“Sure,” he said, patted my leg and walked over to close out of what he had been doing.
I sat in Drew’s chair and tapped traumatic brain injuries on the keyboard. I looked back at Drew who was watching me. “How is it that I know how to type on a keyboard, but I can’t remember learning it?”
“I have faith. You’re going to remember every little thing that you’ve ever done,” he said with a cold face. I still couldn’t believe that I was married to this man.
I mean, shouldn’t I feel something?
After about twenty minutes of reading things that Dr. Tharp had already told me, I leaned back, took an exasperated breath and rubbed my temples. My finger traced the L shaped scar from my injury, reminding me that I had no idea who I was.
Drew rubbed my shoulders from behind. Hmm, it felt good. I didn’t realize how tense I was.
“Just give it some time, Morgan,” Drew said.
“What about the pictures? Do we have any of those?” I asked, tilting my head for him to hit the crook of my neck with his magic hands.
“That’s kind of your fault. I have told you and told you that you needed to print the hundreds of pictures on your digital camera. You never would. It burned in your car.”
“What about our wedding pictures? Do we have those?”
“I wish you could remember this stuff. I feel like the bad guy here. You didn’t want a wedding. We ran away and got married.”
“How long did we know each other?”
Drew laughed, and I knew it was going to be bad.
“We got married after spending three weekends together.”
I turned to look at him dumbfounded. What the hell was wrong with me? Maybe I didn’t want to remember who I was. She sounded pretty stupid.
Drew kissed the top of my head. “You were married to me for almost eight years. I think you would have left had we not been right for each other.”
“I was away taking classes in France, how long was I there?”
“That was all you too. I didn’t want you to go, but you insisted. You were there not quite two years, but came home often, and I would fly there to be with you when I could.”
“Why is my purse the only thing that survived the crash?” I didn’t understand that either. My camera, my laptop and all of my clothes had burned in the car, but my purse came out unharmed.
“It was on your lap. They assumed that you were digging for something in it. That’s why you hit the bus.
You weren’t paying attention.”
I still didn’t understand it. I mean the scar above my eye along with the bigger one on the side of my head had to have bled. Why was my purse free of blood?
I sat up straight when I had an idea. I rested my fingers on the correct letters of the keyboard.
“Where did I grow up?” I asked. Maybe if I could find some pictures or my school or something it would jog my memory.
“I think that’s enough for one day,” Drew decided, spinning me away from the computer.
“Did I always let you decide what was best for me?” I asked, standing up. He didn’t move. We were inches apart.
“Always,” he whispered, and moved close to my lips.
I placed my hand on his muscular chest to stop him, although I have to admit I was staring right at his lips.
“Drew, I don’t think I am ready for you to kiss me,” I said in a low tone.
He placed his hand over mine on his chest and smiled. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he replied and let me step around him.
“I want to see our bedroom, the one that we shared,” I said, turning to him before leaving.
“Okay, but it’s kind of empty right now. I moved my things into another room when I had yours moved. I couldn’t stand the thought of you not being in our bed with me.”
Well that was sweet. It made me feel guilty for being such a pain to him. I never once thought about how hard this was for him. I smiled, and he walked out with me.
Nothing. I didn’t recognize that room any more than any other one in the house. It was just another fancy room with expensive furnishings.
“Anything?” Drew asked, looking down at me.
I shook my head lightly.
“Don’t worry about it. Maybe you should just stop trying to remember and let it come when it’s ready.”
“Maybe,” I replied. “Drew why did you move my things to the second floor, knowing I have a broken pelvic.”
“Awe, shit Morgan. I never thought about that. That was your favorite bedroom in the house. I just thought you would feel better being in there. You said it was the best view in the house. You used to go in there and read a lot.”
he explained with a sincere response.
I smiled. “It’s okay. My therapist made me climb steps at the rehabilitation center. It’s probably good for me.”
“Do you want to go rest before dinner?” he asked, placing his hand on the small of my back as we closed our shared suite.
“I think so, but I would rather just lie on the couch, I think,” I replied.
“The couch?”
I looked up to him. “I didn’t do that either, right?”