Splintered Memory

by Natascha Holloway

  He’d been self medicating now for over a month, and he wasn’t sure that he even knew what he was taking anymore. He’d certainly lost track of the quantities, but then he didn’t really care.

  Matt knew that he was on a downhill trend. Yet what he also knew was that there was a part of him, although he was unsure how big a part of him it was, that was looking to self destruct. Self destruction aside though, the tablets did actually help. They knocked him out when he needed to sleep, and they kept him awake when he had to work. Most importantly, they kept him distracted to such an extent that his mind was unable to be torn apart with images of Charlie.

  He reached the ambulance bay and took the chart from the paramedic. He noticed Emily stood on the other side of the patient, and he saw her trying to gage his reaction to her. He knew that he’d treated her abominably over the past few weeks, and he knew that she understood the cause behind the shake in his hand that had been visible when he’d reached for the chart from the paramedic. He was also aware that there was a red glean in his eyes that he couldn’t hide, and he knew that no one was fooled into believing that it was the result of too much coffee or too little sleep.

  Embarrassed by his body’s failure to hide his addictions, he looked away and tried to focus on the job in hand. For now at least he could lose himself, if only temporarily, in the carnage and destruction of someone else’s life and wellbeing.

  ***

  After leaving the house he hadn’t known where to go. He’d left his wife on their marital bed, in the home that they’d shared for nearly ten years, naked and alone. He’d been unable to bear her vulnerability, and her complete and utter dependence upon him in that moment.

  For the six months up until this point he’d hoped that Charlie would trust him again. He’d hoped that they could find some way through the darkness and back into each other’s arms. He’d prayed to god for the strength to keep fighting for his wife, to remember their past strongly enough for them both, and to forgive her for forgetting him.

  He’d known for months that he’d become to resent her, and he hated himself for that. Yet whilst she was trying to find a way to accept what had happened, find solace in their friends, and make plans for a future without her memories. He’d just had to stand by and watch. He couldn’t participate, because whilst she was contentedly accepting that everything that they’d shared in the past was gone. He was in mourning for their past, and he couldn’t accept that same conclusion.

  He knew that she wanted a future, but it was a future that he felt certain that she didn’t see him in. So as she’d made her plans with Maria. He was left to try and deal with the gaping chasm of heartache and loss, and what felt increasingly like betrayal. This Charlie had stolen his wife’s body and life, and he hated her for it. He missed his Charlie, and he wanted her back desperately.

  He knew that this Charlie was making the effort, but he didn’t care. Whilst she sat and made mindless chit chat with him, he just sat there and felt increasingly angry. He listened to the tone of her voice, and watched her face and eyes, but all the time he was cursing god for making him believe that he’d been lucky to have his wife survive her accident. This woman – this Charlie, was not the person that he’d fallen in love with and had shared the better part of his life with.

  The day that Charlie had been rushed into the A&E had been the worst of his life, and he knew that his initial optimism had been part of his own denial. He’d had to believe that she’d be okay, if only to protect his sanity. Anytime that he’d even contemplated that she might not make it, that the news from surgery might not be good, he’d been physically sick.

  For days he’d just sat by her bed, holding her hand and begging her not to leave him. For the sake of his wellbeing and sanity, he’d made himself believe that she’d survive and that she’d make a full recovery. She would come back to him. He’d known that there hadn’t been a contingency plan for a life without her in it, and the thought of a future without her had tore his heart to shreds.

  When she’d woken up he’d felt overcome with relief, and even in the days that had followed he’d been able to hang on to hope. Yet as the months past, he found himself missing Charlie so much that at times he had stood in the shower and wept. Snatched from his life without any notice or warning had been his wife, his best friend, and the person that he’d shared the past fifteen years of his life with. In Charlie’s place, he’d been handed a perfect imitation. It was cruel, and he resented it. He resented her actually. He resented this new Charlie.

  He missed the tenderness of Charlie’s kisses, and the way that she’d hold his hand or sit on his lap without any reason. He missed the way that she’d nestle up against him when they were watching a film, or play with his hair when he was reading something that she thought was dull. He missed how she’d deliberately wonder into the kitchen wearing something alluringly sexy and revealing when he was cooking dinner for them, and then drag him off to bed.

  Matt missed the glances that they’d traded, and the jokes that only they’d understood. He missed being able to touch her freely, and hold her close. He missed all of the simple things that they’d shared, which he’d never once thought to appreciate before, like the impromptu hugs and the unexpected kisses good morning or goodnight.

  He missed the scent of her skin and the softness of her neck against his lips. He missed the way that she could make him laugh, and equally the way that she could make him mad. He missed their fights and squabbles, and the making up afterwards. He missed her tenderness and presence in his life, but what he missed most of all was having that one person in his life that knew everything about him.

  Charlie had shared all of his memories, his hopes and his fears, for fifteen years. He missed having that one person that knew exactly how he was feeling and what to do to make him feel better, and he missed the fact that Charlie had always known these things without him ever having to tell her.

  In the months since the accident, even though he hadn’t technically been alone – as Charlie had still been in his life, the isolation and desperation had at times been more than he could bear. He hated god, and Charlie, for making him endure this.

  He had been walking nowhere to begin with, but as he lifted up his head to try and shake himself from his emotional turmoil that he was feeling he recognised instantly where his feet had carried him. He was outside Rich and Bex’s house.

  It seemed that just as when he’d been a kid and his feet had always found their way to Rich’s parents house, as an adult he’d maintained the same ability and he could still always find his way to Rich’s when he needed to.

  Rich was shocked to find him at his door as he opened it, and he asked; “don’t you normally work Saturdays?”

  “I need to come in,” Matt replied.

  “If this is about last night,” he said as he opened the door wider for Matt to come in; “then yeah maybe I could’ve been more sensitive about the whole Charlie thing.”

  “Is Bex home?” Matt asked walking straight down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  “No, she’s out shopping,” Rich answered. Walking into the kitchen and standing on the opposite side of the breakfast counter from where Matt was stood, and eyeing his best friend with scrutiny.

  “I’ve fucked up,” Matt said not looking directly at Rich.

  Rich didn’t respond, but he continued to scrutinise his best friends face.

  “I slept with Emily,” Matt said still not looking at Rich.

  Rich again didn’t respond, and Matt found his temper rising at his best friends seeming indifference to what he was telling him. He looked up at Rich and said; “I slept with someone else, someone other than Charlie. Aren’t you shocked, angry, disappointed even? Aren’t you going to say something?” He asked angrily.

  Rich still looked indifferent as he said; “you’re not going to want to hear what I’ve got to say.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Matt retorted angrily shocked at Rich’s reaction to h
is confession. “I can take it. Call me a twat, a fool, a shit husband. I can take it, and it’s what I deserve.”

  “I don’t think you’re any of those things,” Rich said.

  Matt felt like he’d just been hit in the face with a cricket bat.

  “How long has it been since you last had sex?” Rich asked, and then catching Matt’s eyes started to laugh. “Okay, I’ll re-phrase that as clearly that came out wrong. Obviously it wasn’t that long ago, but what I meant was that you and Charlie haven’t been you and Charlie since before her accident. You may have been living together, but you haven’t been living together as man and wife. And all I mean is that a man can only go so long you know?”

  “But its Charlie,” Matt said imploringly; “it’s me and Charlie.”

  “But it isn’t though is it? She’s not your Charlie,” Rich said; “and you two haven’t been you and Charlie since she came home.”

  “You’ve changed your tune,” Matt said suspiciously.

  “Oh come on man. I’m getting married and my fiancée and your missus are friends. I don’t think Charlie’s the same as she was before, but the girls want to believe that she is. I think Bex is scared to death that if this ever happened to her, that I wouldn’t be able to take it. I think she’s terrified that I’d leave her. She needs to believe that you and Charlie can make it,” Rich said almost ashamedly.

  “Would you leave her?” Matt asked.

  It took a couple of seconds for Rich to reply, but when he did he looked deeply ashamed. “Yeah,” he said; “yeah, I think I would.”

  Matt looked into Rich’s face, and he felt shocked.

  Rich looked back at him and said; “I don’t know how you’ve coped. I feel for Charlie and everything of course I do, but I just don’t recognise her or know her anymore.”

  Matt couldn’t believe where this was coming from, and he couldn’t take his eyes off Rich’s.

  “I’ve known her for as long as you have, and I’ve shared certain things with her in the past you know? But seeing her like this, unable to remember nicknames and jokes from our past! It’s just too hard, it’s too damn depressing. And seeing you with her is just fucking awful. The way you look at her. It’s no wonder Bex is messed up over it,” he said.

  “What do you mean how I look at her?” Matt asked feeling a little choked up.

  Rich shook his head with a half laugh half sign and said; “you’re either looking at her like she’s just broken your heart and your begging her to realise and fix it, or you’re just staring at her unseeingly. Smiling to be polite, or nodding at things that she’s saying to you, but you’re clearly wishing you’re somewhere – hell I don’t know, anywhere else at all.”

  Matt didn’t say anything. He was genuinely a little amazed that Rich had been so perceptive of his interaction with Charlie.

  “Look, if you want me to tell you that you’re a twat or something? Then fine, you’re a twat. You’ve cheated on my first and your only love,” Rich said with a quick flick upwards of his eyebrows.

  They both knew that it normally riled Matt when Rich referred to Charlie as his first love. Yet Matt couldn’t even be bothered to roll his eyes at Rich for the comment today, instead he just sat down heavily on the stool which was beside him and put his head in his arms.

  “I also slept with Charlie,” he said into the counter unable to bring himself to look back up at Rich.

  “At the same time,” Rich said sounding shocked but equally impressed.

  Matt laughed as he looked up and saw Rich’s face. He just couldn’t help himself, but as he did he felt the more familiar feeling of guilt return.

  “No,” he said. “Emily last night and Charlie this morning, but both of them were accidents and huge mistakes,” he said despairingly as he put his head back in his arms.

  “Not bad mistakes though?” Rich asked trying to make light of the situation, but Matt didn’t answer and there was silence between them for a whole minute.

  “Okay let’s hear it,” Rich said; “although it’s not that I’m all that surprised. Emily’s legs have been open to you for ages, but go on why did you sleep with her? You haven’t shown an interest before now, and she’s been on the scene for a while?”

  “You’d pissed me off, and I was drunk. Oh I don’t know,” he said; “if I’m honest, she was just sort of there.”

  He saw Rich look at him sceptically, but he said; “and Charlie?”

  Matt looked at Rich guilty and said embarrassedly; “she caught me unawares this morning. I was tired and I’d just gotten out of the shower. I tried to resist her but…”

  “It’s Charlie,” Rich finished for him. “Was it good?”

  “Always is,” Matt said with a smile.

  “I remember,” Rich said. To which Matt did his best not to scowl at him.

  “And Emily,” Rich said.

  Matt flushed scarlet.

  “Filthy?” Rich asked reacting to Matt’s embarrassment.

  “It was her first time,” Matt said looking imploringly at his best friend for words of wisdom.

  “So shit then?” Rich asked neither sympathetically nor wisely.

  “No, just…”Matt began to say, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to go on.

  “Just?” Rich asked not letting him off the hook.

  “It was good,” Matt said sounding like he wished that wasn’t the answer.

  “Are you going to tell Charlie?” Rich asked; “or just keep seeing Emily on the sly?”

  “Neither,” Matt said sounding shocked. “What kind of husband would I be if I admitted to my wife – who has amnesia, that I’ve done this to her? I’m the one person that she’s been reliant upon since she’s woken up, and she’s trusted me without any reason to. How can I possibly tell her that I’ve cheated on her? And how can I keep seeing Emily? I work with her and I’m married to Charlie!”

  “Want a beer?” Rich asked.

  He was about to say that it was too early when he thought better of it and said; “yeah, why not.”

  Matt stayed at Rich’s drinking beer until Bex came home and started yelling at Rich, at which point he made a hasty retreat and headed home. As he walked back he took out his phone, and he saw that he had two missed calls and two messages. The missed calls were from Charlie, and the texts were from Emily. She wanted to see him, but he hit delete to both messages. He couldn’t worry about her now. He needed to think about what he was going to say to Charlie when he got in.

  He reached the front door, but as he was about to put his key into the lock he paused. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt momentarily scared to go inside. A feeling of uncertainty had overwhelmed him, and for some reason his mind had gone back to a very old memory. He was back in Charlie’s bedroom in Cheddar. He was sat on her window ledge, and he could remember thinking that even in that hideous blue dress that she had on he could love her forever.

  He shook the memory from his head and opened the door. He walked straight through the living room into the kitchen, where he threw his keys onto the table, and he headed over to the fridge.

  For no reason in particular he glanced across at the blackboard by the back door. He didn’t know why he glanced across at it, as it hadn’t been written on in months. Leaving messages on this had been something that he’d done with the old Charlie, and he wasn’t even sure that he’d told the new Charlie what they’d used the blackboard for. Yet as he thought this, he saw Charlie’s familiar scrawl on it.

  I couldn’t fit everything on the board, so it’s in the letter by the kettle.

  Matt turned and looked at the envelope that was resting against their kettle, and he walked over to it and picked it up.

  He wasn’t sure what to expect as he opened it, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be good and he knew that he only had himself to blame. He’d walked out on her after they’d had sex, and then he’d ignored her calls. He was guessing that she was too embarrassed to face him, and the letter was going to say that she was spendi
ng the night elsewhere. He wondered if she’d gone to stay with Rach and Ben, and he wondered if he should give Ben a call.

  Matt,

  I can’t stay and be somebody that I’m not anymore, so I’m going to live with my parent’s for a while.

  I wanted you to know that I really did try to remember. I tried for me, but I also tried for you because I wanted to be the same person that you’d lost.

  You deserve the chance to move on with your life, and I’m sorry that I haven’t let you before now. I shouldn’t have compelled you to play the dutiful husband. It was perhaps cruel of me, and it hasn’t helped either of us.

  I’m sorry that I did that, and I’m sorry that I can’t remember.

  Charlotte.

  Matt felt like his heart had just been brutally ripped from his chest, and that all the oxygen had been drained from his lungs. He’d honestly believed that he hadn’t wanted this Charlie. He’d thought that she was a second rate, lacklustre, impersonator, and that his life would be better off without her. Yet as he was stood faced with the prospect of never seeing Charlie again, he felt as though the walls were closing in on him. He was now totally alone, but what was worse was that he knew that he’d brought it on himself.

  He looked at the letter again, and he noticed that she’d signed off Charlotte. Charlie really was gone he thought, she’d never have signed off a note or letter to him that way, but as the feeling of loss began to consume him he felt the need to take control of the situation. Unsure of how to do this, or even what was required in order to do this, he decided as a stop gap that he’d drink.

  Matt walked over to the freezer and took out a bottle of vodka. He poured himself a large glass and dispatched it in one. It had little effect so he followed it with a few more, and when the effects of the vodka finally began to take hold he took out his phone and dialled the first number to mind.

  “Hi,” Emily said.