Robert's face began to form on the white background. It looked like he was emerging from a cloud. I saw his soft eyes and gentle smile. Strands of his light brown hair fell over his forehead. He was laughing and then suddenly, the white background began to whirl around him. His head started to spin along with it and the white ceiling turned into water. His arm emerged, his hand reaching out for me.
"Laura . ."
I screamed.
Maybe I fainted. Maybe I fell back to sleep. I don't know, but when I woke this time, Doctor Scanlon was seated beside the bed. He had just taken my pulse and was making some notes on his pad. He looked very calm, so calm that I couldn't imagine he heard me scream.
Suddenly, I noticed there were two younger men in doctor's hospital coats standing at the foot of the bed looking at me. Both carried clipboards. One had dark brown hair and wore glasses; the other had longer, light brown hair and light blue eyes. He was taller and wider.
"Hello, Laura," Doctor Scanlon said. "This is Doctor Fernhoff and Doctor Bloom. They're both interns, studying with me. From time to time, they'll each look in on you, too. So," he continued, "Mrs. Roundchild tells me you've remembered a lot more about your family and your home. Is that so?"
I nodded.
"Good. Now, let's talk a bit about those memories. Were they all pleasant?"
I shook my head.
"I see. What was unpleasant?" he asked.
I gazed at the two interns. Doctor Fernhoff, the man with the glasses, was staring at me so intently, I felt self-conscious.
"I . . remember . . . there was someone," I said, "someone I cared for and something happened to him."
"Yes," Doctor Scanlon said. He glanced at the two interns. Neither cracked an encouraging smile nor changed expression. "Go on. What happened to him?"
"I think . . . it has to do with the ocean. He was in a sailboat."
"Yes, go on, go on," he urged, as if he were playing a tug-of-war with my mind.
"I don't know. I. . . think he might have fallen out of the boat,"
I gazed at Doctor Bloom. Something in his softer face told me I wasn't far off.
"What else do you think, Laura? You must tell me what you remember and what you believe happened."
"He and I were in the boat," I said, "and I think we were caught in a storm. Is he all right?"
"Who?" Doctor Scanlon pursued. "Who is this person in the boat with you?"
"Robert," I said and it all tumbled out. "Robert Royce, a boy from my school."
Doctor Scanlon sat back, a look of satisfaction on his face.
"That's good, Laura," he said, nodding. "You've come a long way."
"But is he all right?"
"Is he?" Doctor Scanlon fired back at me.
"I don't know. I can't remember," I cried frantically. "He's not all right. He can't be all right. Please, say I'm wrong. Tell me!" I begged.
"You must not think of it as your fault," he said.
"Why would it be my fault? Was it my fault? What did I do?" I demanded.
"That's enough for now," he declared with finality. He gathered up his charts and stood.
"No, it's not enough. How can it be enough? You've hardly been here five minutes."