Splintered Memory (16 page)

He stood them both up, and as he began peeling off her clothes she whispered the awful truth into his ear. “This will be my first time.”

He misunderstood
her though, and he smiled and replied huskily; “yeah I know. Mine too.”

Emily held his
face in her hands and said softly; “I don’t just mean with you.”

He looked momentarily taken aback
, but then he smiled at her reassuringly and continued kissing her neck and undressing her. When she was completely naked he sat back down on the sofa, his shirt open and his trousers undone.

Emily wished
that he’d also gotten undressed, and she had a very faint feeling of vulnerability by the imbalance of the situation. She was completely naked and he was still fully clothed. Yet as he lowered her down onto him, she felt both the exhilaration of the moment and also the slight pain and discomfort that she knew was normal to experience the first time.

She
was pleased that Matt didn’t seem disappointed with her, and when they moved from the sofa to the bedroom she was able to explore him further. This time he completely undressed, dumping his clothes at the side of her bed and making her feel much more relaxed with him. He also took complete control, and she was happy to let him. She was happy to succumb to his experience, and she was astounded by the pleasures that until this moment she’d only been able to fantasise about.

When he was spent and
fell asleep, Emily lay on her side watching him. She stroked his cheek, and kissed him lightly on the lips from time to time. She knew that this would be a night that she would never forget, and she only hoped that he wouldn’t have any regrets once the sun came up.

She’d
waited for Matt to come back into the bedroom, but when she’d heard the front door slam she’d gotten up and put her dressing gown on. She felt confused, and she didn’t know what she’d done to make him react the way he had. She walked into the bathroom, put the plug in the bath, and then turned the taps on.

Charlie sat on the edge of the bath and watched it slowly fill, but when it was still half empty she took off her robe and sank into the water leaving the taps running.
She hoped that the hot water would take away all of her problems, but she wasn’t optimistic. As the water continued to rise, she leant forward and turned the taps off. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them tightly, but as she sat there – naked and alone, her emotions overcame her and she rested her head on her knees and began to sob.

When
Charlie finally felt ready to lift herself out of the bath, the water in it’d gone cold. She felt that her sadness had dissipated a little, but it had instead been replaced by embarrassment and anger.

She was
embarrassed because she knew that she’d have to face Matt when he came home, and they’d have to address what had caused him to react the way that he had towards her. Yet as the image of him getting up and leaving her on the bed shot through her mind again, she felt mortified and she shook her head to try and chase the memory away. Had she really been that bad she panicked? She’d thought that the sex had been good, but perhaps she’d been a disappointment for him she worried.

Charlie left the bathroom and walked into
the bedroom, but as she did she knew that she was feeling increasingly angry. She was angry with Matt, but equally she was angry with Maria and with herself.

She’d given her husband what she felt sure that he’d wanted for months, but this is how he’d reacted she asked herself? She’d taken a chance, and it had ended badly. Now she only wished that she hadn’t bothered, but she knew that she needed and was looking for someone other than herself to blame. She just wasn’t sure who that person should be. Maria had encouraged her to do this she thought, but then Matt had been the one who’d made her feel like she did now.

Charlie picked up her pyjamas, and the book that she was reading which was on her bedside table, and she went into the spare room. She shut the door behind her and sat down on the bed. She knew that she didn’t want to go on feeling this way. Her actions had been intended to solve their problems, not make them worse.

She
had nested all of her hopes in this plan working. Yet not only had it failed, it had also dashed any hopes that she’d had that it might help restore her memory. She was tired, and she was unsure of how much more of this she could or should be expected to take. She couldn’t go on living and sleeping next to a stranger, trying to live a life that she didn’t recognise or know, and she began to feel angry again. She hated that this was what she was letting her life be. She hated that she felt alone, and increasingly lonely. She hated her life.

Charlie had seen
everyone watching her, looking for signs that she was getting better. Matt continually searched her eyes and face for a connection that he’d obviously once felt with her, but the watching, the waiting, the continual anticipation of all those around her was just too much. She’d reached breaking point, and even the faint feeling of familiarity that she got from Matt no longer seemed like a valid reason for her to stay. Enough was finally enough.

She lay on the bed knowing what she needed to do. She
had to give up trying to remember who she was, or who she’d once been. She had to stop trying to be the Charlie that everyone remembered her being. Her memory had been wiped clean, and she needed to accept that and start afresh. She needed to let herself be the Charlie she was now.

He
was sat with his back resting against the wall wishing that his shift was over. He found being in the hospital tedious, and his patience with those that were looking to him for comfort, guidance, and reassurance, short. When he wasn’t at work he wished he was, and when he was at work he wished he wasn’t. Time had begun to move in ways that had no meaning to him anymore, and little by little he was wishing away every second of every day.

Work had always been a safe haven for Matt. He
’d taken comfort in the chaos of life as an A&E doctor. The challenge of the unpredictable crisis had always made his heart beat quicker with adrenaline, and he thrived on the back to back emergencies that often kept him working fifteen or sixteen hours straight. Yet as he sat waiting for the final few minutes of his twelve hour shift to lapse, he contemplated walking away from the hospital and medicine for good.

Since Charlie had left him, he hadn’t been the same person. He knew it, and he
also knew that it was plainly obvious for all those around him to see. His life had fallen into disarray, but he’d already gone well past the point of caring.

Matt felt his pager vibrate against his side and he contemplated tossing it to one side, but as the thought passed – just as it always did, he reached inside his coat pocket and took out two small bottles of tablets. He took a handful of each and tossed them into his mouth as he got up and strode through the doors towards the A&E.

He’d been self medicating now for over a month, and he wasn’t sure that he even knew what he was taking anymore. He’d certainly lost track of the quantities, but then he didn’t really care.

Matt
knew that he was on a downhill trend. Yet what he also knew was that there was a part of him, although he was unsure how big a part of him it was, that was looking to self destruct. Self destruction aside though, the tablets did actually help. They knocked him out when he needed to sleep, and they kept him awake when he had to work. Most importantly, they kept him distracted to such an extent that his mind was unable to be torn apart with images of Charlie.

He
reached the ambulance bay and took the chart from the paramedic. He noticed Emily stood on the other side of the patient, and he saw her trying to gage his reaction to her. He knew that he’d treated her abominably over the past few weeks, and he knew that she understood the cause behind the shake in his hand that had been visible when he’d reached for the chart from the paramedic. He was also aware that there was a red glean in his eyes that he couldn’t hide, and he knew that no one was fooled into believing that it was the result of too much coffee or too little sleep.

Embarrassed by his body’s failure to hide his
addictions, he looked away and tried to focus on the job in hand. For now at least he could lose himself, if only temporarily, in the carnage and destruction of someone else’s life and wellbeing.

***

After leaving the house he hadn’t known where to go. He’d left his wife on their marital bed, in the home that they’d shared for nearly ten years, naked and alone. He’d been unable to bear her vulnerability, and her complete and utter dependence upon him in that moment.

For the six months up until
this point he’d hoped that Charlie would trust him again. He’d hoped that they could find some way through the darkness and back into each other’s arms. He’d prayed to god for the strength to keep fighting for his wife, to remember their past strongly enough for them both, and to forgive her for forgetting him.

He
’d known for months that he’d become to resent her, and he hated himself for that. Yet whilst she was trying to find a way to accept what had happened, find solace in their friends, and make plans for a future without her memories. He’d just had to stand by and watch. He couldn’t participate, because whilst she was contentedly accepting that everything that they’d shared in the past was gone. He was in mourning for their past, and he couldn’t accept that same conclusion.

He knew that she wanted a future
, but it was a future that he felt certain that she didn’t see him in. So as she’d made her plans with Maria. He was left to try and deal with the gaping chasm of heartache and loss, and what felt increasingly like betrayal. This Charlie had stolen his wife’s body and life, and he hated her for it. He missed
his
Charlie, and he wanted her back desperately.

He knew that this Charlie
was making the effort, but he didn’t care. Whilst she sat and made mindless chit chat with him, he just sat there and felt increasingly angry. He listened to the tone of her voice, and watched her face and eyes, but all the time he was cursing god for making him believe that he’d been lucky to have his wife survive her accident. This woman – this Charlie, was not the person that he’d fallen in love with and had shared the better part of his life with.

The day that
Charlie had been rushed into the A&E had been the worst of his life, and he knew that his initial optimism had been part of his own denial. He’d had to believe that she’d be okay, if only to protect his sanity. Anytime that he’d even contemplated that she might not make it, that the news from surgery might not be good, he’d been physically sick.

For days he
’d just sat by her bed, holding her hand and begging her not to leave him. For the sake of his wellbeing and sanity, he’d made himself believe that she’d survive and that she’d make a full recovery. She would come back to him. He’d known that there hadn’t been a contingency plan for a life without her in it, and the thought of a future without her had tore his heart to shreds.

When she
’d woken up he’d felt overcome with relief, and even in the days that had followed he’d been able to hang on to hope. Yet as the months past, he found himself missing Charlie so much that at times he had stood in the shower and wept. Snatched from his life without any notice or warning had been his wife, his best friend, and the person that he’d shared the past fifteen years of his life with. In Charlie’s place, he’d been handed a perfect imitation. It was cruel, and he resented it. He resented her actually. He resented this new Charlie.

He
missed the tenderness of Charlie’s kisses, and the way that she’d hold his hand or sit on his lap without any reason. He missed the way that she’d nestle up against him when they were watching a film, or play with his hair when he was reading something that she thought was dull. He missed how she’d deliberately wonder into the kitchen wearing something alluringly sexy and revealing when he was cooking dinner for them, and then drag him off to bed.

Matt
missed the glances that they’d traded, and the jokes that only they’d understood. He missed being able to touch her freely, and hold her close. He missed all of the simple things that they’d shared, which he’d never once thought to appreciate before, like the impromptu hugs and the unexpected kisses good morning or goodnight.

He missed the scent of her
skin and the softness of her neck against his lips. He missed the way that she could make him laugh, and equally the way that she could make him mad. He missed their fights and squabbles, and the making up afterwards. He missed her tenderness and presence in his life, but what he missed most of all was having that one person in his life that knew everything about him.

Charlie had
shared all of his memories, his hopes and his fears, for fifteen years. He missed having that one person that knew exactly how he was feeling and what to do to make him feel better, and he missed the fact that Charlie had always known these things without him ever having to tell her.

In the months since the accident, even though he
hadn’t technically been alone – as Charlie had still been in his life, the isolation and desperation had at times been more than he could bear. He hated god, and Charlie, for making him endure this.