For a moment I can’t even figure out how to respond. Do I tell him that he has made no secret of the fact that he values his work far more than our relationship? How do I word that without seeming cold, or bitchy, or resentful, which is what I am?
It is actually completely heartbreaking to hear Leo assume that if he married me, he must think that I’m more important than his career.
I do then contemplate telling him the truth, just so that I can assess his reaction.
Actually, no, our memories are not the most important thing. In fact, I’d fall somewhere towards the bottom of your priorities list – after adventure, adrenaline, your hero complex and even your employer.
‘Our relationship must have been a revelation to me,’ he says slowly. ‘I can’t wait to remember that, Molly. Please, take me to the places where we first fell in love so that I can learn “us” again.’
I am numb, even my lips feel numb. I nod, because no words will come out of my mouth.
‘Good,’ he smiles. ‘Let’s get going.’
I step further into his room and move to take the handles on his wheelchair. Leo shifts sharply away from me and shakes his head as he snaps, ‘God, no – Molly, don’t do that! I’m not a baby in a pram, my hands are absolutely fine.’
‘Oh – sorry.’ It’s awkward, and now I’m really not sure what to do – do I walk alongside him? Behind him but not touch the chair? In front of him? I glance at Leo and he still looks irritated, which instantly irritates me too. ‘You have to tell me what I’m not supposed to do – I don’t know the rules for how this works.’
‘Neither do I,’ he points out with a frown. ‘But don’t assume you need to baby me. I’m still the same person I was before this, you know.’
This stubborn, independent attitude is one I know far too well. I groan at him in frustration.
‘I’m just trying to help you, Leo. I thought you might still be feeling weak.’
‘I am not weak!’
‘How do I know that? A week ago, you were unconscious.’
‘If it wasn’t for the headaches, I could almost forget my legs are stuffed until I try to get up out of this thing,’ he sighs, and he takes a deep breath then points to the door. ‘Why don’t you walk in front, until we’re in the corridor? Then walk next to me, okay? Like we’re just walking side by side, except I’m using the wheelchair instead of my feet.’
‘Okay.’
I step into the corridor, and once he’s joined me, Leo says quietly, ‘I think the key is going to be to communicate. There’s going to be lots of things like this that we don’t automatically know how to navigate. We need to talk about everything that’s going on – even these little things, so they don’t become big things.’
God! Now he wants to talk? Where was this a few months ago, when I so desperately needed it? If we had talked about the little things in the beginning, where would we have ended up? I have no idea, but the possibilities the question raises make me feel unsettled and fragile, and the defensiveness he has triggered since I arrived kicks up a notch.
‘This from the man who’s convinced his wife to help him play hooky to get out of “talk therapy”?’ I snap at him.
‘I don’t need to sit in a room with the other residents and whine about how bad my headache is. I’ve got it easy compared to most of them anyway.’
Is that humility in his tone? That’s such a startling idea that I pause, and my anger towards him recedes just a little. ‘I wouldn’t say you have it easy, Leo.’
‘I still know myself, and I can speak, see, hear and read,’ he says. ‘I’m not loving the wheelchair and the memory loss, but it could have been so much worse. Some of the other patients here have lost everything.’ He suddenly sits up higher in the chair. ‘There’s something else I wanted to say to you too – about yesterday.’
We are at the front doors, and the van is waiting right in front of us.
‘That’s our car,’ I say, hoping to distract him. Leo stops the wheelchair and takes my hand, forcing me to stop with him.
‘Yesterday, there were things you needed to say to me that you held back because I’ve been injured. I wanted to talk to you about how you felt about my job, and you shut down.’
I’m gazing at the car as if it’s there on a time limit, and trying to think of a new way to avoid looking into his eyes. Leo waits patiently, and after a while I sigh and give in, meeting his gaze.Ordinarily, Leo is just a little taller than me when he stands at his full height but today I am standing and he is sitting so I’m forced to look down at him. I instantly hate it and I wonder if he hates it too.
‘I “shut down” because it wasn’t the time, and it’s definitely not the place,’ I say, very calmly. ‘You asked me if I hate your job, and the truth is, if I let myself start talking about how much I hate it, I might never stop. So for now, it’s better that we just focus on getting you back on your feet and we can figure all of that out later.’
‘Is there a part of you that hopes I never go back into the field again?’ he asks quietly.
I shake my head instantly. ‘No.’