I clear my throat and pull myself together, pushing back my anger. ‘They’re on their way now.’
‘That’s good. The sooner Ava gets back to real life the better. Routine is key.’ Going to his computer, he starts tapping away on the keyboard. ‘Try to weave some relaxed time into that routine. There are a few ways we could move forward. I would recommend an occupational therapist who can work with you to acquire new information to replace some of your lost memories. A personal digital assistant may be helpful, too, in helping you with day-to-day life.’
‘A personal assistant?’ I ask, trying my damn hardest not to sound affronted. I know I fail when Ava squeezes my hand, her way of pleading with me to keep my cool. I’m struggling. ‘She doesn’t need a personal assistant. She has me.’
‘Mr Ward, you’re misunderstanding. I’m talking about a device of some sort. A phone or iPad. There are some really helpful apps that would be great for Ava.’ The doctor leaves his keyboard and hands me a pile of pamphlets, which I take slowly. ‘Ava will want to gain some independence back, I’m sure.’ He looks at Ava, though I don’t. All she needs is me. ‘She may forget things, small things that happened just a day before, or even an hour. It’s common.’ He smiles reassuringly, though I’m far from reassured.
There have been a few occasions when she’s forgotten things. Small things. Things I have told her that have disappeared from her mind, and I’ve had to tell her again.
‘With the help of a smartphone or similar, Ava can set herself reminders for key commitments, make notes, et cetera, to help her with everyday tasks. I’m sure she doesn’t want to rely on you for everything, and it’s important for her to have a sense of self-awareness and worth. She has to get back to her life, whether the memories come or do not.’
I’m fucking staggered. ‘Are you suggesting I just leave her to figure this all out on her own?’ The man’s a twat.
Dr Peters smiles. I’m close to wiping it from his face. ‘Mr Ward, if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that you will never let her figure it all out on her own. But you must give her space to breathe.’ With that, he stands, and it’s all I can do not to jump across the desk and take him out. Is he having a dig? ‘I’d like to see you again in a few weeks, Ava. Have a look at the literature I’ve given your husband. There are support groups available to you, people you can talk with who are in the same boat. We’ll discuss at your next appointment once you’ve had a chance to read the information.’
Support group? Meet new people who understand? I’m hating this more and more each minute. She doesn’t need new people, she has me. I’m her support.
Ava’s up before I am, encouraging me to stand. ‘Thank you.’
‘Very welcome.’
I don’t thank him but rather wander out silently, my head ringing. Space to breathe? That’s never been my strong point, and it’s something Ava has got used to. I’m set in my ways, and changing that has proved tricky since the moment she came around. I’ve struggled, but held out hope that it was temporary. That we would return to our normal eventually. The prospect of having to adapt and permanently change my ways is daunting. And I honestly question whether I’m capable. Where does that leave us?
Chapter 43
The journey home is silent. Uncomfortable. I draw breath a thousand times to ask Ava what’s whirling around in her mind, but each time I think better of it. Maybe because I’m worried about what she might say. Does she want more space? Does she think I’m crowding her too much? Does she hate me for sending the kids away so I could focus on discovering us again? Question after question mounts until my head is pounding. ‘Ava—’ I’m interrupted by her phone ringing, and she answers rather than letting it ring off and giving me her attention. My hands flex around the steering wheel, irritation heating my bloodstream.
‘Hi!’ She sounds happy all of a sudden. ‘Yes, definitely.’ She laughs, and I frown, wondering who’s on the line. Kate’s in hospital. ‘I’ll see you there.’ She hangs up and looks at me. ‘What were you going to say?’
My mind is blank. ‘Who was that?’
‘Oh, Zara.’ She slips her phone into her bag. Zara. The friend from yoga. The woman putting stupid ideas in my wife’s head about getting another job. ‘You must meet her. She’s fab.’
I bite my tongue before we end up in an argument. It’s probably best I never meet Zara. I can’t guarantee I’ll hold back from putting her straight on a few things. ‘Sure.’
When we pull up the driveway, I’m about to unleash some of the questions mounting, but Ava speaks first, stopping me in my tracks. ‘Whose car is that?’ she asks, pointing forward, spurring me to look.
Ava’s parents’ Land Rover is parked up, and the front door is wide open. ‘The kids are home.’ Excitement mixed with apprehension swirls in my gut as I roll to a stop. I have no idea how this will play out. How will Ava be? How will the kids be? ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah.’ Her answer is quiet as she gets out of the car, hovering by the door for a few moments after she’s shut it. I remain in my seat, bracing myself for the reunion. I mustn’t get emotional. I mustn’t give the kids any cause to worry. On a deep breath, I exit the car and circle it to collect Ava. She smiles at me when I take her hand. ‘Ready?’
Her inhale is far deeper than mine. ‘Ready,’ she confirms, letting me lead her up to the front door. Each step she takes is measured, each breath audible. She’s doing exactly what I’m doing. Bracing herself. The hallway is a mess of bags and shoes, the house alive with the sound of the twins from the kitchen. It’s normal. Peeking down at Ava as we head towards the sounds, I find her smiling, a certain new lease of life in her eyes. That life gives me life, too, and I squeeze her hand, prompting her to look up at me. ‘Just tell me if it gets too much,’ I say. ‘If you need some breathing space.’
‘From you or the children?’ she asks on a cheeky hitch of her brows.
My scowl is playful as I drop her hand and wrap an arm around her shoulder. ‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’
‘So you keep telling me.’
We enter the kitchen to find the kids sitting at the island while Ava’s mum faffs around the space and Joseph follows, taking orders. Maddie is on her iPad. Jacob has his finger wedged in a jar of peanut butter. It’s like they were never gone. We both stand in the doorway for a few moments, silent and taking in the scene. Because it’s chaos and it’s normal and it’s beautiful. ‘Kids are home,’ I quip, and Ava chuckles a little, looking up at me with eyes full of love.
‘Thank you for the time we’ve had together.’ Leaning up, she pushes her lips into my cheek. ‘It’s truly been some of the best in my life.’
I don’t know whether the twinge in my heart is hurt or happiness. We’ve had some amazing times in our lives. And she can’t remember any of them.
‘Mum! Dad!’ Maddie’s off the stool like a whippet, racing towards us. I watch as she throws her arms around Ava’s body and hugs her fiercely, Jacob soon joining her.
‘Charming,’ I grumble, giving them each a rub of their heads. ‘You missed me, too, right?’ Neither of them breaks free of Ava, and I don’t hold it against them. Besides, I’m taking too much satisfaction and pleasure from watching the mother of my children embracing their attack, her eyes closed, her arms around their backs, her face buried in the tops of their heads. She’s smelling them, breathing them in. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so wonderful. Glimpsing up at me, Ava smiles faintly, and I see a bit of apprehension in her dark brown eyes. I wink at her, my own silent way of telling her she’s doing great.