A Five-Minute Life

“And yours? What about your happiness?”

I don’t know what that is.

“I gotta get back to work.”

I found Alonzo on a bench outside, having his smoke break. He held up his hand before I could speak. “I know. Rita got to me first. Why?”

I shrugged. “It’s just time.”

“Is it about Miss Hughes?”

“Maybe I just don’t want to work here anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes. “So this is two weeks’ notice?”

I nodded.

Alonzo took a long pull off his smoke. “Okay. Can’t stop you. Can’t say that I’m glad though.”

“It is what it is,” I said.

He snorted. “If there was ever a more empty phrase in the English language—”

“Hey, boss.” Joaquin rounded the corner. “Dr. Chen wants a meeting.”

“All righty.” He hauled himself off the bench with a groan. “This should be interesting.”

“She wants you there too, Jim,” Joaquin said.

My head whipped up. “Me?”

Alonzo chuckled. “You ain’t done with us yet.”

In the conference room, Dr. C

hen sat riffling through a stack of notes and open leather-bound files in front of her, conferring quietly with a young, female intern.

Anna and Rita sat together, talking in low voices. They both stopped and beamed when Alonzo and I came in.

Delia Hughes did not beam. “What is he doing here?” she demanded.

Dr. Chen muttered something to the intern who nodded and left the room, then she folded her hands on her papers and smiled warmly.

“Mr. Waters, Mr. Whelan. Happy you could join us.” She turned to Delia. “I wanted everyone who’s been involved in Thea’s care present for what I have to say.” She glanced at me. “All things considered, I feel it’s only right.”

Delia didn’t argue but watched as I took a seat beside Rita, who was vibrating with excitement that jumped to me like an electric current.

“I’ll get right to it,” Dr. Chen said. “Dr. Stevens’ standing diagnosis of Thea states she’s unable to lay down new memories, and any memories of her life before the car accident have been washed away. The word chain phenomena in her artwork is, in his words, nothing more than her brain utilizing whatever limited means it had to express itself. I believe he’s wrong.”

“Wrong,” Delia said. “In what way, exactly?”

“Given my observations and the information provided me by the staff here, I feel there is a correlation between Thea’s artwork and what she experiences in her short window of consciousness.” Her smile widened. “I am prepared to change her diagnosis.”

“To what?” Delia asked, while in my chest, my heart began to thud, as if counting off the seconds until Dr. Chen said something that was going to change Thea’s life forever.

“Brain damage can result in the patient losing their long-term memory or losing the ability to create new memory. Or, as in Thea’s case, both. But current, new developments are revealing that there are rare instances in which a patient is able to retain and make memories, but the mechanism to recall them is what’s damaged. I believe that this is true for Thea.”

“You mean… she hasn’t lost her memory?” Delia asked.