Clean Slate by Harley Crowley
Chapter 5
When he woke up it all came flooding back. Not his life, not his identity, but the frustrating lack of them. The confusing first day of this existence. Sleep had soothed the shock of it, and it was beginning to feel familiar, and at the same time almost exhilarating. In a way, he was embarking on an exploratory expedition to discover himself.
The light outside was going, and the clock said 4:40. He'd hoped to have been discovered by now. Maybe his wife didn't care enough to call the police when he turned up missing. He turned the wedding ring around on his finger and tugged at it, but still couldn't get it off. He rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom to retrieve the bar of soap from his bath, and worked up some suds in his hands. After a little twisting at the ring he had it off his finger. Back in the bedroom he switched on the bedside light and peered at the inside of the gold circle. There was an inscription.
"Carrie and Brian forever," it said.
Brian. He'd been on the right track with that first impression about his name. Brian didn't sound wrong. He could believe that it was his name. That and the fact that he'd recognized the movie made him feel it could be possible to remember. But it wasn't a robust hope. The gap seemed overwhelmingly large.
His wife, Carrie. For Catherine? Carolyn? This was the first time he'd tried to imagine her. It was the first time he'd believed in her existence, really. Carrie sounded blond, right? He put the ring back on his finger and looked back at the mirror in the dim light, squinting his eyes, trying to picture her on the bed beside him. Why would he forget about a wife? He was full of questions, now that her existence had been made real by the engraving. How long had they been married? Did they have children? Where did they live? Were they happy?
He pulled the phone book out of the drawer in the bedside table and started flipping through the pages. Brian and Carrie who? If he could just come up with the last name he could find the imaginary couple that he was part of. Given enough time, he figured he could read through the whole telephone book, looking at the first names in every listing. There couldn't be that many Brian and Carrie couples.
He tossed the phone book on the bed, frustrated at the immensity of the task. But if something didn't happen soon, it would be something he could try. It made him feel less at the mercy of his circumstances.
He turned on the TV and ran the remote control through its paces again. The local evening news had started. Maybe he could get oriented. The anchors were seated in front of a backdrop of downtown Seattle with the bay behind it, and the Space Needle. A Seattle soldier had been killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq. Of course they interviewed his tearful mother and stoic father, a Vietnam veteran. The young wife declined to be interviewed. The invasiveness of it pissed him off. The broadcast followed up by interviewing local peace activists who announced a candlelight vigil in the fallen soldier's honor.
Canadians were shopping in Washington in bigger numbers, now that the US and Canadian dollars were close to par. A perky brunette with a microphone, bundled up with her coat collar high around her chin as if she were in the far north, was reporting on the scene from Belmont. She strolled through a mall parking lot, pointing out the numerous British Columbia license plates for the camera. With Christmas shopping season on the way, it was good news for the local economy. He strained to see something of the landscape, something familiar, but the camera remained trained on the backs of cars and the parking lot pavement.
He was hungry again. He thought this time he would go out to the restaurant, because he was getting claustrophobic in the cheerless room. He changed to the jeans and put on the jacket. The phone rang, making him jump. He knocked the receiver to the table trying to pick it up.
"Hello."
"Hello Mr. B. It's Evelyn. I was just leaving the office and I wanted to see how you're doing."
"You haven't heard anything?" The disappointment must have been reflected in his voice.
"No, not yet. But you know, I don't think it will take too long. This isn't a big town. Are you holding up all right?" She was a nice woman, reassurance and real concern in her tone.
"Okay, I guess. I slept for a while. But I'm getting stir crazy in here, and I was just about to go out to eat." Then he added, "I'm not complaining. I appreciate everything you've done."
"I could come by on my way home. We could talk a little while you have your dinner."
"You don't have to do that. I'll be fine as soon as I get out in the fresh air." Suddenly he remembered he had something important to tell her. "By the way, I found something out. It seems my name is Brian."
"Did you remember that? That's wonderful!"
"No, actually it's engraved on my wedding ring. And my wife's name is Carrie. We're supposed to be forever. I guess I should call Wilcox and tell him. It's a clue."
"Well, Brian. You have a name. It's a good start. Wilcox is probably off duty by now, but if you like I'll call and have it added to your report. It could help if someone calls in."
"I should have thought of that, but I just discovered it. Thank you."
"You sound as if you're handling this pretty well. I can't imagine what it would be like."
"It's pretty peculiar. But I'm getting used to it a little, I think. In a way it's interesting to be a mystery." He realized this was true. He actually would enjoy having her join him at dinner, but he wasn't going to impose on her outside of her office hours. Which meant that he was beginning to feel competent at coping on his own.
"All right, I'm going to let you go eat. You'll be sure to call my service if you need something tonight? And I'll talk to you in the morning; we'll see where we are."
They said goodbye, and he zipped up his jacket and tucked the meal vouchers in his pocket.
When he woke up it all came flooding back. Not his life, not his identity, but the frustrating lack of them. The confusing first day of this existence. Sleep had soothed the shock of it, and it was beginning to feel familiar, and at the same time almost exhilarating. In a way, he was embarking on an exploratory expedition to discover himself.
The light outside was going, and the clock said 4:40. He'd hoped to have been discovered by now. Maybe his wife didn't care enough to call the police when he turned up missing. He turned the wedding ring around on his finger and tugged at it, but still couldn't get it off. He rolled off the bed and went into the bathroom to retrieve the bar of soap from his bath, and worked up some suds in his hands. After a little twisting at the ring he had it off his finger. Back in the bedroom he switched on the bedside light and peered at the inside of the gold circle. There was an inscription.
"Carrie and Brian forever," it said.
Brian. He'd been on the right track with that first impression about his name. Brian didn't sound wrong. He could believe that it was his name. That and the fact that he'd recognized the movie made him feel it could be possible to remember. But it wasn't a robust hope. The gap seemed overwhelmingly large.
His wife, Carrie. For Catherine? Carolyn? This was the first time he'd tried to imagine her. It was the first time he'd believed in her existence, really. Carrie sounded blond, right? He put the ring back on his finger and looked back at the mirror in the dim light, squinting his eyes, trying to picture her on the bed beside him. Why would he forget about a wife? He was full of questions, now that her existence had been made real by the engraving. How long had they been married? Did they have children? Where did they live? Were they happy?
He pulled the phone book out of the drawer in the bedside table and started flipping through the pages. Brian and Carrie who? If he could just come up with the last name he could find the imaginary couple that he was part of. Given enough time, he figured he could read through the whole telephone book, looking at the first names in every listing. There couldn't be that many Brian and Carrie couples.
He tossed the phone book on the bed, frustrated at the immensity of the task. But if something didn't happen soon, it would be something he could try. It made him feel less at the mercy of his circumstances.
He turned on the TV and ran the remote control through its paces again. The local evening news had started. Maybe he could get oriented. The anchors were seated in front of a backdrop of downtown Seattle with the bay behind it, and the Space Needle. A Seattle soldier had been killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq. Of course they interviewed his tearful mother and stoic father, a Vietnam veteran. The young wife declined to be interviewed. The invasiveness of it pissed him off. The broadcast followed up by interviewing local peace activists who announced a candlelight vigil in the fallen soldier's honor.
Canadians were shopping in Washington in bigger numbers, now that the US and Canadian dollars were close to par. A perky brunette with a microphone, bundled up with her coat collar high around her chin as if she were in the far north, was reporting on the scene from Belmont. She strolled through a mall parking lot, pointing out the numerous British Columbia license plates for the camera. With Christmas shopping season on the way, it was good news for the local economy. He strained to see something of the landscape, something familiar, but the camera remained trained on the backs of cars and the parking lot pavement.
He was hungry again. He thought this time he would go out to the restaurant, because he was getting claustrophobic in the cheerless room. He changed to the jeans and put on the jacket. The phone rang, making him jump. He knocked the receiver to the table trying to pick it up.
"Hello."
"Hello Mr. B. It's Evelyn. I was just leaving the office and I wanted to see how you're doing."
"You haven't heard anything?" The disappointment must have been reflected in his voice.
"No, not yet. But you know, I don't think it will take too long. This isn't a big town. Are you holding up all right?" She was a nice woman, reassurance and real concern in her tone.
"Okay, I guess. I slept for a while. But I'm getting stir crazy in here, and I was just about to go out to eat." Then he added, "I'm not complaining. I appreciate everything you've done."
"I could come by on my way home. We could talk a little while you have your dinner."
"You don't have to do that. I'll be fine as soon as I get out in the fresh air." Suddenly he remembered he had something important to tell her. "By the way, I found something out. It seems my name is Brian."
"Did you remember that? That's wonderful!"
"No, actually it's engraved on my wedding ring. And my wife's name is Carrie. We're supposed to be forever. I guess I should call Wilcox and tell him. It's a clue."
"Well, Brian. You have a name. It's a good start. Wilcox is probably off duty by now, but if you like I'll call and have it added to your report. It could help if someone calls in."
"I should have thought of that, but I just discovered it. Thank you."
"You sound as if you're handling this pretty well. I can't imagine what it would be like."
"It's pretty peculiar. But I'm getting used to it a little, I think. In a way it's interesting to be a mystery." He realized this was true. He actually would enjoy having her join him at dinner, but he wasn't going to impose on her outside of her office hours. Which meant that he was beginning to feel competent at coping on his own.
"All right, I'm going to let you go eat. You'll be sure to call my service if you need something tonight? And I'll talk to you in the morning; we'll see where we are."
They said goodbye, and he zipped up his jacket and tucked the meal vouchers in his pocket.