Ken blinked and groaned as he opened his eyes a slit and groaned again at the bright light hitting his eyes. It was another full minute before he opened his eyes again, feeling his head was about to split open.
"You awake now, sweetie?" asked a pretty brunette, peeking in the room.
"I think I'm dead," Ken moaned, hand going to his head and feeling the wrap around his head.
"I'll bet you feel that way, too. You have a big knot on the back of your head. You've been out since last night."
"Last night?" Ken was confused. "What happened?"
"Do you remember anything?"
"Nooooo," he said slowly. His mouth felt dry.
"Water?" the nurse provided him with a glass. "Sip slowly. My name is Betsy Hill. What's yours? Your last name. We know your first name is Ken."
Is it? Ken thought. Ken. Yes that sounded right. Ken, he thought again. What a dorky name. Ken and Barbie. Barbie's boyfriend. Why couldn't he have a cooler name, like Joshua or Jason.
Concerned by the befuddled look on his face, the nurse moved closer to take vitals. "Just relax. It's not unusual to have short term memory loss with a bad concussion. Do you want me to call your Mommy?"
Ken was overcome with the sudden impulse to laugh. His Mommy? He was 19, not nine! Or was he? He had a sudden urge to grab a mirror to confirm he was not a child she was treating him like.
"How's our patient, Betsy?" asked a young handsome black man with a kind smile.
Betsy twittered and said, "He's awake and hurting, Dr. Jackson. Can't seem to get anymore information about him."
"Well," Quentin said, moving closer and looking at the chart giving the vitals. "I'm not surprised with the blow he took to the head. Do you remember what you were hit with, uh, Ken?"
"Don't remember getting hit." Blurry images echoed through his mind, but were too elusive for him to pin down.
"What's your last name? The guy that brought you in only knew your first name."
"Ken . . . Ken what?" Ken said aloud. A dorky name like Ken; he probably had a dorky last name. He just wished he knew what it was.
Seeing the confusion and pain in his eyes, Quentin got out his penlight to check the blue eyes. The pupils reacted normally, even when Ken flinched at the bright light.
"Dr. Jackson, you said someone brought me here. Did they know me?"
"They found you in the alley and just knew you as a customer named Ken. Man owns the Pits, a local eatery and pool place. Hamburgers, the usual fare."
"The Pits . . .," Ken mused. "Doesn't sound familiar or like a good name for an eatery."
Quentin laughed heartily. "I agree with you, but I've also heard it has good food. I need to go check it out. Maybe when you're better, you can go with me."
"And me," Nurse Betsy said demurely. "I know I'd like to check it out as well," She smiled at the doctor and the patient pointedly, giving both the impression it wasn't food she was interested in.
Ken blushed as Quentin smiled. "Well, nurse, let's give our patient some pain meds since he is awake. Check him every hour. See if he starts to remember more. Try to get some rest, Ken."
He closed his eyes in obedience, Last night. Was he stargazing? Stars. He liked stars. Suddenly he felt uneasy. Something . . . something important. Urgent? Tired. He was so tired. Maybe the next time he woke up, he would remember.
TBC