Going Insane by Tim Kizer Page A

“He has to remember me, Doctor.”
    “Ask him yourself, Josephine,” said Raynolds. “Memory loss is not uncommon in cases like this.” 
    ‘Cases like this?’ What kind of case was it?
    Had Doctor Raynolds been hiding something from him? Dear Lord, please don’t let it be schizophrenia.
    Josephine followed the doctor’s advice and addressed Frank, “Do you really not recognize me, Frank? It’s me, Josephine. Kelly’s sister.” 
    Josephine, Kelly’s sister. If Missis Buckhaus was his sister-in-law and her sister’s name was Kelly, chances were that Kelly was his wife, right? Kelly. Kelly Fowler. His beloved wife Kelly. No, this name was also securely entombed under the damn skyscraper. He didn’t know any Kelly. No surprise, of course, since he didn’t even recall being married.
    He’d done a great job figuring out his wife’s name, by the way.
    “No,” Frank said. “I don’t recognize you, Josephine.”
    He peered into her big, deep-set brown eyes in order to take the last stab at spotting anything familiar in Josephine’s face. The attempt failed. He still could not remember her.
    Then whom did he remember? Did he remember anyone at all?
    “I’m Kelly’s sister, Frank. We talked on the phone this Monday.” Josephine lifted his right hand and pressed it to her chin, as if she was going to kiss his fingers. Frank darted a quizzical glance at the doctor, waiting for his professional opinion that would explain everything. Raynolds was silent, knitting his brows, with his arms crossed on his chest.    
    “I’m your wife’s sister, Frank. Do you remember your wife?” Josephine said pleadingly. “Do you remember Kelly? I can’t believe you don’t remember Kelly.”
    She had a pleasant voice, Frank thought again. He was somewhat sorry that his words had distressed Josephine so badly, that she took them so close to heart, but he had only told the truth. He had forgotten her and her sister Kelly, who was evidently also his wife. He realized he was supposed to know Josephine since she was his sister-in-law and they had hung out on a regular basis, but he couldn’t just force his brain to remember her, it wasn’t how it worked.
    Why was it so important to Josephine that he remember her, by the way? And how about that list of people he did remember?
    Think, buddy, dig into that beautiful mind of yours. Answer this question: what is your son’s name? Why don’t you remember it? You forgot your son’s name. Don’t laugh, you simply forgot everyone in your family. Damn, you had a really bad luck, Frank Fowler (it has to be your name because they call you that, right?). 
    As Frank stared at Josephine’s face, it registered in his mind that she used very little make-up, which explained the absence of running mascara on her cheeks when she had teared up a few minutes earlier. Josephine had probably gotten Botox injections in her forehead as it was enviably smooth.
    Frank heard Josephine’s and Doctor Raynolds’ voices, but didn’t bother to listen to whatever they were telling each other. The mumble of their conversation enlivened the room and had a soothing effect on him. There were two living souls by his side, who were concerned about his condition. He was glad they were here for him. 
    Accident. Blood. Death.
    A pang of fear wrung his heart.
    He didn’t remember Josephine. Hell, he’d even forgotten his own name. He’d forgotten his wife and son. Or daughter. He had wanted a son, but dreams do not always come true, do they?
    What date was it?
    Don’t torment yourself, bud; just ask Josephine. Why torment, if you can simply ask?
    What year was it?
    Josephine loved him, cared about him. She had taken time out of her busy schedule to come here and check up on him.
    What year was it? Ha-ha, he must sound like a guy who had traveled in time. He should ask what year it was and thus complete the picture. Had he ever thought that one day he would ask himself this question?
    He felt alright,