The Song

Part Twenty-Three

For the next two weeks Aston and I lived like we were both walking on eggshells. He seemed pretty down by what I’d said to him, and he’d certainly taken a step back from how he’d been. Of course he still cooked for me, and made sure I had everything I needed, but he left me alone a lot more.

I felt bad. I could tell that I’d hurt him by what I’d said, and I really didn’t mean to. But I stood by it. If I wasn’t going to remember there being an ‘us,’ what use was it trying to force it when he could start over and be happy with someone else? I thought I was doing him a favor.

“Ready for the doctor’s?” he asked me quietly as we both sat in the kitchen and ate breakfast.

“Yeah, I really hope they take this stupid thing off.”

“They should do.”

“I just don’t want them to say I need it for another few weeks,” I sighed.

“You’ll be fine,” Aston said, forcing a smile.

I watched him get up and go to rinse his cereal bowl, and then he shuffled out of the room. I felt awful by all of this. He clearly was not happy, and even though he was back to work at about 75%, he never smiled.

All because of me.

I ran up the stairs and changed into something to go out in, and then I met Aston in the foyer where we headed out to one of his cars.

In silence he drove me to the doctor’s and then followed me in, taking a seat in the waiting area.

“Name please?” the receptionist asked.

“Jessica Rego,” I smiled.

“Rego… hmm… I haven’t got an appointment for a Rego.”

“Oh sorry! Merrygold! Rego’s the maiden name…”

“Ah right, Jessica Merrygold, there you are,” she said, “Have a seat and I’ll let the doctor know you’re here.”

“Thanks,” I smiled, going over to sit next to Aston.

He had his head leant against the wall behind him, his eyes trained on the ceiling. He looked miserable.

“You ok?” I asked him.

“No.”

“Oh,” I said, “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. Life. I’m so sick of this.”

“Ast…” I sighed.

“I know there is nothing you can do about it, but it’s a cruel cruel joke. I just want my wife back!”

“I just didn’t remember my surname,” I said quietly.

“And you don’t remember me, or our house, or anything about us! It fucking sucks!”

“I’m sorry!” I whispered, “I’m doing my best!”

“I know…” he replied, “I’m not blaming you. I’m just hitting my boiling point,” he said, turning to look at me. His eyes were red and I could tell he was trying to blink tears away.

“Jessica Merrygold?” a voice called out. I looked up to see a doctor stood there with a clipboard.

“You want me to come?” Aston muttered.

“Why don’t you take some time to cool down?” I asked, “They’ve got to take the pin out so they’ll probably kick you out anyways. I’ll have someone bring you in when that bit is over? Maybe you can go grab a cup of coffee or something?”