Why? Why is this happening? I’ve pushed her too far too soon. The roar I’ve been suppressing since I escaped our room bubbles up from the pit of my stomach and explodes out of me, and I turn, throwing my fist into the door. The door doesn’t splinter, but my already split knuckles split some more. It doesn’t hurt. The only pain I feel is in my fractured heart. ‘Fuck!’
I stay where I am, forehead resting on the door, fists clenched, for as long as it takes me to cool down. It could be two minutes, it could be an hour. I don’t know. I feel as though precious time is slipping like sand through an hourglass. Unstoppable.
It’s the sound of my phone that eventually pulls me from the door. Feeling numb, I walk over to the table and swipe it up. It’s Kate.
‘Hey.’ I slump onto the couch and inspect my bloody fist.
‘Everything okay?’
‘My wife doesn’t know who I am, Kate. So, no, everything isn’t okay.’
She doesn’t reprimand me on my curtness. ‘No progress, then?’
I sigh, long and tiredly. ‘I keep getting glimmers of hope. Small things that make my heart leap with promise. And then they disappear, my hope dies, and I’m back to square one.’
‘I know it’s not your forte, but you need to be patient, Jesse. Like the doctor said, there’s a cog in her mind that’s jammed.’
‘And it keeps jittering and then grinding to a stop again. It’s so fucking frustrating.’
‘You’re frustrated?’ She laughs a little. ‘Imagine how Ava must be feeling, Jesse. She’s woken up with a husband and two kids and sixteen years of her life missing.’
Guilt. It sweeps right in and cripples me. ‘I know.’ I rub my forehead, like I can wipe away the stress. ‘I can see it all in there, Kate. It’s all in there, I just need her to remember it.’ What if she never feels the connection and emotion she did when we met? No matter how much I might try to describe it to her, it won’t be as intense and crippling as it was back then. How it always is. It won’t bond us in the same way, and now more than ever I need that bond.
‘She’ll remember. Don’t give up.’
‘Never,’ I vow, hoarse through the despair blocking my throat. Despair I’m quite sure I’m not hiding very well.
‘How about dinner one night? All of us. Drew and Raya are game.’
‘Yeah,’ I agree half-heartedly. I’m not all that enthusiastic about sitting around a table with friends so they can see how much of a stranger I am to my wife. ‘Let me know when.’
‘I will. Keep it together, Jesse. It’s no wonder she doesn’t recognise you. I barely do myself.’ She hangs up with those words still lingering in the air.
‘Jesus,’ I breathe, dropping my phone to the couch, so caught in conflict. I replay all those little glimmers of hope that Ava’s given to me, words that have come from nowhere, but have been quickly snatched away with a frown or muddled look on her face. The soaring happiness followed quickly by unrelenting hurt.
My eyes fall to the drinks cabinet across the room again, the bottle of clear liquor enticing me, pulling me in with promises of respite. ‘Keep it together,’ I say to myself, forcing my heavy body up from the couch. I lock up the house and make my way upstairs, my eyes nailed to our bedroom door as I wander to the spare room. Another night without her sprawled all over my chest. Another night missing her warmth.
Another night with the biggest piece of me missing from my side.
Chapter 16
Ava
The past few days, all I’ve had to do is think. Think and go to therapy and think some more. I’m sick of thinking. I’m sick of the headaches from thinking too hard. The last I remember, I was dating a guy named Matt. I even remember talks of moving in together. So what happened? And what about the career I was working so hard for? I work for my husband. Live with my husband. It’s obvious I’m always kept close by. Is that normal? Is it healthy?
I sigh and turn over in bed, catching sight of the clock on the table. It’s eight o’clock. I can hear clatters and bangs coming from the kitchen. Last night he tried to undress me. I couldn’t help but flinch when he touched my bare skin, not just because I was surprised. My flesh seemed to ignite, and though it was like nothing I’d felt before, somehow I know that I have. In that moment, I was alarmed by my reaction. Scared by it. I hardly know him. Yet my body does and it’s telling me every single day. There’s a connection. Something deep and almost debilitating. He’s devastating.
I close my eyes and try to wrap my mind around all the signs that I love him. Not just the tangible proof – the pictures, the children, what people have told me. But the invisible proof. Like my skipping heart when I see him. Like my heated skin when he touches me. Like a strange urge inside me to be close to him. Something clicks whenever I am, like when he hugs me in those big arms. He’s good at snuggling. He’s good at comforting me. He’s good at giving me space when I need it.
I stop that thought process right there and rewind. I don’t think he’s really very good at giving me space, and I really don’t know if I want it. I can see the strain on his face whenever he leaves the bedroom. And I feel the strain within me. Something isn’t right. He doesn’t seem right, and that’s a strange conclusion for me to reach when I don’t know him.
Gingerly edging to the side of the bed, I wince as I stand, the muscle behind the healing cut on my leg pulling tight. I pull on a cream gown and head for the door. I want to know things, and I’m ready to ask. So he better be ready to tell.
Chapter 17
I’m making coffee again, creating as much noise as I can to fill the silence, when Ava marches into the kitchen. I’m taken aback by the determination written all over her face. Then she stops, her eyes sparkling a bit at the sight of my bare chest. As her gaze moves down, the sparkle fades and she points to my stomach. Or the two scars marring it. ‘What happened?’
I look down. I don’t know why. ‘Nothing.’ I shake my head and return my attention to Ava, not prepared to go there yet. Besides, I know she didn’t come stomping in here looking all resolute to talk about my scars. It’s the first time she’s seen them since the accident. ‘What’s up?’
After a little shake of her own head, she rights her softened body, standing tall and confident. ‘Tell me how we met. I want you to tell me everything.’
I cautiously lower my arse to a stool, torn between happiness that she’s asked, and dread from the pressure of having to answer. It was all so intense and a huge whirlwind of feelings and emotion; the thought of explaining it is suddenly very daunting. ‘I don’t know where to start, Ava,’ I admit as she joins me at the island. ‘I’m worried I won’t do our story justice.’
She breathes in a little, thinking, as her gaze flits across my face. ‘Then show me.’
I laugh under my breath, but it’s nervous. ‘I’m not sure you’re ready for that.’ I don’t want to freak her out when she’s in such a mind-warp. This isn’t like when we met. I can’t go steamrolling in like I did back then. She’s delicate now. Fragile. I feel like everything is hanging on my approach to this mess.
‘Ready for what?’
I clench my eyes closed, swallowing. ‘My ways.’
‘Your ways?’
‘Yes, my ways.’ I open my eyes and find hers. The mystification staring back at me only amplifies my worry.
She doesn’t know what to make of that. Or of me.
‘That’s what you call it,’ I tell her. ‘My ways.’ I go on when she cocks a questioning head. ‘I’m unreasonable.’ I shrug. ‘Apparently.’ A deep breath helps me to go on. ‘A control freak.’ Another lame shrug. ‘Apparently.’ This is hard already, and I’ve not even skimmed the fucking surface. ‘I’m possessive and controlling and . . .’ I press my lips together when her eyes widen a little. ‘Apparently,’ I add quietly.
‘You just said apparently an awful lot.’
‘Apparently,’ I mumble, looking away from her, struggling to express what she needs to know. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ I breathe, frustrated.
‘You swear a lot, too.’
I shoot my eyes to hers, finding a rather disapproving look. I could laugh, but I cough instead. ‘And you don’t, for the record. Hardly ever, in fact.’ I refuse to feel guilty for telling her a barefaced lie. This could be the end of her potty mouth.
‘I don’t?’