2
Calvin
Apart from breaking my arm when I was eleven—I'd never had a need to beina hospital. My grandparents were alive and of robust health, my parents the same. Even my siblings had rarely required a visit to this blocky, cold building, and when they had, I’d been left at home, sheltered from the reality of illness and the shroud of death that had settled into its very foundations.
I never even knew doctors had offices like this. Or at least not in a hospital.
I'd never had to think about a doctor's office before today.
I blew out a breath, my fingers pressed into my eyelids as I massaged them, trying to rub away the gritty weariness. My eyes were dry, and the last time I'd looked in a mirror, bloodshot. I knew my body required rest, but I couldn't seem to stop my mind from racing for longer than a few stolen minutes.
I dropped my hand, finally looking at the kindly man across from me. "What you're telling me is my wife doesn't remember anything?"
"That's not strictly correct." Doctor Jenkins knit his hands together on the desk, considering me with warm sympathy. "Retrograde amnesia is a tricky diagnosis. Emily retains familiar information, learned skills, and a substantial amount of her memories. Considering the significant trauma experienced during her accident, I'd considered this a miracle."
"What does she remember?"
"Everything up to New Year's Eve twenty-fourteen."
I blew out a long breath as the reality of her injury hit me. Emily didn't remember our wedding. Our laughter. Our holidays or dinners. Her sister's separation or recent reunion with her husband.
She doesn't remember the disintegration of our marriage.
I felt… bereft. Torn. The woman I knew wasn't the woman staring at me with a bemused expression from the middle of a hospital bed, her fingers tracing the beard on my face as if it were a foreign object.
Five years just… gone.
I found myself twisting my wedding ring around my finger over and over. The familiar weight somehow grounded me.
"What does this mean?" I finally asked.
"We can't know. It could be that her memories will return in time. Or it could be that this is Emily's new reality. You need to be prepared, Calvin, that she may never recover all or even any of the last five years."
I ran my fingers through my hair, tilting my head back to study the ceiling.
The doctor didn't speak, simply let me process.
"I honestly don't know what to do." I finally admitted, dropping my head to look back at him. "Our vows were in sickness and in health but…."
Dr. Jenkins gave me a small nod. "You were separated. On the brink of divorce, as I understand it." He shook his head. "Noone would blame you for continuing with the divorce. Who you are is different to who Emily thinks you are. You're entitled to a life outside of her and this event. "
I'd blame myself.
I hadn't wanted the divorce to begin with. I fucking loved my wife. That had never been the problem. Love, sex, passion – we'd had all of it until we hadn't. Until….
"When can she come home?"
Dr. Jenkins cleared his throat. "It's been a week. All of Emily's vitals have stabilised, and she's regained all motor functions. Apart from her memories, Mrs. Jameson is in perfect health."
He unlocked his fingers, pushing some paperwork across the desk.
"These are Emily's release documents. I'm certifying that she is fine to return home. I'll want to see her as an outpatient for at least a few months while her brain injury continues to settle. Neurological injuries are notoriously unpredictable. Her concussion may continue to plague her for some time. Watch and track her headaches, mood swings, any irritability or personality changes. She could experience some light or noise sensitivity, smell or taste distortion, or even sleep disturbances. She may have trouble concentrating or issues with her short-term memory—though that doesn't yet seem to be the case. Note anything that appears out of the ordinary. Our tests thus far haven't shown anything beyond the occasional headache since she's stabilised, but in a familiar environment, the symptoms may present more readily."
Dr. Jenkins tipped his head slightly to the left, considering me with kind eyes. "I'd also recommend you both see a counsellor. Five years of lost memories will bring about grief, confusion, and anger. For both Emily and yourself." He tapped a card stapled to the top of the documents. "I've included thecontact details of a clinic I'd recommend. They're local and very good at this type of counselling. They work with both partners and any interested family members."
I gathered the papers. "Thank you, Sir. I appreciate everything you and your team have done for my wife and me.”
"Cal, you also need to watch her. I know we discussed what you found, and her condition supports our theory."
