Damaged Memories

Part 20

The following day Grace arrived at the rehabilitation centre just before lunch. She'd desperately wanted to be there at 9am, breaking down the door as soon as visitors were allowed, but she'd refrained from doing so, not wanting to appear too eager to see Patrick. She'd coolly replied to his message the night before, mentioning that she'd drop by in the morning sometime and had been looking forward to a good night's sleep after receiving his hopeful text message, but instead her mind had been crammed with thoughts about what she was going to say to him and what she was going to wear. It was almost like they were about to embark on their first date together and she was once again consumed with trepidation.

As she stood outside his room and out of view, her heart pounded like a jackhammer, only slowing after five minutes of soothing yoga breathing, and when she was satisfied that she'd composed herself enough to not make a fool of herself she stepped into his doorway, holding her breath absentmindedly. He was busy battling with the coffee machine and he glanced up when she entered, taking her in from head to toe as his mouth fell slightly open, as if he was discovering her for the very first time.

"Grace, hi," he said, before the mug he'd been holding slipped out of his hand and crashed into the bench, steaming coffee splashing far and wide. "Shit!" he exclaimed as Grace rushed to his side and grabbed a cloth from the sink.

"Are you ok?! You're not burnt are you?" she fussed.

"No, I'm fine," he said, dusting off his jeans before he straightened up and laughed gently. "I would offer to make you one but it'll probably end up on the floor too. I'm still learning to do things one handed because of this damned thing," he said as he lifted up his cast.

"I'm fine," she said, wiping down the bench. "I actually don't drink tea or coffee."

"Really? How on earth do you survive the day?"

"My pantry is well stocked with chocolate instead," she said with a smirk before he laughed, gesturing to the couch.

"Please, have a seat."

When she obeyed the sinking feeling started creeping into her gut once more as silence overtook their conversation, but this time Patrick jumped in, perhaps to avoid it.

"So, um, I wanted to thank you again for the letter. It honestly was the nicest letter I've ever read. I couldn't believe you were talking about me."

Grace shrugged. "I'm just glad you read it, I was terrified you wouldn't even bother."

He rolled his eyes. "I know. I've been a complete prick and I want to apologise for how I've treated you. My parents and my counsellor have made me realise just how awful I've been, shutting you out like that, but it's hard to explain how frustrating this has all been for me. To be told that my girlfriend now lives in London with another man as well as finding out that a woman I have no recollection of is my new girlfriend has been a bit hard to take."

"You don't have to apologise. None of this is your fault and you have every right to be upset. I'm the one who should be apologising."

He looked surprised. "Why?"

"Because if anyone's to blame here it's me. I was the reason you were at Charlie's house the day of the accident. If I hadn't been so careless in the first place none of this would've happened."

Patrick sighed heavily as he placed his mug on the table in front of him. "It seems that we have so much to catch up on, where do we even start?"

"I'm not sure," Grace said, shaking her head. "But I guess at the beginning would be as good a place as any?"

He nodded and they talked for hours after that. Grace told him everything she could remember of their time together – how they'd met and the dramas that had unfolded, including her colourful history with Michael. To say that he had been surprised was an understatement and at some points during their conversation he'd looked shocked, but not once did he look like he wanted to excuse himself and run in the other direction. Instead he seemed genuinely interested and invested in their story. The only part of their saga that Grace had ducked around was the empty pill packed she'd found on the bench the day of the accident, in fact she hadn't told anyone about it, because it was an added complication that no one needed right now. The staff had been briefed on his addiction and only people authorised to visit were allowed into his room, so there was little chance he'd be getting his hands on any more drugs than he'd already been prescribed, at least while he was in the centre. When he returned home though, that would be a different story, but Grace hoped by then she'd be in a position to talk to him about it civilly and it would be something they could tackle together.