When I awoke, there was someone sitting in the chair next to my bed. She was working on a crossword puzzle, and tapping her foot with nervous energy.

"Donna?" I guessed.

The crossword ended up somewhere on the floor as she sprang to her feet. "You remember?"

I shook my head apologetically. "No, I... you look like your brother." She did, too. Tall and wide-shouldered, with dark hair. Her wistful expression reminded me of someone else, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "Major Deegan's been giving you some trouble, I hear."

"Yeah." She touched my shoulder gingerly. "How're you feeling?"

"Just fine, thanks."

"You want some water?"

"No, I'm okay."

"Okay." Her eyes darted around nervously. "I, um... this is weird."

"It is weird," I agreed.

"I mean, you're my dad. You've known me my whole life."

There was something distinctly endearing about this girl. I had no memories of her, but I couldn't help the swell of paternal protectiveness that came over me when I looked at her. "Hopefully everything will come back to me soon," I offered.

Donna nodded, and sat back down. "Alex went down to the cafeteria to get some coffee. He'll be back soon."

"That's fine." I couldn't stop looking at her. I'd helped create two human beings. They seemed well-adjusted, and that alone was a huge feat – and more than I'd thought possible from myself. "So, tell me... what sorts of things have I missed?"

She smiled nervously. "I don't know where to start."

"2009 or so, I guess."

"Right, right. Well, you met Mom a couple of years later. You guys went out for a year and a half before you got married, and you had Alex a year later. You lived in Brooklyn for a while, and then after I was born you moved north to the Bronx."

"On purpose?"

She laughed. "Grandma lived out there – Mom's mom – and she needed someone to take care of her. You and Mom didn't want to put her in a nursing home, so we all moved into her house. It's pretty big. You said it was a good idea to get away from the city anyway."

That didn't sound like me, but what did I know about me? "Do we still live there?"

"Yup. Grandma died in '20, and she left us the house."

"And your mom?" I asked tentatively.

"She, um... she died in May. Heart attack."

"Can you tell me about her? If it doesn't upset you, I mean. I don't remember her."

"She was very meticulous. Everything in our house was always spotless, nothing was out of place. She..." Donna paused, then sighed. "You might be better off asking Alex. He was always closer with her than I was. I kind of grew up as a daddy's girl."

I smiled. "And you?"

"Me?"

"Tell me about you."

"Oh. Well, I'm nineteen, I'm going into my sophomore year at Columbia."

"Columbia? That's great."

"Yeah, you were really excited when I decided to go there. Mom used to laugh and say it was just because you wanted me close to home, but I knew you were proud of me."

"What are you studying?"

"Journalism."

"You live on campus?"

"Um... no." She looked down. "I mean, I did, but I decided to move back home after Mom died."

"Oh."

"I just worry about you, Dad. It makes me feel better to know you have someone looking after you."

"But you should be experiencing college, not caring for an old man."

"We've had this argument before," she said.

"I haven't."

"You got me there." Her expression grew pensive, and suddenly I had it.

"Donny!"

"Donna," she corrected me.

"No, I mean, I was trying to think of who you look like, and it's Donny."

"Who's Donny?"

"My nephew," I said. "Your cousin, I guess."

Donna cocked her head. "How do you have a nephew? You were an only child."

"No I wasn't."

"You always told Alex and me that we were lucky we had each other, that you'd grown up without any siblings."

"I don't know why I would have said that. I had a brother. We were three years apart, like you and Alex."

She gaped at me. "Why would you have lied to us?"

"I don't know. I have a niece, too."

"Hold up a second." Holding one hand in the air, Donna blinked rapidly. "This is... I can't process all this right now."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

We sat in silence for several minutes, until Alex entered the room, two styrofoam cups of coffee in his hands. "Hey," he said, grinning widely. "Looks like somebody's finally woken up. Donna arrived right after you fell asleep, she's been sitting there for hours."

"I didn't mind," she said, accepting one of the cups of coffee gratefully. "Just glad Dad's going to be all right."

"I called work, told them I had to take a personal day."

"Alex works at an architecture firm," Donna said to me.

"Yup. Luckily, Donna's on summer break for three more weeks, so you'll have someone to look after you while you get your memories back." He sat on the other side of me, smiling expectantly. "Anything coming back to you yet?"

"Not yet," I said.

"But get this," Donna said. "Dad just told me he had an older brother."

Alex gave me a pitying look. "You're just mixed up. It's probably just a side effect of the head trauma, like when you thought people called you Bobby."

"People do call me Bobby. And my older brother was named Frank. Look it up in public records."

He nodded, looking unconvinced. "Frank, right. You know, Donna had an imaginary friend growing up–"

"Oh, I knew you were going to go there," Donna said, annoyed. "You always do."

"For, like, five years," Alex continued, his eyes dancing merrily. "She called her Alex 2. Mom used to say it was probably because I didn't spend enough time with her, so she made up a sister so she could entertain herself."

"You had an imaginary friend?" I asked, worry beginning to gnaw at my gut.

"I don't have schizophrenia," she said quickly, seemingly reading my thoughts. "I promise. You told me about your mom's condition, and had me tested. Many times. It wasn't a big deal, Dad, a lot of kids make up imaginary friends."

"Can't be too careful, though," I said. "With our family history."

"It wasn't a constant thing, either. I would just see her every once in a while. But she was invisible to everyone else. It went away by the time I was nine or ten." She arched a brow. "And you were the one who said schizophrenia normally presents in late adolescence."

"It does, that's true." I made a mental note to have her tested again, though.

"Listen," Alex interjected. "I ran into Dr. Berry in the cafeteria, and asked him when he thought Dad would be ready to be released. He said as long as someone is there to keep an eye on him, he could go home as early as tomorrow. Isn't that good news?"

"That's great," Donna said. "Once we get you back to the house, and you see the old neighborhood and all your photos and stuff, I bet it'll all coming rushing back to you."

"I hope so." I looked over at Alex. "Are there any hospital forms for me to fill out?"

"Nope, I've finished them."

"You knew all my insurance information?"

He gave me a blank look. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, I remember learning about this in social studies class," Donna supplied. "Insurance in this country used to be privatized. There were, like, hundreds of insurance companies, and you'd get matched to whatever company your employer used."

"That's stupid. What if your employer chose a bad company?"

"Then you had crappy insurance," I said.

"Oh. Well, it's all done through one government-run company now. Very neat and streamlined. The hospital forms only took a minute or so to fill out." He glanced at his watch. "I'm just going to make a quick phone call, Dad. I'll be back soon."

"Take your time," I told him. "I'm fine here."

He pressed a little button on his watch, said "Dial boss" loudly, and strode out the door.

"I feel like I just fell out of a time machine," I grumbled. "So do cars fly now?"

Donna laughed. "Of course not. I mean, imagine if a car's battery died midair... it could flatten a building."

I'd never thought of it that way.

We smiled at each other again. I could tell from her expression that she was, indeed, a daddy's girl.

"So, Donna... you're studying journalism, right?"

"Right."

"They teach you how to do research?"

"Sure, of course. You need me to find something?"

"No." I leaned forward. "I need you to find someone."