I look down at my fingers poking out of my cast. “I wish I could tell you that I remember the wave hitting me, and that Nate was twenty feet away, but I honestly don’t recall that moment. I only remember the shock of realizing I was in the water.”
Amanda pipes up. “The doctor said it’s normal for her memories to be vague after her head injury, and that they might come back to her.”
“Would it be possible for me to speak to your doctor?” Arthur asks. “You’d need to give permission for that.”
“I’ll give it,” I reply. “No matter what happened, I want the truth.”
Arthur studies my expression. “What’s your gut telling you?”
My children watch me closely, and in the end, I decide to be an open book. “My gut tells me that he’s become very self-centered since he opened his restaurant, that he put the restaurant before his family, and he’s chipped away at the love I’ve felt for him. But I don’t think he’d ever try to hurt me.”
Arthur looks down at my good hand and speaks flatly. “Here’s what I think. He needs to go on a yoga retreat to Costa Rica.”
I consider this carefully, then chuckle. I realize it’s the first time I’ve laughed since I woke up. I’m surprised it didn’t hurt.
“Are men allowed to go to those things?” Connor asks, genuinely curious.
Again, I chuckle.
“Of course,” Arthur replies. “Are you interested?”
Connor waves his hand in front of his face. “I’ll stick to hockey, thanks.”
“If it helps,” Arthur says, returning to the subject at hand, “just remember that the burden is not on us to prove that Nate didn’t do it. The burden is on them to prove that he did. So we’ll just have to wait and see how strong their case is.”
“Will you see him today?” I ask. “And does he know I’m awake?”
“I saw him last night,” Arthur replies, “and I told him. But you should know ... he was pretty down. I was worried. But that news made all the difference.”
“We don’t want him to go to prison,” Amanda says.
Arthur rises from his chair and picks up his briefcase. “Based on what I’m seeing here this morning, I’d like to believe that the odds are in his favor. Let’s go with that, okay?”
I want to trust Arthur’s gut instincts, but after everything I’ve been through—the highs and lows of happy times followed by shock and trauma and disaster—I’ve learned to never take anything for granted.
Arthur has gone, but my children are still here, one on each side of my bed. I’m sleepy, and my head hurts, mostly because of my skull fracture, but there’s also an element of stress in my pain. Since Arthur left the hospital, I’ve had time to lie still and reflect, to imagine Nate getting arrested and escorted to a jail cell. Spending the night there.
No amount of hurt regarding our marriage or hostility over his obsession with the restaurant can dampen my concern for him. I’mworried. All I want to do is see him as soon as possible and tell him that his family hasn’t abandoned him.
I wake to the sound of a nurse changing an IV bag and pressing buttons on a machine. The sky out the window has gone gray, and I suspect it might snow.
“You’re awake,” Amanda says.
I turn my head on the pillow. “What time is it?”
“Almost two o’clock. You’ve been asleep for a while. They brought the lunch tray, if you’re hungry.”
When I try to sit up, Amanda gets out of her chair and adjusts the head of my bed. She then rolls the tray table toward me.
I examine the bowls of red Jell-O and soup with rice and tiny pieces of chicken.
“How’s Oscar?” I ask as I remove the clear plastic lid from the soup.
“Good, but he misses you.”
“I miss him too.”
Amanda seems relaxed, lounging back in her chair. “That first night that you were gone, he ran all over the house looking for you. We felt so bad for him.”
