She walked in, focusing on the backdrop of reds and oranges behind the cross. After looking to make sure no one else was in the church, she smiled and walked up to the sacristy. She gently touched the decorations that were in place for tomorrow. Carefully, she took a seat on the steps near the baptismal font and its statues of the Holy Family.
"Hi," she said as she shifted about, making herself more comfortable. Her legs stretched out in front of her as her back rested against the grooved column holding up the roof. She looked up at the cross and the statues of Joseph and Mary. "So, bet you're wondering why I'm here and not at my bachelorette party, eh?" She shook her head. "I've had enough of naked gyrating men already. So I told the others to go have their fun. Told my mom I had to go do something. And so I'm here." She grinned wickedly. "Couldn't tell everyone that the only guy _I_ was interested in seeing naked wouldn't be there."
Unnoticed to her, a man had followed her into the church and was listening to her conversation. He silently and swiftly moved up into the choir loft.
"He's probably off with the boys at his party." She looked up at the ceiling, where faint echoes of her words could almost be seen bouncing here and there. "As to why I'm here... well, fantasy born and bred, I guess. This is a big step for me. I mean, I never thought I'd get married. Heck, I never even thought I'd have some guy who even liked me enough to date me more than once. But you gave me Oliver. When he and I first started dating, my thanks were a constant song in me. When he proposed, the song became a symphony. I was so pleased and happy and surprised and loved that I thought I would burst! And it's all because of You. And tomorrow we'll get married. That symphony is going to be an opera the moment I see him up there..."
She looked up at the statues again. "You know how the girls said I should have one last fling while I was free?" Another wry smile, Mona Lisa-like. "Didn't want to tell them that I haven't been free since I met him. Haven't wanted anyone else since then. All I can think is about tomorrow and how I'll be his and he'll be mine. Forever." A little head shake. "Oh yeah, why I'm here. Well, you know how knights have a vigil the night before they are knighted? Well, this is pretty big and I thought I would have a little vigil of my own. Not staying up all night, though. I know how crabby I can be when I haven't had enough sleep and I want tomorrow to be perfect. And I know Mom and everyone is going to want to wake me up at the crack of dawn to get started on my makeup and hair. But just a little time to say thank you _SOOOO_ much."
The man in the back smiled and pulled out a cell phone. He dialed and immediately her cell phone starts ringing.
"Blast." She frowns and then looked apologetic. "I'd better answer this. Mom's probably freaking out about where I am or else the boys need bailing out of whatever jail they're in." She looked anxiously above. "Do you mind if I answer? I promise it won't be long...."
She answered the cell phone. "Hello? Oh hi, love!" She smiled and winked up at the statues. "So which jail do I have to bail you guys from?" A surprised look. "You're not in jail? Wow... Oh, I'm just talking to an old friend." A fond smile. "What are you up to?" She listens. "You're not at your bachelor party? What are you doing then?" A puzzled frown and her head comes up, looking around her in suspicion. "That's very pretty, love... where'd you hear that one?" After the look, she smirks a bit, the smile now more triumphant. "Well, I think you should get out of the choir loft. You never know what'll creep up there."
He came out, a tall man with tousled hair and eyes like dark polished stones. "How did you know?" he asked as she waited on the step for him.
"When you repeated my words back to me," she shrugged. "Which wouldn't be true for you because it took you so bloody long to realize how much you loved me. So I looked around. I can see all the way into the back so you'd have to be in either the confessionals, the cry room or the loft. You wouldn't have been able to hear me in the confessional or cry rooms, so you were in the loft."
"It appears I am once again slain by your logic, Ann." Clutching at his heart, the young man slumped dramatically to the ground at her feet. He twitched a few times and then laid very still, though a close observer to see that he was trying to keep from laughing.
"Oh!" Ann clasped her hands to her cheeks in mock horror. "What _ever_ shall I do? My fiancee has died, tragically, I might add, on the night before our wedding." Her eyes became thoughtful as she gazed off into the distance. "I wonder if I can get the money back on the dresses." The light in her eyes brightened at a happy thought. "Yes! Now I don't have to go to the beauty parlor tomorrow! Thank you, dear!" She kissed Oliver on the cheek.
At her kiss, however, he stirred and opened his eyes to his favorite sight in the world.
"Oh darn," Ann pouted. "He's alive." She sighed dramatically, then pushed a strand of hair out of Oliver's eyes. "I guess I'll _have_ to marry him now."
"Not necessarily," Oliver supposed. "We could just not get married and live in sin."
Ann shook her head. "My dad would come after you with a shotgun."
"Then how about we just forget the fancy wedding ceremony? We could elope!"
A snort of repressed laughter. "My _mom_ would come after you with a shotgun."
Oliver pushed himself up on an elbow. "Ahh. And it wouldn't do to upset the in-laws. So we know what your parents are getting out of this whole circus... what are you getting out of it?"
Ann looked into his eyes, her own very innocent and young all of a sudden. "You," she said simply, as if it was the easiest answer in the entire world.
Oliver sat up suddenly and kissed her, his hand holding her head close to his.
Once they both came back up for air, Ann blinked a few times to force herself to calm down. Almost guiltily, she looked at the crucifix and statues staring down at them. "Down, boy," she admonished. "Remember where we are."
"I remember, "Oliver returned. "But do you know where I want to take you?"
"Just wait until tomorrow, love," Ann countered. She pulled herself and her fiancee to their feet. While he was still off balance, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him again briefly. "Then you can take me _wherever_ you want..." She trailed a hand around his neck and down his chest, tracing patterns. As he reached for her, she danced out of his reach, laughing, and swiftly headed for the side door of the church. Her bright shout of "Tomorrow" echoed among the empty pews.
Ann raced home, eager for the next day, her head filled with daydreams about her new life that would begin the next afternoon. She went to bed, not sure if the images would slow down enough to let her sleep. Finally, her eyes closed in slumber.
Ann awoke the next morning in a hospital gown, her wrists and feet restrained to the metal bed frame sides with heavy cloth straps. She looked around her and opened her mouth to scream....
A hand came down on her mouth. "Ann, it's okay. Ann. _Ann_, it's _okay_!"
Ann looked up. Robert was standing over her, his eyes full of worry. His hand was heavy over her mouth and she fought the urge to bite him. Hard. Her mind was reeling, images of her life with Oliver slowly fading, other memories pushing their way into the fore. She tried to cling to the memories but they were slipping out of her mental fingers. Her eyes narrowed up at Robert, silently warning him that, even if she was tied down, if he didn't let go _now_ he was going to _lose_ that hand and probably the rest of his arm as well.
"Glad to see you're acting normal, now, Ann," Robert said as he gingerly pulled his hand away.
"You have _five_ seconds to tell me what the heck is going on, Robert," Ann grated out of clenched teeth.
A man in a white lab coat had been hidden away in a corner. His nametag was obscured by the collar of the coat, only a 'Dr.' visible on the left-hand side. He stepped forward, saying, "Interesting... it is unusual for someone in this day and at your age to be so conservative in their speech."
"Not that it's any of your business, sir, but I don't use profanity out loud. Now, would _someone_ untie me?" Ann looked around wildly. "Or else have a _really_ good excuse as to why I'm tied up here. And where's here? And _where's Oliver_?"
Robert blanched. "Oliver?" he repeated.
"Yes, Oliver," she repeated back to him. "He's..." she frowned as more memories slipped away from her. "He's very important to me."
"Incredible... she has retained memories from the imaginary world! The electrooverstimulation of her hippocampus must have triggered her brain into treating the dream as a memory. Tell me, my dear, what do you remember?" the doctor asked.
"I'm not telling you _anything_ until you remove these restraints!" Ann struggled against the straps but it was no use. "What's going _on_, Robert? Who is this guy?"
Robert patted her hand where it was clenching the bedsheets. "Please, Ann. Tell him about what you remember. It may help your treatment..."
"Treatment?" Ann said in shock. "For what?" She struggled some more, then sat back tiredly. She sighed, "Sit me up."
Richard adjusted her bed so that she was able to look both men in the eye without them hanging over her like a pair of vultures. Ann closed her eyes in thought for a moment.
"What I remember, huh? Whatever to get these _things_ off of me." A moment of silence. "Oliver... the night before our wedding... a kiss... Feelings, flashes of memories... they're getting dim."
"Oh dear," the doctor murmured. "The dementia has progressed so strongly and more rapidly than I had expected..."
"Dementia?" Ann blurted. "Okay, I know that without a fire alarm I can't really hold an ultra intelligent conversation for the first half an hour or so after I wake up... but I _do_ get better." She looked up at her friend. "Robert?"
Robert nervously twitched at the bed covers. "Ann, this is Dr. Emmanuel Kanton, a researcher of certain... mental illnesses."
"Hello doctor," Ann said politely. Her voice dropped a few degrees in temperature. "I'd shake hands but I'm a bit tied up right now." She rattled her restraints. "Untie me _now_ and _then_ explain why I'm tied up here."
"You need help, Ann," Robert pleaded.
"Yes, I do, Robert," Ann replied as one talking to a young child. "I need help out of these torture devices!"
"My dear," started Dr. Kanton.
"Call me 'your dear' _one_ more time, sir, and you will get a bedpan where only a proctologist could find it... after feeling around a _lot_," Ann grated.
Dr. Kanton coughed timidly. "Threatening violence is not the best way to argue your sanity, my... Miss Ann."
Ann's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't a threat, doctor. That was a promise." Her voice became sickeningly sweet. "Now, you boys may be into being tied up but I'm not." She rattled her restraints again as she loudly yelled, "Untie me now!"
"Doctor, could you leave us alone for a moment?" Robert asked over the noise.
"But of course, my boy," the doctor agreed. He whispered to Robert, "Be strong," as he left the room.
Ann stopped her frantic movements. "Robert, what is going on? You're my friend... _help_ me!" she pleaded.
Robert pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. "Ann, we've been worrying about you. You've seemed stressed out and really worn out."
Ann rolled her eyes. "Because work's been overloading and I haven't been sleeping well."
Robert perked up. "Because of the dreams!"
She shook her head. "No. Because my neighbors below me like to play cranked-up rap till two am!"
Silence filled the room.
"Remember that guy who hypnotized us at that party a few weeks ago?" Robert asked.
"Yeah," Ann said slowly. "He made you sing and dance like Brittney Spears." A slight smile rolled across her face. "Amazing how a six-foot-tall guy can try to act like a little Catholic school girl..."
"Ann!" Robert yelled embarrassingly. The red slowly left his face. He took a few deep breaths. "When he hypnotized you and asked you about your life, you started to talk about this Oliver guy... and planning for your wedding. We all thought it was just some weird movie you had seen or something you had read and put yourself in. But then when you were over at my place and fell asleep... well, you started talking in your sleep. You were arguing with this Oliver guy about where you were going to go for your honeymoon or something. Ann," he took her hand and held it. "You're not well! You keep going to bed earlier each night!"
"Because I'm _tired_," explained Ann. She was silent for a moment. "Wait a minute! How would you know when I go to sleep?"
"Ann, that doesn't matter," Robert replied hurriedly. "We're worried about you..."
Ann tried to take her hand from Robert's grip. "Yes, it _does_ matter if you've been spying on me! And who's this 'we'?" She looked up at the ceiling. "Look, I don't remember much about this Oliver and stuff but what does it matter to you?" She looked sternly at him. "And why in the _heck_ am I here?!?"
Robert looked around the room. "This is Dr. Kanton's treatment center."
"Treatment? More like a torture center from my viewpoint," Ann said disgustedly.
"Ann," Robert sighed. "I talked to him about your problems and he said that he may be able to help you here. He called it a kind of intervention."
"_I_ call it kidnapping _and_ illegal," shouted Ann. "Let's see... in that world.."
"In your dream world," corrected Robert.
"In _that_ world," reemphasized Ann, " I'm about to be married to a guy who loves me and who I love too. While in _this_ world, no guy and I'm strapped to a bed in a place I don't know, by a modern-day mad scientist who wants to pick apart my brain and throw away the pieces of it that he doesn't like, leaving me to be a veggie or worse. Oh, _yes_, Robert, _save_ me from that _horrible_ nightmare world where I'm in love and getting married..." Her voice was dripping with venom and sarcasm.
It softened a bit. "Robert, why are you doing this to me?"
He looked down at the floor. "Dr. Kanton says that you are believing too much in this dream world of yours, this Oliver. That you're transferring your loneliness from this world into something you can control with this dream man of yours. That in your dream world, everything is the same as here except for this Oliver and everything about him. You forget all about reality when you dream and forget about that world when you wake up."
"No problem, then," Ann shrugged. "Last time I checked, the inside of _my_ head was _my_ responsibility. Who designated _you_ the definer of what I think is reality?" She turned her head to the wall. "Who knows... maybe that world's the reality and this one's a dream.... A really bad dream," she whispered.
"Ann," he said as he patted her hand. "You're just lonely. You need to get out more... You know, God wouldn't let you be alone, He makes someone for everyone..."
"Don't you _dare_ bring Him into this, Robert!" Ann hissed, whipping her head around to glare into his eyes. "Don't you even _try_ to bring up that tired old wheeze of a saying! The words do _not_ comfort."
"Ann!" Robert cried out in shock.
"Oh come off it, Robert!" she said scornfully. "Think it through! 6 billion people in the world, say half of each gender for ease of calculation. So 3 billion guys. Take out 10% of that 'cause they don't swing my way. That leaves 2.7 billion guys. And _one_ is for me? There's too many 'ifs' involved for my liking. _If_ we meet at the right time, _if_ he's available, _if_ he likes me..."
"Ann," Robert frustratedly grumbled. "God will bring you together..."
"But Robert," Ann said in a high 'innocent' tone. "You said I have to get out more. If God's going to bring us together anyhow, I shouldn't have to go out to meet this guy. God will provide." Her voice dropped down into its usual tone. "You can't have it both ways, Robert. Either God has a plan that's going to happen no matter what I do and thus I just have to be me, or else free will gets its turn and I have the possibility of never having someone in love with me. There's no guarantee that we get someone in this life, Robert."
"But in the Bible..."
"Where? It's said that it's not good for man to be alone. Doesn't mean man _won't_ be alone." Her eyes became shrewd. "Who knows, Oliver may be that 'one.'"
Robert pleaded, "Ann, he's just a dream. A figment of your imagination. He's not real, not of this world."
"So?" she asked. "Who knows... God could have created tons of worlds, millions of universes, and I just happened to be in the wrong one for the guy I'm meant to love. And this is the way that God decided to bring us together."
Robert sat back in his chair, shaking his head. "God only made one universe, one world... this one."
"Oh, excuse _me_ for not putting limits on God" Ann said sarcastically. "Must be nice to know exactly what God can or cannot do."
"This is for your own good, Ann," Robert said as he stood up from his chair, stepping away from the bed. "It's not healthy to spend so much time in a fantasy world. You can't escape your problems by dreaming them away."
"Oh, and I suppose that tying me down in some wacko pseudoinstitution is the perfect way to 'cure' me?" She strained again at the straps around her limbs. "Robert, _please_ let me out of here!"
He stretched a hand out to her when the door opened.
Dr. Kanton walked into the room, leading a few nurses. "It is time for you to leave, my boy," he said conversationally. "We must do some more... tests. Come again tomorrow and we shall talk about her condition." He gently led Robert out the door.
Robert turned around in the doorway. "Goodbye, Ann," he said sadly. "I'll see you later."
"Goodbye Robert," she replied softly. "You've been a good friend..."
The door closed with a final click behind the two men. The two female nurses who had stayed in the room swarmed over Ann, tsking over the raw red marks already showing on her wrists and ankles. While one rubbed salve over the tender skin, the other prepared the vein in the bend of Ann's right elbow.
"What are you going to do to me?" Ann asked.
"Oh, don't worry, Miss Ann," Dr. Kanton replied as he reentered the room. "You won't be feeling much for long." He smiled as her eyes widened in fear. "While you were sedated and sleeping before, we stimulated your brain with electrodes. Call it a test-run if you will." He sat down on the edge of the bed, just out of reach of her attempt to kick him.
"We were able to map out what parts of your brain were stimulated the most during your deepest slumber, when you were in your dream world." He folded his hands in his lap, taking on a lecturing tone. "I believe that if we remove these over-stimulated parts of your brain, you will lose this delusion of the fantasy world."
"Remove some of my _brain_?" Ann shrieked. "Are you _insane_?"
"Really, Miss Ann," Dr. Kanton replied, "do you think you are a good judge of someone's sanity?" He stood up. "Give her enough sedative for twenty-four hours. Prepare the skull for entry. I want to be in the operating room before evening." He smiled down at Ann as the nurses brought her bed back down in a flat position. "Pleasant dreams, Miss Ann." He left the room.
Ann turned her head, trying to bury her face into her pillow as she felt the needle enter her vein. "If this world isn't real, I want to wake up now, please," she whispered, the sedative startign to take effect.
"Ann! Ann, wake up! The wedding's in six hours!" Ann's mother yelled up the stairs at her.
Ann sat straight up in bed, the dream she had been having fading away in a moment as the alarm in her mom's voice kicked in a spike of adrenaline. All that was left of the dream was a sharp sense of foreboding. "Must be wedding day jitters," she yawned as she stumbled out of bed to the shower.
The rest of the day was a blur. She tried to enjoy the pampering at the beauty salon, water cascading over her hair as her nails were given a shiny translucent finish. The talk of her mother, her future mother-in-law, and her bridesmaids were mumbled background noise barely above the sound of the flowing water. Lunch was simple to not mess up carefully done makeup, drinks sipped through straws.
Pretty and pimped back at the church parish center, Ann put on her dress and helped the others into their's. The pictures were set to be taken after the ceremony. The cake and flowers were all beautiful and perfect and there. The haunting feeling that something was about to go wrong was there too... a sense of Murphy or that feeling in the pit of the stomach just before the rope snaps.
People had just started to arrive when a man knocked on the dressing room door. "Delivery for Ann," he called through the half-open door. Her bridesmaids squealed; Carol, the maid of honor, collected the delivery.
"They messed it up!" exclaimed Carol. The delivery was a bouquet of flowers, a dozen red roses and one white solitary daisy in the middle of the bunch. She pulled the daisy out to throw away but Ann took the flower from her, gazing dreamily at it.
"Read the card," Ann urged.
"'Ann -- You're one in six billion! Love, Oliver'?" read Carol. "That's... weird."
Ann shook her head. "Old joke. Besides, I think it's very sweet." She twirled the stem between her fingers. "I think I'll go find Oliver and thank him for the beautiful flowers..."
She was already halfway through the door before her mother shouted, "You _can't_!"
"I know, I know, tradition, bad luck, all that stuff," Ann objected. "But can't I at least _talk_ to him?" An idea occurred to her. "I know! Tell Evan to get his brother down to the servers' room but not to go in. Just have him stand _next_ to the door. I'll be back soon..." She headed out the door, giggling, as her mother threw up her hands behind her.
A few moments later, she was in the servers' room. She dragged a chair up against the wall just to the side of the doorframe both outside and inside the room and carefully sat down in the chair inside. Not long afterward, she heard a pair of clomping feet walking down the hallway.
"Ann?" Oliver asked.
"I'm here," she said. "Have a seat" She heard him sit down and then saw his hand reach around the door frame. She put her hand in his. They squeezed each other's hand, fingers entwined.
"Cool idea," Oliver murmured.
"I thought so," Ann replied with a smile. "Thank you for the flowers... they were very sweet..." She squeezed his hand again.
Oliver laughed softly. "What other girl can say they got daisies on their wedding day?" He squeezed back. "I mean it though. You're better than one in a million. You're the only one for me in the entire world."
"I'd better be," Ann said wryly.
Out in the church, she could hear a voice saying, "..._never_ outdo a bride on her _wedding_ day!" She chuckled.
"When is Evan going to cut out the gay act?" she asked. "He's already worried half my relatives and confused half of your's. He's _your_ brother."
She could feel Oliver shrug. "You're lucky your mom took his CD player away last night at the practice. I thought both of our moms were going to have heart attacks when he replaced the wedding music with the theme song from 'Shaft.'" He looked up at the ceiling. "I don't think the act'll last long. I saw his girlfriend coming in while I was walking here. I told her about his little act and she said that she'd check by laying the longest lip-lock he's ever had on him."
This time it was loud and clear that the voice was Evan's as "_Praise_ the _Lord_! I am _cured_!" rang throughout the church.
The couple laughed quietly, another hand squeeze.
Ann sighed. "Well, I'd better get back to the dressing room. It's getting close to showtime. Everything ready on your end?"
Oliver thought for a moment. "Everything's in place. Robert's got the ring. Father John is getting ready. The only thing missing is the bride and I guess we could find one on short notice..."
Ann squeezed his hand hard. "Keep talking like that, buddy, and you _will_ have to go find another one." She stood up, not wanting to let go of his hand. She pushed the chair away and leaned against the wall.
Oliver's hand followed her's. She imagined that the wall was paper thin between them, a mere millimeter of thickness separating them. She pressed her back hard against the wall.
She took a deep breath. "You ready?" she asked.
Oliver gave her hand one last hard squeeze. "Forgot one thing..." He pulled her hand around the doorframe and kissed it. "I love you," he whispered.
Ann whispered back, "I love you too..."
"Let's do it," Oliver said. He then let go and walked slowly away.
Once his footsteps had faded, Ann hurried back to the dressing room, where her mother had been just about ready to send Carol after her. A few moments of primping again and everyone was ready.
They lined up in the back of the church. It all seemed like a dream to Ann as the music started, her father taking her arm. Time stopped as Oliver turned to see her walking down the aisle. The entire world appeared to fade away as every step brought her closer to him.
Father John started to speak but Ann wasn't paying attention to the words. All that needed to be said in the presence of God was being shouted at the top of her soul's lungs. Everything she needed to hear was being said in Oliver's eyes. The practice from last night let her answer at the right times. She barely felt the coolness of the ring being slipped onto her finger. Everything was brighter than usual, a sharpness of every image around her.
Father John smiled down at them and calmly said, "If there be anyone present who can show just cause why this man and this woman should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or hereafter hold your peace...."
Ann held her breath. This was it. The last chance for disaster to happen, the moment Murphy and bad soap operas were made for. A silence filled the church as if God himself was holding his breath. Ann started to see spots in front of her eyes. As a roaring filled her ears, she wondered why Father John hadn't continued with the ceremony. He was looking down at them, his face full of concern. Ann tried to frown, tried to turn to Oliver to see what was wrong... she was amazed to suddenly be looking up at him from the comfort of his arms.
"Oliver..." she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Everything was happening in slow motion. Oliver's mouth was moving but she couldn't hear what he was saying. The roaring in her ears was deafening. It looked like he was saying her name. He was crying... and then all went dark.
Ann looked around in the darkness. She could see herself but nothing else. Her wedding dress seemed to glow with an otherworldly light in the gloom. She reached out a hand and felt a wall of darkness in front of her. Somehow, she knew Oliver was on the other side of that wall of night. "Hello?" she called.
"Help?" It started to sink in slowly...
"Oh my God," she moaned. "I'm dead... No....no...."
She screamed out, "_NO_!!!," beating at the dark wall in front of her. Her hands hit again and again until, tiredly,they slip down the wall, a crumpled heap on the ebony darkness of the floor. She looked up at emptiness, full of despair.
"Oliver..." she whispered. She stared into the darkness. "I've been kicked out of Paradise..."
A dry but familiar voice replied from the other direction, "Yeah, and this time it's thanks to the snake who's wielding the flaming scalpel."
Ann looked up. In the darkness was another glow. It was... herself, in a hospital gown. Confused, but somehow not surprised, she held a hand out to her double.
The hospital Ann reached down to her, pulling the wedding Ann to her feet. At the touch, memories raced between the two, so that each knew what the other had been through. They quickly embraced, the Ann in the wedding gown shedding tears over her double's imprisonment while the Ann in the paper gown cried over the her mirror image's loss of her husband-to-be on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. They pulled back from the hug, wiping each other's tears away.
"Are we dead?" asked wedding Ann. "Or are we just waiting until the surgery is over?"
The imprisoned Ann looked around them. "I don't know... do we look like brain surgeons? My guess is that one of us is leaving, if not both." She looked down at the featureless floor. "I hope it's me..." she whispered.
Wedding Ann looked at her in shock. "Why?"
Imprisoned Ann laughed. "Because you've got _him_! Given the choice of places to be, I'd rather be at the wedding. And I wouldn't want you to lose him... or him to lose you."
Wedding Ann blushed a little and uttered a nervous laugh, trying to cover up her thoughts on how she would rather be the one to live as well. "You know what they say... 'Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.' There would still be a chance for you to fall in love if you lived..."
"Tennyson was an idiot!" imprisoned Ann shouted angrily. "Look at the two of us! We're the same except for one thing -- Oliver! And I'd rather leave existence than you lose such a great thing as someone loving us... you... whatever." Her anger ran out of steam. "You love each other so much... I couldn't be the one to keep you apart."
Wedding Ann sighed and hugged her double again. "We are _such_ hopeless romantics...." She stood quietly for a moment. "Are you sure there's no Oliver in your world?"
The imprisoned Ann shrugged. "We both went to that concert in both worlds. Your world, he was sitting next to you and you met. Mine had this fidgeting college freshman who bolted as soon as the last song was played. If he _does_ exist, he's taking his sweet time to say 'hi.'"
The blackness around them rippled. The two women stepped closer together, holding hands tightly like scared little children.
"If I don't make it..." the wedding Ann began.
"You will," assured imprisoned Ann. "Give Oliver a big kiss for me when you get back."
"Deal," smiled the wedding Ann. She became more serious. "But if I don't..." Her expression became fierce. "Give that quack a kick in the testicles for me..."
The imprisoned Ann nodded firmly. "They'll go so high, he'll choke on them... But I'm telling you, you're the real one..."
They only had time for one last hand squeeze before the darkness cleared...
Ann looked blearingly up at the white ceiling...it looked like a hospital ceiling. She tried to move her head but it hurt too much... A tear started to fall as she tried to mentally argue why her head would hurt. But when Dr. Kanton's face hazily moved into her view, the tears fell in streams as her body was racked with sobs....
The receptionist led the couple into the room and quietly shut the door behind her as she left.
The middle-aged man working at the large desk in the well-furnished office looked up. "Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Gillam. Please, have a seat." He waved at the two over-stuffed chairs in front of the desk. The desk had a discreet metal nameplate with 'Edward Blacklock, PhD' written on it. The wall behind the man had a few well-placed diplomas as well as a framed picture of an inkblot.
The couple, about the same age as the doctor, nervously sat down. They held hands between the chairs as they sat waiting for him to finish his paperwork.
The nurse pushed the door open and pulled Ann's wheelchair through onto the small terrace. Benches and plants decorated the area which looked out over a small park below. She wheeled Ann over to the edge of the balcony, next to the brick ledge, so that she could see better.
"Is that okay, dear?" she asked Ann, sweetly.
Ann nodded. The wind ran down the building walls behind her and tugged at the scarf Ann wore on her head. It ruffled the pages on the legal pad in her lap. Her eyes raked the trees and people far below.
"Ummm... could I have some water?" Ann asked.
The nurse looked nervously about. "I'm not sure, dear. I shouldn't leave you alone...."
"Where would I go?" Ann asked.
The nurse sighed. "Alright, dear. I'll go get you a glass of water. Be careful up here, though. The wind can get strong." She left the terrace quickly. The door clicked softly behind her as she left.
"About time she left," Ann muttered, writing something on her legal pad.
Dr. Blacklock made one more notation and put his pen down. He stacked the papers neatly and then steepled his hands over them. "We have finished analyzing the tests we have performed on Ann."
Ann's parents looked at each other worriedly. Her mother looked like she was very close to crying while her father held his wife's hand in both of his, trying to stay strong.
"Mr. and Mrs. Gillam..." the doctor began.
"Please," Mr. Gillam said. "Call us Gene and Abby."
"Very well," Dr. Blacklock agreed. He took a deep breath. "There has been a great deal of damage done to your daughter by that... fraud." His voice was now harsh and brittle. "All of his medical credentials are quite fake. That man has been playing variations on this scheme in a few other states and he has many warrants out for his arrest for fraud, malpractice, and practicing without a license. He has just enough medical knowledge to be truly dangerous. Your daughter's friend did her no favors taking her to him..."
Gene and Abby exchanged glances.
"Robert meant well," Abby began. She looked out the window to the back left of the desk. "He was truly worried about Ann. He... he's just far too trusting of strangers. He believed that..." She shuddered and tried to start again. "He let them in to take her while she was sleeping." She looked down at her lap. "He's out on bail until his trial starts."
Ann stood up, a bit unsteadily. "I have brain surgery a few weeks ago, I'm walking around at home, and they _still_ have to wheel me around like I was some sack of groceries." She laid her legal pad in the wheelchair, then walked over to the waist-high iron railing on the ledge, her legs trembling. She rested her forearms on the railing, looking down at everything far below. The wind whipped about her, loosening her head scarf. Sighing, Ann unwrapped her scarf and ran it continuously between her hands.
"So many people down there... I used to be like them. Knew where I was going, had big dreams. My future was all ahead of me. Now all I have is my past... and that other Ann's past..."
Dr. Blacklock rearranged the papers in front of him, his voice now calm and professional. "Ann's injuries are slightly higher than moderate. I see from our observations Ann still remembers everything from before the operation. She has also kept many of her procedural memories. Now, however, she has very poor temporary memory. Kanton removed a large part of her hippocampus as well as pieces of her temporal lobe and her amygdala." His hands steepled in front of him again, looking at the parents for any recognition, and giving him a chance to catch his breath.
Gene and Abby's hands had clenched, so he pressed on.
"Short term memory doesn't use the hippocampus. It's rather like the RAM of a computer, the memory can be rewritten very easily by something else. Procedural memories also don't use the hippocampus; it is memory through repetition. Actions, habits, certain skills. Long term memory _needs_ the hippocampus. It takes the memory and stores it somewhere in the brain. Experiences and things that you make a memory for. In computer terms, a file saved on purpose versus a temporary file. The hard drive."
"This means that while Ann remembers everything before the surgery, she cannot create hard drive memories of what happens now. Her temporary memory will only last for so long before it is written over."
Gene nodded. "I've seen it. I was talking with Ann about what she wanted for supper once. We decided on pizza and I left the room for a moment. I came back in to ask her what she wanted to drink and she asked me what we were going to have for supper."
Abby patted his hands. "We are thankful, though, that she still remembers us, who we are."
Ann held one end of her scarf in her hands, the other end snapping and flapping like a flag in the breeze. "I can remember all of her life... most of mine. I remember Oliver." A tear crept its way down her cheek.
"But it doesn't _mean_ anything. I can't... I can't _see_ the memories. They're just... words. I can remember that my mom gave me a hug on my twenty-first birthday, I can see it in my mind, but I can't _feel_ it, imagine how it felt. I remember Robert, exactly what I said to him as he left that torture chamber, but I can't picture him as the police led him away."
She sighed, the scarf still flapping about. "I don't know about all of this. I have to keep writing things down or I'll forget them. Like..." She frowned, concentrating. But it was no use and she looked behind her at the legal pad, reading the top page. "Mom and Dad went to talk to the doctor, nurse's name is Lori, going to see the terrace, Lori went to get me a glass of water." Her hands clenched on the scarf, crumpling it. "I can't even remember simple stuff like that! How am I supposed to go out and be normal again?" She now held the scarf in one hand, its folds slowly opening up. "I can't drive because I can't remember where I'm going... I can't cook anything big and fancy because I forget it's in the oven. I can't even read a long book because I forget what happened after I put the book down!" The wind picked up around her, driving what was left of her hair forward around her face. She held the scarf out, streaming, and let go. She watched it float in the winds playing about the building until it landed on the ground.
"Back before, I would have too scared to get this close to the railing. Too scared about falling, even though it'd be a one-in-million chance of it happening. Looks like there's one good thing about this surgery..."
She stood up on the brick ledge, leaning far over the railing, feeling the wind pushing at her from behind, her only link to gravity the hands grasping onto the iron railing.
Dr. Blacklock continued, "The temporal lobe affects the understanding of sounds and spoken words, as well as emotion and memory while the amygdala works with fear. Have you seen any other behavioral changes besides the memory failures?"
Gene looked seriously at him. "She doesn't want to go to sleep. She fights it as long as she can until she almost collapses. When she wakes up, she says that she doesn't dream."
"That is understandable," Dr. Blacklock said. He made a note on a legal pad. "I doubt that she would be able to remember dreams as they are very temporary."
Abby continued, "Her personality seems so... different. It's like she's walking around in a constant daze. She used to be so creative... and now she's like a robot, with hardly any emotions or imagination at all." She thought for a moment. "She also has started to talk to herself a lot more than normal. It's almost as if she can't hear herself think and so she has to say it all out loud." She drew closer to Gene. "I think she's very depressed."
Dr. Blacklock nodded. "I can imagine so. It is common after certain brain surgeries for considerable personality changes. There is the possibility of..." At the Gillams' look, he decided to push ahead. "Is it possible that she may be a danger to herself? Any chances that she may turn suicidal?"
Gene shook his head furiously. "We make sure she doesn't have access to anything extremely sharp. And she is almost constantly with someone else, so there isn't really any time that she's alone."
"Drugs?" the doctor asked.
"Not really," Abby replied. She took her hand from her husband's, pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and started to twist it. "Ann is... was... studying to become a pharmacist. She always said that she didn't want any of the irony of dying due to an overdose. I doubt that she could remember now where the medicines are kept."
"What about strangulation? Or jumping from a large height?" Dr. Blacklock asked, as if going down a checklist.
Both parents shook their heads.
"Ann's very afraid of heights...." her mother said.
Ann knew instantly the moment she began to fall. "Shit..." she whispered as the ground quickly came up to meet her. Then "Oliv.."
The sky was overcast as Robert watched them finish patting the dirt over Ann's grave and leave. Everyone else had left... He thought that it was safe enough now to come out from his hiding place among the trees. He walked over to the grave, threading his way through the other gravesites. So many flowers. No roses... those were gone for mementos. Ann always did say that her favorite flower was any that a guy would give her... He felt the tears start to flow again as he wished that all of this had never happened. "I'm so sorry, Ann," he whispered.
"You should be!" a harsh voice said over his shoulder.
Robert whirled around.
A young man was walking toward him, all in black. Tear tracks were still plainly visible on his face although he was stuffing a white handkerchief into the pocket of his black duster. He walked around the grave as if he couldn't even tolerate standing next to Robert. His eyes were full of grief and pain as he looked down at the mound of soil.
"Who are you?" Robert asked.
The young man said, "I was at the funeral home. I didn't know how I managed to get there. Everyone was crying... I was in such a daze until I talked to one of Ann's aunts. She told me everything. The fake doctor, _your_ part in all of this, the operation," his hands clenched into fists. "Ann's recovery and her... death. Aunt Jana said that it was an accident.. but then she whispered to me that not everyone thought so. That it might have been suicide...
"She said that she couldn't have lasted as long as Ann did, with all of the damage done. She said Ann was brave, but that even bravery had to end sometime.... But Ann's folks swore that she had died accidentally. I think they had to cling to that. I don't think I can think about Ann dying by her own hand either." His head drooped like a flower without water.
"But who _are_ you?" Robert demanded.
The stranger's laugh was harsh and brief, shattering on the granite and marble stones of the cemetery. "My name is Oliver," he stated grimly as he started to circle the grave, the light in his eyes a touch mad perhaps.
"Oh my God!" Robert gasped, stumbling backward over a styrofoam flower wreath. He tried to run but Oliver grabbed him by the collar and spun him around. Oliver's hands dug into his shirt, lifting him off of the ground. Robert flailed about, his feet barely touching the ground.
"It's _your_ fault that they're dead!" Oliver roared into Robert's face. He shook Robert like a rag doll. Then Oliver pulled a fist back...
Robert closed his eyes and fought to keep from cowering. It was what he deserved, right?
"What I'd _really_ like to do is punch you in the face..." Oliver said. He pushed the other man onto the ground with a resounding thump. "But Ann wouldn't have liked it." He stuck his hands forcefully in his pockets. He looked down with contempt as Robert scrambled in the dirt.
Robert took a couple of deep breaths in relief as Oliver didn't move any closer. "Yeah," he agreed as he stood up, brushing clods of sod off of his pants. "She would've rather done it herself..."
Oliver nodded, staring down at the flower-covered mound. "Yeah," he said softly. "Not one for being rescued, our Ann. Though she usually saved physical violence as a last resort. She preferred to rip someone a new one with words..."
Robert moved a little closer, also looking at Ann's grave. "Did you ever hear about that one party? That guy was asking for it but the way she stomped a mudhole in him verbally.... _All_ of the guys were cringing!" A small part of his mind finally jumped high enough with a flag. "Wait a minute... you said it was my fault 'they' died. Who else died?"
Oliver shuddered. His voice was distant as he replied, "We were almost married... just a little bit more and we would have been man and wife. But Ann crumpled at the altar, right in my arms." His voice was filled with the tears that had started to run down his face again. "We rushed her to the hospital. But she was in a coma. They told us that it was a cerebral aneurysm... and that they didn't think she would ever wake up."
Robert kept looking at the ground, not believing what he was hearing. From his line of sight, he could see Oliver's hands clenching in his duster's pockets. They twisted and turned, threatening to rip.
"Gene and Abby didn't want to pull the plug but the doctors told them that Ann was technically brain dead. That she was a vegetable and that she'd never get better. It took them a couple of weeks but they finally did it. _My_ Ann was surrounded by everyone who loved her when she died. Do you know what the last thing she ever said was?"
"No..." Robert said slowly.
"My name." Oliver whispered. "She said 'Oliver' as she fell at the altar. And that was the last thing she ever said. Me. That's what was on her mind as she fell into that coma." He sobbed and covered his face with his hands.
Robert stood there silently, letting the other man get back in control of his emotions.
Oliver took a deep breath. He took his handkerchief out and wiped his face with it. He took another deep breath. "Four days ago, they pulled the plug. I was holding one of her hands and Gene and Abby were holding the other."
"Four days ago?" asked Robert. "But that was when..."
"Yeah, that's when your Ann died too." Oliver said. He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket, blinking back the last of the tears. "Today I went to my Ann's funeral. I thought I had cried myself out... I went home and fell onto my bed and tried to get some sleep..." His voice went flat as he stared out across the cemetery. "But when I opened my eyes, I was at another funeral parlor. I thought I was living it all over again until I realized that no one recognized me. And when I talked to Jana, I could piece a few things together. This was another Ann, different but the same."
"How... how is this possible?" Robert stammered in disbelief.
"I don't know..." Oliver admitted. "Maybe this is all just some crazy dream to calm my grief." He scuffed at the grass on the ground. "Maybe God wanted me to know what _really_ happened to help me heal. Two Anns but both of them were the same one. When one was hurt, the other hurt too... when one died, the soul went out of the other as well...."
"I must be cracking up," Robert said, turning away. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head from side to side. "I'm seeing her delusions. There's _no_ Oliver... it's just my guilt over what happened." He looked back at the grave. The person that could possibly be a figment of his imagination was starting to look angry again. Perhaps it was being called a delusion that was upsetting... Robert sighed. Might as well play along. "I was only trying to help, to do what was best for her..."
"And we all know where that leads to!" Oliver shouted. The words echoed back to them off of the statues and memorials. "Ann was _happy_... but because you couldn't leave her alone..." He gulped and tried to start again. "We could have been so happy together... you were my _best man_ at the wedding, Robert! How could you do such a thing to her?" He pointed a finger at the grave.
"She needed to be happy _here_," Robert said as if he was talking to a small child. "In _reality_, not with some 'dream' lover."
"You don't _get_ it, do you?" Oliver threw his hands up in the air in disgust. "Who says this is 'reality'? The only reality?" He stuffed his hands back into his pockets and looked around at the peaceful grounds of the graveyard. "I can wake up, go back to where the memories of my Ann are. Where she died surrounded by family and friends. I can try to live life without her. Here?" He looked hard at Robert, who turned away to avoid his gaze. "You had that same Ann but she had her specialness ripped away. What made her _her_ stolen from her... a death alone."
Robert's shoulders hunched as if from a blow.
Oliver looked down at the grave again. Then he turned away, walking down the road that wound its way through the cemetery. "I can wake up from this, Robert..." he tossed back over his shoulder. "Good luck on _you_ waking up...."
Robert mumbled to himself that it was just a hallucination, all just a hallucination. When he looked up, he was alone again. The only difference he could see was two lonely daisies now laid on the gravedirt. One was fresh as if newly picked. The other was dried, as if for a few weeks it was pressed in an album, its petals brittle to the touch.
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