Short Story: Memory Loss

I found myself falling into a void.  Dizziness flooded me and everything was a blur.  With a splash, I landed on my back on something concrete and watery and a shock of agony ran jaggedly through my body, but the pain in my head was the most acute.  Almost at the same time as I had landed on my back, my head had hit a hard protruding object.  A sickening nausea rose from the pit of my stomach and I retched emptily.  I lay prone on the ground, unable to move a muscle.

               

            “Tai, Tai!” a frantic female voice pierced the stillness of the air.  Through my blurred vision I saw a long-haired woman and a stocky man looking down at me with their arms extended.  I moaned, trying to lift up my arms to touch theirs but I failed.  Tears of agony flowed down my cheeks.

               

                “Are you hurt?” asked the woman.  “Can you lift up your arms?”

                Lying half-drenched on the waterlogged ground and feeling dazed, I could not utter a word.

               

               Suddenly, the view before me disintegrated and I found myself lying on a mattress in a gloomy room. Through the windows I could see dark buildings and trees silhouetted against the salmon sky.  I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around me, my head still quite heavy with drowsiness. A few metres in front of me was a small oscillating electric fan atop a long wooden table.  Perched to the left of the fan was a globe on a wooden stand. On the right rested a pile of books.   Underneath the table, cardboard boxes were stacked cheek by jowl with luggage bags.  My eyes then shifted and stopped on a framed picture on the wall behind the table.  In the pale dimness I could make out five people in it.

              

              I struggled to my feet and walked towards the photograph.  I craned my neck and looked.  Yes, my eyes had not deceived me.  It was a portrait of five people in a huddle against the background of a curtain. Two adults - a man and a woman, were in a seated position.  The woman, long-haired and the only one smiling, resembled the one I had seen in my dream. She was holding a baby in her arms. The baby,who had his fingers in his mouth, seemed to be lost in wonder. To the left of the woman, a girl not more than five years old leaned against her.  The man, stocky in stature, and unmistakably the one from my dream, was resting his hands on the shoulders of a short pudgy boy. I looked at the boy again and then at my own body.  Are we the same person?  What is my relationship with them? I thought.   

                 

              A crackle of laughter from outside the room snapped me out of my reverie.  The half-opened door emitted a beam of light onto the floor.  Curious, I edged through the opening and saw four people in a wider, brightly lit room. They sat cross-legged on the floor, removing items out of their packaging.  They were the four persons I had seen in the portrait.  The woman was fitting the baby’s foot into a shoe while the man and the little girl were figuring out how a toy car worked. Upon my arrival, their buzz of conversation stopped.

               

                “Tai, you’re awake,” said the woman, motioning me over with a wave of her hand.  “Come and look at your new shoes.”

                I did not know what to do and remained stationary where I stood.

                “C’mon, Tai,” prodded the woman.  “How is your head feeling?”

                Is Tai my name?  I bit my lower lip and looked at her, shaking my head.

                “Come, try your new shoes,” said the man.  “Auntie Becky just came, and she left some presents for the three of you.”

               

                   With that, the man rose and led me by the hand to where they were sitting.

                “Tai,” the woman asked.  “Tell Mama if your head still hurts.”

                Mama? Is she my mama?  I looked questioningly into the woman’s eyes.

                “Tai, are you okay?” she continued.

                 

                 She put her hand to the back of my head and kneaded it in a circular motion.  When she pressed a particular spot, I grimaced and whimpered.

                “It still hurts a little, right?” said the woman.  “I will keep massaging it until you feel better.”

                The woman continued kneading my head and I felt more and more comfortable.  I couldn’t help smiling.

                  

               “Tai, try the shoes now,” said the man, handing a pair of green shoes to the woman.

               

                  She unbuckled the straps of the shoes and asked me to slide my feet into them.

               

                  “Do they fit well?” asked the man.  “Walk around and tell Papa if you feel comfortable in the shoes.”

               

                  I walked around and found that my toes were a little squeezed in the caps.

               

                 “They’re a little tight,” I said.

                “It’s okay,” said the man.  “It’s normal to feel a little tightness in a new pair of shoes.  They will gradually expand as time goes by.”

                “Poor Tai Tai,” the woman kneaded the back of my head again.  “Thank God he was not seriously injured.  God must have done something to cushion his fall.”

                

                  My head jerked at her last word.  Yes, I had had a fall. The dream was still vivid in my mind.  At that moment, a picture came to my mind.  I found myself roaming in town with these four people.  When the man and woman were looking at something, I strayed from them and watched the passing traffic by the roadside.  Soon I got bored and as I was ready to rejoin my group, I saw a man crossing a monsoon drain along a slim granite plank - the horizontal beam that one would normally see across a drain. He seemed to be able to do it with ease and I was curious to try it. I stepped onto the plank and balanced myself as I made my way across it with my arms outstretched.  I felt good and giggled to myself.  Suddenly, I heard a scream coming from behind me.  I looked over my shoulder and saw the long-haired woman running towards me.  In a shrill voice, she cried, “Tai, come back! It’s dangerous to walk across the drain.”  Her worried and angry look made me scared and I bobbled.  Guilt crept up on me and all my bravado was gone.  The nearer she came to me, the shakier my legs became.  “Come back, Tai Tai!,” shouted the woman again.  I took a deep breath and fear gripped me like a vice.  Hesitantly, I turned round in an attempt to go back to where I had come from.  In sheer panic, I lost my balance and fell into the monsoon drain.

                

                    I now looked at the four persons with renewed recognition.  The long-haired woman who was busy massaging my head was my mama.  The stocky man who was smiling at me was my Papa.  The girl who was slightly taller than I was my older sister Ah Hui, and the baby who was sucking on a pacifier was my younger brother Weng Weng.

               

                     Feeling very much relieved, I smiled and let out a big sigh.  The presence of my family filled me with warmth and peacefulness.  A comforting sense of sleepiness came over me and I yawned.