Chapter 2

            Wait. No, just a moment, I do recognize this face. Not someone I know, but... it's as if I'm seeing someone I met long ago, like a childhood friend. It's at least somewhat familiar to me, but there's no possible way I could put a name to this face, no matter how well I knew this person. It's simply been too long. 87 years is a long life by any standard, so how can I be expected to remember every single face, even from childhood?

            The sound of the door latch catches my attention. I turn to see a young man entering the room, the door closing behind him. He's wearing a plain white cotton top and trousers, and his skin is only a few shades darker than that, though he has short brown hair and brown eyes. I can only assume he is a member of the staff, though his build makes him look like he would be more at home hauling lumber than treating patients. Well, I guess it's not for me to judge one by appearances. And speaking of appearances...

            "Are you a member of the staff? Something seems to be terribly wrong! I don't understand!" I nearly yell. The voice coming from my mouth is so foreign, like that of a man's. It's incredibly disturbing. I'm so terribly confused that I'm about to start crying.

            "I'm a nurse here, yes. I understand you may be a little disoriented, but I believe it would be best if you got back into bed and calmed down. You just woke up, right? Your muscles may still be weak, so it's dangerous for you to try to be walking around just yet."

            He may be a rather burly man, but his voice is oddly soothing. Perhaps he's been doing this for a while. I'm rather light-headed from being up, but I think he's probably right, so I go back to the bed and lie down. I don't feel any better, but at least I shouldn't have to worry about falling down again, or else I might hurt myself. A woman's body can be very frail at this age... or, maybe not, as I look down at myself once again.

            "Young man," I try to say calmly, "what.... what in the world is going on? Why am I... I mean, I'm a man now for goodness sake!"

            The nurse looks at me worriedly, as if to say, 'of course you're a man, you've always been that way.'

            "Hmm... you seem to be experiencing some identity issues, and perhaps some temporary memory loss. Do you know where you are right now?" he asks me, still looking at me strangely.

            I honestly don't know what to say. Even if I were to guess, I would likely be wrong. If I'm like this, then there's little... no, there's no facility like this anywhere near Charlottesville. I can only shake my head, I can't even come up with anything to say now.

            "I see," he says. I now notice he's holding a clipboard as well, as he looks down to write something on it. "I know it may be a little troubling for you at the moment, but I would like to do a short interview with you so that I can gauge your memory really quick. As soon as we're finished, I'll try to answer any questions you have to the best of my ability. Will that be alright?"

            He says this last line as if he's trying very hard to persuade me without upsetting me, as if I were a child. It's honestly a little insulting, but it's probably best to stay calm, since I am in their care. I nod.

            "Thank you, I appreciate your patience. I assure you that I'll answer your questions as best as I can once we finish the interview. First off, can you tell me your name? Oh, and for this interview, would you be able to respond to my questions with complete sentences? This will help me to see if your speech or cognitive functions have been affected at all."

            "I suppose that's alright," I say, since I don't really know how else to respond. "My name is Lydia Carter. How's that?"

            "Perfect. Now, can you tell me how old you think you are?"

            Now I'm not sure how to answer. I would say that I'm 87, but looking at myself, I clearly don't appear that way anymore. It's rather troubling, so I reply, "I'm sorry, but I seem to be in a very different state than when I last remember, so I'm not really sure how to answer. Do you mean how old do I think by looking at myself?"

            He seems rather confused by this, but he soon says, "I see... Well, if that's the case, I would like you to tell me the last age you remember you were."

            He got me. If I'm going to be honest about this, then there's no other way I can really answer this, and frankly it's a little embarrassing. "The last age I remember being is 87 years old." I imagine he's probably laughing at me now. I look up, and surprisingly he doesn't seem to be all that disturbed by this answer. It's a little unsettling how stoic he is right now, actually, as he writes on his clipboard. Maybe it's not all that uncommon after all.

            "Okay, and if you can remember, can you tell me the last place you remember you were before you woke up?" he continues, simply reading down the list.

            "The last place I remember being was in the city park in Charlottesville, Georgia."

            I thought this was one of the more straight-forward answers, but when I say this, he looks up especially confused, the way I expected him to react to the last answer I gave. Maybe he's just a little slow and is only now realizing that I said I think I'm 87 years old. Somehow, that makes it seem so much more embarrassing.

            "You said Charlottesville, Georgia?"

            "Yes, I lived in Georgia all my life. I moved to Charlottesville when I was a young girl, and I rarely ever left," I say. Honestly, his demeanor is driving me crazy, I can't quite understand this man.

            "Right, I see," he says, moving on. "I'll take that to mean that you see yourself as a woman, although I recall you've already mentioned that earlier as well. Is there anything else different about your appearance other than your age and gender that you notice?"

            I know I said I was being honest, but now I've become incredibly flustered. I said 'when I was a young girl' without even thinking about it. I don't know how much more of this I can take, I have no idea what this young man is thinking about me as he gives this interview, but trying to imagine is not good for my health. But, I suppose since I've come this far, I may as well continue.

            "Well," I hesitate slightly, "I also don't exactly recall being white. I mean, this isn't the kind of white you get from being inside for a long time. Last I remember, I was most certainly black. I'm not sure if that's going to affect me being here, since some of you don't really like us being around and all."

            This seemed to trouble the nurse greatly. "I can assure you, we have an absolute zero tolerance policy against racial discrimination in this facility," he replied quickly. I was quite taken aback, almost as if I might have said something to offend him. Maybe this young man isn't so bad after all. He paused for a moment as though he was considering something, before saying, "Can you tell me what the date was before you remember being here?"

            That... that's actually a good question, I have to think for a moment. "If I recall, I want to say it was sometime in mid-April, though I can't remember the day."

            "What year was that?"

            Oh dear, that's not a very comforting thing to hear. There's no way I could bluff my way out of this one even if I wanted to. "When I was last awake, the year on the calendar was 1982."

            He writes this down stoically, like he did with the age question. Maybe that's just how acts when he's shocked by something, assuming he is shocked at all. He isn't giving me any indication of  how close I am to the current year, which is a little bothersome. He may be a nice young man, but he certainly can be a little rude at times.

            "Alright, I just have one more question and then we'll be finished with the interview. Is there anything that you remember being skilled with or knowledgeable in? It could be your profession, a hobby, anything at all? Something that most other people wouldn't be able to do easily."

            What a strange question. I suppose this could be like a question about my profession, but why didn't he just ask what my profession was? Still I guess this one is pretty easy to answer, "I was a seamstress for many years. I don't think I can brag much now, but I used to be very well-known in town for my embroidery. Is that fine?"

            "Perfect. Again, thank you very much for your patience, I know this is likely very confusing for you. If you would like, I can try to explain the situation as best as I can to see if I can answer most your questions for you."

            "That might be best," I say, "it's just... there's a lot I don't understand right now, so it would probably be better to just hear your side of the story."

            "I believe that will be the quickest way, although some of this may be difficult for you to hear right now, given your current state. Are you ready?"

            I nod, nervously.

            He clears his throat and begins, "As far as we are aware, you seem to have been in some sort of accident involving some minor head trauma. You were unconscious when you were brought here by ambulance. You are currently a patient here in Sunnyside Medical Center, just outside Sacramento, California. You were treated for a minor head injury, but we didn't find any problems other than that; your body actually seems to be in pretty good shape. You were brought here on the 23rd of July, 2023. The date today is the 21st of August, so you've been asleep for a little over four weeks. Unfortunately, you weren't carrying any form of identification when you were brought here, so we've been unable to locate any next of kin. I'm sorry to say, but we haven't even been able to learn your name, yet. The police are currently investigating to see if they can find someone who might know you. We were hoping you might be able to tell us once you awoke, but...," he glances down at his clipboard, and falls silent.

            I... what? Sacramento? 2023? How... what has happened to me?

            "Nurse...," I finally say, interrupting the quiet that had filled the room, "surely, this must be some kind of mistake. That can't be possible..." I struggle to keep calm, but I can't. There's no way. I start to feel dizzy again.

            "I can see that this might be difficult to understand. Perhaps we can discuss this more, later. For now, is there anything I can get you? Are you hungry or thirsty at all?" he says, trying to comfort me.

            "... Tea. I would like some tea."

            "Of course, it might be good for you to start off with something light, since you haven't eaten anything in some time."

            My mind is filled with thoughts, trying to explain what is going on. The nurse leaves, and I'm left for a moment to try to understand... but it's impossible. I was never much of a problem-solver, and I don't read any of those mystery novels the kids seemed to enjoy. How could I have gone from being an 87 year old woman in Georgia to a twenty-something year old boy in California, 40 years in the future. He said I was asleep for only 4 weeks.

            I hear the door open again after a few minutes, and the nurse returns with a small cup. He hands it to me, and I take a sip. It touches my tongue, and I almost spit it out. Bitter. I realize I should have been a little clearer.

            "Nurse, I'm sorry, but this is unsweet tea. Don't y'all have any sweet tea?"

            The nurse pauses for a moment, looking at me with a blank expression. Of course, I remember now, I'm not in Georgia. But I've never been anywhere they didn't have sweet tea. He scribbles something on his clipboard.

            "I see... I'll see what I can do, but I don't think I can promise that we have anything like that." He turns to leave, but then stops and turns back around. "Before I go, did you have any other questions for me?"

            Do I have questions? What kind of thing to ask is that? I have so many questions that I couldn't even count. I suppose there's only one question I can ask right now, though.

            "I have a lot of questions, but... do you have any explanation for what might be going on?"

            The nurse looks at the clipboard for a moment, and then replies, "I haven't had a chance to go over your interview with the doctors, yet, but we discussed it for a moment just now, and... we believe it may be possible that you have been continuously dreaming for the past 4 weeks. There is no medical technology we have at present that can transfer one person's mind into another's. I'm sorry to tell you this, but we believe that your identity as Lydia Carter may have been a part of your dream while you've been asleep these past few weeks."

            I hear what he's saying, but I don't understand anything. How can my entire life have been a dream? That's just not possible. I remember everything about myself, 87 years of history. He has to be lying, and he doesn't want to tell me the truth. Yes, that must be it. Maybe he thinks I'll be embarrassed if he tells me what really happened. After all, winding up as an old woman in a young man's body is a pretty frustrating thing to happen to a person.

            "If there's something you're trying to hide, then you don't need to continue. I'm old enough, I can accept the truth. There's no possible way that my entire life has been a dream. I've had dreams before, and I can tell you that wasn't a dream. So please, don't hold back and tell me what's really going on." I'm not sure where this newly-found confidence is coming from, but I feel proud of myself for it. This situation is intolerable, but if I'm going to show my maturity, now would be the time to do it.

            The nurse sighs, "Unfortunately, there isn't anything for me to be hiding from you. I can go discuss your case with the doctors, but I'm afraid there isn't much else for me to tell you."

            His response destroys the confidence I had a moment ago. I still don't believe him. There's no way he can be right. He turns to walk out the door, but before he steps through, he turns once more and says one last thing:

            "I know this is probably hard for you, but there's no way your life can be completely real. After all... there is no city named Charlottesville in Georgia." He turns again and walks out, the door closing behind him.

Reviews

[W. R. Croatt]

Extremely engaging. Well done so far. You've left the reader in such an extreme state of confusion that I can confidently say that not only have I never written something of the like before, but neither have I read anything so utterly confusing. You held to the first person point of view so closely that you never implied anything not implied to Lydia, and you never let the reader know or even be able to figure anything that Lydia was not able to know or figure. That takes skill that I don't have. The only advice I have to offer is give an angrier tone to the area where Lydia is angry at the nurse. You can absolutely feel his/her frustration with the nurse, but the anger is fairly absent.

[The Lazy Layman]

Such an interesting story so far! I really like your style and the premise keeps you reading! It's bizarre. :)

[W. R. Croatt]

Oh, and maybe an explanation of the physical features of the man Lydia sees in the mirror is in order. All we can see is what Lydia sees looking down at her body. But when we see the face in the mirror, we only know that it looks oddly familiar. I like that we don't give the explanation of the facial features right away. Possibly, they are given in another chapter. But if not, it would help the reader to know what the man looks like after a time.

[Lydia J]

As I'm reading this I find myself guessing what happened at every turn. I'm really liking this.

[Kuro]

I really didn't expect this twist coming to the story. There was just a vague moment in the last chapter where I thought for a moment about body transformation but I dismissed it as disorientation. At this point the story is wide open in terms of explanations. It could be about time travel, spirit transformation, amnesia or false memories. Really quite intriguing.