Kassie presses the incline button on my bed until I am fully sitting up. “Okay, Elizabeth, we’re going to get you into a wheelchair and all I need you to do is put your arm around Tony. I would normally be the one helping you but,” she gestures to her swollen belly and then looks over to David. “I want you to go over there and help Tony with her legs and I’ll get behind her.” As I drape my left arm across Tony’s shoulder, he gently leans back until I am in a sitting position. David brings my legs over until they’re dangling off the edge of the bed. Kassie is still holding on to me from behind. “Okay, let’s rest for a second. How do you feel?”
I nod, “Good.”
“Alright, let’s have you plant your feet on the floor with you still holding on to Tony and we’ll get you in the wheelchair.” As I place my feet on the floor, gravity helps me slide off the bed. Tony warns me to take it slow as I rise up to a standing position. As I do, I feel a cool breeze down my backside and even before I can say anything David pulls my gown closed. He laughingly whispers in my ear, “Let’s not give Tony a show,” before both men get me into the wheelchair. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before they wheel me away, promising to take a shower while I’m gone.
After the CAT scan, I’m taken for an MRI. I feel my heart rate pick up at the thought of being inside of a narrow tube for forty-five minutes and try to focus on my breathing to calm down. Thankfully, my doctor agrees to sedate me beforehand.
The nurse tech explains that they’re going to give me ear plugs and that the test will be broken into two parts, “After the first portion, we’ll bring you out and inject contrast through your IV; then we’ll begin the second portion. If you’ll just keep your eyes closed from start to finish, it’ll help with claustrophobia.”
I nod nervously at him and continue taking deep breaths. Another nurse injects the sedative into my IV port as the tech puts the ear plugs in and then attaches what feels like vise to hold my head straight. Once he places the cage over my face he signals that I should close my eyes. Then he slides me in.
The medicine begins working within minutes and takes the edge off. Holy shit, this machine is loud. I wish David were here. The thought is so sudden and takes me by surprise. I decide to pass the time spent laying here by exploring this further. I didn’t wish for Landon—not that it would do me a lot of good to wish for someone who may or may not exist. I feel like I should be sad or more freaked out, but my previous marriage ended up being such a joke that I find myself not entirely upset at my circumstances. I just wish I knew how I ended up here with all these memories, but no recollection of David other than what appears to be our initial meeting.
David is the polar opposite of Landon. Landon couldn’t even stand to be around me when I was sick. He’d encourage me to get up and shower, maybe try some make-up and see if I didn’t feel better. Make-up is the cure for colds and stomach viruses, everyone knows that. David seems genuine. I feel like I’ve seen him show more emotion in a day than Landon did in four years. He didn’t seem disgusted helping me out of bed, quite the opposite really. The way he held my gown closed—there was possessiveness there. It feels so good to be wanted. I don’t know if the thing with Landon was just some crazy dream or a psychotic episode. I really hope it’s the former or I may save everyone else the trouble and check myself in at the psych ward.
David said I wasn’t married to anyone before and I believe him. There’s just so much to process—I went from trying to pick up the pieces of my marriage to being thrust into another one entirely.
Just like being caught up in a typical west Texas sandstorm, you can’t see your hand in front of your face. It’s the same way inside my head right now. Random thoughts and memories swirl violently and I find that I’m unable to grasp onto anything that would give some clue about my present life.
At this point, the technician slides me out of the MRI tube to inject the contrast and I give my mind a momentary break. I assure the technician that I’m okay before I’m put back in. I wonder how David is in bed. Oh wow, there’s yet another random thought. My inner romantic pops her head up, interested.
Thank the Lord that my face is hidden as I’m sure it’s bright red. I suppose it is a normal thought to have about one’s husband. Most women know what their husband is like in bed. Right. I guess I just didn’t think about it much with Landon—if he even existed. This is so out of character. If someone were to describe me before, they’d use words like meek, submissive, and unsure. I feel like I can’t relate to that woman right now.
Something’s been born in me through this accident, some confidence that’s building. I felt the stirrings in my previous life after my imaginary husband left me—Well, what else am I supposed to think without any concrete evidence?, but this feels solid—permanent. This could be my second chance. I need to let go of the past, at least what I remember as the past, and embrace my new life, but I’m so confused. Did I invent a person in my head—is the brain even capable of that?
I remember seeing a special on TV awhile back that dealt with dreaming of seemingly unknown people. Scientists discovered that the dreamers had actually encountered these “unknown people” in their daily lives. While they didn’t remember, the brain stored the image of the other person’s face. That’s frightening.
What if it’s too good to be true? Do good people actually get the life they deserve? I don’t want to let my inner cynic run free, but I can’t let naiveté rule either. I need to be cautious—this isn’t a Disney movie. If only something made sense.
They wheel me back to my room afterwards and there’s David, all cleaned up—except for the blood stained clothing he’s still inexplicably wearing. He catches me looking, “I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I was afraid if I left you right after the accident, I’d miss you waking up.”
I nod dumbly at him, the drugs still in full effect. I’m feeling a little sleepy at the moment and find myself dozing off the minute my head touches the pillow. The next few hours are filled with fitful sleep. I dream that I’m trying to get into a locked room. My fists are bloody from pounding on the heavy wooden door. No matter what I do, the room remains locked. I wake, covered in sweat.
David sees that I’m fully awake and fishes my glasses out of my purse for me.
“Thank you—and thank you for staying. You know, I’ve been trying to come up with ways you could help me remember our life together. Do you have your cell phone? There’s bound to be pictures of us on there. Maybe it could help.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls it out; then he punches his security code in and hands it to me. He settles back into a chair and props his feet up on the bed beside me.
I look down at the phone background and it’s a picture of us on what looks like a beach. I hold up the phone to show him, “Where are we here?”
“Cabo San Lucas. I surprised you for our anniversary with that trip. We stayed at this all-inclusive resort right on the beach and we took a glass bottom boat tour one day. At night they would build a big bonfire on the beach and play live music. Trust me; we had a lot of fun that week.” He smiles and gives me a wink and I feel a jolt of longing. Even though my mind cannot remember a life with him, my body seems ready to do just that. My inner romantic is batting her eyes like a Hollywood starlet.
I go back to the phone and hit the photo icon. He has over sixteen hundred photos—impressive. I choose camera roll and scroll to the top, trying not to pay attention to what I’m seeing. I want to start at the beginning and work my way down, no cheating—that’s my OCD side coming out. The first photo is of me holding a rose between my teeth. I look ridiculous, but happy. He moves his chair so he can see what I’m seeing. “That was at my cousin’s wedding two years ago.”
“Why is my face so shiny?”
“It was an outdoor wedding in Louisiana in July. I thought we were going to melt—it was so humid!”
There are so many pictures of us in various places: drinking green beer on St. Patrick’s Day with shamrock stickers o
n our faces, me using a sparkler as a fairy wand on the fourth of July, making our goofiest faces for whoever was holding the camera (tongues out and eyes crossed)—Landon and I never did these things. Everything with him was formal compared to this. I have never seen myself look so happy.
David interrupts my thoughts by taking the phone from me. “I just thought of something,” he clicks the music icon and scrolls down to the song he wants, “it’s not country, but you love this song so I made an exception.” Suddenly Jason Mraz’s voice comes pouring out of the phone’s speaker. Wait a minute, I know this, “I won’t give up—it’s a beautiful song. I do love it.” He squeezes my hand, “It reminds me of us, with everything that’s going on.” He leans over me and I know exactly what he’s about to do and I find myself trying to sit up and meet him halfway. Before our lips can connect, the nurse comes back in. We immediately pull apart like two jumpy teenagers and shut the music off.
Kassie pretends not to notice, “Elizabeth, we’d like to try to get you cleaned up. Would you like to try to get up and take a shower?” I nod at her as she checks my vitals. I’ve still yet to see myself in a mirror, but I assume I need a good scrubbing.
I’m suddenly a bit self-conscious about how I must look and I put my head down and start picking at my fingernails again. David speaks up, “You know you look incredible right now, right?” I blush furiously as we’re not the only people in the room and ask incredulously, “Really?”
Kassie finishes taking my vitals (other than my heart rate being elevated, I’m good) and enters her notes on the computer before turning back to me. “Okay, I’ll go start the shower. Sometimes, it takes awhile for the water to heat up.”
David waits to answer me until we hear the water kick on. “Yeah, Beth I really think you look beautiful. Hell, I’ve spent the last three days worried sick about you and now that you’re awake and okay I can’t stop thinking about kissing you and running my hands all over your body. How’s that for an insight into the male mind?”
I don’t even think before answering, “It might help me remember.” His eyes widen with shock—and lust. There is a healthy amount of lust in the look he’s giving me, and I realize what I’ve just told him. I basically just told a complete stranger I wanted to have sex with him. The old Elizabeth would have never been so bold. My inner romantic is about to swoon from all the sexual tension in this room and is fanning herself dramatically. I’ve never felt so empowered.
Kassie walks back in, “Okay Elizabeth, let’s get you undressed and all cleaned up.” I suddenly realize what that will imply and shoot her a panicked look—all empowerment is now gone and my inner romantic is placing her head in her hands, ashamed. David notices my face and speaks up, ‘I was just going to head down to the cafeteria and grab some lunch—you want anything, Beth?” I tell him I’m fine and breathe a sigh of relief. He moves to kiss the top of my head and in my desire I reach up and pull his mouth down over mine.
If I thought the first time we kissed was like fireworks, this must be “Shock and Awe.” I’ve never been kissed like this man kisses me. We pull away, I almost expect to see actual sparks, and I mouth the words “thank you” to him. My heart feels as though it could beat out of my chest and when David stands up to leave, I’m aware of just how much of an effect I have on him. He tries to adjust his jeans discreetly before slipping past Kassie and out of the room. My inner romantic is already digging through the lingerie drawer and I find myself a little frightened by how much I already feel for this man.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As Kassie helps me out of my gown while gathering up all the various tubes running out of me; I study myself in the mirror. My right eye is black and blue and I have some stitches (they’re small lacerations, probably caused by flying glass) around my hairline and down the right side of my face. Facial cuts can bleed so much though; I can see how David would’ve been scared. There is an enormous black bruise running from my right shoulder to my left hip from the safety belt and I’m pretty sure several of my ribs are cracked, but overall, I look pretty much the same as I always have—just slightly more banged up.
Kassie puts a plastic bag over my IV hand to keep it dry and then helps me get situated on the bench sitting inside the shower. She gives me the hand-held shower head and I sit, letting the warm water cascade down my body. A hot shower is right up there with heated blankets in my book of creature comforts. After helping me wash my hair, Kassie hands me a soapy washcloth to get the rest of my body (they really do not pay nurses enough).
We haven’t really spoken much up until this point when I break the silence as she’s helping me dry off. “How far along are you?”
She pauses in her drying to answer me, “I’ve got about eight weeks left.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Boy.” She goes back to drying me off taking extra care to not bump any tubes in the process.
“Kassie—I’m really sorry about earlier. That’s not me. I don’t make a habit of throwing things, please know that. I’m just so confused by all of this, but that is no excuse for what I did.”
She nods while listening to me, “I understand how lost you must feel and I do forgive you. It’s not the worst I’ve ever seen a patient behave. You know—your husband is a good man. I’ve seen a lot of men come through here with a girlfriend or spouse and the majority of them can’t handle the stress of seeing someone they love in pain. He didn’t leave your side once—not even to eat something. Several nurses and I just started bringing him a tray so he’d get something,” I bite my lower lip and blink rapidly to keep from crying in front of her again, “All he’s done is sit and hold your hand or lie next to you in that bed. I know you don’t remember and you’re frustrated, but it’s pretty obvious to everyone around here how much he loves you.”
I thank her and continue trying to fight back tears. She smiles at me and I can tell she’s on the verge of tearing up as well by the way her lower lip is trembling, “Okay, Elizabeth. Let’s get you dressed and get that catheter out—before we’re both crying.” I dab my eyes and smirk at her, “Well Kassie, catheter talk is one way to get someone to stop crying,” before we both dissolve into laughter.
Twenty minutes later, I am catheter free and sitting in a new gown on clean bed sheets. There’s a knock at the door and in walks Jess. “Jess—Oh my goodness, you’re real!” She cocks her head to the side and gives me a sympathetic smile before coming over and enveloping me in a tight hug. ‘Oh Lizzie, it’s me—in the flesh. David told me you were awake, but when he explained that you didn’t know who he was—” she falls apart and it takes a minute before she can continue, “I was so afraid you wouldn’t recognize me! I’m sorry to drop in on you, but once I heard you were up I asked David if he’d mind me having a little one-on-one time with you.” I notice she’s holding a duffel bag. I point to it,
‘What’s the bag for? Are you moving in again?” I laugh, but it’s obvious she has no idea what I’m referring to. This is going to take some getting used to.
“Well, I went out and grabbed a few things I thought you might like. And you know me; I can’t let you go around with bad hair. What would people think?”
She sets the bag down next to me on the bed and I begin going through it. There is a pair of pajamas, some face wash, make-up, and gossip magazines. She gestures to the items, “I think the make-up is close to what you wear and the magazines are reading material while I fix your hair.”
I give her another squeeze and she begins plugging various beauty appliances in to outlets. “So, where did David go?”
“Oh, I told him to take some time to himself—maybe go grab a change of clothes while I helped you get ready. He can’t really pull off the blood-stained look. Plus, it gives us a chance to have some girl talk.”
“Daryl Dixon can pull that look off. He can pull anything off.” I grin before realizing I’ve spoken the words aloud. Seriously, is the filter between my brain and mouth broken?
“Oh Lizzie, you and
your Walking Dead references—I get it. David does look like one of the main characters, but you’re still not going to convince me to watch it. I don’t do creepy.”
At least I’m not the only one who sees the resemblance. “So, I really am married to him?”
“Yes ma’am—every girl’s fantasy is to marry a bad boy and turn him into the boy next door—or maybe it was just mine.”
“So, you’re saying he was a ‘bad boy’ when I met him?”
“No, let me explain. He’s always treated you like a queen. I just remember when you first introduced me to him and I thought he seemed more likely to belong in a biker bar than with you. I just worried you would get your heart broken. I thought he was more my type. Looks can be deceiving though, huh?”
She has no idea how true that it. People always talked about how perfect Landon and I were together (Jess never did, but she and Landon were never going to see eye to eye on anything)—little does anyone ever fully know what goes on behind closed doors. Speaking of—“Jess, did I ever date a Landon Scott?”
She pauses, “Not that I recall. No, that name doesn’t ring a bell.”
She wraps a section of my hair around a curling brush and turns on the hair dryer.
I raise my voice over the dryer, “So, it’s only been David? And he’s never cheated on me?”
She gives me a troubled look, “Uh, I know you’re having trouble remembering things since the wreck, but you’ve never been a damsel in distress waiting to be rescued. That’s why I’ve always enjoyed being around you and I’m certain that’s what drew David to you as well. Don’t get me wrong, you’re not an unfeeling or hard person—you just stand up for yourself and you usually don’t allow people to use you like a welcome mat.”
From This Day Forward Page 6