"I'm talking about Biff ... you know, Biff, our teenage son. I'm really not in the mood for jokes here. All I want to do is get some rest. I ..." Gary glanced at some of the family photos on the wall. In the pictures, there was himself, his wife Lorraine, his 8-year old son Wesley, and ... and a teenage girl that looked a lot like Biff, but wasn't.
"What's going on here?" He pointed at the picture and looked at his wife. "Who is that? Why ... why is she in our family portrait?"
"Gary, that's our daughter."
"Daughter? We don't have a daughter."
"Yes, we do. Her name is Beverly. You really don't remember her, do you?"
"No." He touched his head. "Maybe ... maybe something happened to me on my trip that I don't remember." He looked up at Lorraine. "Maybe a nervous breakdown?"
"I hope not."
He looked towards the phone. "Maybe Alan should take a look at me." Dr. Alan Gearheart was Gary's doctor, and friend.
"It's late. I don't think he's at work."
"He'll examine me. He will."
Gary picked up the phone and called Alan, convinced him to give him an examination, and hung up.
"He said he'll be ready in about fifteen minutes. I think I should get going." He stood up and walked to the door, then turned around. "Maybe you should drive me there. You know, just in case something else happens to me."
"Okay. Good idea." She got up and went with him. But before she left the house, she called upstairs to her daughter and told her that both of them would be gone for a bit.
"Okay, mom," replied Beverly.
Once outside, Gary and Lorraine got in their car and drove to the nearby clinic, where Alan works.
