Who Am I? [Part 2]

"That man was Patrick. He's been your Energy Kinesiology mentor since you started taking classes. On days you work the later shifts the two of you do trades—taking turns working on each other. You've become good enough friends that you started calling him Big Brother since your family life is bad. And now you do great work, and even rent the office next to his."

"But how can I work on him when I remember nothing?"

"You may remember something after he works on you."

"I'm not even sure I'll remember how to be a wellness counselor," I said softly.

"Patrick can work on that."

"Okay."

I watched the businesses and houses pass while Matteo drove. All of these things I already had in place; already had established—well established by the looks of it, but I could remember none of it. Matteo drove us to Zuppa's for lunch. I ordered the turkey artichoke sandwich and lobster bisque soup. He ordered a barbeque chicken salad and crab sandwich. We sat in a corner booth. I tried to ask questions to get to know my would be fiancé.

He was an editor, loved to read my stories—helped me improve them based on what had already been published. Fantasy was his genre, but really loved to read sci-fi when he could. Matteo loved the outdoors and had often taken me hiking or fishing.

"Where did we meet?" I asked.

"I first talked to you at the herb shop, but you caught my eye in this Zuppa's a few days before that. You were having dinner with Patrick and Tasha. Something was said to get the three of you laughing. Your smile was what caught my attention."

I nodded.

Matteo set a hand over mine. "Now I know a dedicated, caring, and very loving healer who has helped many people overcome their unnecessary survival patterns—myself, Patrick, and Tasha included."

I scoffed. "A healer who was lost her mind."

"I love you, Shanna."

"You seem like the kind of man I could love in return, Matteo."

He gave my hand a squeeze and nodded.

When we were finished, Matteo took me back home. "Call me if you need anything."

"Okay."

I went inside then lay on the couch. No matter how much Matteo wished for me to remember something by telling me about myself, taking me to the place I supposedly worked at to meet with a boss and coworkers I could not remember, or even the big brother figure of a fellow practitioner, I didn't. There was no sense of familiarity about anything that had happened since I woke up. My amputated arm ached.

Getting up, I searched the cupboards. I didn't know what I was looking for, only feeling I'd know it once I saw it. In the cupboard next to the sink were several ointment containers. I picked up the one labeled 'Comfrey ointment 7/12' and opened the jar. I unwrapped the end of my arm and gently spread a thick layer of the ointment over the end. A package of gauze came next to cover the ointment before I started to rewrap it. My phone rang. I let it ring. I was almost done when my phone beeped to let me know I had a voicemail.

Once the ointment was back in the cupboard I picked up my purse and pulled out my phone. Calling me voicemail, I had several messages.

"Hi Shanna. My name is Nancy Rice. I was calling to set up a time to come see you. My number is 801-252-0431. Thanks. Bye."

I saved the message.

"Shanna, this is your mother. Call me when you get this."

I saved that one despite Matteo saying I didn't talk with them.

"Hey, Little sister. Tasha was wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner if you and Matteo don't have any plans. Call me back. Bye."

I deleted the message then called Patrick back.

"Hey, Little sister," he answered.

"Hey, Big brother," I replied, leaning back on the couch. "I got your message."

"Do you and Matteo have plans tonight?"

"We don't."

"But?" he asked, hearing it in my voice.

"I won't be much of a conversationalist tonight."

"Are you doing alright, Shey?"

Tears filled my eyes. These people expected me to remember, but I couldn't. But if I saw this man as my big brother he'd understand and that meant I trusted him enough to be able to tell him anything.

"Shey?"

"How can I be okay when I remember nothing?" I finally said.

"About the car accident? That's…."

"No. I remember nothing. I don't remember you, or Tasha; I don't remember anyone at the herb shop; I have no idea who Matteo is; and I can remember nothing about myself."

Patrick was silent as tears ran down my face. "That explains a lot."

"I'm sorry, Patrick."

"Don't be. You're still welcome to join us; try to get to know us again."

"I don't know that I want to tonight."

"That's okay. Would you still like me to work on you tomorrow?"

"If you're okay with that."

"I am. We'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and continued to cry. Precisely the kind of man I'd want my big bother to be. Giving me an opportunity to relearn rather than acting like I already knew a lot about them.

I didn't cry for long before I scanned through the herbal texts on the bookcases. If I was a wellness counselor, I'd have to know a lot about the herbs and supplements. I pulled off the PDR for herbal medicine and took it back to the couch to study.

I woke to my alarm clock at seven. I showered and fought to get my clothes back on. It was difficult to do things one handed. I renewed the Comfrey ointment on my stump before finding something simple to eat. There was a knock on my door as I was finishing. Matteo was there.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

"Almost. Let me grab my stuff and put my shoes on."

"Alright."

Matteo drove me to the herb shop. It was nine o'clock when we arrived. He helped me out of the car and pulled me into a tight embrace. "Have a good day, Shey."

"I'll try to, Matteo. Good luck with work today."

"I will. You're off at 6pm?"

"I think so."

"Okay. I'll be back to pick you up."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Shey." He kissed my cheek and let me go.

I waved goodbye then went inside. I was greeted by 'Good mornings' by my nameless coworkers as I walked back to Patrick's office. He wasn't there yet, so I sat on the soft chair just outside his office. He hurried in a few minutes later.

"Sorry, I'm late Shanna. I got a late start this morning."

"It's alright, Patrick."

He unlocked the door and waved for me to come in. He set his keys on his desk before taking off his jacket. "How are you doing today?" he asked.

"Okay, I guess. My arm hurts a little more today."

"Are you doing anything for it?" He put a sheet on the massage table in the center of the room.

"Comfrey ointment right now."

"Okay. Go ahead and take your shoes off and lie on the table. I'll wash my hands then we'll get started."

"Okay."

I slipped off my shoes while Patrick went down the hall. The office felt different, separate or cut off from the rest of the building. Sitting on the table, I lay down when Patrick returned and closed the door. He picked up my left wrist, setting a few fingers on my elbow so I would bend my arm.

"Hold," he instructed before lightly pressing on my wrist. He pinched my arm lightly and pressed again. I couldn't hold it this time.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Spindling the muscle. I'm going to use this muscle in your arm to help me locate stress in your body." His fingers spread the skin he had just pinched and my arm held again.

"Okay."

Patrick ran through what he called pre-checks, checking my arm muscle between each one. Then he had me think of a stress—a problem—as he put it.

'Not remembering you,' I thought.

Patrick checked the muscle. It wouldn't lock as he had been able to make it do before. I felt a weight on my chest. It hurt. Patrick touched several points before holding two spots on my feet. I heard him exhale loudly.

"There is a lot of energy there," he said. "Do you feel that?"

"It hurts," I said pressing my fingers against my sternum.

There was a soft click before Patrick moved my hand away from my sternum and checked the muscle. It was working fine again.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked.

"All along my sternum."

"I'm just going to touch along your sternum and stack in the stress that shows."

I nodded, aware of my arm holding and not holding while Patrick pressed against my sternum. He didn't spindle the muscle at all. Once he was done he held more points. The pain remained. Patrick touched the top of my head several times before he got another muscle change. His voice was soft as he spoke about what he was doing. He stacked in formats consisting of mudras and accupoints. The more he put in formats and the more he held points that were used to release the stress the more I felt my heart constrict until I could no longer hold back my tears.