily toward the doorway. 

I do not have time to prepare a defense because they have already opened the door. I am still standing, dumbstruck, by the bed when I see them. It strikes me as unusual to notice them standing there because there is no sign of foul play. They have not torn the door down or barged their way in. They have simply turned the knob and pushed its way open. Only moments before, they were yelling at me to open it for them. They had been authoritative and threatening, and I had known they were getting ready to tear my charming, painted doorway down. But here they have simply opened it, and this can only mean that it has been unlocked by someone; someone I may know. Traitor, I think in alarm, trying fiercely to remember who my enemies are. But I can think of no one. 

They are rushing in now, yelling, and furious and powerful. There are four of them. Only four. I can take them, I think. But I know that I probably cannot. I do not have sufficient time to examine each trespasser, but I do the best that I can as they charge at me. Three of the people are men. The fourth is a woman. The men are tall and intimidating and in an intense hurry. Whatever it is they want from me, they aim to retrieve it fast. 

The man in the front does not even bother to look at me as he rushes past, and I am confused by this. I do not dare watch him, though, because the three others are only half-seconds behind him. The second man is angry, and he begins to reach out to me. I backup, only to find that the fire is coming much closer by the moment, and I really do not have anywhere to which I can back up. 

“Hold still!” He yells and reaches out to me again. All I do is scream and take one step back again, and I know clearly now that I am not as brave as I was hoping to be. 

The room is lit up by the unwavering glare of the fire and I see the anger in this man’s face as he continues his approach. The aggressive way in which he threatens to take me leaves me in fearful tears. It is not long before the other man is beside him, and I am frightened because it is now two against one.  The angry man is close to me know and he has grabbed me violently by the arm. “What the hell were you thinking?” He cries, but I do not know why and the other man is yelling something I do not understand. 

I turn to study the other man’s face and I see that, in contrast to the angry man, his looks kind and I am drawn to it. It comforts me somehow. His eyes are dark, and his face is finely shaped and sharp. He wears glasses and an adornment of facial hair that traces his cheekbones and chin. There is a scar on his forehead, and he is handsome when he smiles at me. 

I am still trying to wrestle away from the angry man’s grip, but it is hopeless, and the man with the kind face has swept me up into his arms like a child before I know it has happened. I do not have time to protest as he hurriedly carries me toward the doorway. Kidnapping, I say to myself. I wonder now if the face I had found so comforting had been merely a ploy of distraction to catch me off-guard. I realize, painfully, that it has worked. 

I hear the muttering unintelligible words as I am carried away and I barely see that she is crouched near to the floor, saying things into what appears to be a cellphone. So, there are more of them I think, but I do not remember what happened after that, because things went black in that very moment. I knew as the lights started to vanish that I am not resilient. The intruders, it would seem, have won. 

Earlier in the Evening 

Josh is not usually a man who falls into a class of being impatient. He is usually kind and courteous, non-judgmental and sincere. It is only on his worst days that he is prone to becoming less patient than usual, and today has just become one of them.  

It is late in the evening, and he’s received a very troublesome phone call from his sister, Rose.  

“Have you heard from Alec?” She asks in a frantic voice. 

“Not since this morning, why?” Josh wonders with concern, knowing that Alec is responsible to oversee a matter that leaves no room for error. 

“I haven’t either but she just called me. From Alec’s phone, Josh. She has his phone, and he was nowhere to be heard. She barely said two words to me before she hung up.” Her voice is high and distraught.  “I’m worried.” She says after a moment, calmer than before but only slightly, because she knows the situation could be critical. If something has gone awry, the siblings might see the end of a very delicate balance they’ve worked hard to maintain. It is a balance that has bonded them, and they cannot bear this bond being broken. 

“Shit,” Josh mutters, thinking hard with his head bent low. “Let’s get to Alec’s place. I’ll pick you up.” Josh is gathering his keys and wallet as he says this.  

Rose’s home is on the way to their brother’s studio apartment, and Josh is speeding the whole way there. 

Rose is panicked and weary when Josh arrives. “I haven’t heard a damn thing more from either of them now,” she sobs. “Josh, this isn’t like him. Isn’t like him to let things go like this.” 

Josh is again stepping hard on the gas, “Maybe he is fine. Maybe... maybe he...” But there are no explanations that can bring him consolation. If Alec is not able to use his phone, then something has gone very wrong. 

They are only blocks away from Alec’s place when they see him. Their brother is racing down the sidewalk like a madman in a race. Great fear and anger are in his eyes when he notices Josh pull up beside him, and he nearly collapses in relief. 

“What the hell, Al?” Josh demands with panic in his voice as his brother takes his place in the back seat. “Where is she?” 

Alec is catching his breath, sweat pouring down his face and shirt, “I don’t know. Try the apartment, that’s the only place I can think of to check right now.” His voice is tense and worried.

“What happened?” Rose is asking, trying to gauge her brothers face as she watches him. She notices that he has blood trickling out from a wound near his forehead, and she grimaces when she sees the resemblance it has to the scar on Josh’s face.  

As they drive the remaining stretch of road, Alec explains that he had been walking with her in central park and she had turned on him without warning. She had dug her nails into his face, railed on him with her arms and scratched him violently near the eyes. In his recovery and hesitancy to strike her back, she had time to grab his wallet and both his car and apartment keys from his sweatshirt pocket. She then had taken off, leaving Alec alone, dumbfounded, and with no means of transportation. 

“We don’t take her on outings alone, Alec! You know this. You know we don’t do outings alone.” Josh bangs the steering wheel in frustration and, in response to Alec’s tale and Josh’s reaction, Rose begins to cry. 

When they arrive at the apartment buildings, the three are alarmed to hear the structure’s automatic smoke sirens loudly penetrating the air. They race into the building as people are starting to stroll out, wondering if the sirens should be heeded or not.  

On the the second floor and down the hallway to room 207, Josh, Rose and Alec make their arrival at where they hope to find her. They try the door, and it does not open. Since they do not have the apartment keys, the three start to pound loudly on the painted, wooden structure. “Helaine, if you are in there, open the door!”   

When the siblings are just about ready to barrel down the doorway, they are interrupted by the property manager. “What the hell you three doing?” He yells across the hall. 

“Ah thank God!” Alec says and races toward him, “It’s me, Alec. I’ve been locked out of my apartment. Can you let us in?” 

The property manager, who knows Alec well, acquiesces with no question. He unlocks the door for them and the four are met with a horrifying scene. The property owner rushes in first, sprinting toward the bathroom. He can see the fire is spreading fast, but he knows there is a backup sprinkler activation switch near the washer, and he must at least try to flip it on.  

The other three do not bother to follow him, because their eyes are focused on the small, young woman standing fearfully by the bed. She is disheveled, wearing a pair of Alec’s pajamas, looking even smaller than she normally does with them on. Alec runs to her first, but she backs up, trying to ward off his approach.  

“Hold still!” Alec yells, but she screams and backs up some more. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Alec is yelling again and is close enough now that he grabs Helaine’s arm tightly. 

“Alec, stop it! She’s frightened,” Josh is saying from next to his brother. He makes eye contact with Helaine and she noticeably calms when he smiles at her. He is able to pick her up gently, and he hurries her toward the door with Alec right behind him. 

“There is a fire at The Flats Apartment Complex. Room 207. Please, hurry!” Josh barely hears Rose’s tearful voice as she calls the fire department on her cell phone, crouched down to avoid the rising smoke. “Yes, I’m getting out. Please, hurry.” 

The Day After 

Josh, Alec, and Rose are seated uncomfortably in a small, simple room. A doctor sits across from them, explaining to the three siblings the methods in which they take care of their patients at Bright Morning Living Facilities. “Our clients are very carefully looked after and treated kindly by our nursing and caretaking staff. We even have a special ward for those with an unreliable memory, such as your sister’s, so there is no need to fear where they may wander. The space is theirs to safely explore. I believe our facilities would be in the best interest of Helaine.” The doctor is sincere, but the siblings are resistant.  

They do not want to send Helaine here, because they want to keep caring for her. It is something they have done for years, each of them taking turns hosting her in their homes. The four often went through great amounts of emotional and physical pain when Helaine would fall into restless fits of fear because she did not remember who they were. These bouts had started when she was fifteen, a result of brain trauma that left lasting damage after an ugly car accident. Tragically, their parents had died, leaving Helaine in the care of her three older siblings. 

And they do not want to lose her. They love her, and she is balance in their lives. She is the bond that holds them all together. 

After the fire, the State has now become involved because she is a danger to herself and others. Though she can remember some things, she does not remember most things. The day before, she amazingly had managed to flag down a taxi after she’d run away from her brother. “The Flats Apartment Complex,” she had told the driver, using Alec’s cash to pay for the services. Somehow remembering the apartment number that was her brother’s, Helaine had let herself in and started to prepare a dinner of sorts. But she had gone to bed before it was finished, leaving opportunity for a fire to start; the result of forgetfulness. Yes, she sometimes remembers things, but not enough to be relied upon due to her poor and sporadic memory. 

The siblings have been in the office for many hours with the doctor, a social worker, and legal representation, and it looks as though they will need to leave Helaine in Bright Mornings’ care. It is not easy for them to come to terms with, but they’ve run out of all excuses. They do not yet know that the change will be a blessing to them all, someday. 

Alec is bitter, Rose is crying, and Josh is heartbroken when they leave Helaine at Bright Morning. Josh is not usually a man who falls into a class of being unhappy. He is kind and courteous, non-judgmental and sincere, and it is only on his worst days that he becomes broken. And today, has become one of those days. 

Helaine 

I am sitting in a beautiful room, and it is full of color. It is my bedroom, I think, but I do not know for sure because I cannot remember painting the walls like this; a pale and beautiful yellow. I am daydreaming, and it is peaceful. The peaceful sort that makes me feel light when I stir from it, and I have a hard time pushing the imaginations away. Had it not been for the gentle way in which I was brought from my daydreaming, I would have stayed there, in my sentiments, for some time.   

But it is not so. 

Visitors are here.  

They are calm and they are kind. They gently knock and then open my door. They call me by name, and it somehow calms me, even though I do not recognize their voices. 

They are speaking pleasantly to me, and I invite them in. There are four of them, three are men and the fourth is a woman. The first man walks past me, opens the curtains and says, “Visit as long as you would like.” And then he leaves the room.  

The other three sit on the couch across from me, and I do my best to observe them. The first man looks like he is full of regret, and I feel sorry for him. The woman is young and quiet, and it looks as though she has been crying. I’d offer condolences, but I do not know why she is sad. 

I study the second man’s face because, in contrast to the emotional man and the tearful woman, his looks kind and calm and I am drawn to it. It comforts me somehow. It is somehow familiar. His eyes are dark, and his face is finely shaped and sharp. He wears glasses and an adornment of facial hair that traces his cheekbones and chin. There is a scar on his forehead, and he is handsome, when he smiles at me...