“Mum, I don’t remember what happened.” Sig said to his mother.
“You remember nothing?” Penelope said trying to hide her glee at the thought.
Sig’s throat was still dry and talking was not particularly easy, he’d been out of the coma less than two hours and his mother was showing no signs of backing down. His mother was under strict orders from the doctor not to let him drink too much water and after three months in a coma it was probably a good idea, but her insistence that he talk was not made easier by the dry sore throat.
Sig turned his head gently and slowly from side to side and uttered. “No.”
“Are you sure?” Penelope asked still pushing to find out how much he remembered and whether or not she had a chance to get her son back from whatever it was that had made him so busy before the accident. “The police will ask you the same question. But if you are certain I can make sure they don’t keep pushing you for answers.”
Penelope’s want was for her son to return home and look after her into her twilight years, just like her pointless ex-husband was suppose to do before he up and died with no money and left her a widower no other man wanted. The fact that he claimed to remember nothing about the accident that saw him fall from a building was almost music to her ears. There might still be some delicate persuasion required to convince him that his life was meant to serve her, but not remembering the accident was a step in the right direction. All she needed to do was to find out how much of the rest of his life before the accident he remembered. For Penelope she no longer needed to know what put Sig on that roof, she just needed to know that he’d be home where she expected him.
“Remember…nothing!” Sig replied, he wanted another sip of water but knew he wasn’t going to get another one so soon after his mother last lifted the cup with the straw in it to his mouth.
Sig felt into silence, if he couldn’t have another soothing sip of water he’d simply not talk, however not talking had it’s own little pitfall because a silent room left space for only one thing, thoughts!
The truth was Sig didn’t remember why he as on the roof of the building, in fact the couldn’t remember going to the building ever in his entire life, much less gaining access to the roof and some how falling off it. He also couldn’t remember what he’d been doing leading up to the day of his accident, but a big part of the reason for that, he assumed, was because he was still struggling to piece together a time line.
The doctor, and his mother, had told him he’d been in a coma for nearly three months, it was hard to fathom. He had no reason not to believe them. But what he was experiencing was not like waking up an hour after you’ve gone to bed and feeling like you’ve slept the sleep of the dead for ten hours, you are awake and revitalised and ready to take on the day, only to realise the time and hit an imaginary brick wall. He was tired, he was worn out and physically drained, he was in pain and he was completely awake and in no fear of falling asleep. All that made it difficult to attach real time to what had happened.
Try as he might his memory just would not tell him what had led him to the roof of the building and further more what happened that saw him plummet to the ground. He was fairly certain that he was not trying to take his own life, he could remember no reason he’d want to, therefore jumping seemed like an unlikely possibility. The doctor had told him that he had been extremely lucky and that on any other day a fall like he suffered could have killed him. Add that to the thought that he wasn’t there to kill himself and Sig easily came to the conclusion that someone else was on the roof with him and that someone either pushed him, or was witness to one hell of an unlucky accident. But who could he have been with, on the roof of a building he’d never before visited, that wanted to push him off and kill him? Or if it was an accident why hadn’t they come forward? They were the questions he was struggling to answer.
Sig could tell from the way his mother was sitting and reading her romance novel that she was content with him telling her he could not remember what had happened. That contentment also added to the thoughts playing around inside his head. Why was his mother content not knowing what happened? It couldn’t simply have been because she didn’t want the police questioning him so soon after he woke, there had to be more to it.
He was able to satisfactorily remove his mother from the list of reasons he was up on the roof, but he was less successful at figuring out her motives. However there was one thing he did know and remember well and that was that his mother always had a motive for doing what she did.
His mind’s thoughts were going nowhere fast but that did not mean he was happy for the interruption when he noticed the door to his private room open slowly. The chiselled face with the three day or four day growth of stubble that poked itself around the open door was unknown to Sig, but that didn’t make it any more welcome than the confused circular thoughts in his mind. In his peripheral vision he saw his mum lower the book she was reading, sit upright and suddenly tense, he knew she recognised the face.
“Excuse me. Sigurd Distrayer?” The face in the door said.
“Get out! Get out now!” Penelope called loudly and stood up from her chair.