“Talk to him, Vanna. Try and explain to him.”
“What if I fuck everything up? What if he collapses again?” What if he can’t handle what he’s being told?
“He won’t,” Mace says with certainty. “The tumour is gone. Hopefully this memory loss is only temporary. The doctor said the op may have some effects until the swelling goes down.”
“What if it’s like last time, Mace? What if he never remembers again? I think I need to talk to the doctor or someone…”
Mace leans in. “A fuckin’ therapist made you give up on him. Go with your gut instinct this time, Vanna. I’ll stay out of the way as I’m agitating him, but I won’t go far. We won’t be giving up on him, and I won’t listen to any fuckin’ therapist who tells me to stay away from my brother.”
I bite my lip. “You really think it’s the right thing to do?”
“Vanna, he’ll see you look older. The evidence is right in front of his eyes. You can’t rewind the clock, even if you wanted to. How else would you explain Cas?”
The door opens and the nurse comes out.
Mace turns to her. “He seems very confused.”
“It’s not unusual after this kind of surgery. I’m pleased with him actually, his eyesight, hearing, and speech check out which can all be initial problems after surgery. We’ll assess his mobility when he’s a little stronger.”
“Is it okay to talk to him? To bring him up-to-date with the years he’s forgotten?” I’m worried sick about setting him back.
“He may start remembering as you talk to him. It’s quite normal for someone to get muddled when they’ve undergone an operation like this and have difficulty placing names and faces. It’s certainly not unusual.”
I don’t think the nurse is right. That’s what I was told last time, give him time and he’ll remember. But they’d been wrong.
“What else can you do, Vanna?” Mace stares after the retreating nurse. His eyes appear to be on her ass. He turns back to me when she disappears around a corner. “Cas is going to want to see his dad.” He wipes his hand over his face. “Christ, but that kid has been through a lot. It’s going to hit him hard that his dad now remembers him, but only as a babe in arms.”
“A toddler,” I automatically correct. “Cas was eighteen months when Lizard went on his last tour. He’d all but completed six months when the bomb went off. Cas turned two while Lizard was still in the hospital.” I’d been too focused on keeping my husband alive to celebrate my son’s second birthday. Something I still feel guilty for.
“He’ll want you.” Mace gives me a prod to get me moving back into Lizard’s room.
I’m torn. Half of me longs to go back and talk to him, knowing he knows who I am. The other half knows our problems are far from over and wishes I could get into my car and put miles between us, but I can’t run from this. Pulling back my shoulders I step back inside.
“Vanna.” Lizard gives me a weak smile. “Come sit beside me.”
“How are you feeling?”
“The nurse gave me some shit instead of the morphine. The pain’s already easing. She said the weakness on my right side was normal. But fuck that.” His mouth twists. “What’s happened to me, Vanna? And you, your hair… I can’t get over it. How could it grow so long in six months?”
“You grew yours too. I like it.” I don’t know how to handle this.
His hand feels his straggly lengths, again pulling at it as if to prove it’s his. Then he frowns and snarls, “Tell me what the fuck’s gone on. How fuckin’ long have I been here if my hair’s grown out?”
“Shouldn’t you rest?” He’s only just come around from brain surgery, surely, he should rest for a bit? But in typical male fashion he dismisses my concern.
“I’m not waiting any longer. Tell me, Evangeline.”
When he uses my full name, I know he’s serious. I take his right hand and hold it tight, a liberty I never dreamed I’d be taking again and a feeling of rightness wars with the unease I’m feeling.
“You were hurt overseas.”
“Sort of guessed that.” He touches the bandage on his head with his left hand. “How bad, Vanna? Did it cause the tumour, or was that already in my head?”
“You were hurt badly. You sustained a traumatic brain injury. For a while it was touch and go, and we didn’t think you’d survive.”
“Christ.” He leans his head back and closes his eyes. “But I’m going to be okay, now? I feel so fuckin’ weak, Vanna.” His fingers twitch in my hand, but don’t tighten.
“You’re going to be fine, Lizard.” I put as much strength in my voice as I can.
“Worrying about me was how you got those lines on your face?” Now his fingers trace the etchings left by time. Again, with his left hand.
“Lizard. I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Spit it out, babe. Get whatever it is off your chest. You said I was fine, but what the fuck is it? Am I going to die?”
I take a deep breath. “You’re not dying. But this, this isn’t the first time you’ve been in the hospital. It’s the second. This time you had a brain tumour, and they had to cut it out. It was benign, and they got it all. No need for more treatment, you’ve just got to recover, okay?”
His brow creases. “The second time?” When I nod, he continues, “I don’t remember being in the hospital before.”
“It was twelve years ago.” I tell him the worst.
He inhales sharply, and his brow creases in confusion. “No.”
“Yes.” I don’t know what to say. How to explain.
His eyes examine me again, his brow creasing. “What’s the fuckin’ date?” he rasps.
I take out my phone and show him.
Again, his head rests back, and he closes his eyes. “How the fuck did I lose twelve years? Have I been in a coma and just woken up?”
“No,” I choke. “You’ve been living a good and full life. You’re the manager of a tattoo parlour—”
“I got my dream job?” That seems to brighten him up. “It pays the bills then?”
Instead of replying, I carry on, “You live and ride with a motorcycle club. The Satan’s Devils MC.”
His eyes are looking at me sharply. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m telling the truth, Lizard.”
For a moment he just regards me as though trying to judge whether I’m joking or not. Then, he sighs, and once more touches that bandage. “Christ, my head must be fucked up. I thought I heard you say I ride with a motorcycle club.”
“I did, Lizard. You do.”
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I? Having a fuckin’ nightmare. Pinch me, Vanna. I want to wake up.”
He’s in such distress, I sob, wishing I could. I try to drop the conversation, but he won’t let up, asking me to repeat what I’m telling him again and again.
Eventually, he touches his hair again. “I can’t compute it Vanna. Twelve years have gone past when I’ve been a fully functioning human being with a good job. Manager, huh?” He moves his head side to side very slowly. “Can almost accept that part. But riding with a motorcycle club? Living with them? Fuck babe, how the hell did I get mixed up in that shit?” He frowns. “They legit?”
I shrug. “They say they are, but they wear the one-percenter patch.”
His face tightens. “I got you mixed up in it too? You, and little Cas?”
“They’re good men, Liz.” I find myself defending them and then tell him the truth. “I don’t know how you joined them. Look, Liz. I really don’t know how to tell you this.” His intense stare makes me carry on. “After the first time in the hospital, Lizard, you lost your memory. You didn’t recognise me or Cas.”
His jaw drops. He’s quiet for a moment. “There’s more, isn’t there, Vanna. Tell me.”
“You were suffering.” I try to explain to him. “Living with us wasn’t helping you. I was your wife, but to you, both Cas and I were strangers. It was fucking with your head. You left, and your therapist s
aid that was the best for you.”
“I couldn’t remember you? What the fuck are you saying, Evangeline?” His eyes are going wild.
“Liz, I think you should get some rest.” I’m worried I’m telling him too much, too soon.
“Evangeline,” he growls. “Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about. Now.”
It’s breaking my heart to tell him this. “You lost about five years. You couldn’t remember us meeting, marrying, or Cas being born.”
“Jesus H Christ. When did I recover? When did we get back together? How long did I forget you for? For fuck’s sake, Vanna. How could I forget you? Tell me, for the love of God. How long was it before I recognised you again?”
He’s getting agitated which can’t be good for him.
“Tell me. Fuckin’ tell me.”
Do I tell him or run away, as that’s the only way this conversation will stop? He’s not going to give up.
“Evangeline,” he snarls. “When did I remember you?”
The word comes out on a sob, though I try to swallow it. “Today.” My voice breaks. “Today, Lizard. This is the first time you’ve recognised me in twelve years.”
As the tears start flowing, he reaches over with his left arm and pulls me down against his chest, holding me as tight as a man who’s only just come out of surgery can, as if he’s never going to let me go.
We lie like that for a few minutes, my cheek against his heart, feeling it beating strongly. Me taking this chance in case I lose him again, hoping this time he’ll hold tight to the memory.
“Twelve years.” I hear his voice and feel it rumble against my skin. “Twelve fucking years we’ve been apart.”
“Ten,” I correct. “We tried for two years but couldn’t reconnect. It’s then you left me.”
“And went off to join a fuckin’ biker club.” Suddenly he tenses. “That shit stops now. Not getting you involved in something like that. The only good thing about us being apart is that I apparently didn’t drag you down with me.”
“Liz…” I want to defend his club, but he’s not finished.
“What have I missed, apart from Cas growing up? Have you moved on? Found a new man, Vanna? Tell me. Vanna. Fuck. It feels to me like I only left to go on tour six months ago, but we’ve…” His voice breaks, and then he continues, “We tried to make it work for two years, so ten I’ve been gone? I suppose I couldn’t blame you if you’re another man’s now. Is it that fucker who was in here before?”
“No.” I free myself from his hold so I can stare intently into his eyes. “No, Lizard. I still wear your ring.” I show my hand to him. “I’ve remained faithful. I never gave up hope.”
“What about me?” he says gruffly. “If I didn’t know I had a wife… Christ.” He huffs a mirthless laugh. “Don’t tell me there’s another woman I’ve laid claim to.” He raises his left hand and stares at it. “I don’t wear my ring?”
“They had to cut it off the first time, your hand swelled.” It had broken my heart, but it was necessary. “You didn’t find anyone else, Liz,” I reassure him fast, not telling him that, unlike me, he hadn’t remained celibate.
He hugs me again, again with just that left arm. I watch the right, but it doesn’t twitch. That worries me. Almost as much as this conversation does.
“If I remained faithful, I must have known you were out there, and I was just waiting for the right time to come back.”
He’ll find out as soon as he goes back to the club. If he does, I correct. But as soon as they see him, Titsy, Sheila and the others will be all over him. I decide to leave it, I’m laying far too much on him now.
But he’s remembered too well. Seems I couldn’t control the expression on my face.
“There’s more, isn’t there? Tell me. Tell me now.” He waits.
“Lizard, you didn’t have a special someone, but you didn’t go wanting if you know what I mean.”
“Babe?”
“The MC has club girls…”
“Oh fuck.” He looks and sounds horrified. “Babe…”
I decide to be honest. “Liz, I didn’t like seeing it, but you didn’t know you were married. You can’t be blamed for something you didn’t know you’d done.” Am I being truthful letting him believe I accept it? It hurts. A lot.
But he sees the pain in my eyes. “I’ll never hurt you again, Vanna. I promise.”
“I only found out about ten days ago, Liz. I came to find you. Why doesn’t matter for now.” I don’t want to heap more problems on him.
“I want to see Cas.” He says after a moment, “How old is he again?”
“He’s fourteen. And he’s here. Do you want me to get him?”
“Yeah,” the word’s breathed out. “So much to get my head around. My baby’s a teenager, almost a grown man.”
“Is it too much? Do you want to rest before you see him?”
“Rest?” he huffs. “I’m fuckin’ terrified I’ll forget everything if I close my eyes and sleep. Twelve years, babe. Twelve years have gone by and I don’t fuckin’ remember. And before that? Another period I blanked out apparently.” He grimaces. “What if I forget everything again? What if I forget who I fuckin’ am? What if I end up a vegetable, unable to remember anything at all?”
Seeing my big strong man scared out of his wits is horrifying. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake, but Mace was right. I couldn’t have done otherwise. I couldn’t have hidden how I’ve aged and the resultant body changes, and soon Liz will notice his. I couldn’t have paraded Cas in front of him, when he last remembers him as two years old. What else could I have done?
“You won’t forget,” I tell him firmly. “The doctor said there’s probably a link between the tumour and the original brain injury. Now that’s gone, there’s no reason to think your faculties will decline again.”
“I want to see Cas,” he repeats.
“I’ll go and get him.” I start to stand, but Liz holds me back. His eyes examining my face, this time, as if memorising it.
“Don’t take long,” he says quickly. “For fuck’s sake, Vanna, come back.”
“Lizard,” I tell him firmly, knowing what he’s worrying about, “you won’t forget me again. I promise.” Hopefully he can’t see my fingers crossed behind my back.
As I go to the door, I hear him say to himself in disbelief, “Twelve fucking years.”
Cas stands as soon as I enter the waiting room. “He remembers? Can I see him, Mom?”
“He remembers, but only up to the start of his last tour. I’ve explained to him Cas, but…”
“He expects a two-year-old.” Cas looks tense. “Mace told me.”
“I’ve told him, Cas. He knows to expect a teenager, but he is struggling with the idea.”
“Does he remember the club at all?” asks Demon, tersely.
I give him a sad look. “I’m sorry, no. Or not yet. But he’s just had a major brain operation, so who knows what to expect?”
“How’s he physically?” asks Beef.
“I’m really not sure,” I tell expectant faces. “Weak. He should be sleeping but he’s afraid to give in. He doesn’t seem able to move his right-hand side, but he’s ignoring that for now. He’s too worried about what’s going on with his head.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lizard
Vanna’s gone to get my son. The boy I’d forgotten about for twelve years. How the fuck could I do that? Twelve years!
I’m a biker? A member of an outlaw gang? Jeez. If she’d told me I’d flown to the moon, I could just as well believe that.
“You feeling okay, Mr James?” A nurse comes in and checks the readings of the machine beeping beside me. “It looks like you’re becoming stressed. You really should try to get some rest.”
“I’ve forgotten twelve years,” I tell her. “I remember my wife as a twenty-two-year-old, she’s now thirty-four. And I’m apparently nearing my forties. How the fuck do you think I’m feeling? I’m scared I’ll forget even more.”
> “Calm down, Mr James.”
“Calm down? How can I fuckin’ keep calm when I don’t understand what’s going on in my head?”
She looks at me for a moment. “I’ll get someone to talk to you, okay?”
“I don’t need fuckin’ therapy. I need to know what’s wrong with my head.”
“I can help you with that,” a deep voice says. “Mr James. I’m the consulting neurologist. I performed your operation.”
“I’ve woken up remembering my wife who I’ve apparently forgotten I had for twelve years, Doc, as well as everything that happened over that time. Am I going to forget again?”
He pulls up a chair and regards me seriously. “I work on brains every day, and things never cease to surprise me. You originally suffered a TBI, a traumatic brain injury. It’s not unusual that triggers a loss of memory. Sometimes it’s physical damage to part of your brain, sometimes it’s PTSD, or simply that you want to forget. For example, if your marriage wasn’t happy, you could have hidden it from yourself.”
“No fuckin’ way,” I tell him. “I love Vanna, and she loves me. We’ve got a son…” my voice trails off. I have a son who I’ve apparently neglected for a very long time because I didn’t know he existed.
“You know we only use a fraction of our brains?”
I recall hearing that somewhere. I raise my chin.
“You’re an interesting case, Mr James. Sometimes memories are still there, but locked away, unable to be accessed. There have been cases of people who’ve forgotten who they are, then get flashbacks and finally remember years on. You suffered a traumatic event and injury to your temporal lobes. If I was a betting man, I’d place money on that being the cause of your initial loss of memory, particularly as I understand that after your original injury your short-term memory was affected as well. That you started to be able to lay down new memories suggests the brain healing itself over time.”
“If I was healing myself, why didn’t I remember my wife and kid before now?”
Devil's Spawn: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #6 Page 23