Spot light on JAMIE, standing alone DOWN CENTER.
JAMIE
(memorized)
Hello. My name is Jamie Stahls. I am seventeen years old and I go to Western Hill High School. I live on 482 Maple Lane. I have a brother named Jack and a sister named Matilda. My dog's name is Lucy, and I call the gold fish Stephen. Everyone else calls it a different name.
(relaxes; the change must be subtle, because Jamie does not have a distinct personality to relax into yet)
That's what they told me when I woke up from my coma. They said that if I ever get lost, that I should know where I live. I should know what high school I go to, because it is an important part of who I am. I have to learn a lot of names of people I can't remember meeting. They all expect me to know who they are, and I feel bad whenever I see how sad they look that I don't recognize them. A lot of them start to avoid me after we meet for the first time. My mother says it's because it's hard for them. But it's hard for me, too! To watch a new person's heart break every day, because I don't recognize an important joke, or when their smile makes me uncomfortable because I don't remember the history behind it and so I can't smile back. It hurts. It really, really hurts, and I hate it.
Enter MOTHER. She is in a spot light on STAGE LEFT.
MOTHER
It will get better soon, dear. Soon, your memories will come back and then it won't hurt anymore.
Spot light out on MOTHER.
JAMIE
My mother tells me this every night. I don't remember if I believe her every word or not. But I guess the thought is still nice to have.
Spot light on FATHER, STAGE RIGHT.
FATHER
Jamie, don't beat yourself up so much over this. It's not your fault that you can't remember everybody yet.
Spot light out on FATHER.
JAMIE
My father tells me this when I cry. He's nice to tell me that it's not my fault, but how can I believe that when it's everybody who won't help me remember? People walk away from me, and they never speak to me again. What does that mean? What should that mean?
Spot light fades. Exeunt.
