Holy Ground

Part 2

Andy's P.O.V.

"So she has no recollection of anything after a specific point in time?" My chest felt heavy, and it was getting exponentially harder to breathe each time I tried to fill my lungs with air. The doctor sitting in front of me looked concerned, like he could see the panic attack slowly forming inside of me, but to be fair, that preoccupation could just be about my wife's state.

"Apparently, not. We're sorry we didn't figure it out sooner, but she hadn't given us any reason to believe there was something wrong with her memory. She recognized your name, and she seemed eager to see you." I nodded at his words but didn't say anything, still finding it hard to swallow, due to a lump that had settled on my throat. "Have you been able to determine where her memory is stuck?"

I thought back about the brief conversation we'd shared before I ran off to find the man sitting in front of me, realizing I actually did have the answer to that question. "Our first date, apparently. She remembers that, but not our second."

Dr. Whitewall nodded, patiently taking in what I had to share. "And how long did it take for you to go out on your second date?" The question wasn't unexpected, I had prepared myself for having to answer, but it still made my cheeks flush pink.

"48 hours," I answered, averting my eyes. It was the truth. I'd asked her out on a second date the very next day and couldn't wait for more than another so I could see her again. But instead of mocking, Dr. Whitewalls' expression was actually one of understanding.

"When you know, you know." My gaze fell on the hand with which he held a pen, seeing that he too wore a wedding ring. He must understand it, then. He must have someone waiting for him back home, who he loved almost as much as I loved her. It must be easy for him to imagine what I'm going through.

"Listen, I know this isn't going to be easy, but have a little faith. It's actually quite common for patients to wake up from comas with some sort of gaps in their memory. It usually comes back gradually, but we need to do all we can so that process is accelerated and easy for her. We'll need to keep her here, under a specific department, so we can monitor and help with her recovery. And I must ask you to do your very best to ease her into this, so don't scare her with the knowledge that she has forgotten the better part of the last two years, alright?"

It took me some time to realize what he was saying and then I had to confirm it. "You want me to pretend we're still about to have our second date." As one of those bobble-heads, he just kept nodding, the picture of perfected patience under stressful and emotional situations. I felt angry, for whatever reason. It definitely wasn't his fault, but I needed someone to blame so badly. I obviously couldn't blame her. There was no way to shout at the man who ran that red light, he got what he deserved already. I wanted so badly to just throw some stuff, scream at someone, let this terrible feeling out of my body somehow.

But as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving me only with the already familiar and tiring feeling of defeat. "Okay," I said. "I can do that." And I really believed that I could.

But it wasn't easy staring at the face of the woman I loved and seeing that she didn't recognize me to be the man she helped me become. It wasn't easy trying to remind myself that most of the stuff we went through together, the stuff that revealed everything I knew about her to me, still hadn't happened to her. She had no recollection of them whatsoever, and so I had to pretend I didn't know them too.

It was especially hard having to take off the wedding ring that had become a permanent part of me so long ago, keep it hidden next to the one I hoped I'd be able to give back to her one day, soon.

I didn't know if it would happen. I didn't know what would happen. She could fall in love with someone else entirely. Even if she didn't, it was possible that she simply didn't fall for me again. And then, what would I do?

Back at her room again, while she made idle chit chat about how nice the nurses had been to her, I couldn't tear my eyes away from her figure, admiring her vivacity, relishing in the fact that she was awake again. Even if it wasn't exactly what I had wished for while she was unresponsive, it was definitely better than how she used to be.

I took this opportunity to memorize every inch of her again, every little quirk and habit that I'd forgotten in the space of time I didn't get to see her move or hear her speak. And then my gaze fell on the necklace hanging between her breasts. I hadn't seen it in a while, guess the nurses had given it back to her, along with the clothes I had brought.

She didn't fiddle with it anymore. Ever since the first time I put it on her - she'd never taken it off, and I'd grown used to seeing her play with the pendant while she spoke. She did it absentmindedly, and I found it endlessly endearing, especially since she once confessed she had started doing it when she thought about me.

Guess there wasn't a lot to think about anymore.

I couldn't find a reasonable explanation to justify spending the night at the hospital anymore, so I had to go home prepare myself for a night of sleeping in our bed, without her. It just didn't feel the same. And as I sat there wondering if it was too hard or too soft, too warm or too cold, I broke down crying and acknowledged that what was really missing to make it feel like home again, was simply her.