When I Lost You: A Gripping, Heart Breaking Novel of Lost Love. (10 page)

The desire was palpable. It was intense, it was strange, and it was a beautifully mutual thing. She raised the fingers of her hand upwards and towards mine, pressing her palm into the table. I repeated the motion, then linked my fingers through hers and twisted our hands so that mine rested over hers. And then I swallowed, hard, because even this palm-to-palm contact was good. Very good.

She stared down at our hands, my dark fingers linked through her pale ones, and then she looked back at my face. ‘Have you ever been inside the Bennelong Apartments?’ she asked me softly.

‘No, I have not,’ I said. I looked at her sharply as a sudden, shocking thought struck me. ‘Is
that
why you picked this restaurant – because it’s close to your home?’

Her fingers contracted around mine just a little, and the corners of her mouth turned upwards. If I’d caught her out, she didn’t mind at all.

‘I like to be prepared for all possibilities,’ was all that she said, but the intensity in her eyes left me in no doubt at all that I was right. I glanced at her plate, which was clean.

‘Would you like some dessert?’ I asked her.

‘Oh yes,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s go.’

I
t’s
early afternoon before I make it to the rehab clinic the next day. The quick visit to the office I’d intended stretches to several hours, and then there is the long drive across the city to reach Leo’s temporary home. I’m feeling harried and guilty by the time I reach his room.

I find him sitting up in a wheelchair talking to Teresa, who is curled up on the couch near his bed. I’m relieved that she hasn’t brought the kids with her – the hospital room is not at all child-friendly; the boys would have wreaked havoc.

Teresa’s eyes are red, and she’s clutching a tissue in one hand and her mobile phone in the other. Her relationship with Leo is generally defined by their non-stop insults, but I know that beneath the bravado, they almost revere one another. I give her a hug then I sit next to her.

‘Sorry I’m so late,’ I grimace. ‘Busy morning. Everything okay here?’

‘I’ve been busy too,’ Leo assures me. ‘It’s been like a production line of visitors and bossy therapists since you left last night.’

‘Good,’ I smile. ‘You’re feeling okay?’

‘Better every hour.’

‘Do you just love his new haircut? Have I not been saying for years that he should cut it shorter?’ Teresa says pointedly, and I realise belatedly that Leo’s bandages have been removed. The hasty buzz cut he’d been given before his surgery is now exposed, and so is the huge scar running vertically along his skull. I can see the marks of the thick staples that were holding him together. It is daunting – but Leo’s hair grows so fast, the scar will disappear beneath his thick dark waves in no time.

‘He looks terrific,’ I say. It is difficult to believe this is the same Leo who was still in a coma a week ago – harder still to believe it’s the same man who was so furious with me that, just a few weeks before his accident, he left his wedding ring sitting on our basin for me to find.

‘Teresa has spent the last hour or so catching me up on the entire history of her children’s lives,’ Leo tells me, motioning towards the phone in her hand. ‘I think we were up to the photo of Baxter’s fourth or fifth nappy change and his second bottle of milk. Continue?’

‘You’ll feel bad for that when your memory returns and you realise how much you love them,’ I tell him.

‘I can take them for rides on my wheelchair,’ Leo says. He tries to keep his tone light, but there’s no way Teresa or I are going to miss the negative undertone.

‘You’ll be chasing them and tickling them again in no time,’ she assures him. ‘You’re far too stubborn to be permanently injured.’

‘I’m not sure “stubbornness” is the criteria they use to assess whether a traumatic brain injury will be permanent or not, but thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Leo says, and he pushes himself forward and ruffles her hair as if she’s a child. Teresa swats at him with obvious irritation and I laugh, because it feels so wonderful to see the two of them in sparring mode again.

‘Now that your lovely wife is here to keep you company, I’m going to head home and save Paul from our sons. We’ll come together soon, when Mum can babysit for us. Unless you want us to bring the kids so you can “meet” them?’

‘Actually,’ Leo says quietly, ‘They’ve told me I’m free to come and go as I please – I’m really hoping to get out and about soon. Maybe I can come to you?’

‘Tobias has organised a wheelchair-enabled van,’ I tell him, ‘so that should be easily arranged.’

‘That’s great news,’ Leo says. ‘Please give Tobias my sincerest thanks. Whoever “Tobias” is.’

His sarcasm triggers instant irritation in me. My gaze sharpens – it would be so easy to throw out a retort or snap at him. If Teresa wasn’t sitting next to me, I probably would. She is notoriously blunt and protective of Leo – if I reveal so much as a hint of impatience with him, I know she’ll be onto me and the last thing any of us needs right now is a family squabble.

‘Poor Leo,’ she winces. ‘This must be so confusing. Tobias is your superhero wife’s loyal side-kick at the Foundation. He’s her assistant.’

‘Ah, “the Foundation”.’ Leo glances at me. ‘Your charity?’

I nod silently, and Teresa stands. ‘Will you let me know when you’re coming? I’ll even pick the Lego up so you can get the wheelchair past the front door.’ She kisses Leo on the cheek as she leaves. ‘Thanks for bringing him home to us, Molly.’

‘You haven’t told me anything about your charity,’ Leo says, as soon as Teresa is gone.

‘I know. It’s easier to show you, that’s partly why I asked Tobias to organise the van.’

‘When can we go?’

‘I guess that’s up to you.’

‘This may be difficult to believe, but my dance card is fairly empty.’

‘Don’t they have you doing therapy and classes like twenty-four hours a day here?’

Leo leans across and picks up a laminated piece of paper from the coffee table.

‘Let’s check the schedule… so there’s physical therapy every morning and I’m pretty sure I want that. Then occupational therapy some days, which I’m not entirely sure I understand, but I think it might be useful, and on the alternate days there’s hydro-therapy.’

‘You do like to swim,’ I remark.

‘I do, so maybe I’ll stick around for those sessions too. But then there’s lunch and right after
that
, there’s something called “group talk therapy”.’

Leo looks traumatised reading those words aloud. I burst out laughing. ‘Oh dear!’

‘That’s between 3 p.m. and 4.30 p.m. – every day.’ Leo glances at me. I don’t think he’s entirely pretending to be horrified. I am still laughing, and he raises his eyebrows at me. ‘Maybe you don’t understand, Molly, it’s
every single day
.’

‘Perhaps it would do you good to talk about your feelings more?’ I suggest, and he rests the schedule on his lap and narrows his eyes at me.

‘If I
have
to talk about feelings, at least let me talk about pleasant ones. Do you think you could come with me to visit a few places? See if we can jog some more memories? And I’d like to see your charity, of course.’

‘Okay.’

‘How does 3 to 4.30 p.m. every day this week sound?’

It sounds completely impossible given that I’ve missed two weeks of work already and it will take me at least two hours of travel to get here and back. But Leo smiles at me and it’s the charming smile; the one he flashes at cranky airport staff when he can’t get the flight he wants or the embassy staff when he needs yet another rushed visa. It’s reflex to smile back, and even my posture softens; I find myself slumping just a bit, as if my spine is melting.

‘Has Brad been in yet?’ I ask.

‘Nope.’

‘Well, he’s coming at some point, so we’d better let you stick around here today and start our alternative talk therapy tomorrow.’

‘Fantastic, it’s a date.’ He pauses after he says the words and then the realisation dawns on his face. ‘I think I said that to you, didn’t I? We were at that bar… the one on Darling Harbour. We were going to have dinner together and I wanted to be sure that we were on the same page.’

I’m back at that moment in an instant. I remember tall, strong Leo sitting beside me at the bar and the closed-in feeling of the darkness that had fallen… and how intense his stare had been. I’d barely been able to sleep that night so instead of sleeping, I had schemed. My spoilt, selfish little mind schemed until the wee hours – I planned the venue and the atmosphere of the dinner we’d agreed to share, and I even decided on the dress and the perfume I’d wear.

I was a shark tracking her prey.

‘Do you remember that whole night?’

‘I remember that
moment
, but so far, it’s just a fragment – those words jumped into my head but the rest hasn’t come back yet. It’s kind of like seeing a scene cut from the middle of a movie,’ he says wryly. ‘So, where did we go?’

‘Circular Quay. We did a lot around there, actually. Maybe that’s where we should go tomorrow.’

‘That sounds good. Thanks, Molly. Did you bring some clothes I can wear?’

I point to the bag I’ve left sitting on his bed. ‘Yes – clothing and Kindle, as requested. I picked you up a wallet and I’ve put your spare credit card in it in case you need to buy anything. I just can’t find your phone – I’m really sorry, so I organised you another. It has the same number, and you’ll find the code for the credit card saved in the phone too.’

‘I was really hoping for my old phone. It’s not in the safe?’

I shake my head. I’m lying – I haven’t even checked, but I suspect he’s right – that’s where it will be. I tell myself that I’m withholding his old phone from him to protect him – if I handed it over, ready or not he would immediately have to deal with the reality of our situation. Just from his text message history there would be no doubt
at all that we are no longer happily married.

But if I’m really honest with myself, that’s probably only half of the reason why I am lying. I’m feeling oddly curious about Leo, which seems ridiculous because I know him better than I know myself. But I’d forgotten what it was like to be with him, before all of the layers of bitterness settled over our relationship. Yes, I am sensitive towards him and a little too easily irritated by him – but I also thought he was going to die, and then he didn’t, and now he’s here and he’s charming to me again and… I guess, I’m just not ready for things to go back to the way they were.

‘Next to my bed?’ he prompts. I shake my head, and he sighs. ‘That’s so strange.’

‘I’ll keep looking if you like but I guess you must have taken it with you.’

‘It seems really odd – you said I had the sat phone too, right?’ I nod, and he frowns. ‘Why would I take two phones into the field?’

I’m kicking myself now because he is right – he
never
takes two phones with him.

‘I’m not sure,’ I say. I’m really hoping he doesn’t notice the flush on my cheeks.

‘How were we communicating?’

We weren’t
, I think and I’m panicking a little now. The last communication we’d had before he flew out was his awful email suggesting I find a lawyer, and a curt text telling me to clear the last of my things from his house. Just thinking about those messages causes me pain, even now, weeks later. They were the first few lines in the new chapter of my life that was supposed to be titled
After Leo
– but they were also a confrontation, and what those messages lacked said as much about them as the actual words they contained. Those messages were business-like and curt – there was no undertone of familiarity or warmth. We were strangers at the point – even more so than we are right now when Leo cannot remember much at all of our life together.

But I don’t want to think about this. I don’t want to lie to him, and I especially don’t want to be caught out lying to him. I need to move the conversation on as quickly as I can, but before I can think of a story that will be convincing enough for him, he speaks again.

‘Did I lose everything I took to Syria?’

‘Brad has your bag, but he said everything you had with you in the car was lost, so if you did take it to Syria, it’s likely it’s gone.’

Leo sighs, but as I hoped, he is finally satisfied by this. ‘I just figured it would have been a good way to get a feel for what I’ve been doing recently. I don’t really use text messaging but I thought my phone history would give me some clues what I was busy with when I was last using it.’

‘About the text messages…’ I say, and he looks at me questioningly. I laugh softly. ‘You text a lot now.’

‘Oh?’

‘I mean… I always do. I don’t think you liked to, but you still used to do it.’

‘Are you sure? I
really
hate them.’

‘I know. I guess you compromised.’

This thought is actually startling. I think of Leo sometimes as a man who does
not
compromise, and yet, I have just accidentally reminded myself of one of the small ways that he did meet me halfway. It’s such a minor thing but it’s also not, because we really have relied on text messaging a lot over the years to stay in touch.

‘Now I’m even more disappointed about the lost phone,’ he sighs. ‘That would have been a great insight into who we are together.’

Oh, you have no idea
. I wonder what he would think if I did let him see those last few messages. Would he be embarrassed at his coldness? I have a feeling he would be, just as I’m embarrassed by some of the things I have done in recent months. The problem with losing a passion like ours is that it can drive a person a little crazy, and when the heat of the moment passes and you’re left to face the aftermath, it can be hard to justify what seemed like a perfectly sensible decision when the anger was running hot.

‘Sorry, Leo,’ I say.

‘Hey, it’s not your fault,’ he smiles at me.

‘Are you settling in okay here?’

‘I’d rather be home, but I know I need to be here.’

‘It’s not for ever,’ I say softly. He nods.

‘I know. How are you going? Are you okay by yourself?’

I laugh, but it’s a sharp sound. My bitterness turns instantly to guilt as Leo winces.

‘I guess you’re used to that.’

‘I’m well and truly capable of looking after myself,’ I assure him tightly. ‘It’s never been the same at home when you’re not there, but I can handle it.’

‘Do I travel less now?’

I really wish I could tell him that he does. That
was
his plan when we got married – no more than three weeks away at a time, no more than six trips a year. It’s not at all how things have panned out. ‘No, your work is very important to you… and the world has been pretty messy the last few years so you’ve had an endless array of great assignments to choose from. You’ve told a lot of stories no one would ever have heard without you, and you want to focus on building your career for a bit longer.’

I take a moment to ponder the strange pang I feel inside – and it suddenly occurs to me that the reason I’m feeling so conflicted is that I’m justifying to Leo the decisions that he has made which have essentially ruined our marriage. I don’t
want
to justify these things. When we’ve argued over this, Leo has always been closed – so determined – he would say all of the things I’ve just said, but he would make them seem so irrefutable. Then I would counter with my own demands – basically for
some
of his attention – which I was also utterly determined about. The end result was always a form of relationship violence – not that either one of us ever raised a hand towards the other – but there are ways to use words to do damage too.