“That’s normal, too,” she says. “The blank spots where the memory should be.”
My throat tightens. “How do you know?”
“I’ve spent twenty years in ED. Trust me, trauma does weird things to memory. Your brain protects you by hiding the worst parts. Sometimes it hides too much.”
“Will it come back?” I ask. Even though I’m not sure I want the answer.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the person. Some people get it all back eventually. Some people never do. Some people get bits and pieces.” She pauses. “Do youwantit back?”
The question catches me off guard.
Do I?
Do I want to remember what Marco’s face looked like when the bear was done with him? Do I want that image burned into my brain forever?
“No,” I whisper. “I don’t think I do.”
She nods. “Then don’t force it. Letyour brain do its job. It’ll give you back what you can handlewhenyou can handle it.”
“What if I can’t handle any of it?” I press.
“Then you get help. Therapy. Medication if you need it. Whatever it takes to get through.” She stands. Brushes off her coat. “The kid, too. She’s going to need support processing this.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Good. Make sure she gets it.” She’s gone before I can respond.
I sit there for another minute. Then two. Then force myself to stand.
My legs shake but they hold. I head to the toilet and wash my face in the sink, then dry it after with a paper towel.
I make my way back to Marco’s room. Ethan’s still there with Ben. She’s sitting in the chair now. Frederick in her lap. Staring at nothing.
“Hey,” Ethan says quietly. “You good?”
“Getting there.” I move back to Marco’s bedside. Take his hand again. “Any change?”
“No. Still out.”
The monitors keep beeping. Proof of life. Proof that somehow, impossibly, he survived.
I look down at the stickers covering his chest. Stars and flowers and rainbows and one perfect little snail.
“He’s going to be okay,” I tell Ben. Even though I have no idea if that’s true. “Your daddy’s strong. He’s going to fight through this.”
She doesn’t respond. Just holds Frederick tighter.
My phone buzzes. Again, I don’t want to check it. Finally I sigh, and without letting go of Marco’s hand, I grab the phone.
It’s Sabrina.Heard what happened. Press is circling. Want me to handle it?
I type back with my free hand.Yes. Please. Keep them away from Ben and I.
Three dots. Then:On it. Take care of yourself.
I put the phone away.
Ethan’s watching me. “You need to eat something. When’s the last time you had food?”
