Time Tantrums by Ginger Simpson Page A

area. David seemed unaffected and obviously didn’t notice her state of panic.
      She struggled to regain control of her breathing and composed herself. The movement stopped with a thud, but her stomach didn’t. She swallowed the bitter taste of bile and took a deep breath when the doors opened. No longer afraid of using up all the air inside the cramped quarters, she exhaled and willed her body to relax.
    When she focused beyond the doors, Mariah gaped in awe. Before her was not the long corridor, but a large, open, airy room busy with people. David pushed her out into their midst and she tightened her grip on the armrests of her chair. Small and unobtrusive, she sat while people passed all around her. Her head whipped from side-to-side, taking in the wonder of the different styles of dress, hair, and skin color.
    Her eyes fixed on one certain woman. She wore something very similar to the scant piece of material the nurse had provided as clothing. She couldn’t believe her eyes.
      "Oh my goodness . That was the bottom part,” she whispered, aghast at so much exposed skin.
    Mariah’s gaze dropped to the shoes the woman wore.
      Father in heaven, she thought. How did someone walk on toothpicks.
      She vaguely heard David say something about leaving the wheeled chair at the front desk, and looked up only long enough to wave as the nurse walked away. Her attention snapped right back to the amazing sights.
    Beyond the crowd, Mariah noticed another bustling world of people outside huge windows. Her heart raced as so many of the colorful vehicles David called ‘cars,’ whizzed by. They looked quite different from this angle--moved by themselves, without horses or mules.
      She looked up at David and put her hand to her bosom. “Do we have a car?”  
    “Yes, we do. We had two before your accident. The Lexus was totaled, but thank goodness we have good insurance.”
    “Lexus? Insurance? He might as well speak in gibberish.
    He clenched and unclenched his lips. “I keep forgetting you don’t remember things. Lexus is the kind of car you had. Don’t you recall? You loved driving it so much.”
    Mariah lowered her head. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t have any recollections of a car. I can tell by the tone in your voice you’re tired of me asking so many questions, but try to imagine what it feels like to be in my place. I don’t remember any of this and it scares me to death.”
    “I’m so sorry. I should be more considerate.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I want so badly for you to remember."   His fingers clamped into her skin as his remorseful tone turned urgent. "I want you back the way you were.”
    She understood his distress, but had no idea of his meaning. She’d always been Mariah and she liked herself… but in the place and time she remembered.
      Her life couldn't be only a dream. Every part of it was etched in her memory--Frank, the kids, the ranch—how could she make it all up?
    She looked at David through teary eyes. “I’m trying. That’s all I can say for now. I’m trying. Please be patient a little longer.”
    He bent and brushed her lips with his. “I know you are . I am, too. We have to give it more time.”
    Startled by his spontaneous kiss, Mariah pressed back in the chair. Before he attempted another, she turned her head and stared out the window.
    Kisses?   Definitely not, but time?   She could give him that.   In fact, time was about the only thing she had left.
    He steered her chair to a counter and stopped. She glanced up at him. “What now?”
    “You sit tight and I’ll go get the car.” He pulled keys from his pocket. “I’ll park in the loading zone and come get you.”
    At the thought of being left alone amidst strangers and riding in a strange conveyance to who knew where, Mariah’s heart rate quickened. “I’ll be right here,”     she responded with a bravery she didn't feel. Besides, where else   could she go?
    She drew her bottom lip between her