"What?" Vickie asked gently.

"How is this possible?"

Robert looked toward Vickie. He wiped his eyes with a tissue he got from the night table.

Vickie could see his eyes were red and swollen from crying.

"This is not possible."

"What isn't?"

"This. All of this."

A thought came to Vickie.

"Are you in trouble with the law or something?"

Robert smiled slightly. "No. Nothing like that. That would actually be a simple explanation to everything."

"To what?"

Robert never answered.

Instead, he pulled back the sheets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Should you be getting out of bed?"

"I'm okay."

He slowly got to his feet, steadying himself for a moment by holding the bed. he then took a deep breath, looking around the room.

"My clothes?"

Vickie pointed to a locker a few feet from Robert.

"Maybe in there."

He slowly walked to the locker, opened it and took out a pair of jeans. As quickly as he could, using one hand, he put the jeans on and lay the rest of his clothes; shirt, socks and running shoes, on the bed.

He reached into his jean's pockets.

"Fuck. Its not here."

"What are you looking for?"

"My wallet. Its gone."

Vickie reached down by the side of her chair and opened her blue purse.

"I never took anything from it, honestly. It was by your side when I found you. I just looked at it to see your name, that's all."

"Did you show it to anyone else?"

"No," she answered, as she passed him the wallet.

"I never touched anything. Honestly I didn't."

Robert took the wallet from her.

"Don't worry. I believe you."

He opened the wallet.

"I just have to show you something."

He pulled something from the wallet and dropped the wallet on the bed.

"Before I show you this, you have to promise me something."

Vickie nodded.

"Okay, but I don't know what the big secret is."

"You will see."

He passed her a  card.

"My driver's license."

Vickie took the card and glanced at it quickly, looking back at Robert.

"Okay. Its a driver's license. I have one them as well. Why wouldn't you want anyone to see it."

"Read it."

"Robert David Bowman. 101 Fireside Street, Corner Brook, Newfoundland."

"Look at the date of birth."

"September 15, 1953."

She looked up at Robert, a smile on her face.

"They made a mistake on your driver's license. Your birthday is wrong. You are obviously not eight years old."

Robert shook his head.

"Obviously. I will be twenty-eight next month."

"So you were born in 1933. I was born in 1943. What is so strange?"

"There is no mistake, Vickie."

"But you are older than seven going on eight."

Robert nodded.

"Like I said, twenty-seven going on twenty-eight."

Vickie laughed a forced laugh. 

"There has to be a mistake."

She looked back at the driver's license.

"You would not turn twenty-eight until 1981."

Robert walked around the bead and sat on the edge, nearest Vickie, as he put on his shirt.

"Exactly."

He took a deep breath.

"The last thing I remember clearly was playing at the Cypress Gardens, with my brother and our band. There was an accident. Something went wrong. I think I got electrocuted. I remember falling over the edge of the stage. Then I woke up here."

He paused for a moment to let Vickie absorb what he was saying.

"That was August 9, 1981, Vickie.

Vickie stared at Robert, the driver's license slipping through her fingers and falling to the floor.

"That ... that is ..."

Robert picked up his driver's license and returned it to his wallet.

"I know."