Chapter 5
The voice-
We went out to a cream colored storage shed behind the house. Peggy swung its large double doors open and went in. From inside, I heard the loud roar of an engine turn on. I stood outside the shed, having to jump to the side when Peggy drove out on a red four wheeler. She parked it while talking loud so I could hear over the machine, “Hop on Jane. Don’t worry about needing a helmet. We aren’t going too far.” Being towed behind the four-wheeler was a trailer carrying a small aluminum fishing boat. Peggy put her fingers in her mouth and let out a shrill whistle. From the back of the yard, a dark figure came running toward us. I could see its silhouette through the street light. My heart pumped hard. I was afraid of what might be headed our way. My muscles tensed as it came to Peggy’s side. It was a German shepherd.
“It’s my boy Taz.” Peggy said as it licked her hand, then it jumped in the back of the boat. They had a German shepherd? I wondered where it had been hiding this whole time. Later, I would learn it often wandered away when it wasn’t properly put in the house, bringing fear and anger to many neighbors.
As I climbed on the back of the four-wheeler, a huge gust of wind came past us, blasting through my light shirt. Being the end of March, it was still pretty cold outside. With the sun down, it didn’t take long for me to feel frozen. My teeth chattered. Peggy looked over her shoulder at me.
“You poor thing, you look cold. Let me go get you a coat.” She left the four-wheeler running as she jumped off and ran into the house. The cold air trapped the exhaust, and the smoke lingered above my head. It felt like all I was breathing was fumes. I instantly got a headache as I waited for her to return. When she did, she came with a thick coat, gloves, and a hat for me. I put them on. They swamped me being way too big. Peggy had grabbed a light jacket for herself and knit gloves. “I usually don’t get cold much,” she said as she straddled the four-wheeler.
We drove to the small ramp at the reservoir where Peggy put the boat into the water then left to park the four-wheeler. It was dark and I didn’t like being left alone with the massive dog who looked like he wanted to eat me. I shivered to cold and fear. Peggy seemed to take her time.
Once we were in the boat, Taz snuggled next to me and I didn’t seem to fear him as much. Peggy pulled the motor chain a couple of times until the engine kicked to life. It let out a growl, and the fumes of gasoline became overpowering. My lungs burned. Guiding the small craft, Peggy took us out to the middle of the reservoir. A small breeze passed over us, making me even more thankful for the coat. Even though I wasn’t warm, it kept me from freezing. I looked up at the sky. It was breathtaking. There were millions of stars twinkling in the heavens. I tried to ignore how cold I was, enjoying the experience. The stars held a power, a presence of the sky. I felt enamored by them. Peggy turned the motor off, and as we floated there, a fine white mist rose around us from the reservoir, creating a mystical, yet eerie feeling. It was extremely silent. All I could hear was Taz panting. Enjoying the stillness, I leaned back to savor the moment. Gazing at the stars caused goose bumps to erupt all over my skin. The moment was magical. I tried to stop my jaw from shivering, because of the cold.
“Mercy me,” Peggy said as she could hear my chattering. “You are freezing, and I am not even cold.” She slipped the jacket off her body and draped it over me. Because it was so big, it acted more like a blanket. I nestled my entire body under the massive fabric. Its plastic helped shield the cold wind.
“Have you ever fished before?” she asked me.
Maybe I had, but maybe I hadn’t. I knew nothing about my life before the hospital.
Peggy turned on an electric lantern which cast its bright light all around us, the illumination creating a feeling of serenity. Through the light, I watched her pick up a fishing pole.
“This here is a Shakespeare Ugly Stick. The best fishing pole around,” she said.
She proceeded to teach me how to bait my pole, cast it out, and set my line. While she did, Taz cuddled into me. I enjoyed the dog’s heat.
With our lines out, not much happened and I drifted asleep. At some point I awoke to Peggy hollering in joy as her line became tight, her pole bobbing.
“Mercy me. Mercy me! I have one,” she hooted in delight.
She sat for a moment then reared the pole back, giving it a quick jerk. That worked, for the fish kept pulling and pulling, but it didn’t get away. She had managed to snag it.
“You see, he’s mine now.”
She snapped the pole back several times as she reeled in her fish. When it was by the boat, she handed me a green net.
“You scoop that in there and catch that bad boy. If you don’t use the net, nine times out of ten, the fish can get away as you are reeling it into the boat. We don’t want to take any chances like that.”
I lowered the net into the water. Some water splashed my hand, instantly freezing it. Peggy guided her pole until the fish was safely inside the net, then I lifted it out of the water. My heart sped up as I saw the silver fish reflect the light, squirming around trying to free itself. Excitement filled me.
Unexpectedly, I felt movement on my line. Enthusiastically, Peggy told me what to do. Following her advice, I waited for what seemed like forever, then I jerked my pole. It worked! I set the hook and snagged a fish. With elation, I reeled it in. Peggy was there to meet it with the net.
“Look at us, another trout, we are a team. We’ll be eating fish for dinner tomorrow!”
Peggy taught me to gut my fish. I must admit, it fascinated and freaked me out at the same time. I liked seeing the insides of the fish, but I didn’t know how I felt about the blood and fluids getting all over me. We ended up catching a few more fish, but I had really gotten cold and restless. I felt tired and frozen. As much as I loved the tranquility of being out on the reservoir at night, I was done. I wanted to go home, get warm, and fall asleep. I looked over at Peggy. Her eyes were closed. If she was going to fall asleep, I wished she would take us home and do it in her own bed.
Peggy finally opened her eyes and stared at me for a while.
“So, what’s your story, Jane? What did they do to you? I wish you would trust me enough to talk with me. I am your friend. I am someone to trust. I so won’t hurt you like they did. Maybe you have never had anyone in your life who you could trust. That is too bad, for most people in this world are good. Most parents raise their kids because they love them.” Peggy lifted the lantern and locked eyes with me. “Go ahead Jane, talk to me.”
I looked at her, and I don’t know why I did, but my throat opened and my words came out.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked softly. I liked listening to my voice even though it didn’t seem a part of me.
Peggy looked at me gently. She was smart to not overreact, for it would have shut me up. She took both of my hands in hers. I was surprised at how warm they were compared to my frozen, stiff ones. I had to stop wearing my gloves awhile back, because they had gotten wet. “What did they do to you?” she asked.
“I don’t remember,” I said meekly. My voice felt dry and scratchy as it came out.
“What do you remember?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing. Are you sure you don’t remember anything. How about a face, a smell, a thought, a picture, or even an idea? I am sure you must have so many memories, maybe you don’t recognize them as memories.”
“I really don’t. There are no memories.”
“Well, then what is in your head? What do you think about?” she asked.
“I think about what is going on at the moment.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, I guess I do have some memories.” Peggy looked anxious when I said that. She probably expected I had tapped into a storage somewhere in my brain. I hated to disappoint her. “My memories only go back as far as the hospital. I thi
nk about that a lot.”
“I am sure you do, child. Can you remember the cement room, or the Russians who did that awful thing to you?”
I shook my head no.
“Mercy me,” Peggy proclaimed. “There is so much in my brain rattling off at any given second. I can’t imagine not having anything to think about. What is it like?”
“I feel empty,” I said.
“I bet you do.”
“What is going to happen to me, Peggy?” I asked.
Peggy clapped her hands then held her chest. A large smile spread across her face. “You remembered my name,” she said.
I shrugged. I didn’t see what the big deal was.
“Well, you can join the kids to school tomorrow, if you are ready. When you came to our house this evening, school was already out. The kids get up and catch the bus at 7am every morning. Then, they come back at about 3:45 each day. So, do you think you are ready for school?”
My heart raced. The very idea frightened me. Peggy must have seen the fear in my eyes, for she grabbed my hands again. “Don’t worry, dear, take your time. There are only two days of school left this week. We can have you start on Monday if it will make you feel better.”
“It would,” I said.
“By chance, do you know what grade you are in?” Peggy asked.
I shrugged, for I didn’t even know how old I was.
“Do you know how old you are?”
I shrugged again. “I don’t remember anything,” I again told her.
“Well, to me you look like you are between the ages of twelve to fourteen. Who knows? It is so hard to tell with kids since they all grow at different rates and at different times. Angela is thirteen. I will send you with her, and maybe they will let you take all the same classes as her.”
Peggy watched me for a moment, then she changed the subject. “You seem to speak English pretty fluently. Do you know Russian by chance?”
“I really don’t know. I might,” I said. “I don’t know what I should know.”
“Well, you seem to understand conversations pretty well. Like when I mentioned school, you knew what I was talking about even though you claim to have no memories to what school you went to, if any. Do you know how that works?”
“How what works?” I asked. I really didn’t understand her.
“I think it is interesting. You say you don’t remember anything, but you seem to understand the meaning of words. I think if you had nothing upstairs, then everything would be foreign to you. So I wanted to know if you knew how it worked.”
I shrugged to her question, for she really had me lost.
“Okay, I know you say you don’t remember anything, but I am going to keep asking you questions. Sometimes all it takes is a question from someone to open your mind. Is it okay if I keep asking you questions? Don’t feel bad if you can’t answer them. I am not expecting answers. I am trying to get you to exercise your mind. So, is it okay?”
I shrugged. She figured I meant yes, because she began asking questions.
“What is your name?”
I had been thinking about a name, but I wasn’t sure if I should say it.
“Do you remember a face belonging to a grandparent?”
I shook my head. I wanted to tell her face seemed very familiar to me, but I didn’t.
“Do you remember any sights, like flowers, trees, parks?”
“No.”
“Do you remember smells?”
I shook my head.
“Do you remember where you were born?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, this one is important. Are your Christian?”
I rubbed my head. “Please, I don’t think this is working. It is making me sad and making my head hurt. Can we stop this game for now?” I pleaded. I looked in my lap, avoiding her eyes.
Peggy pulled me into a hug, her folds molding to my sides. “I am sorry, Jane. I don’t want to make this hard on you. You are right. I was pushing you too hard. If you ever remember these things, you will probably do it in your own time.”
“Can I ask a question?” I asked.
“Anything.”
“You asked what my name is, but you call me Jane. Is Jane not my name?”
“Well, it might be, but probably not. Jane Doe is like a code name they give to all the people who don’t know their own names. For boys, they call them John Doe.”
“I don’t like it. Do I have to keep it?” I asked.
“Well, I suppose you don’t,” Peggy replied.
“Can I change it?” I asked.
“Well, I suppose you can. What would you like to be called?”
“Alora Funk.” I said.
“Alura…what? Oh Mercy me, why that name of all names. I don’t even know if it is a name.”
“You said I could pick my name.”
“Well, yeah, I was thinking a traditional name like Heather, or Laura. You might even look like a Jen. Does any of those appeal to you?”
“This transitional phase is hard enough in my life. Don’t you think I would adjust better if I had something I could be proud of, something I could call my own?” My sentence was awesome as I pleaded her, but I hadn’t crafted it on my own. It was a sentence I had heard one of the stuffy people from Child Protective Services use in an argument about me.
It worked. Peggy looked impressed as she replied. “I am sorry; if you want to be named Alora, then by all means go for it, don’t let me get in your way,” she said very sincerely.
Back in the hospital, when I started understanding words, people were always asking what my name was. Every time they did, the name Alora Funk seemed to pop in my head. For some reason, it was the only thing really feeling like it belonged to me.
I now had a name, a real name, not some stupid one Child Protective Services tacked onto me. I was building my identity and I loved it. My name was Alora Funk. I was thirteen with long blond hair.
Peggy looked at her watch, “Mercy me,” she said. “It’s almost 1am. We gotta be getting back. I gotta get up early in the morning. Since you aren’t going to school, I guess you can sleep in.”
Peggy turned the motor on, and we headed back to shore while Taz dozed with his head in my lap.