‘Teresa has spent the last hour or so catching me up on the entire history of her children’s lives,’ Leo tells me, motioning towards the phone in her hand. ‘I think we were up to the photo of Baxter’s fourth or fifth nappy change and his second bottle of milk. Continue?’
‘You’ll feel bad for that when your memory returns and you realise how much you love them,’ I tell him.
‘I can take them for rides on my wheelchair,’ Leo says. He tries to keep his tone light, but there’s no way Teresa or I are going to miss the negative undertone.
‘You’ll be chasing them and tickling them again in no time,’ she assures him. ‘You’re far too stubborn to be permanently injured.’
‘I’m not sure “stubbornness” is the criteria they use to assess whether a traumatic brain injury will be permanent or not, but thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Leo says, and he pushes himself forward and ruffles her hair as if she’s a child. Teresa swats at him with obvious irritation and I laugh, because it feels so wonderful to see the two of them in sparring mode again.
‘Now that your lovely wife is here to keep you company, I’m going to head home and save Paul from our sons. We’ll come together soon, when Mum can babysit for us. Unless you want us to bring the kids so you can “meet” them?’
‘Actually,’ Leo says quietly, ‘They’ve told me I’m free to come and go as I please – I’m really hoping to get out and about soon. Maybe I can come to you?’
‘Tobias has organised a wheelchair-enabled van,’ I tell him, ‘so that should be easily arranged.’
‘That’s great news,’ Leo says. ‘Please give Tobias my sincerest thanks. Whoever “Tobias” is.’
His sarcasm triggers instant irritation in me. My gaze sharpens – it would be so easy to throw out a retort or snap at him. If Teresa wasn’t sitting next to me, I probably would. She is notoriously blunt and protective of Leo – if I reveal so much as a hint of impatience with him, I know she’ll be onto me and the last thing any of us needs right now is a family squabble.
‘Poor Leo,’ she winces. ‘This must be so confusing. Tobias is your superhero wife’s loyal side-kick at the Foundation. He’s her assistant.’
‘Ah, “the Foundation”.’ Leo glances at me. ‘Your charity?’
I nod silently, and Teresa stands. ‘Will you let me know when you’re coming? I’ll even pick the Lego up so you can get the wheelchair past the front door.’ She kisses Leo on the cheek as she leaves. ‘Thanks for bringing him home to us, Molly.’
‘You haven’t told me anything about your charity,’ Leo says, as soon as Teresa is gone.
‘I know. It’s easier to show you, that’s partly why I asked Tobias to organise the van.’
‘When can we go?’
‘I guess that’s up to you.’
‘This may be difficult to believe, but my dance card is fairly empty.’
‘Don’t they have you doing therapy and classes like twenty-four hours a day here?’
Leo leans across and picks up a laminated piece of paper from the coffee table.
‘Let’s check the schedule… so there’s physical therapy every morning and I’m pretty sure I want that. Then occupational therapy some days, which I’m not entirely sure I understand, but I think it might be useful, and on the alternate days there’s hydro-therapy.’
‘You do like to swim,’ I remark.
‘I do, so maybe I’ll stick around for those sessions too. But then there’s lunch and right after that, there’s something called “group talk therapy”.’
Leo looks traumatised reading those words aloud. I burst out laughing. ‘Oh dear!’
‘That’s between 3 p.m. and 4.30 p.m. – every day.’ Leo glances at me. I don’t think he’s entirely pretending to be horrified. I am still laughing, and he raises his eyebrows at me. ‘Maybe you don’t understand, Molly, it’s every single day.’
‘Perhaps it would do you good to talk about your feelings more?’ I suggest, and he rests the schedule on his lap and narrows his eyes at me.
‘If I have to talk about feelings, at least let me talk about pleasant ones. Do you think you could come with me to visit a few places? See if we can jog some more memories? And I’d like to see your charity, of course.’
‘Okay.’
‘How does 3 to 4.30 p.m. every day this week sound?’
It sounds completely impossible given that I’ve missed two weeks of work already and it will take me at least two hours of travel to get here and back. But Leo smiles at me and it’s the charming smile; the one he flashes at cranky airport staff when he can’t get the flight he wants or the embassy staff when he needs yet another rushed visa. It’s reflex to smile back, and even my posture softens; I find myself slumping just a bit, as if my spine is melting.
‘Has Brad been in yet?’ I ask.
‘Nope.’
‘Well, he’s coming at some point, so we’d better let you stick around here today and start our alternative talk therapy tomorrow.’