"I'll go," said Peter. Then they left.
Two hours later, they were still not back. I was getting a little worried. I put down the notebook I had been working on and massaged my eyes. Just then the phone rang. "Where have y'all been?" I asked.
"The hospital," he replied. I sat down on the couch.
"What happened?" I asked.
"We got into an accident soon after we left. A car ran a stop sign and hit us. The car's not in that bad shape. But the force threw me into the dashboard. I put my arm up to protect my head and it broke." He paused. "M.G., the car hit us on the driver's side." I couldn't breathe. "Micky hit his head on the steering wheel. He's been knocked out for a while." There was a long silence. "M.G. Are you still there? Are you okay?"
"Huh?" I asked. I was in complete shock.
"M.G., go get Mike."
"Okay," I replied. I managed to walk to the back door and call Mike's name. He and Davy got out of the water. They dried off and walked to the back door. "Phone," I told Mike. I took a step forward and started to fall.
"What's the matter?" Mike asked as he caught me. He helped me to the couch.
"Phone," I repeated. He picked up the receiver. I just stared straight ahead. Davy kept asking me questions but I didn't answer. When Mike got off the phone, I looked at him.
"I'll take you to the hospital in my truck," he said. He was very upset.
"What's all this about a hospital? What is going on?" Davy asked. Mike explained.
"M.G.? Come on." They each took one of my hands and led me to the truck.
We found Peter in the waiting room of the emergency room. "He woke up, M.G." he said. I almost fainted with relief.
"Where is he?" I asked.
"There's something I have to tell you before you see him," he warned.
"Oh, no. He's hurt really bad, isn't he?"
"No, no. He barely has a scratch. It's just that, well, he hit his head pretty hard. He doesn't. . . remember a lot of things."
"What," I asked, "You mean about the accident?"
"No. I mean his name. He doesn't know who he is. He doesn't know who I am, either."
"I don't know if I can handle this," I told him.
"Don't worry," Mike said. "We'll be there with you."
"And for you," Davy added.
"Are you ready for me to take you to his room?" Peter asked me.
I waited a few seconds then took a deep breath and said "Yes."
We all went into Micky's hospital room together. He was asleep. Besides a banage on his head, Micky looked like he would be sleeping in our bed at home. He suddenly opened his eyes and looked at us. "Hi, uhm, Peter. Do I know the rest of you?" I started crying.
"These are your other two best friends, Davy and Mike. They are in the band with us. We're called the Monkees." Then Peter motioned to me. "Micky, this is your wife, M.G." Micky looked at me and got very upset.
"I have a wife? How could I not remember something like that?"
"It's all right," I assured him. "It's not your fault."
He took a few seconds to calm down. "Tell me about my life," he asked me.
"Well, you were born March 8, 1945. You are 21. Your full name is George Michael Dolenz, but everyone calls you Micky. Your parents are George and Janelle Dolenz. You have three sisters."
"How long have we been married?"
"Two years and six months on the 28th. We got married last January."
"Kids?"
"A son. Micky Jr. He is six months old."
I handed him a picture that I had in the baby, who had fallen asleep, for almost a minute. "M.G.," he said, "I remember."
"What do you remember?" I asked him.
"Everything," he said.
I hugged him for a long time. "It sure took long enough," I joked.
Peter came in fom the kitchen where he and the guys had been. "The cream of root beer soup is ready," he told us.
Micky replied, "Now, there is something I wish I'd forget!"
by M. G.