The Man With The Hole In His Head

THE MAN WITH THE HOLE IN HIS HEAD


Maria Rodriguez’s only purpose in life was taking care of her son Julian. She no longer wasted her time admiring parents with ‘normal’ children. She had a special bracelet made for him, like the kind epileptics or heart patients wore describing their condition. That way, if he ever wandered outside the community, someone would be able to help him. Or he could look at his wrist and know for himself that something was wrong with him, and what that something was.

Julian had an unusual illness. Maria had taken him to as many doctors as she could afford, and even some that she couldn’t, but no one could help Julian. Julian had a hole in his head. All his memories leaked through this hole. Julian would go to bed at night, a full days worth of experience folded up neatly in his brain, and when he awoke the next day, his closet of memory would be empty. Maria came into his room every morning, woke him, introduced herself: “Good morning. Your name is Julian, and I am Maria Rodriguez, your mother”, and laid out his clothes for him. Sometimes he was wary of her, sometimes he just accepted her, but there was never any sign that he recognized her.

She had educated Julian at home, for a school would have been impossible. He was able to retain language and mathematics and had even shown talent in numbers. She had even found him a job, working from home on a computer three hours a day, which he seemed to enjoy. They went for walks together in the afternoon. Sometimes Julian would get frustrated late in the day by his inability to remember anything, but Maria would reassure him that all his troubles would end as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he accepted that. She also noticed recently that he was noticing girls, and they would eye him back, for he was a handsome man who often went walking with his mother. But whereas they would smile at him the way you smile at someone you see each day, he would only stare at them with wonder and not say anything.

One day it happened that Maria overslept.

Julian awoke in his bed, alone, with no idea who or where he was. He got up, opened the drapes, and let the streaming sunlight into the strange room. He searched the closet and found some clothes he thought might be appropriate for going out. While dressing, he noted the computer in the corner of his bedroom, but he had no impulse to turn it on and begin work. He walked right by the doorway to his mother’s bedroom without going in to check on her. He had no idea that he was not alone in the house.

Julian searched the kitchen cupboards for something edible, and found some oranges in a red net sack. He took the sack with him and walked out into the day full of possibilities.

As he walked alone, he passed many women who all smiled at him, wondering to themselves where his mother was. He smiled back, unaware that he had a mother. He found a park with a stream flowing through it, and sat down on an unoccupied bench to breakfast on oranges and feel the warm sun on his face.

All this was noticed by a young mother pushing her son on the swing. She helped the boy down, and he promptly ran to the man with the oranges to beg for one.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said, taking her son by the hand and trying to pull him away.

“It’s perfectly all right. He is welcome. Would you like an orange as well?”

“Yes, thanks.” The woman and her son sat down next to Julian on the bench, peeling oranges and popping slices into their mouths. “My name is Lily, and this is Alejandro. What’s your name?”

Julian smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Lily saw the silver of his bracelet flash in the sun, caught it between her fingers and read it. “Memory deficit. How unusual. Is this true?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did you do yesterday?”

“I don’t know.”

“It must be true, then. It says here that your name is Julian Rodriguez and you live on Valencia Street. Do you know where that is? Would you like us to walk you home?”

“Not just yet. I want to enjoy the fresh air,” he smiled and studied his toes, “and the company.”

“Aren’t you scared that you don’t know where you are? Aren’t you worried that you have to be somewhere or that you are missing something?”

Julian shrugged. “That is my life. I suppose I am used to it. Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”

Lily smiled and launched into her life’s story: her middle-class Catholic upbringing, her torrid affair with Alejandro’s father, who had now disappeared and was nowhere to be found. She spoke in such colors that Julian was totally taken in by her story, almost as if it were his own life she was describing. She asked Julian questions about himself, which he could not answer. The sun rose higher in the sky. Alejandro tired of playing and sat beside his mother with sweat beading on his face and his thumb in his mouth.

“Would you care to come back to our house for some lunch?” Lily asked.

“I would like that.”

So the trio left the park and walked three blocks to Lily’s apartment. She cooked rice and beans in her tidy kitchen while Julian read a book to Alejandro. They ate with laughter: Julian hung his spoon from his nose and both mother and son delighted in his antics. After lunch, Lily put Alejandro down for his siesta, and brought coffee to Julian, who had moved to the couch. She sat beside him.

“I can’t imagine what it is like for you, not to have a memory.”

“In some ways, not having a memory is good. It means that I live for the moment.” He put his steaming cup on the coffee table, took Lily’s face in his warm hands, and kissed her. She took both his hands in hers, pulled him up and led him to the bedroom. She undressed slowly and stood facing him naked in the sunlight.

“You are very beautiful,” he said. “I don’t know if I’ve ever made love before.”

“It doesn’t matter. I will show you.” She began to undress him and as her hands touched his bare skin, he felt his want for her uncurl and stretch. She guided him on the bed and he gave in to his instinct. He stroked her hair, her breasts, her thighs and she whispered her desire. He made love to her then, as if he had been loving her his entire life. Afterwards held her in his arms. They lay together on the bed for a long time, not speaking.

At four o’clock, Alejandro awoke and was clamoring again to be fed. They spent the evening together, lounging in the livingroom, playing with Alejandro, eating slices of bread and indulging themselves with swallows of red wine, until the sun had set and it was time again for bed. As before, Lily took Julian by the hands and tried to pull him to the bedroom, but he hesitated.

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“I don’t want to go to sleep. I’m afraid that I will wake up and not remember you or Alejandro or any of this.”

Lily thought a minute. “Why don’t you write yourself a note? When you wake in the morning I can give it to you so you won’t be afraid.”

Julian nodded and Lily fetched him a piece of paper and a pencil. Julian labored over the note, chronicling his entire day with Lily and how wonderful she was and how he had no desire to be anywhere but with her. Finally, when he was finished, he folded up the note and gave it to Lily. She led him to bed, where they made love twice before falling asleep.

When he awoke in the morning, he was alone in the bed and he didn’t know where he was. He was afraid.

“Lily?” he cried out. And there she was, holding a breakfast tray with fresh rolls, a single rose in a vase and his note from last night. She handed it to him.

He held the note in his hand, turned it over a couple times without opening it and put it down.

“I remember,” he said. “I remember everything.”