A Fight to Remember

Whole and Healed Pt. 2

March 2038

Derek

The sweet, high flurious note of the robin called me out of sleep. I sighed and rolled over, searching for that certain warm body to take comfort in from the cold trailer, but the rest of the bed was empty. "Mere?" I called, my voice muffled through the pillow. My hand reached out to her side, flattening the sheets. "Mere!" I sat up. Worried, I glanced out the window. Was she sitting at the picnic table? No, it was empty. "Dammit!" I muttered under my breath.

Through the window, the sky lit with the morning sun. It was just after nine. Meredith hadn't run off or wandered since her surgery, but this was our first night in the trailer alone together. I rubbed my eyes, pulled on my jeans and grabbed a hoodie. I can't lose her again, I thought, stomping to the door. But a note on the window, in Meredith's shaky left-handed scrawl stopped me. Gone Fishing :) Underneath, an arrow pointed to the kitchen. Coffee.

My worried heart broke with relief. She really was healing. I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of coffee. It smelled delicious.

I removed the note, and took the green overgrown trail to the lake. I intentionally took my time, listening to the chirps and songs of the birds, the crunch of gravel under my sandals, and the rustle of the trees in the warm breeze. The path dipped and gave way, sprawling out to the bank of the lake. Just in front was the dock, a few feet of tethered boards jutting out into the magical plue perfection of the lake. And at the end was my wife.

Meredith's back was to me... she sat on a rough old blanket, her freshly colored hair poking out Zola's crimson WSU hoodie. Across her lap, she held my fishing pole, and was tying a lure one-handed to the end of the line. After inspecting it, she awkwardly cast the line into the water, 'plop'. I wanted to run up and kiss her, but she seemed to be having fun fishing by herself.

I watched for awhile. Meredith deserved time to herself. It'd been a long two months of recovery but now she was walking with the help of a cane. She used her right arm for most gross motor functions, though she struggled with writing and eating still. In terms of her Alzheimer's... Recalling some of her past memories, especially all that happened after her diagnosis, was difficult. But since her surgery, she hadn't forgotten anything. She was here.

Today was our wedding.

A slow smile spread on my face as I remembered telling her.

Two months ago.

I strode quickly down to Meredith's unit, coffee in hand. Bailey had sent me a text. "She's speaking. She's asking for you." Somehow, she'd had a remarkable breakthrough overnight.

"Hey," I said, entering her room. Bailey looked up. I hadn't seen him in days. He looked awful. Pale and gaunt. But his eyes were shining, and a hopeful look played across his features.

"Hey," he replied. There were still some things we had to work out between us, but now wasn't the time. He stood up and stretched, revealing Meredith's sleeping form. "Mom," he shook her shoulder. "Mom, he's here."

I stepped closer to the bed, gazing at her slight curled-up form. It seemed she was more at peace this morning than when I'd last seen her, in the haze of memories, drugs, and dreaming.

"Mom," Bailey nudged her again. Her eyes fluttered open and she startled awake. "Dad's here. I'm gonna get some breakfast. I'll see you in a bit." He kissed her forehead, nodded, and left. Meredith's gaze followed after him and her mouth opened, silently calling after him, but he was gone.