Recovering Memory

He looked tired - hands lying listless on the table, body inert and sagging. Except for his eyes where blankness gave way to amusement off and on, recollecting some whimsical memory probably.  I leaned forward, pushing the pack of cigarettes towards him. He looked at it, unsure, and then declined with a shake of his head.

‘I can’t even remember if I enjoyed smoking,’ he said, ‘maybe, I did.’

‘Don’t think too much about it,’ I said.

‘What I can think about does not seem to be the stuff I should think about.’

‘It will all come back.’

‘It… all…? It… wouldn’t be so frustrating if I forgot… all…’

He scratched his unshaven face, pressed his eyes with his thumbs, ‘I can’t sleep. Just before you came in, I was remembering the two American ladies we met on the train. The younger one looked a lot like that girl in ‘Grey’s Anatomy’, right?’

I shrugged.

‘Not exactly, I know, but her eyes or maybe the face, something feral, something similar.’ He paused before continuing, ‘I can remember that the older lady was the attractive one… and that I talked to her more… but I can’t remember her at all… how she looked or what we talked… total blank.’ He rested his head on the table. ‘It’s maddening.’

We talked for half an hour or so in that small dank room.  Yes, he remembered me as an old friend. Maybe, if I was important to him, he would have forgotten me as well. We even talked about our old school days. He remembered most of it.

Later, outside that room, I narrated our discussion to the man who had called me to the police station.

‘Inspector, he remembers a lot. Even our school days, the girls I used to chase around and such,’ I paused, ‘but he has no memory of stuff that really mattered to him, like his girlfriend in school, and those two were really close, unlike my time-pass flings.’

‘Not the same girl, I suppose…’ the Inspector asked, leaning against the wall, looking bored.

‘What?’

‘You two were not chasing the same girl, were you?’

‘Oh, no… his type was the silent serious one… too heavy for me… I just went for the popular…’ I laughed, realizing too late that I could be misconstrued, especially there with that crowd. The Inspector still looked bored. I knew that it was just a show. He looked the type who could stalk endlessly and tire out a suspect, waiting for the submission and the confession. Oh yes, he looked that kind.

‘So, your friend there can’t remember anything, huh?’ the Inspector asked.

‘Only the important parts seem to be missing… erased…’ I tried to explain.

‘How convenient…’ he muttered.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, he remembers his wife,’ the Inspector paused, ‘but he can’t recollect anything that happened yesterday. Nothing… not how he found his wife dead late evening, not where he was most of the day, not what she was up to that morning, not even who could have attacked her at this resort mid-afternoon … nothing…’

‘But there was some intruder, right? The newspapers mentioned some eye-witness…’

‘Ah! People always see lots of things…’ he seemed to dismiss that line of enquiry. He kept staring at me, thoughtful, and I felt uncomfortable with his close scrutiny.

I offered, ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Try to make him remember…’

‘He is my friend… she was, too… don’t you think someone else would be suitable for that…?’ I asked.

‘Conflict of interests, huh?’ he kept staring.

‘Exactly...’

‘Well, if he is not a good suspect,’ he stressed on the ‘good’ making it sound real bad, ‘you might become our next best one.’

‘What…?’

‘You were at the resort with them… you, a single guy, and them, a nice couple, together - it sounds strange, doesn’t it?’

‘We are… were… good friends, that’s all… I suggested the trip and they came along. What’s so strange about that?’

‘You were a friend of hers, you say. And you go for the popular girls… other guys’ girls?’

‘Don’t twist my words.’

‘I might not… but the media might. Do you know how uncomfortable public scrutiny can be… guilty or innocent?’

‘That’s blackmail,’ I whined.

He shrugged.

‘Don’t you people have your ways… for such things…?’ I asked hopefully.

‘Oh yes, we have our ways… but, why don’t we start with your friendly ways? Just make him remember. If he is bluffing, his best friend might be the best one to catch him unawares. Your conflict of interests might be helpful in ferreting out the truth.’  

I could guess the part he left unsaid. Or, if he is not bluffing, he might think that I did it… and… he might try to catch me. It was apparent that the Inspector had set his sights on my friend… and me.