The Same as it Never was

The gentle tapping sound of raindrops smashing against the window of the car was a reassuring one. Even though I was staring out the window I didn’t really see anything. I was in another place. I was still in the hospital. The first place I can remember. Not because I was born there, in fact I don’t even know if I was born in a hospital. My earliest memory ever was only a week ago.

            I looked to the right and observed the man who was driving the silver Sedan that was apparently ours. His hair was dark and sleek, his lips full and his dark eyes seemed empty. He was my husband, or so I was told. Nothing about him seemed familiar.

            We drove on in silence as my thoughts returned to the previous days. The hospital room I had been in had felt like home and leaving with a stranger that claimed to be married to me felt like walking blindfolded at the edge of a cliff. What the hell did I get myself into? Physically I may have recovered from the accident, but I can’t even remember who I am, let alone remember who I am around these people.

            We pulled up in front of a red bricked semi-detached house. It had large windows at the front and a wooden door that was painted black.

            “Are you ready?” Jason asked.

            I stared at the house and tried to see if I recognised anything.

            “Ashley?”

            I turned to him. “Oh, right. Yes, I’m ready.”

            Jason got out of the car first and walked back to my side to open the door.

            The cool autumn breeze was welcoming and I closed my eyes for a second. When I opened them again I was still staring at the house that was my home. My husband got the bag from the trunk which held some of my stuff that I’d used when I was in the hospital.

            I studied the front yard that was surrounded by a picket fence. Stone steps lead to the front door and alongside it were planted hyacinths. The rest of the garden was made up of grass that was neatly trimmed. I wondered if I always took care of the garden. Did I even like plants or flowers? I shook my head in an attempt to dismiss my thoughts. I just had to take it step by step.

            The frontdoor flew open and a little red-headed girl with freckles dashed my way.

            “Mummy,” she called as she held out her arms.

            I stood frozen and watched as she hugged my waist. I had been preparing myself for this moment since I’d found out I was a mother, but in my mind I always figured my mother instinct would kick in and I would remember my own child. My body trembled with the realisation that I did not. 

            “Alright, Daisy, let Mummy get inside first.” Jason took Daisy by the hand and led her inside.

            I looked back at the car and had to fight the urge to get in and drive back to the hospital. I did not belong here. I didn’t even know them.