30 Years Too Late

I can't remember my fathers smile or my mothers eyes, but I remember one thing. I'm in love with Viola Roberts. After my accident the doctors told me I'd likely never regain my memories, but I can remember the way she holds my hand like she's afraid I'll fall off the planet and the sound of my name on her lips. I'm still in the hospital. I can't remember how long I've been here but it must be a long time because the flowers by my bed are wilting. I think they're peonies, or they might be carnations, I'm not really too sure. I lie back in bed and drum my fingers against the metal frame. "Viola." I whisper like a secret to myself, savouring the taste of the words in my mouth. Had she been to visit me? Had she wept by my bedside praying I'd wake? I had only been awake for a few short hours but I already felt drained from all the information I'd absorbed. The words car accident, amnesia and coma all blurring, as thought it was too much for me to comprehend. My doctor had hurried to me as soon as I'd woke, she seemed like a nice lady with a kind face. She hadn't told me how long I'd been out, or when my parents were arriving, she simply said that she'd give me a few hours to adjust before coming to talk to me.
As I adjust myself in the uncomfortable bed I hear the sound of heels clacking down the hall, brunette hair framing a soft face comes into view, the face of my doctor. She flips a medical chart in her hand and smiles weakly, I can tell that something is very off.
"Zach Miller." I hear her mumble, twisting her lips from side to side in an unnatural expression.
"When are my parents or Viola coming?" When she doesn't respond I hastily add. "Viola Roberts, she must have come to see me, I mean I must have been in here for weeks." Whatever I said seemed to have grasped the doctors attention because she looked up at me with concern glazed over her face.
"Zach. This is going to be hard to hear okay? I'm going to need you to stay calm." She placed the medical chart on the foot of my bed and began worrying at a ring on her finger.
"Why do I need to stay calm? What's happened?" I begin to fidget nervously, was it Viola?
"You've been in a coma for 30 years."
I blink at her words, surely this was some kind of practical joke?
"I'm sorry, what?"