A Ramble in Amnesia

My wife and I said goodbye that morning as usual. She left her second cup of tea on the table to follow me to the front door. She told me to take care of my cold. I had no cold. Then, as I closed the door, I heard her going back to her cool tea.

When I left home, I had no idea what was going to happen. It came suddenly. For many weeks I had worked night and day at a famous law case that I had won only a few days before. In fact, I had worked at the law almost without stopping for many years. Once or twice, Doctor Volney, my friend and doctor, had told me:

"If you don't go more slowly, Bellford," he said, "you'll have a breakdown. Tell me, is there a week when you don't read in the papers about someone with amnesia - about a man lost, walking around nameless, with his past forgotten - all caused by overwork or worry?"

Doctor Volney shook his head.

"You need a change or a rest," he said. "Court, office and home - that's the only journey you ever make. In your free time, you read law books."

"On Thursday nights," I said, "my wife and I play cards. On Sundays she reads to me the weekly letter from her mother. And who says that law books aren't fun?"

That morning as I walked, I was thinking of Doctor Volney's words. I was feeling as well as I usually did - possibly better than usual.

I woke up after sleeping a long time on the uncomfortable train seat. I put my head on the back of the seat and tried to think. After a long time I said to myself: "I must have a name." I looked in my pockets but I couldn't find a card or a letter or anything. But I did find nearly $3,000 in large notes. "I must be someone, of course," I repeated to myself, and began to think again.

The car was crowded with men who had the same interest because they talked freely and seemed happy. One of them - a fat gentleman with glasses who smelt of medicine - sat next to me with a friendly look and opened a newspaper. When he was not reading, we chatted about the news. I found I could talk easily and cleverly. In the end, my friend said:

"You're one of us, of course. I'm glad they're having the meeting in New York. I've never been before. My name's R. P. Bolder - Bolder & Son, of Missouri."

Although I didn't have an answer ready, I managed very well, as most men do in an emergency.

"My name," I said, easily, "is Edward Pinkhammer. I am a pharmacist and my home is in Kansas."

"I knew you were a pharmacist," said my new friend. "Of course, you're coming to our National Meeting."

"Are all these men pharmacists?" I asked.

"They are. This train came from the West. And we're old-time pharmacists, too. We make our own pills. I tell you, Hampinker, I've got an idea for this meeting - new ideas are what they want. Now, you know the bottles of tartar emetic and Rochelle salt - one's poison, you know, and the other's harmless. It's easy to make a mistake with the labels. Where do pharmacists keep them? As far apart as possible. That's wrong. I say keep them side by side, so when you want one you can always see the other. So, you don't make mistakes. Do you get the idea?"

"It seems to me a very good one," I said.

"Alright! When I talk about it at the meeting, you agree with it too."

"If I can help," I said, "the two bottles of -er- "

"Tartrate of antimony and potash, and tartrate of soda and potash."

"...will sit side by side from now on," I said.

"Here's another one of these fake amnesia people," he said after a time, giving me his newspaper, and putting his finger on an article. "I don't believe in them. I think nine out of ten of them are frauds. A man gets sick of his business and his family and wants to have a good time. He runs away somewhere and when they find him he pretends he doesn't know his own name and won't even remember the scar on his wife's left shoulder. Amnesia! Rubbish! Why can't they stay at home and forget?"

I took the paper and read the following:

"DENVER, June 12. - Elwyn C. Bellford, a famous lawyer, is missing from his home. Mr. Bellford is well-known and is head of a large law office. He is married and has a beautiful home. On the day when he disappeared, he took quite a lot of money from his bank. No-one saw him after he left the bank. Mr. Bellford was a quiet man. If anyone knows where he is, please contact..."

"After I read the report, I said, "All that seems real to me. Why should this man, rich, happily married and well-liked, choose to leave everything? I know that these memory problems happen and that men find themselves without a name, a history or a home."

"Oh, rubbish!" said Mr. Bolder. "It's just a bit of fun they want. There's too much education nowadays. Men know about amnesia and they use it."

We arrived in New York about ten at night. I took a taxi to a hotel and I wrote my name "Edward Pinkhammer" in the register. While I was doing this, I felt really excited - freedom, new possibilities. I was just born into the world. The future was in front of me like an open road.

I thought the hotel clerk looked at me five seconds too long. I had no luggage.

"The Pharmacists' Meeting," I said. "My case has not arrived." I pulled out some money.

"Ah!" he said, "We have a lot of them stopping here."

I tried to give some life to my new job.

"There is an important new idea in this meeting," I said, "about the bottles of tartrate of antimony and potash and the tartrate of sodium and potash standing next to each other."

"This gentleman to three-fourteen," said the clerk quickly. They hurried me to my room.

The next day I bought a case and some clothes and began to live the life of Edward Pinkhammer. I did not worry about the problems of the past.

The next few days were like gold and silver. Edward Pinkhammer, still counting back in hours to his re-birth, knew the happiness of arriving in a new world without a care. I sat in theatres and gardens that took me into strange and beautiful lands full of music and pretty girls. And I learnt one thing that I never knew before: the key to freedom is escaping routine.

One afternoon as I entered my hotel, a fat man with a big nose and a black moustache stopped me. When I wanted to go around him, he shouted: "Hello, Bellford! What are you doing in New York? I didn't know anything could pull you away from that library of yours. Is Mrs. Bellford here or is this a little business alone, eh?"

"You have made a mistake, sir," I said, coldly. "My name is Pinkhammer. You will excuse me."

The man stood to one side, astonished. As I walked away, I heard him call a clerk and say something about telegraphs.

"Give me my bill, please," I said to the clerk, "and have my baggage ready in half an hour."

I moved that afternoon to another hotel, a quiet one.

There was a restaurant nearby. Quiet and perfect service made it a wonderful place for lunch. One afternoon I was on my way to a table when I felt someone pull my arm.

"Mr. Bellford!" said a sweet voice.

I turned quickly to see a lady alone - a lady of about thirty, with handsome eyes, who looked at me like I was her very dear friend.

"You were going to walk right past me," she said. "Don't tell me you don't know me. Why shouldn't we shake hands at least once in fifteen years?"

I shook hands with her. I took a chair opposite her at the table. Her hair was reddish gold. You could not look at it though because you could not look away from her eyes. But you knew it was there like you know sunset is there while you look into a deep, deep wood.

"Are you sure you know me?" I asked.

"No," she said, smiling. "I was never sure of that."

"What would you think," I said, "if I told you that my name is Edward Pinkhammer, from Kansas?"

"What would I think?" she repeated, with a laugh. "Why, I'd think Mrs. Bellford wasn't in New York with you, of course. You haven't changed much, Elwyn."

I felt her wonderful eyes looking into mine and at my face.

"Yes, you have," she corrected; "I see it now. You haven't forgotten. You haven't forgotten for a year or a day or an hour. I told you you never could."

"I'm sorry," I said, a little uncomfortable. "But that's just the trouble. I have forgotten. I've forgotten everything."

She laughed deliciously at something she saw in my face.

"I've heard of you at times," she went on. "You're quite a big lawyer, aren't you? Marian must be very proud of you. You knew, I suppose, that I married six months after you did. Maybe you saw it in the papers. The flowers alone cost two thousand dollars."

She had said fifteen years. Fifteen years is a long time.

"Tell me one thing," she said - "a thing I've wanted to know for many years - have you ever touched, smelt or looked at white roses - at white roses wet with rain - since that night?"

"I have no memory at all about these things. I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"You're a liar, Elwyn Bellford," she whispered. "Oh, I know you're lying!"

"My name is Edward Pinkhammer," I said. "I came to the Pharmacists' National Meeting. Some of us want a new position for the bottles of tartrate of antimony and tartrate of potash."

A car arrived outside the restaurant. The lady got up. I took her hand.

"I'm very sorry," I said to her, "that I cannot remember. I could explain but I think you wouldn't understand."

"Good-bye, Mr. Bellford," she said, with her happy, sad smile.

I went to the theatre that night. When I returned to my hotel, a quiet man in dark clothes asked:

"Mr. Pinkhammer," he said, "can I ask you for a little chat? There's a room here."

"Certainly," I answered.

He took me into a small, private room. A lady and a gentleman were there. The lady was unusually good-looking but her face was worried and tired. She looked serious and worried. I think she wanted to move towards me, but the gentleman stopped her with his hand. He then came to meet me himself. He was a man of forty, a little grey.

"Bellford," he said, politely, "I'm glad to see you again. Of course we know everything is all right. I told you that you were doing too much. Now, you'll go back with us, and be your normal self again."

I smiled.

"Can you believe that my name is Edward Pinkhammer and that I never saw you before in my life?"

Before the man could answer, a cry came from the woman. "Elwyn!" She came towards me. "Elwyn," she cried again, "don't break my heart. I'm your wife - say my name once - just once."

"Madam," I said, "forgive me, but you're wrong."

"What is it, Doctor Volney? Oh, what is it?" she asked.

"Go to your room for a time," I heard him say to her. "I'll stay and talk with him. I'm sure he'll recover. Go to your room and leave me with him."

The lady disappeared. The man in dark clothes also went outside.

"I'd like to talk with you, Mr. Pinkhammer," said the gentleman who stayed behind."Let's speak openly," he said. "Your name is not Pinkhammer."

"I know that," I said, coolly. "But a man must have a name. I don't like the name 'Pinkhammer'. But it isn't easy to think of a name suddenly."

"Your name," said the other man, seriously, "is Elwyn C. Bellford. You are one of the best lawyers in Denver. You're sick with amnesia, which means you have forgotten who you really are. The cause of it was overwork and, perhaps, a life with no pleasure. The lady who has just left the room is your wife."

"She's a fine-looking woman," I said, after a pause. "I especially like the colour of her hair."

"She is a wife to be proud of. Since you disappeared, nearly two weeks ago, she hasn't closed her eyes. We learnt you were in New York from Isidore Newman, a travelling man from Denver. He said he met you in a hotel here, and that you did not know him."

"I think I remember it," I said. "The man called me 'Bellford'. But who are you?"

"I'm Robert Volney - Doctor Volney. I have been your close friend for twenty years and your doctor for fifteen. I came with Mrs. Bellford to find you as soon as we got the call. Try, Elwyn, try to remember!"

"How can I try?" I asked. "You say you are a doctor. What can you do about amnesia? When a man can't remember anything, does it return slowly, or suddenly?"

"Sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly."

"Will you help me, Doctor Volney?" I asked.

"Old friend," he said, "I'll do everything I can."

"Very well," I said. "Then I'm your patient. Everything is secret between us now."

"Of course," said Doctor Volney.

I got up. Someone had put a vase of white roses on the centre table - white roses. I threw them out of the window and then sat down again.

"It's best, Bobby," I said, "for this cure to happen suddenly. I'm bored now, anyway. You can go and bring Marian in. But, oh, Doctor," I said, as I hit him playfully - "it was wonderful!"