"Okay," The doctor smiles, "can you tell me what this is?" He holds up a picture.
"That's a bike," Isaac replies.
"Good, now this one?" The doctor flips to another image.
"Uhm . . . that's a . . ." Isaac searches his brain for the word. He knows it; it's on the tip of his tongue. "Butterfly." He finally says.
The doctor grins, "This is the last one." He shows another photo. This one feels different, more real, in a way.
"Doctor, I don't think-" Derek says.
"Derek, this is necessary. I need to know if he remembers or not." The doctor says politely.
Isaac focuses on the image. It's a man, older, with glasses. The face seems familiar but gives off a sad aura, like there are unhappy memories linked with him. Suddenly the face clicks into Isaac's mind. "T-that's my father." He whispers.
"Yes, very good." The doctor replies while writing something in his notes. Then he pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil, "Now-"
"Is he coming?" Isaac asks. "My dad. Is he on his way here?"
Derek grabs Isaac's hand, "Your dad's dead Isaac."
"No," Isaac denies, "he's not. I just ran out of the house last night after he threw the glass at me." Isaac tenses. "Don't let him come! He'll be mad at me for leaving. He'll lock me in the . . ." he trails off.
"Isaac?" The doctor says.
Isaac smiles, "Yes doc?"
Derek and the doctor exchange sad glances before the doctor speaks up. "Can you write your name for me?" He points to the pencil and paper.
Isaac shrugs and does what he's told. He also ends up writing stuff like his birthday and last name, what he had for breakfast and the color of shirt that Derek's wearing; all of which he did without a problem.
The doctor puts the paper in a folder and writes a quick note before looking back up at Isaac. "Okay. I've just got a few questions for you and then I'll get out of your hair."
Isaac puts his hands on his head, "My hair?"
The doctor laughs lightly along with Derek, "It's a figure of speech, Isaac."
Isaac grins, finally getting the joke, and puts his hands back into his lap. "Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot. My memory is a little shitty 'cause I hit my head, you know."
"Yes, I know Isaac." The doctor chuckles. "So, first question; how old are you?"
Isaac grins, "That's an easy one. I'm seventeen."
"What is today's date?" The doctor questions.
Isaac frowns, "Uhm, doc, I think that you're forgetting that I've been unconscious for days and haven't had access to a phone or seen a calendar since I got here."
The doctor smiles, "Perfect answer. Now, can you name the months backwards from December for me?"
Isaac nods and recites it perfectly.
"Before you point to Derek, touch your right cheek with your left hand." The doctor instructs.
Isaac looks down at his hands, nervous. He wiggles his fingers as he tries to remember which hand is his left and which one is his right. Derek touches his shoulder, "Do you need the doctor to repeat the instructions?"
A tear escapes one of Isaac's eyes, "No, I know what to do." He glares at his hands, willing for the answer to come to him. Slowly, he raises his hands until they are in front of his face. He studies them, first with the palms facing him, then away. At last it clicks. He puts his left hand, the one that makes the 'L,' onto his right cheek and points at Derek with his right hand.
The doctor smiles, "Very good Isaac. I'm going to tell you an address and you need to remember it for me, okay?" Isaac nods, "Jane Smith, 56 West Street, Brighton."
Isaac repeats it out loud, and a few times in his head, then nods for the doctor to continue.
"Have you had any sort of past injury to your head?"
Isaac shrugs, "Not really."
The doctor looks at him quizzically, "Explain what you mean by 'not really.'"
Isaac shrugs again, "My dad used to hit me and stuff on my head. I've never been hospitalized for it though."
The doctor writes something in his notes before continuing, "Have you ever been depressed?"
"Nope." Isaac says, sounding bored.
"Did your father or mother have any health problems?"
Isaac thinks. Did they? "Not that I know of." He whispers.
"Okay, I've got a few quick tests, so sit tight." The doctor pulls out a penlight and tells Isaac to follow the glow with his eyes. Isaac was also told to tap his thumbs and pointer fingers together rapidly, and then walk across the room and back, heel-to-toe, while reciting the alphabet. "Okay, can you tell me the address that I told you to remember?" The doctor asks once Isaac is seated again.
Isaac closes his eyes and racks his brain for the answer. "Jane Smith," he whispers, "56 West Street," he stops. Where is West Street? He feels Derek grab his hand. "I don't know where." Isaac admits, tears rushing down his face. "I-it starts w-with a B though." He opens his eyes.
The doctor doesn't look upset or worried about Isaac's response, just encouraging. "Okay, was it Bermuda, Brighton or Baltimore?"
Isaac repeats each word in his head, none of them ringing a bell. "I-I-I don't know." He sobs. Derek squeezes his hand.
"Do you want me to write them down for you?" The doctor offers. Isaac nods and takes the paper the second the doctor offers it to him.
He looks at the words closely, studying each letter carefully. West Street is in . . . Isaac's eyes shift to the doctor, "Brighton." He says happily. "Jane Smith, 56 West Street, Brighton."
"Good job Isaac. You take it easy for the rest of the day and I'll be back tomorrow, okay?" The doctor says.
Isaac nods, "I'll see you then."
