Later that evening, Linda began her shift by immediately seeking out her strange new friend. She found him in room 325, eating pudding and watching a telenovela. She walked over to the foot of his bed and grabbed his chart.
“So, how are we doing today…” She studied the chart for a second “…John Doe?”
“Linda! Hi! Oh, I’m living the dream,” said the man with a smile. He showed her his pudding cup in support of his assertion. “And please call me Sam.”
“You remember your name?” asked Linda with a hint of excitement in her voice.
Sam shook his head and frowned at his pudding cup. “No, afraid not. But you called me Sam last night, so it’s as good a name as any for now.”
“Sorry to hear that,” offered Linda. “For a moment there, I thought you had your memory back. Any progress with that at all? You remember anything?”
“Nothing,” said Sam. “Bupkis.”
Linda frowned. Then she heard a burst of angry Spanish coming from the television. She glanced at it for a moment and asked, “You know Spanish?”
Sam answered, “Not a word, I just think Spanish soap operas are hysterical. OK, maybe I do know a few words of Spanish — Una cerveza por favor. I’d love to know where I picked that one up from.”
Linda clapped her hands mockingly. “Oh, very good. Very useful.”
“Thanks,” said Sam. “So, did the police find anything at your apartment. Any clues?”
Linda shook her head and started to pace back and forth beside Sam’s bed. “No. Nothing conclusive. It’s all very strange. There were no signs of forced entry. Your fingerprints could not be found anyplace but the bathroom. Nothing is missing from the apartment. We don’t know how you got in, or what you were doing there. The only clues we found were blood streaks on both sides of the interior of the bathroom vanity. I thought this was odd because I know that you only went under the sink once when I was home, right after I startled you with my sudden appearance.”
Sam looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t really remember being scared by you, but I do remember you talking nicely to me and coaxing me out from under the sink.” He thought for a moment and added, “So, I guess that means that I was under the sink at least one other time before you got home. Hmm. Odd. I wonder if I was startled by something else and hid under there?”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Maybe,” agreed Linda. “Or perhaps you were going to hide under there and attack me in the shower or something. But then you hit your head on a pipe and knocked yourself silly.”
Sam squinted at her. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Linda smiled. “I’d prefer not to, but it is a plausible assumption.”
Sam replied, “Well, I admit that it is a possibility.” He made a show of examining his arms and legs and continued, “But, I don’t feel like a criminal. And I don’t see any prison ink on me, or any other tattoos for that matter. Did the police find anything when they ran my prints?”
“No,” replied Linda. “Otherwise I would have already told you, since they would have inevitably discovered your name. No, it seems like you were a good boy before all of this happened.” She added with a smirk, “Or at least very skilled at not getting caught.”
“Yes, very funny. So what do I do now? What is plan B?” asked Sam.
“I’ve talked it over with the doctor, and we agree that you should stay here for the remainder of the week. If there is no improvement in your condition, I have agreed to take custody of you until you are capable of supporting yourself again. And don’t worry — you won’t have to sleep under the sink. I have a spare bedroom that I used to keep for my son in case he wanted to drop by and visit me.”
“Oh my god, Linda, thank you so much,” said Sam emotionally.
Linda continued, “To tell you the truth, you remind me a little of him, my son. He was such a good boy.”
Sam noticed the past tense. He asked gently, “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Linda swallowed hard. “He died of leukemia when he was only twenty five, probably not much younger than you are now. Watching him suffer like that… I suppose that’s why I became a nurse. If I can help heal other people or ease their suffering… I know it won’t bring him back, but it does bring me some comfort.”
“Thanks for telling me,” said Sam. “I’m sorry to make you remember it.”
Linda put her hand on his. “You’re a sweet boy. I’ll check up on you later on. I have to get back to work now, or else I’ll be out of a job and we’ll both be living on the streets.”
As she turned to walk away, Sam said, “OK, see you later. Thanks again, Linda. You’re the best. I promise I won’t be any trouble to you.”