Where the Wind Goes

(Contains references to murder and self-harm)

Start of tape; date, March 12. 1989; time, 2:32 PM;

“This is Dr. Joel Carter, the date is March…12, 1989. I am here interviewing Mr. Samuel Hicks. Mr. Hicks, how are you?”

***

“Mr. Hicks, do you know why I’m here today?” 

“To… ask me questions?” 

“Yes, precisely, I’m going to ask you some very simple questions, and you’re going to answer them. And then I will leave you be, does that sound like a deal?” 

“I- I guess so.” 

“Alright, Mr. Hicks, now can you tell me what you remember from last Friday?” 

***

“Just anything you can remember from that day.”

“I’ve told you… I’ve told you and every other person asking me this same, stupid question the same thing.” 

“Mr. Hicks, I’d really like to hear the answer to my questi-” 

“I don’t know!” 

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t remember what happened last Friday, don’t you know that?! I don’t remember anything!” 

“Alright, Mr. Hicks, calm down. Does the name Catherine Hicks mean anything to you?” 

“No.”

“No faint recollection of any memory from that name? Nothing?”

“I. Don’t. Remember.” 

“What if I told you she’s your wife?” 

“Heh… I, uhh, I guess I didn’t even know I had one of those.”

“Hmm, you said ‘had’, paste tense?” 

“Well, it doesn’t feel like I have one anymore. She could walk in here and I wouldn’t have a clue who she is.” 

“So, you don’t consider this woman to be your wife, Mr. Hicks?” 

“I don’t know, what’s the point of having a wife if you don’t even know her face, or can’t even imagine her voice?”

“Mr. Hicks, I’m here bringing a bit of bad news. Your wife, or, this woman, rather, Catherine Hicks… uhh, she’s passed away.” 

***

“I’m sorry if this is difficult for you.”

“No, I mean, I don’t really know her. If you’re expecting me to be sad, I don’t know what to tell you.” 

“Well, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Did we, uhh… did we have any kids?” 

“No, no, you didn’t.” 

“So, how did it happen?” 

“I’m sorry?”

“How did she die, this Catherine?” 

“Well, that’s what I was just getting to, Mr. Hicks. It’s a bit of a dilemma, and I want to be sure you’re fully well before I move on into more details.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Last Friday night, the police received an anonymous tip, leading them to your house. They discovered a broken window, shards of glass, and your wife, Catherine, lying dead on the living room floor. Upon further inspection, they found that Catherine had been… Well, how do I put this? She had been stabbed, or cut, by one of these glass shards… and… uhh, she bled to death, Mr. Hicks.” 

“She was murdered?” 

“Yes.” 

“And where was I?” 

“That’s also what I was going to bring up. You see, you were gone. Nowhere in sight. Not until we found you the next day here at this hospital. Do you remember coming here?” 

“Yeah, yeah, the earliest memory I have is me sitting at some diner or something. A booth seat. It was like I woke up or… no, it was like I was born. I- I didn’t know anything. And they brought me here, put me in this bed, stuck a needle in my arm, and, uh, yeah, I guess that’s it.”

“And one other thing, Mr. Hicks. As they brought you here and changed your clothes, they found a few spots of blood on your jacket.”

“Blood… on my jacket?”

“Yes, and they tested the blood… it matched Catherine’s.” 

***

“So, are you beginning to see why I’m here?” 

“Yes.”

“Mr. Hicks, the authorities are currently under the opinion that it was you who murdered your wife last Friday night. And they sent me here to ask you questions.” 

“Do you think so too?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you also think I killed my wife?” 

“I don’t believe that is a pertinent question, Mr. Hicks. However, I would very much like to believe that you did not. That’s why I’m here, I’m here to help you.”

“What was I like, Dr. Carter? Like, before this?”

“Once again, I don’t believe that is a pertinent question, I’m the one here who should be asking the questions.”

“You don’t think I deserve to know what kind of person I was? Can you imagine, can you even imagine the thought of waking up and not knowing even the smallest sliver of who you are? I guess I don’t know any different, but doctor, it feels like hell.” 

“Very well, Mr. Hicks. We did happen to do a background check on you recently. We discovered that you were a reckless man, very unorganized, couldn’t hold a job for very long and had a severe drinking problem. And we’d received reports from a few of your neighbors that you weren’t exactly the… kindest husband.”

“So you’re telling me, I’m an alcoholic who mistreats my wife?” 

“Something of that sort, yes.” 

“But… that’s not me.”

“Excuse me?” 

“That’s not me, this Samuel Hicks. I don’t even know that name, how is it mine? It’s like I was just assigned the personality of an alcoholic murderer without even a choice, without even a say? How is that fair? I don’t drink, I don’t kill people, at least, I don’t see why I would. Heck, I wouldn’t even hurt a fly! And now I wake up one day in the body of a murderer, it’s unfair, I tell you, unfair.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hicks, I don’t know what to tell you. However, you did choose that lifestyle. I know it may not seem like it, and you see no reason why you would, but you did.” 

“No, no, this Samuel Hicks guy isn’t me. It’s like I’m just trapped in his body.” 

“So you see why this is so difficult for me, don’t you?” 

“Why are you even here?! To ask me questions? You and all those police officers know fully well that I wouldn’t be able to answer any of your useless questions. So why’d they send you down here, huh?! To what, be the bearer of bad news?!” 

“I suppose so…”

“Oh yeah, do you like that? You like looking me in the eyes and telling me I’m a murderer?! Does it make you feel better about yourself, Dr. Joel Carter?!” 

“No.”

“Well, I’m not one, not a murderer. I’m- ack, I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just… I would never, never even dream of killing someone, let alone the woman I married. What was her name again? Catherine… that’s right. Oh, I wonder what she was like. Probably real sweet, and kind, dealing with all the fits I’m sure I had, hehe… a patient woman. And, man, I bet she was beautiful, probably the prettiest girl in the neighborhood. I can almost imagine how I’d react when I first met her; head over heels, I’m sure, haha. I don’t recall her face, no not in the slightest, and I don’t remember her touch, but there’s still something back there in my head, telling me it was the most wonderful thing on earth. Telling me that I would give anything, anything, just to catch a glimpse of her face one more time. It’s not quite a memory, no, perhaps more intuition. A kind of knowledge that doesn’t take a decent memory to know. Oh yes, Catherine was the kindest, sweetest, and most beautiful girl I had ever met, I know that now. And you… you say I- I killed her.”

“That’s simply how the facts are lining up, Mr. Hicks, but understand that I will need your cooperation if you want to fight against this.” 

“No… no, you’re right. The facts are lined up perfectly. Disappeared, the blood on the jacket; Samuel Hicks did indeed murder his wife. But I am not Samuel Hicks. Just because we share a body doesn’t make us the same person. Who we are is defined by the inside, not the outside, I’m sure someone smart said that once. I assure you, I have no idea who this Mr. Hicks is, and he is not me.” 

“I understand, well not fully, but I can see what you’re getting at Mr. Hicks, however, there is another complication that I have to bring to your attention. There are a few–not many, only a few–that are under the assumption of a certain theory. A theory that you–or, excuse me, Samuel Hicks–murdered Catherine Hicks, and then in a frenzy to cover it up, decided to… fake being an amnesiac.”

“You mean, pretend I don’t remember anything?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s crazy, I- I-...” 

“We just don’t have solid proof on any of this, that’s why this is such a dilemma. Mr. Hicks, it's perfectly fine to admit what might be going on here. I understand that you’re under a lot of stress, probably regretted killing this woman, and needed a way to cover it up. I can assure you that if you admit it’s all been a hoax, it would really help everyone out here.”

***

“Mr. Hicks, why are you crying?”   

“I-, I can’t take it.” 

“How about I leave you here to think about it, and I’ll come back later today?” 

“Dr. Carter…”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever felt like the world just doesn’t understand you? Like all the billions of people on our planet are all out to hurt you, just you?”

“I suppose I may have felt that way before, yes.”

“Because sitting here in this bed, I realize now that no one is on my side. Not the police, not you. I mean, it makes sense. It’s clear that Samuel Hicks did indeed murder his wife and run off, but what happened after that, I don’t know for sure. All I know is that he became someone else that night. Whoever Samuel Hicks was, died the same night as his wife. Either it was the thought of what he’d done, some sort of divine punishment, or something else. Dr. Carter, I can’t seem to remember, is there a God?”

“Well, that’s a difficult question, Mr. Hicks, but no, I don’t believe so.” 

“No God, huh. So what are we? Maybe humans, but more like wind, I think. We arrive in an instant, and the next second we disappear. And no one really knows where we go. You can’t grab it, you can’t even see it, but you can hear it. Us gusts of wind, we make a sound when we pass through the earth; something small, insignificant, no one will likely remember the sound we made, but we still did something here. Except I, I’ve forgotten the sound I made while I whistled through our planet, and I can’t go back to make a new one. But surely there’s more to life than just making a sound, right? Where does the wind go after it passes your ear? I know I told you my memory is all gone, and it is, yes, entirely empty. But that emptiness has a shape to it, a certain odd shape that nothing here on earth can fill. Except, perhaps, a God. Yes, I remember something now, I remember that there must be a God. His very absence in my mind, in your mind, tells us that he must exist. Oh, if only I could remember when he created me, but maybe someday I will. That’s where the wind goes, Dr. Carter, the wind goes to him.”

***

“Well, Mr. Hicks, I believe it would be best for me to leave you alone a little while and return later this evening. Hopefully, then you’ve considered whether you’d like to… confess, or not.”

“Dr. Carter, one last thing.”

“Yes?”

“What did she… oh, never mind. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.” 

End of Tape; date, March 12, 1989; time, 2:57; length of tape, 25 minutes and 17 seconds.

Start of tape; date, March 12, 1989; time, 9:12 PM;

“This is Dr. Joel Carter, following up on the Samuel Hicks case. I had left Mr. Hicks at around 3 this afternoon to allow him to digest the news, and it seemed that may have been a poor choice on my part. Just over an hour later, I received word that… I… I received word that Samuel had killed himself. The nurses just down the hall had apparently heard a crash of some sort, and rushing into his room found Mr. Hicks was gone, and the large window in his room shattered to pieces. They found his body outside.

“Mr. Hicks had written a letter and left it on his bed, I will read it out loud:

“To whomever this may concern,

 I’m not sure who I am, nor am I even certain of what I am. What I do know for sure is that I was born as a man who murdered his own wife. When a baby is born, they get a choice, they get a say on how they will fashion and shape their life. I did not receive such a privilege. Samuel Hicks did, and he squandered it, but I am not Samuel Hicks.

It’s not the punishment of this crime I fear, it’s the weight of it. How could any rational human live their life being constantly reminded that it was them who murdered their sweet, innocent wife? At least, I’m sure I could not live with myself in the slightest. And now here I am, a new being, a new creature in a wretched body.

I’m beginning to see it now, I realize now why God would do such a thing. Given the horrible person Samuel Hicks was, I’m sure he did not know of God. So when he killed her, sweet Catherine, God stripped away his memory, and all that he had, so that Samuel Hicks could finally see how empty and void his mind truly was without the creator of the universe. I am the result of such an exchange, and I cannot bear it. 

So here I am, standing now, in front of this window. It’s dark out, and I see my reflection for the first time. Except it’s not me, it’s someone else. A horrible, vile man who does not deserve to take another step upon this glorious creation. 

I don’t know if what I am doing is right, but I do know it’s what I want. 

I’m coming, Catherine. I’m sorry I cut the whistle of your wind too short, but now we can meet in a place far greater than this one. Oh, I can’t wait to see your face, smiling I’m sure, or even laughing at me. I can’t wait to hear your voice, making some sort of joke or kind remark. You didn’t deserve such an abrupt ending, but I suppose it would be best for me to apologize when I finally meet you at last. 

And now I, this unnamed man, give you all my goodbye. Where I am heading to now is a place you’ll see soon enough, a place of reunion, a place of remembrance.

A place where the wind goes.”  

End of Tape; date, March 12, 1989; time, 9:18 PM; length of tape, 6 minutes and 2 seconds.