Aurora

by Emma L. McGeown

  “Not sure.”

  We made it out of the elevator and started walking down the hallway. Planning what to do with Elena was something that made me incredibly anxious. Before, I would never have thought twice about what to do on a free weekend, but with the new Elena…it was like planning a romantic date for someone that you literally knew everything about, but you had to play it cool so they didn’t think you were a stalker. Part of me felt as if it should be something spontaneous, like a trip to Brighton or Cornwall, and then I remembered the unpredictable weather, which would no doubt leave us drenched and windswept. Maybe the cinema or shopping? No, Elena hated both of those things.

  “You seriously have nothing planned?” Greg whined. “Then why do you need it off?”

  “Because we barely see each other all week, and I need to stir up those feelings she has for me. That is, if she even still has them.” The seed of doubt I’d been pushing down rushed to the surface again.

  “She does, Jax.”

  “I don’t know. What about before? The day she was in her accident?”

  “I told you to stop thinking about that. It was a stupid fight. You guys would have made up later that day if…” He grabbed my arm so I would look at him. “It wasn’t your fault. The accident was not your fault.”

  “Yeah,” I sheepishly replied, but the gnawing guilt told me otherwise. “I know.”

  “Jax, she loves you, and you’ll prove it by making those memories come back.”

  “Any ideas on how I should do that?”

  “Well, actually I have.” I narrowed my eyes suspiciously as we split to allow a gurney to rush past us in the hallway. “I read this study the other day about the senses being able to jog memories in amnesia patients. Figured maybe it could help you. Smell works best for memory recognition, of course.”

  “Well, she did seem to warm up to me after borrowing my cardigan. I guess it smelled like me.”

  “Exactly, and then there’s touch. Touching is good, really good, if you know what I mean.” He nudged me as I batted him away. “I’m sure taking her into the bedroom would definitely help.”

  “Do you actually have useful advice?” I barked, the sexual frustration from weeks on a single daybed taking its toll.

  “Not all touching has to be sexual. But holding her hand or a massage or—”

  “It’s a little hard to do all that when we’re just friends.”

  “Have you tried kissing her?”

  “Yep, all the time, every day,” I replied sarcastically as we approached the ER doors. “If I can’t hold her hand without it being suspicious, how the hell am I supposed to kiss her platonically?”

  “Who said anything about platonic?”

  I spun around, a little more agitated. “Literally every single one of you said I should just be her roommate.”

  “Screw that. That was during the recovery, but she’s doing great. The chance of a mental relapse is extremely low, especially if she’s back to work and into a normal routine. And with things coming back to her more and more, I’d say it’s only a matter of time before everything comes back.” I chewed on my lip apprehensively as Greg tried again. “You’ve done everything right. But now you have to kick it up a notch. Make her fall in love with you again.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” I huffed as I attempted to walk away from the conversation and toward an ambulance that had just pulled up outside.

  “No, Jax, you’ve been playing doctor,” Greg threw back as I spun to face him. The look on his face told me that wasn’t intended to be vicious but just to reinforce that he was paying attention. “You’re still treating her like a patient, like she’s fragile. Like you’ll terrify her if you get too close, and she will run for the hills if she suspects you have feelings for her.”

  “You mean, exactly what happened eight years ago? When I told her I liked her? None of you get it. Elena is so deep in the closet, I don’t even know if she’s aware I’m flirting with her.”

  “Then try harder, Jax.” he said. “This is your wife. The same wife who’s been talking to her ex again. Quit taking up extra shifts and be with your family.”

  His words hit home. He knew exactly what I had been doing, just like my mother. Maybe I was keeping her at a distance, afraid that she wouldn’t want me or that those feelings she’d once had for me were gone forever. Maybe friends was an easier option than to actually put myself out there and tell her the truth. However, making Elena acknowledge her feelings for me the first time, almost eight years ago, had been difficult enough. Maybe I didn’t have the strength to go through that pain again.

  “I don’t want to sound like a dick,” he said, softening his voice. “It’s just, if you keep treating her like a friend, that’s all she will ever see you as.” I nodded, taking in his words before his mood lightened. “Besides, she’s healthy now, and if I’m honest, she’s never looked better. So why don’t you start treating her like your super sexy and smokin’ hot—”

  “Watch it!”

  “Delightful wife,” he teased before grabbing the clipboard chart from the back of a patient’s door. “Talk to Caterina. I think you’re right. It’s time she knows the truth.”

  Chapter Nine

  The weeks had turned into months, and my accident seemed like a distant nightmare, and according to Dr Hall, or Greg, I was making great progress. My weekly doctor appointments were complete, and I was back to almost full-time working.

  Professionally, most things had come back to me. Clients’ names would just roll off the tip of my tongue, and I could pull files from the folders on my desktop as if I’d always known where they were. In my work, I was my old self again, and it didn’t go unmissed by my superiors.

  My life had really taken a turn, and although there was still so much I couldn’t remember about my personal life, I found that small things would come back to me. Such as my time in New York. Or when I was picking up a few things for dinner one day, I lifted a can of sweet corn before putting it back. I’d forgotten Jax didn’t like sweet corn, something that was old information. Even as we walked through the park another time, it felt familiar, as if this greenery and pond was a location I’d visited often.

  “What duck was your favourite, Mum?” Jamie beamed up at Jax, pulling me from my thoughts.

  We’d left the park and stepped out onto the streets of Chelsea. It was a rarity that Jax would have a Sunday free to spend the day with Jamie, and although the decision of what to do had been left in the hands of the five-year-old, I could have safely bet my life that he would choose a trip to see the ducks. Even with large raindrops beating off the umbrella we were all huddled under, he was always going to choose to visit the ducks. He had taken to holding mine and Jax’s hand, using us as stabilisers for his puddle splashing.

  “I like the one with the green neck. He was the quickest,” Jax said as she attempted, and failed, to steer him away from puddles. “What was your favourite?”

  “I liked him too,” Jamie said, despite there being as many as a dozen green mallards in the pond today.

  “The blue one was pretty cool too,” I chimed in, only to receive an offended face from Jamie.

  “He was so slow. He barely moved.” Jax and I shared a look as he began a lecture in picking favourite ducks. My preference was clearly unacceptable.

  “Come on, Jay,” Jax said, “shouldn’t everyone be allowed to have their own opinion, even if you don’t agree?”

  “I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders defeatedly. “That’s okay, Elena. You can think that. And it doesn’t matter that you’re wrong.” I would have laughed at his bluntness if he hadn’t sealed the line with a genuine smile, as if he meant every harsh word sincerely.

  “Ouch,” Jax whispered as I faked offense.

  We walked in comfortable silence until out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jax glancing at me a couple times. I side-glanced to meet her eyes, but she nervously avoided mine. It was as if she wanted to ask me something but cou
ldn’t find the nerve, something that was very uncharacteristic of the Jax I knew, who practically oozed confidence.

  A big jump followed by a loud splash between us broke the tension as water reached as high as my knees, and Jamie’s giggling filled the street.

  “Jamie, stop. You soaked Elena.” Jax looked down at my jeans. “No more puddles. I mean it this time, or we’ll have to go home.” She mouthed “Sorry” at me.

  “It’s fine, Jax. Just a little bit of rain.” I smiled, patting Jamie’s head as he looked up with a toothy grin.

  “We should probably get inside anyway. The sky doesn’t look good.” Rumbling thunder in the distance confirmed her suspicions of oncoming bad weather. “Want to grab a coffee with us?”

  “I usually object to giving children coffee, but I don’t want to tell you how to parent.”

  “Hold on, you don’t love to watch hyper children?” she teased. “Does that mean you’re not working today?” I shook my head. “This is a first. Alert the media, you’re not working at the weekend.”

  “Very funny.” I rolled my eyes.

  “It’s just nice to see you outside is all. You know, in the real world, away from your laptop.”

  “It’s a bad habit, I know. I’m turning into my workaholic father. He always travelled for work when Cat and I were younger. We saw him like four times a year.” Jax nodded, but I got the feeling she already knew about my relationship with Papa. “Did I work a lot before?”

  “Yeah,” she replied softly, almost sadly. “You did.” The air turned thick around us as her eyes clouded over, and she stared down, avoiding my gaze.

  “Maybe that should be one of the things I try not to remember.” She looked at me with a soft smile. “Seeing as I’m trying to remember everything else.” I shrugged just as she slowed and nodded toward a café a few doors ahead.

  Jamie took it upon himself to lead the way as he took hold of my hand and pulled me toward the front door. Once inside, I shook off my wet coat and helped Jamie remove his jacket, taking in the puddles of water on the hardwood floor from other customers seeking shelter on this rainy Sunday. Large couches and armchairs were unorderly dispersed throughout the room. The bohemian coffee shop had vinyls mounted on the walls, some of which looked like signed editions, with soft 90s Brit rock playing in the background. Jax led us to a free couch in the back, taking us past students working on their laptops and an older couple reading a newspaper.

  “Latte with an extra shot?” Jax asked, and with surprise, I simply nodded.

  A small smile played on her lips while a glint in her eye followed quickly after. It was a look I’d seen before, an enjoyment she got out of knowing things about me before I could tell her.

  “And Mr James, what’ll it be today, my good sir?” Jax asked in an upper-class voice.

  He put on his best posh accent. “I would like your best hot chocolate.”

  “I believe we have some of the finest in London, Mr James. Would you like marshmallows or cream on top?” I found myself grinning at the role-play as he thought deeply, caressing his chin as if there was a beard. “A tough decision, sir, please take your time.” She shot me an exasperated look as I stifled a grin.

  “Marshmallow, madam.”

  “The stickier and undoubtedly messier option. Very good, Mr James.”

  Jax curtsied before retreating toward the coffee counter, and I couldn’t help but follow her with my eyes. Her jeans hugged her hips, showing off her slim yet toned legs, with her sweater clinging to her waist and chest revealing slight curves. Strangely, I found myself wondering about the body underneath.

  “What are you looking at?” Jamie asked as I practically jumped in my seat.

  “Nothing.” I pulled myself back to him. “Just the pictures on the wall.” I pointed to an infamous vinyl cover I knew far too well from my teenage years.

  “You love that one about the wonder wall,” he said.

  “How on earth does a five-year-old know who Oasis is?” I put a hand on my hip and looked at him, decoding this cultured, beyond-his-years child.

  “You play it all the time on the record player,” he replied as he pulled out his colour book from the little backpack Jax had spent most of the afternoon chaperoning.

  “Huh.” My eyes gravitated back toward the coffee counter to continue my strange leering at Jax.

  I was a little irked when I saw a young barista flirting with her. There was no concrete evidence that they were flirting, of course. I cursed the ambient tune of the Smiths, which my foot was still tapping to, as it meant I couldn’t hear what was being said. The barista moved a few times behind the counter, preparing coffee, but her eyes remained glued to Jax, talking over her shoulder. The loud laughter from the blond twentysomething set my back teeth on edge as she moved to the till again and rang in the order. I shook the feeling, telling myself the barista was just being friendly, until she reached over and touched Jax’s arm. My irritation redirected as Jax’s head dipped bashfully, and she ran her hand through her hair, clearly enjoying the attention. Jax lifted the tray and began making her way back toward our table as I swallowed my aggravation and turned my attention to Jamie’s drawings.

  “Here we go.” Jax smiled, handing Jamie his hot chocolate and taking my latte and a muffin to share off the tray.

  He reached for the hot chocolate, which was in a rather large mug, and began slurping gulps of it, his eyes expanding as the sugar entered his system.

  “Slow down, Jay.”

  “Leave him be, Keelin,” I said, reaching over and smoothing his long wispy curls. “He’s been out in the cold all day. But you do need a haircut, Mr Man. This hair is getting out of control. We should see if Trish can take him next week.” I turned to Jax, and she looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost.

  At that moment, I realised what I’d said and how I’d spoken to Jax, or rather, called her Keelin, which I’d never done before. At least, not that I could remember. In the next beat, I found myself apologising profusely.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from.” Trish owned a hair salon which opened a couple of years ago near the apartment, and just like that, I remembered her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t mean to undermine you. I have no idea why I said that.”

  “You’re okay. Don’t worry.” Jax smiled playfully before she turned to Jamie again. “Elena lets you get away with everything.” She winked at Jamie as he went back to drinking his hot chocolate, but my mind was still reeling.

  “I…I don’t know why I did that.” I frowned shamefully. “I’m sorry if I…”

  “Elena, it’s okay.” Jax placed her hand on mine, and an electric bolt leapt from her touch and ran up my arm. My eyes snapped to hers, and I could swear she felt it too. “You used to call me a fun sponge all the time. Maybe I should try to forget some things too.”

  Her eyes stayed on mine, and I couldn’t break the hold as I felt her fingers stroke the back of my hand ever so slightly. Such a soft touch that was somehow affecting my ability to breathe evenly.

  “I know you prefer Jax, usually,” I said with a shaky breath.

  “Usually, but…” She paused, her voice oozing confidence again while her eyes pulled me in deeper. “You can call me anything you want.” Her eyes darted to my lips, and I felt my knees grow weak. Thankfully, I was seated. Otherwise, I would have been just another puddle on the floor. The trance she had on me was broken, and her touch vanished as we were interrupted—rudely, I might add—by the barista.

  “One ham and cheese toasted sandwich.” She placed the sandwich in front of Jax. “And there is no mustard. I wouldn’t want a repeat of last time.” She smirked at Jamie.

  “Hopefully, there will be no waterworks this time,” Jax replied as she nudged the already cut up sandwich toward Jamie. “Thanks, Cassie.”

  The barista didn’t even bat an eyelid toward me; it was like I was invisible. And then my blood began to boil as she leaned down and whispered into Jax’s ear. My mouth fe
ll open in shock before Cassie pulled away and slipped a small piece of paper onto the table. She flipped her hair as she turned and retreated shamelessly back to the counter again. Jax read the note subtly before shaking her head in amusement and placing it in her pocket.

  * * *

  Jax

  I suppressed yet another yawn as I packed up the leftovers and put them in containers for Monday’s lunch. After one final swipe of the kitchen countertop, I moved into the living room and found Elena on her laptop, engrossed in work.

  “So you remember Trish, then?” I asked.

  Elena glanced up at me before her eyes drifted back to her work. “Yeah, Jamie’s hairdresser. Things like that are coming back a lot lately.”

  “That’s good, though,” I replied as the air turned awkward again. “And you remembered about that time we met in New York too.” Elena nodded but remained silent. “Getting ready for Monday morning?” I asked as I tidied the living room of toys. Jamie was fast asleep in his room.

  “Yep.” Her curt tone told me I was in trouble, not that I didn’t already know.

  It was the same tone I’d experienced all evening. I retraced my steps, trying to figure out when I’d pissed her off; was it in the park or the walk home or maybe it was cooking dinner? Maybe I’d gone too far at the coffee shop, but she’d seemed to be flirting with me as well. Old me would have given up by now, knowing that eventually, my wife would tell me in great detail what I had done wrong, but this Elena was stubborn, and this could go on for days. However, with Tom in the picture again, I didn’t have that kind of time. He went from calling once a week to every other day. I could feel it. He was sharpening his claws, readying them to dig deep into Elena the second she gave him a chance. While her memories were drip-feeding back, it wasn’t fast enough. It was only going to make it harder when she learned the truth.

  “What’s wrong?” I folded my arms and looked at her from across the table. She shrugged as she opened her mouth, but I already knew the response. “And don’t say nothing’s wrong because clearly, there is.”