Chapter 4 – The Smell of Dust after Rain
All of Drake's House residents were sitting in a circle in the large room that was designated for 'group', all on hard backed chairs that Jim was sure they'd purposefully made them as uncomfortable as possible so there was no chance of anyone nodding off. Jim didn't normally attend, simply because he didn't want to talk about his panic attacks, they were humiliating to him and everyone else hearing about the inner workings of them just didn't appeal to him. The only person he'd confided in was Bridget, who'd he'd became quite dependant on ever since she'd shown him how to make coffee. If he needed help with anything, she was the one who he'd ask. Currently, Bridget was sitting next to him, watching Lauren, the only other female resident, intently as she talked about her new job waitressing in Joe's Diner in the town.
He moved his hand to cover his lips, allowing him to yawn without seeming rude as he thought over how he'd actually managed to find himself here. That morning he'd come back from his run around the grounds, something that Tobias had encouraged him to do and he actually found that he enjoyed, had showered and gone for his writing lesson. He had made good progress, his tutor congratulating him after he'd managed to scrawl his own name for the first time since his lessons had started. It had created a strange feeling inside of him, pride maybe? He wasn't exactly sure, but it felt good, and he saw it as a stepping stone towards being able to create an identity for himself.
He'd gone to find Bridget after that, to tell her about his new ability. The Georgian lady had challenged him, smiling at him wryly, telling him to prove it. So he had, all the while she encouraged him as Jim gripped the pen to tight and dragged it over the paper slowly, methodically. Bridget had clapped when he'd finished, dropping the pen and rubbing the cramp from his hand. Anyone seeing the scene from an outsider's point of view would probably think that she was being condescending but Jim was glad for her praise, he'd practically basked in it because he couldn't do much but he could write his own name, even if his hand writing was like a child's. Bridget had then proceeded to drag him along to the group session with the promise that she's play something for him on the old up-right piano for him later in the day.
So there he sat, half-listening to everyone's daily struggles. He knew he should have been paying attention, that he might have been able to glean some information from the other resident's about the problems he was going to face in future but he just couldn't get himself to focus. Instead his mind drifted across the vast planes of white nothingness that filled most of his head, searching, trying to find snippets of information, memories from before. As always he came up blank.
Jim turned his head to see Bridget glaring at him, knowing full well that he was off in a world of his own. He shrugged minutely and she raised her eyebrows at him, tilting her chin downwards as she looked at him over the top of her glasses. He fought a smile.
"James," the nurse, Caroline, who was leading the session, interrupted their silent conversation, drawing his attention to her.
"Call me Jim, please," he amended, people were continuing to call him James but it made him uncomfortable. There was something intimate about his full name, a feeling that it drew up from inside of him, he wasn't sure what it was and he didn't know why its use made him feel so uneasy but it was like a violation. That when people used it they were encroaching on something private, something secret, and he didn't like it.
"Okay, Jim," Caroline smiled slightly patronizingly, like she was trying to placate a small child. "Is there anything you'd like to share with the group today?"
"Nope," he smiled, popping the p.
"Nothing at all," she pushed, her lips still stretched in that annoying way.
"I can't think of anything that springs to mind," he retorted.
She looked down at the clipboard sitting on her lap, "It says here that you've been having some interesting dreams, would you like to tell us about them?"
Not particularly, he thought to himself. He glanced at Bridget and she nodded at him, telling him that it was okay, that sharing was a good idea. So he took a deep breathe, pushing back the fear that was trying to fight it's way to surface and began, "In my dreams I'm in space. Just drifting. I pass by supernovas and dwarf stars. I don't see just black, I see all of these beautiful things, it's not just darkness out there, there's so much colour…"
"Go on," the nurse gestured.
"And I," he bit the inside of his cheek, he was going to sound so stupid but she wouldn't stop asking until he said it, "I don't feel alone. Even though I'm so far away, in deep, deep space I feel like I'm home, like I'm meant to be up there. Sometimes I'll feel like there are people up there with me. I never see anyone, it's just a sense, you know? I imagine that it's what it's like be with family but I've never been into space before," he shrugged his shoulders, "so I think it's just my imagination running wild"
Bridget smiled at him, happy at what he'd told everyone. "No," Caroline said sharply, frowning at him, her expression completely at odds with the older woman sitting next to him, "You've never been into space before, always remember that, James."
"It's Jim," he muttered, unable to keep the petulance out of his tone.
Caroline's smile broadened for a second before she turned to the rest of the residents, "Well I think today has been a good session, thank you all for sharing," everyone clapped each other, "I'll see you at the same time tomorrow." She then got up and headed off towards the locked staffroom, pulling the key out of her pocket as she did so. It made him wonder what was in there if the room constantly had to be kept under lock and key.
"I really don't like her," Jim said in an undertone while scratching his beard, turning to Bridget who was still seated next to him.
She nodded in agreement, "She's not the most likable person, I admit, but you get used to her."
"She's just so…so…" he trailed off, he sensed the word he meant to say but what the word was completely eluded him, he tried to explain, "It's like, she thinks we should be grateful to her for being here for some reason, despite the fact that she chose to work here in the first place."
"Patronizing," Bridget said for him and Jim nodded in agreement, "yes, she does radiate that sense, doesn't she?" The older woman stood up, rearranging her scarf as she did so. "Are you finally gonna to come into town with me today?"
Despite Tobias telling him to, Jim had still been rejecting Bridget's requests to take him into Salinas and show him around. The idea still gripped him with panic, panic that he was trying so desperately to avoid, except for when he was by himself. When he was alone he welcomed it, to hear the comfort in the disembodied voice, to feel the content that it created. He knew that this wasn't healthy but it made him feel good, better about himself, helped him cope.
"I will just drag you out there myself if you don't hurry up and make a decision," Bridget intoned, her words cutting through his head as he tried to remember the exact cadences of the incorporeal voice.
"You won't stop asking will you? No matter how many times I decline," Jim grinned up at her.
"Certainly not," she stated, placing her hands on her hips.
Jim sighed wearily, "I supposed I'd better grab my coat then." He stood up and stretched before looking to see Bridget's astonished expression. "What?"
"I didn't think you'd give in that easily," she admitted, frowning slightly.
"I have to face my fears eventually," he murmured, looking away, "Tobias says that I can't let them rule my life." It was true, what he was saying, he didn't want to have a panic attack but if he did and managed to find someplace to be alone, even while they were in town, he'd be able to hear him.
"Rightly so," Bridget said softly, stepping closer to place her small hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. She stepped back and her serious expression was replaced by a dazzling smile, "Let's get on shall we?"
"We shall," he grinned, for more than the reason of finally getting out of this house.
Jim stood and looked around in awe. So many shelves packed and packed with thousands of books, and he could read any of them. "It's beautiful," he whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.
"Told ya' you'd like it," Bridget smirked, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, he was staring, slightly opened mouthed, his blue eyes wide as he took in the scene. "Especially after you practically devoured all of the books I own."
He didn't know why he'd become so obsessed with it, but he'd literally read anything. Tobias said that it was psyche wanting to learn, to find things out, to grow but Jim just thought that it was because he enjoyed it. He liked being whisked off into another universe where he wasn't 'Jim Kirk, amnesia sufferer' but the character he was reading about, whether he was a detective or a dragon slayer, he didn't care, he relished being someone else for a while. Even if it was just a few hours a night, sitting one his bed with a dictionary propped up against his leg for when he came across words he didn't know the meaning of.
"Take in a deep breath," Bridget instructed, "Smell them."
So he did, drawing in the largest breath he possibly could through his nose, his chest expanding as he inhaled. What a smell, it wasn't an 'in-your-face' kind of scent, but it was there, it smelt sweet, but with a hint of mustiness, signifying the old and new volumes that must have filled the shelves. It was glorious, it smelt like what he imagined sunlight smelt of, or dust after rain…
"Petrichor," he said out loud.
"What?" Bridget asked, frowning.
"I don't know," he felt his own brows crease as fear started to sweep through him. He'd been doing so well today, but now his mind had betrayed him and given him information that he didn't know he possessed. He took deep calming breathes, there was nowhere he could hide here so he concentrated on the breathing exercises Tobias had taught him, inhaling for a count of five, holding it for two, exhaling for five. Jim repeated the process over and over, pinching the bridge of his nose, aware that Bridget had walked off muttering "petrichor" under her breath.
Moving slowly, still trying to control his breathing and push the anxiety back, he walked over to one of the many tables in between the shelves and sat himself down at one. Falling heavily into the chair as he closed his eyes and counted, battling the panic all the while. A loud bang in front of him made him jump, his eyes flying open to see that Bridget had slammed a large textbook onto the table and was leafing through it, her old frame bent over as she rested her weight on her elbows.
"Aha!" she exclaimed, smiling at him, he returned it weakly. "Petrichor," she recited, "the distinctive smell that accompanies the first rains after a very long dry spell." Bridget looked up and grinned, "Otherwise known as the smell of dust after rain…how does a lowly mechanic suddenly exclaim a word like that while he's in the middle of a library?"
"Wish I could tell you," he said wearily, "I was thinking how this place smells like that," he gestured to the book, "and then I just said it. Never heard the word in my life as far as I know," he laughed bitterly.
"I know it can be frustrating," Bridget said in a soft tone, sitting down and reaching out, taking his hand in hers, he clung to it like a life line, "but it gets easier."
"Does it ever come back?" he asked brokenly, showing just how much apprehension he felt towards the subject.
"Some of it, not much, but some" she admitted, her tone sombre, "occasionally little bits will just force themselves to the front of your mind when you're not even trying. It will happen, eventually, you just have to wait it out. They're never what you'll expect them to be, sometimes it's a bad memory, sometimes it's a good one, you never know what you're going to get."
"What do you remember?"
"My memories just kinda cut off after the age of twenty, following that I only have a few abstract ones, holding my son for the first time, dancing with some people on New Year's Eve…my husband dying."
"I'm so sorry," Jim whispered.
"Don't be," Bridget reassured him, her mouth quirking up into a half smile, "I could feel the sorrow in the recollection but I couldn't remember what it was like to love the man, so I see the memory from an outsider's point of view. Like when an acquaintance dies, you know you should be sad but you don't know them enough to actually feel it, not properly anyway."
"But that's it? That's all you remember, those three things?"
"Pretty much," she shrugged, "occasionally I'll have a dream that include people that I know used to be part of my life, but they're just dreams. I don't know whether they're based on real memories or not so I don't get too caught up on them."
Jim nodded, thinking about his own bizarre dreams. Could they have been real, he didn't think so, why would a mechanic be up in space? But still, the sense of family, surely that wasn't something his psyche could just create for him when he didn't even know what having a family was any more, much less the emotions it instilled into a person.
"Come on," Bridget patted the top of his hand with her free one, "let's go find you some books."
An hour later they emerged back into the weak spring sunlight, Jim squinting as he carried the four large books tucked under his right arm, his new library card stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans. He'd borrowed three fiction paperbacks that had taken his fancy and a large textbook about space. If he was dreaming about the vast expanse above him he might as well learn about the topic.
"You wanna go get a coffee at the diner?" Bridget asked as she walked in step beside him.
"I, er, I don't have any money," Jim flushed, looking down at the side walk.
"Don't be silly," the southern woman scolded.
"No, I couldn't…" he trailed off as he looked over at her and took in the stern expression she was wearing.
"I don't spend my night's knitting those baby jumpers for nothing, you know?" she declared before her expression cracked and turned into a much softer one, "Come on, it'll be my treat."
"Can we get pie?" he asked, feeling his cheeks flush slightly.
"We can get pie," Bridget affirmed, nodding her head approvingly at his choice of dessert.
They continued down the street in a comfortable silence. It wasn't very far to Joe's Diner and soon they were being seated in a booth by the window and the maître d assumed that Jim was Bridget's son, much to his embarrassment and her delight. "I'm sorry about that," he mumbled as he slid into the booth, placing the books onto the seat next to him.
"Don't worry about it," she smiled, waving a hand in an 'it's nothing' type gesture. "A thoughtful, pretty boy like you, I'd happy to call you my son."
Jim beamed at the compliment, he didn't have much in his new life but he was glad that he had Bridget. His thoughts darkened though as he really contemplated what she'd said, "Damian hasn't contacted you in a while," he stated, talking about Bridget's actual son. He'd never met the man but from what he'd heard of him, Jim had decided that he wouldn't like him if they ever did meet.
"Don't fret over it," she told him, despite her reassuring tone the lines around her face still deepened as she continued to speak, "I have one memory of him, one, it's no wonder he barely sees me as his mother. It must be painful for him, he watched me come off the horse that resulted in me having Retro, he was the first person I saw, imagine what that must have been like, a person you love finally waking up in the hospital, you think that everything's going to be okay, but then they don't even know who they are never mind who you are. It must have been horrible."
"Still doesn't excuse him," Jim said, irritation clearly audible in his tone, "At least he has a mom, he should make the effort."
"Darlin' I appreciate what you're tryin' to say but it's fine, honestly, I can't miss something I don't remember," she said in final way, indicating that this topic of conversation was over.
The subject brought one of his few memories to mind though, his very first to be truthful, waking up in the hospital to his dark haired doctor. The man had looked beside himself with joy, his eyes were glazing over as he'd said, "Jim, you're awake! How ya' feeling?" Jim remembered his reply, clearly remembered the feeling of not knowing, it was the strongest he'd ever felt it and hopefully he'd never feel it that intensely again as he'd stared up at the dark-haired man and asked quite plainly, "Who am I?" as his mind had come up blank with that basic but vital piece of information. He thought he'd remember the man's face till his dying day, the look of sheer helplessness, of pain, before the man had schooled his features and left, excusing himself politely. Ten minutes later another doctor had entered his room, and he never saw the man again the rest of his short stay at the hospital. There had to be something more to that interaction, but what?
As he pondered his thoughts were again interrupted, something that was frequently happening, this time by Lauren, who appeared to be working there section of the diner. "Hey Jim, hey Bridget," she beamed, greeting both of them but only looking at Jim.
"Hi," he said, smiling awkwardly. It's not like they didn't get along, she just always seemed to be looking at him when they were in a room together back at Drake House. If he went into the kitchen she'd suddenly be there trying to help him or if he sat down to watch some TV she'd appear next to him on the sofa, pressing her leg against his. It confused him slightly, in the short time they'd known each other he'd never let on that he was attracted to her, because he wasn't, but she still seemed to persist.
"What can I get you?" she asked, still not looking away. Jim turned to Bridget who answered curtly, "Two cups of coffee, black, but I want a little jug on the side and some sugar packets as well as two slices of pie, peach if you have it."
Lauren turned to Bridget, her smile becoming forced as she uttered, "Coming right up," before walking quickly away, but not before she could let her hand brush against Jim's shoulder.
As soon as she was out of ear-shot Bridget turned to him, a scowl twisting her features, "I swear to God, Jim, if so much as touch that hussy…"
"I won't, don't worry," he laughed at her quick fury, lifting his hands in a 'surrender' gesture. Her scowl intensified and he proceeded to appease her, "I don't even find her attractive, promise."
"Good, as long as I've known her, and she's been at Drake's longer than me, she's had a string of men calling for her. I mean, fair enough if you're that way inclined but if you have a condition like ours, I can't see how it would be good for a person. We need stability, that's why we're here after all, Drake's offers us a stable environment in which we can integrate ourselves back into the community. What she's doing, I just don't think it is right as all."
Throughout Bridget's little lecture Jim had just watched the older lady, nodding his head, he loved watching and hearing her speak. She was so opinionated yet so open minded it never ceased to captivate him and there was just something in her voice that he found comfort in despite his inability to explain why. He couldn't remember his mother but he hoped that she was something like Bridget, a strong lady with a lot of gusto who wasn't afraid to tell a person how she felt. No matter what was going to happen to him in the future, he always saw Bridget there, helping him and guiding him through whatever he had to face. Tobias had said that he was substituting her in for the lack of parental figure in his life and the psychiatrist was right, Jim was using Bridget as a rock, the same way a person might depend on their mother, but he didn't care and, thankfully, he didn't think she did either despite the short time that they'd known each other and how quickly the dependency had come about.
"Boy, you really need to get someone to show you how to shave," she declared as she watched him carefully across the table.
"I know," Jim sighed, running his fingers through the course hair.
"I'll ask Robert to show you once we get back, he won't mind, he owes me anyway," she smiled.
"Thanks," Jim grinned, not at all put out by her offer.
Lauren returned carrying their coffee and pie. She reeled the order off as she placed the items on the table before winking at Jim, running her hand over his chest this time and sauntering off, swinging her hips to and fro. "Hussy," Bridget murmured again, this time under her breath.
Jim bit back a laugh at the venom in her voice as he added milk and sugar to his coffee. He took a sip, enjoying the sweet bitter flavour of it before he picked his fork up and tried the pie. He chewed thoughtfully, categorizing the flavour and storing it away so he'd recognise the taste of peach from then on.
"You like it?" Bridget asked, placing a section of her own pie delicately in her mouth.
Jim nodded and swallowed before saying, "I like how sweet it is, and the interesting texture."
"Thought you might," she conceded, washing her piece down with some of her own coffee, "What do you want me to play for you later?"
Jim knew that Bridget's repertoire was vast, she'd been playing the piano since she was a child so even after her loss of memory she could still remember how to play and it was enchanting to watch when she did. Her hands graced over the keys with such refinement and poise that it made Jim envious of her control. "I like the ancient songs you play," he told her, unable to remember the names of the composers she'd told him.
"The Debussy or the Chopin?" she asked.
"Both," he grinned, placing another piece of pie in his mouth.
"Chew with your mouth closed!" She scolded, only making his lips stretch even wider as he chewed, his teeth grinding in large circles so he could show her the contents of his mouth more easily. "Infant," she exclaimed, rolling her eyes at him.
The slight was like a slap in the face causing him to suck in a breath, the pie hitting the back of his throat making him cough, a horrible hacking sound as he tried to displace the pastry. Jim hit himself in the chest as he continued to try and move the lump in his gullet. Bridget watched him, panic in her eyes as she forced his cup into his hands and made him take a gulp, to try and help the pastry down. Finally he swallowed and felt it move painfully down his oesophagus as he felt the nausea starting to roll from his stomach.
There was something itching at the back of his mind, something telling him that he had to remember but he couldn't quite scratch at what as his breathing rate escalated and he felt the anxiety causing adrenalin to pump through his system, sending him into flight mode. Jim looked around wildly, spotting the men's bathroom and praying that it was empty he stood up, pushing the table towards Bridget in his haste. "Two minutes," he gasped as he bolted towards the door of the restroom.
He had to be alone, he needed to be alone to hear him and as he pushed through the door and glanced around he noted, mercifully, that he was. The door swung shut behind him as he stumbled over to one of the sinks, leaning on the porcelain heavily as he shut his eyes, feeling the adrenalin invade every cell of his body as he waited, trying to stop himself from fidgeting.
His breathing now completely out of his control his knees started to go lax as he gulped at the air without taking any appropriate amount into his lungs. The nausea reached a peak, roiling his stomach as he tilted forward to retch, the contents of his stomach surging back up to erupt wetly from his mouth, spattering into the sink below him. Then as he stood there, shivering, still unable to respire properly and tasting nothing but his own stomach acid, "Jim, you have to breathe."
He'd arrived.
"You have to do as I say Jim, and breathe, just like Tobias taught you." But he didn't, not at first anyway, he just kept listening. Feeling the phantom limbs that wrapped around his waist from behind. Jim was tempted to lean back, but knew there would only be empty space behind him so he refrained, instead revelling in the security the voice brought with it.
Time moved strangely, he didn't know how long had passed since he'd first entered the bathroom, minutes? Hours? He didn't care, there was just him and the voice. The sounds of the diner had faded away leaving only his harsh, ragged breathing and his level cadences.
A knock at the door broke through his illusion, followed by Bridget's worried voice, "You okay in there darlin'?" she called.
And he was gone, the feel of arms around his waist suddenly absent and the presence he created dispersed like he'd never been there at all. Which, apart from in one of the many unreachable corners of Jim's mind, was true. "I'm fine," Jim rasped, feeling the sudden lack of contact like it had been psychical and reverting back to the breathing exercises Tobias had taught him, "I'll be out in a second."
As he regained control over his breathing he felt flickers of annoyance, he hadn't wanted the delusion to end, he'd wanted to stay where he was, wrapped up in the comfort his own mind had to offer towards his debilitating anxiety. He forced it away though, he couldn't be mad at Bridget, it wasn't her fault, she didn't know what she was interrupting, she was only concerned for him. A stab of guilt went through him before he quickly pushed that aside too, not wanting to think about how Bridget would feel if she knew what he purposefully put himself through, or why he did it. No, she could never find out about it.
He opened his eyes then and peered at his reflection in the mirror. His skin had turned a slight sallow colour and his forehead was sweaty but his eyes, they danced with exhilaration over hearing him, feeling him. After washing his vomit from the porcelain and rinsing his mouth out with cold water he left the bathroom, smiling to himself as he did so, thinking about the next time he might hear his voice.
A/N: Hi guys! :D you are all awesome! Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed this story so far! Honestly it's mind blowing to be! Over 80 follows on only THREE CHAPTERS! You're all amazing!
So that was chapter four...let me know what you think :) much love! xx