‘You’re too old, man.’ Sam sticks the knife right in and twists it repeatedly.
‘Fuck you,’ I spit, moving on, keen to divert that conversation. ‘How are you, anyway?’ He looks knackered.
‘I thought I’d seen every intimate part of my girlfriend.’ He shudders. ‘I was so wrong.’
I laugh, looking towards the door when Kate comes wobbling through.
She looks surprisingly fresh, considering. ‘I snuck out because it’s not visiting time and they won’t let you in.’ She reaches Ava, who is fast to take her in a hug.
‘I’m so happy for you.’
‘Don’t be,’ Kate gripes. ‘I’m walking like John Wayne for all the wrong reasons.’ Her joke, delivered flat and dry, sets all of us off laughing.
Sam places Betty in Kate’s arms. ‘Yeah, how long until . . . you know . . .’ He nods down at Kate’s hips.
Her look is pure filth. ‘I only have enough energy to stab you.’ She drops a light kiss on Betty’s head, all the while keeping daggers on Sam, who’s grinning like a fool.
‘It’ll be a month at least,’ I tell my clueless mate, relishing his horrified look. I feel his pain. That month after the twins were born was the longest fucking month of my life. Giving him a slap on the shoulder, I sigh, raising my hand and gesturing some wanking action. ‘Meet your new best friend.’
He groans and slips his arm around Kate’s shoulders. ‘It’s a good job I love this crazy woman. Let’s get coffee before I fall asleep here and now.’
We start to wander to the small café at the end of the corridor, Kate wobbling along with the help of a very attentive Sam, me and Ava following. I look down at her, finding her thoughtful. I’m speaking before my brain engages. ‘You know, if you wanted another . . .’
I have absolutely no fucking clue where that just came from. What the actual fuck? Who put those words in my mouth? I know who. That bastard thing called decency. Or is it guilt? Desperation? I don’t know, but what I do know is that if she really really wanted to have another baby, I’d find a way to deal with it. If only just so she could be pregnant and remember it again, to go through birth and have that experience to remember. To be a mother to a baby and a toddler. To have the first tooth and the first day of school. Pain churns in my gut. It’s only now it dawns on me just how much she’s missing from our children’s lives, and while I would love nothing more than for her to have those memories back, I have to accept that they may not come. So maybe I could give her some in another way. Am I being gallant? Or have I completely lost the plot? I conclude, quite speedily, that it’s the latter. What the hell am I thinking? The sweat beads on my brow are instant.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ava chuckles, clearly noticing my suddenly awkward form. ‘I don’t.’
‘Thank fuck,’ I breathe, all kinds of relived. I don’t think I’ve ever suggested anything so dumb. I’m fifty, for fuck’s sake. I’m done making babies.
Chapter 42
We’re back to silence as we sit outside Ava’s doctor’s office, my foot nervously tapping the carpet until Ava’s forced to reach forward and place a firm hand on my knee to stop it. ‘I’m sorry.’ I sigh, taking her hand and bringing it to my mouth, kissing the back. My knee starts going loopy again, adrenalin making it bounce. I can’t stop it.
Ava sighs, exasperated, jumping up and sitting on my lap, a last-ditch attempt to get my shakes under control. It’s a ridiculous plan. Her weight. My strength. She starts jerking away on my lap like she could be vibrating. ‘Fucking hell, Jesse.’
My trembles stop, just like that. ‘Will you watch your fucking mouth?’ Her swearing won’t help me, and neither does her insolence in the form of rolling eyes.
‘Ava Ward,’ someone calls from behind us before I can unleash more displeasure on her, and I look to see Dr Peters standing at his office door. He smiles, taking in the sight of my lap full of Ava. ‘Please, come in.’
We walk into his office and take a seat in front of his desk. I flick Ava a look, trying to read her disposition once again. She looks perfectly cool. Content, even.
‘How are you, Ava?’ the doctor asks, slipping his glasses on and scanning her medical file on his desk.
‘I’m good,’ she replies quickly, reaching for my hand and squeezing.
‘And the headaches?’ He looks up over his glasses and smiles a little, noting our held hands.
‘They’ve subsided.’
He starts jotting down notes. ‘What about physical movements? Your coordination, for example?’
All I see in my mind’s eye is Ava’s hand finding my cock with perfectly steady hands. Her coordination is just fine, though I refrain from telling the doc that. ‘She still has a slight limp,’ I say, knowing Ava won’t. ‘And her head is still fragile around the wound.’
‘To be expected.’ He gets up and circles his desk, taking a small penlight and bending to shine it in Ava’s eyes. ‘And your sensory functions?’
I raise my brows, and Ava flicks a coy look my way. ‘I can feel, see, smell, hear and taste.’
I smile back at her, despite it being inappropriate. ‘I’ll vouch for that.’ I flip her a wink, letting my muscles relax for the first time since I walked into this office.
‘Good.’ He slips the light into his jacket pocket and checks the site of her head injury, nodding happily, before checking her leg, too. He returns to his chair. ‘Any breakthroughs in your memories?’ Resting back, he taps his pen on the palm of his spare hand.
She shrugs, glancing at me. ‘Small things here and there.’
‘No matter how small or insignificant they may seem, they’re all important.’ Another smile. ‘Your symptoms are classic to traumatic amnesia, Ava. I’m very hopeful that given time and patience, your memories will return. The brain is an immensely complex organ, and the function of our memories engages many different parts of it. In your case, a blow to the head has damaged the structure of your brain and the limbic system which controls your emotions and memories.’
Patience. The stuff I’m not well furnished with.
‘Obviously we’re focused on retrieving your memories, Ava, but may I ask how you see your future?’
I feel my forehead furrow with a frown, and I look across to Ava. She’s staring at the doctor, seeming just as confused by his question as me. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow,’ she tells him.
Good. Me neither. I redirect my attention across the desk to find the doctor smiling again. All these smiles are beginning to irritate me. What’s there to be so pleased about? ‘It’s common for sufferers of amnesia to find it hard to imagine their future when so much of their past is missing. The past and our futures are linked heavily in our memories and the people in our lives, so it’s common for patients to struggle with the prospect of their future.’
‘Ava is not struggling with the prospect of her future,’ I pipe up, unable to stop myself. What is he suggesting?
For the first time, the doctor looks wary of me. Good. He should be. ‘Ava?’ he says, keeping his eyes on me.
‘I don’t see my future,’ she says quietly, and I throw a look her way, deeply injured, and very worried. What? ‘I feel it more than see it,’ she finishes. ‘With Jesse and the twins. It’s hard to explain.’ She shakes her head, frustrated. ‘At first I was frightened and confused. I didn’t know him.’ I shrink into the chair, my hand coming up to my forehead and rubbing gently. ‘But it didn’t take long for me to realise that I do know him. Every sense I have recognises him, even if my stupid brain doesn’t. And as for my children, I feel like I have a huge piece of me missing right now, and it isn’t the memories. It’s them. Their presence.’
I close my eyes and swallow, feeling the doctor looking at me, judging me. I swear to God, if he passes comment on my way of dealing with this, I’ll launch his arse across the hospital. ‘I understand,’ Dr Peters replies quietly, going back to his pad. ‘When are the children home?’