WATER

            I wake up to the sound of the doctors shuffling around in my room. I am surprised I can make out anything that is going on, for my vision is blurry. I feel weak; I try to sit up, but my lack of strength won’t allow it.

            “She isn’t getting any better.”

            One of the doctors, the one with the beard, is talking to the short doctor. He is showing him papers, which I assume have to do with some patient’s conditions.

            “Our medicine has become very advanced. It’s safe to say we can do a lot more now than we could twenty years ago. But this girl’s condition is like nothing I have ever seen before, in all of my years in this profession.”

            “Mr. Khan, I understand this is a complex case. However, I am not prepared to give up. We, as doctors, can’t do that so easily. There has to be some way to help this poor girl.”

            The two men walk out of the room, and I am alone. I close my eyes, and my mind begins to speak to me. I see images; I see waves, ripples, and drops. I know that what I see is water. I open my eyes, and see a glass next to me. Thankfully, it isn’t empty. I take a sip and let the cool water soothe me as I feel it passing through. I close my eyes again, and this time I don’t see water in many forms, but rather I hear it. I hear a shower being turned on, I hear a faucet, and I hear waves hitting the shore.

            I wake up, and it seems a new day has begun. The sunlight is shining through the window into my room, and I have to squint to see anything. The room looks similar to my view of it earlier. Chair- check; glass, filled with water (midway now) - check; door directly in front of the bed I am occupying - check. This time, it seems, there are no doctors. I look to my left - it’s empty. My right, however, has been filled somewhat, by a large man sitting in the chair that was just empty.

            “Hello,” the man’s voice says.

            I look over, squinting my eyes, and try to put a name to that face. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize…”

            He puts up his hand, cutting my sentence short. “That’s perfectly understandable. You have been through quite an ordeal, I imagine. Although, truthfully, no one knows for sure what happened to you.”

            I look away from the stranger, and instead look at the hallway. People walk by my room in both directions. Not one even bothers to look towards me.

            “I don’t know,” I say softly.

            “You don’t know what?” The man clasps his hands together and crosses his legs - his gaze towards me feels intense.

            “What happened? What’s your name?”

            “Mr. Akash. I know you don’t remember me. I was expecting that. Your parents didn’t know what to do about you. You have been sick for a long time, no one knows with what. It’s been three years. You were never supposed to leave your house; the farthest your strength would allow you to go was down the hall to the bathroom.”

            I take another sip of water, and put the glass back on the stand next to me. Mr. Akash continues.

            “One day your parents woke up, and you weren’t there. You weren’t in your room; you were nowhere in the house. It’s unexplainable, really. It takes them a while to find you, but they do.”

            I sit silent for a short moment. “Where was I?”

            Mr. Akash smiles. “By the river. Odd really. You have always been afraid of water, ever since you were a child. You’re locked in your house for three years, barely able to move at all. Next thing you know, we find you passed out on the banks of a river.”

            “My parents, I don’t remember them. Mr. Akash, I feel as if I have just woken up.”

            He gets up out of his chair and walks to the door. He puts his hand on the door, as if he is about to push it open. “I will leave you for a minute. Maybe when I come back you won’t be so tired.”

            “That isn’t what I mean.”

            Mr. Akash faces me again.

            “My eyes opened, and I saw the doctors. That felt like the first time I have ever woken up.”

            He continues to stand, but takes a few steps towards me. “I see. Look, no one believes they can do anything for you anymore. They think this sickness, whatever it is, has you so far gone; no one knows how to bring you back. But I am here to help you.”

            “Can you do that? You say you don’t know what’s wrong with me. So how can you help me?”

            “Close your eyes. What do you see?”

            I do as told. I close my eyes as I did before. Its familiar presence makes it easy to identify. I open my eyes, and look at Mr. Akash. “Water.”

            The girl is lying still in her bed, but I know her mind must be busy with thoughts. I remember what happened an hour ago, and I somehow know that what she saw is part of the answer to her problem. “Water.” One word, and then she fell asleep, like so many times ever since this sickness consumed her. Before I knew it, I had dozed off in my chair, and my thoughts took over.

            “I’m thirsty for it,” I heard my niece say. She was lying under the covers, twisting and turning, talking out loud to herself.

             “Why is this happening?” her mother asked.

            Maria, my sister, was now standing by me, looking at her daughter suffer from this sickness. One lone tear was slowly making its way down her check, and she quickly wiped it with her sleeve.

            “That’s a question I can’t answer. I don’t know why this started, and none of it makes any sense.”

            “You have to help her. You are the only one that can.”

            “Mr. Akash?”

            I opened my eyes, and saw my niece sitting upright in the bed. It looked like she had been awake for a while. “Yes? What is it?”

            “Are you alright?”

            “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

            “You were saying something I couldn’t understand. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

            “It’s alright. It’s good you woke me up. I am not sure that there is much time to waste. I need to try something. I was hesitant about it before, but it might be one of the only ways to help you.”

            “What is it?” She suddenly looked full of hope, and I wished as hard as I could that this could end up being the answer that would save her.

            “I need to see your thoughts.”

            “You mean like before? When I told you what I was thinking?”

            I paced around the room, trying to find an answer to her question that would make sense. “No, not exactly. I’m not going to ask this time. I am going to see for myself.” I looked out the window for a short moment, and then looked back at her.

            “I don’t understand.”

            “It’s simple, really. You just sit right where you are. I will sit at the foot of the bed. You will close your eyes, and I will do the rest. You shouldn’t feel anything more than a slight head-rush.”

            “And you think this will help whatever it is that I have?”

            “I do. I think that I may find an answer in your thoughts.” I thought she would look at me with fear. I thought there would be silence.

            “When?” was all she asked.

            “Right now.”

            She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes before I even had to ask. “Alright.”

            I closed my eyes, and took her hands in mine. A whirlwind of images appeared. They were going by so fast, but in a short moment they slowed down. I saw rain, I saw an ocean, the sink in the bathroom down the hall with water running out of the faucet, a shower turned on, the glass next to her bedside, and finally, the river. The same river she had somehow managed to get to in the state she was in. I could see it clearly. I would take her to that river when she was only a child. We would be for hours at a time. I see more images; I see rocks skipping across the river. Finally, I see her sprawled out on the river’s banks, the same way her parents and I found her sprawled out before we took her to the hospital. Suddenly, it’s as if her mind is empty of thoughts. I open my eyes, and find her staring at me.

            “That was more than a head-rush. I think I need a minute,” she says as she gets out of her bed. To my surprise she makes her way to the door, and luckily I get up just in time to help her before she falls to the ground.

            “I’m sorry. That was more intense than I thought. I saw a lot.”

            “I know what you saw. I saw it too. It’s the river; it’s what I need. I saw the same things you saw. I saw that little girl sitting with that man. I saw them skipping rocks.”

            I look down at the ground, and don’t respond. The silence is almost too much to bear.

            “That little girl was me. And that was…that was you, right?”

            All I can do is nod. “I’m your uncle.”    

            “How could you not tell me before? You’re the only person I know, the only person I have any memory of from my past. All you said was that you knew my parents, and that you have been helping me while I’ve been sick. But you didn’t say you were family.”

            “I’m sorry. My only niece didn’t remember who I was, didn’t remember her own parents. It was a concept I couldn’t grasp. I have been watching you struggle through this, and now I finally think I have the answer. But we have to go now.”

            She didn’t question where we were going, maybe because she already knew. She grabbed her coat, which was lying near her bed, and we made our way out of the hospital.

            “Also, I thought you said I was afraid of water. But we went there together a lot, didn’t we?”

            “It’s the river that you were afraid of. You weren’t afraid to be near it, but you would never step into it. For years that was our special place. For some reason it never worried me that you never wanted to play in it like the other kids. You would sit with me only inches from the water, and you would run with the kids towards it, but once the river was just a step away you stopped yourself from going in. I guess I should have suspected something was off. Then one day we took our usual trip. Instead of changing direction when the river became too close, you just collapsed. That’s when you became sick.”           

            “That’s where we are going now, isn’t it?” my niece asked as we pushed open the main hospital doors.

            My uncle and I stood near the river I recognized from my thoughts. I looked to my left and saw a tree, which I also somehow recognized. “I was here, wasn’t I?” I kneeled down, and turned my head to face my uncle.

            “Yes. That’s where we found you. Your shoes were off, and placed right there.” He pointed right next to my hand.

            No more words were spoken. I took my shoes off, then my coat. I was standing in my hospital gown. I looked at my uncle one last time before taking the first step towards the water. I didn’t feel afraid, but I was still hesitant about going in. I slowly made my way. One step, two steps, three steps. Finally, my feet felt the cool water. I went farther in, and pretty soon I was knee deep. Will this help? I heard my mind ask. And it did. Memories came flooding back. I knew my name, I knew my parents; I knew everything I had known before. I was myself again. This river had taken so much away, but it finally gave it all back.