“You asked to speak. There must be something you want to say.”
I contemplated my words. Finally I replied, “I don’t remember him. That’s all. Should I?” My pulse raced. I didn’t remember Dr. Newton or anyone else, but that wasn’t what I’d wanted to say. I’d wanted to say that Dr. Newton gave me the creeps, that I didn’t like him, or Brother Timothy, or Sister Lilith, but could I? Could I be that honest?
His arms moved behind my back and under my legs. “I’m going to lift you.”
I started to nod, but changed my mind and replied, “I’m ready.”
As he lifted, I inhaled, clenching my teeth. By the time I exhaled through the pain from my rib, Jacob was speaking, his chest vibrating with his deep voice. I’d missed some of what he’d said.
“. . . for years. I’m not sure why you wouldn’t remember him. What other things don’t you remember?”
He lowered me to the floor, and directed my hand to the handle. I’d learned before that the handle slid across the room, supporting me from the shower, to the sink, to the toilet.
“May I have some privacy?”
“No.”
What the hell? My shoulders tensed as I searched for an appropriate response. Oh, I had a response—I just didn’t think my husband would appreciate it. The words on the tip of my tongue were probably a sin too.
“Sara, you’re not strong enough to move on your own. I told you that it’s never been my goal to hurt you and that I’m responsible for you. Do you remember me saying that?”
“Yes.”
“Very good. See, your memory’s improving.” Asshole, you said that a few minutes ago. “I’m sure you’ll remember more with time. For now you need my help. I wouldn’t want you to fall, or be injured. Now let me help you.”
I released the handle and held his shoulders as he lifted my gown and lowered my panties. My good leg stiffened and heat flooded my cheeks. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.
“Go ahead,” he continued, “hold on to my neck and you can sit.”
This is so embarrassing. I did as he said. With my left leg straight in the cast, I wasn’t comfortable, but I was where I needed to be. Modestly I pulled my nightgown over my knees.
“You do remember that we’re married, right?” The small amount of amusement in his voice brought a shy grin to my lips. Maybe this is progress.
I nodded. It was a lie, but right now my whole life was a lie. I needed to get stronger before I could fight it.
“I’ll step back to the room, but I’m leaving the door open. When you need me, you may speak.”
I may? So much for progress. I waited until his footsteps moved away. When I was confident he was gone, I shook my head. I wasn’t sure why I did. Maybe I was rattling my brain in an effort to get everything to fall into place, to try to understand how I’d come to live this life.
The recent events went through my mind. The smile at his amusement disappeared with the thumping of my temples. He’d slapped me. My husband had actually slapped me. He’d claimed it was justifiable. He’d called it correction.
My temples entered a full throb, beating in time with my heart. I lifted my fingertips to my right cheek. It was tender, but not as tender as my left, and that had been hurt in the accident . . . how long ago?
I was glad I’d distracted Jacob from his question about what I didn’t remember. I was afraid to answer honestly. After all, when I told him the truth, it earned me correction. As I thought about it, I supposed it could’ve been the way I said it, or more accurately, screamed it. Regardless, I didn’t know if I wanted to risk it again. I believed that deep down I was a fighter; however, I wasn’t stupid. I’d play this role until I figured it out.
After I finished, I called out, and Jacob helped me to the sink. When I turned the knob on the sink, my throat clenched. I’d had a drink with my lunch, but I wanted another. As I blindly fumbled around the sink, Jacob directed my hands to the dispenser of soap. Though that wasn’t what I sought, I washed my hands. Once I was done, I searched again.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Why do his questions make me uncomfortable? “I’m searching for the cup. There was one earlier when I brushed my teeth. I thought since I was here, I’d get a drink.”
Handing me a towel, he replied, “If you want a drink, you need to ask.”
“Well, that won’t do me much good if I’m not allowed to speak.” My pulse quickened as the atmosphere of the room changed. I immediately knew that I shouldn’t have replied and braced myself for more correction.
Instead Jacob said, “Hold on to my neck, I’m going to take you back to bed.”
I did as he said and reached for the pole attached to my IV.
“If your speech is restricted, you won’t ask. You’ll wait until I offer. That goes for anything, not only a drink.”