‘How much should I tell him?’
‘He’s going to be very drowsy for a while yet, so I don’t think you need to worry too much about bringing him up to speed. If he asks specific questions, answer them – but don’t feel you have to repaint the memories for him. Just keep it vague enough to give him the chance to remember for himself.’
‘Okay,’ I sigh. So much for getting Leo home and getting on with my life. ‘I thought things couldn’t get any worse.’
‘Ah, Molly,’ Craig laughs and pats me on the back a little patronisingly. ‘Things really could be a lot worse, trust me. This is the last series of hurdles, hopefully.’
As instructed, I am trying not to panic but I’m failing miserably, and my own energy levels have reached an all-time low. I force myself to return to Leo’s room and am relieved to find he is already asleep.
I have no idea what I’m going to say to him. What is there to say that will satiate the questions he will have, and at the same time help him to stay calm? Leo knows who I am, but not who we are. How exactly do you educate someone on the entire circle of a relationship – particularly one as complex as ours? So we met, fell very deeply in love, got married and then…
And then there’s the worst part – the messy months in this current year of our life together. It is too much to contemplate and after all the tension and stress, this amnesia feels like one more blow to what has already been the worst period of my life.
Leo would snap at me if he knew just how sorry I am feeling for myself – get some perspective, Molly! There are children starving to death in Syria, you can survive a few awkward weeks with me. I try to console myself and to stay grounded. I need to calm myself too, and there are real positives here. Leo is alive, against all the odds. He can move – well, mostly – and he can speak. There could very easily have been infinitely worse outcomes from this accident.
I have somehow drifted into a light doze at Leo’s bedside when I am woken by movement. Hesitantly I open my eyes and see Alda standing beside him, setting up a tray on the mobile table.
‘I feel better every time I wake up,’ I hear Leo murmur quietly.
‘This good, Mr Stephens.’
‘Please, call me Leo. It’s Alda, isn’t it?’
‘Si, Leo,’ Alda confirms.
I stay in my chair, watching from a distance, unsure of what I should do. Do I approach the bed, or does he want privacy? There has been no dignity in the care he’s required in the last few weeks, but at least he didn’t know about it – his consciousness presents a new layer of sensitivity that I will need to navigate carefully.
‘I’m unbelievably thirsty and hungry,’ he says now, and Alda laughs quietly.
‘You no eat or drink for two weeks – I’m not surprised!’ she chuckles. I hear her tearing open packaging. ‘I feed you?’
‘No. God, no!’ he says, and he takes a spoon from her. ‘Apparently I can’t move my legs or remember what year it is, but I can definitely feed myself.’
He glances towards me and our eyes meet and lock. I have invested countless hours of my life staring into these beautiful brown eyes. I remember vividly the feeling of being close to lost in them when we first started going out – the sensation of sinking and drowning and feeling blissfully content to go to some other place with and through him. Leo’s eyes have seen the world in a way that I could never have imagined before I met him and in all of the perfect moments of those intimate stares, he shared some of that with me.
This is not one of those moments. In fact, those moments have disappeared altogether from our lives this past year. I can’t even remember the last time we really looked at each other – these days our eye contact has been reduced to passing glances and disdainful glares. Seeing the openness and curiosity in Leo’s eyes, I am sorely tempted to pretend even to myself that everything is as it always was, even just for a moment. This thought is followed immediately by guilt, as if I’m using Leo while he’s vulnerable – taking advantage of him even just in the way I’m looking at him. I drag my eyes to the floor before I greet him.
‘Hi.’
‘Hello, Molly,’ he says quietly. We fall silent as Alda pushes the little bed-table over Leo’s lap and then she flashes me a smile as she leaves the room. Then I am alone with my husband and there is no denying it – I am too nervous to even think straight and I have no idea what to do next. I stand but immediately regret it because I don’t want to move towards the bed and make him feel even more uncomfortable. After a moment of leaning forward as if I might approach him, then hesitating and stepping back, I settle on standing stiffly with my hands clenched in fists by my thighs. I will wait for Leo to make the first move.