Good Intentions

MOM’S POV
My very own child. I don’t ask how he came about her, I just know she was unwanted. She has the most beautiful blue eyes and wavy blonde hair. She says little but that is fine. We go back and forth over what to name her. I ask her what her name is and she replies, “Sadie”. Such a cute name for a cute girl, but that has to change. We end up agreeing on Meghan. We tell we are going to call her Meghan and she shakes her head yes in agreement. She answers to it immediately.
We pull into the town nearest where we will live and get a room at the tiny motel. We sleep until morning and get ready to get back on the road, another two hours and we’ll be at the farm.
We pull up and the elderly couple is there to meet us. They have moved all of their things to one of their daughters places. We get out of the vehicles and shake hands as they hand us the keys. They give us the walk through and explain that if it was broke, it has been fixed. They give us a listing of different people in the area who can help if its ever needed. The man and my husband get in the truck and drive off so that he can show him where the barns and other buildings are located on the property. The lady opens the cabinets to show me all the canned goods she is leaving us, all from their garden. She talks about all the memories in the house and hopes that we too can have such fond memories with our family. She smiles as her hand glides down the back of Meghan’s hair.
They pull out of the driveway and we wave goodbye. We turn and look at each knowing that unpacking will be the hard part.
It takes us a day to unload everything and get it in its place. At the end of the day we are exhausted and hungry. During the day Meghan plays quietly in the room I work in and and stays out of the way. I make a list of the things she will need. That two hour drive back into town will have to be made tomorrow.
I reflect on these things as I look into her face as she lays sleeping in her bed. I pull the door, leaving it slightly cracked as I walk out.
I walk into his room and look at him. We decided on the name Will. Meghan doesn’t feel as though it suits him. It may not suit him now but it will grow on him.
He has gone through a lot since he has been here. The amnesia was a perk we didn’t plan for. It has been short lived. He remembers things in his sleep and if he recalls them when he awakes, he writes them down in a journal. A journal he has hid.
I hear a slight snore and he turns his head, probably dreaming again. He mumbles something and I step closer to hear him better. A name, Louis. My hand goes to my mouth, this can not be good if he recalls this upon waking. He laughs quietly and I watch as his facial expressions change. In his dream he must be talking, judging by mouth movements. I see his fingers move, and he laughs out, waking himself. It startles him that I am in the room. I tell him I heard him talking and came to check on him. He asks what he was talking about. I tell him he was mumbling, I couldn’t make out what he was saying. He continues to lay there with his eyes open trying to recall his dream.
I leave him and go sit in the living room. This may be harder than we anticipated if he starts to remember things. I feel somewhat sorry for him.
This was not my plan, but I know my place. Jim conceived this idea and I will follow.
I go to the kitchen and pull out a notebook and flip through the pages. Our plan. Here, written down is the ‘go to’ book. His life, questions and answers if they are ever presented to us, so we keep our story straight. The question of family pictures has been asked and answered. How long he has been in a coma, the same. All lies.
My fingernail finds the next divider and I open to it. All the doctor reports. I skim over them and see if I find anything useful, nothing.
I flip to the last divider, his dreams. I write down the name Louis and his actions during his dream. So far no other names have been mentioned.
I wish I had been included on studying him. I literally know nothing about him. I don’t even know his real name. Jim tells me its for my own good. It probably is, I might would have slipped up and called him by his real name.
I hear movement in his room and I go to it. I peak through the crack in the door and watch him as he gets up and goes to his dresser, pulling out clothes. He starts his shower and I hear the door close.
I hurriedly step into the room and look for the journal between the mattresses and its not there either. I quietly open the closet door and feel around on the shelves and in the pockets of the large coat for anything. Nothing.
I decide, in the morning, he should be well enough to help Jim with the chores

Notes