"Esther," he said, drawing me into his arms, "you will be fine. This is temporary, I promise you."
"Control. No control."
"Yes, I get that. We'll help you to get back into control."
"No, that wasn't what I wanted to say." I sighed in frustration. "The lack of control makes me scared."
He released me and started driving. Without prompting, without questioning, Kingston told me the story of how we met. He told me of our chance encounters. He told me about how I went out with his friend, some doctor guy named Rob. That he was terrified that I would be another of the many women that Rob had gone through in his rebound phase. Kingston got a little funny when talking about this, but I chalked it up to jealously. I wondered if I had slept with this Rob guy. It seemed sort of out of character for pre-accident me, but hey, who knows? Kingston went on to tell me how we had dinner, I attacked him in my hallway and then threw him out. He said that had left his head spinning and he didn't know what to make of me, other than he was smitten.
Then he told me about Dean's heart attack and the trip up to Minnesota. I could not believe that this guy drove me all the way there. Actually, since he was moving me in with him to take care of me, I guess I sort of could believe it.
By this time, we were at his house. It was a cute little house in a subdivision where every third house looked the same. I was sort of relieved that I was not driving because I hadn't paid attention driving in, and I knew there was no way I'd ever find it in the subdivision again.
Kingston unloaded his stuff and showed me in. The house had obviously been freshly cleaned, and it looked like things may have just been moved around. I recognized some of my things—the blanket draped on the back of the couch. The vase on the dining room table. My coat rack full of coats.
I looked around and saw familiar objects next to unfamiliar ones. It was comforting and disconcerting all at the same time. He brought me upstairs to show me my bedroom. It was literally my bedroom. It was laid out exactly how my room in my apartment had been, right down to the cosmetics on the dresser and the books on the nightstand. I turned and looked at him, unable to articulate the immense swell of emotion that was overtaking me. "How ... why ... I don't ... how?"
"My family helped out and so did Jillian. I don't know how they got it so exact. I asked them to try and make it look similar. They told the movers where to put things, and just went from there."
"Kingston, I don't know what to say. Even if I could find all my words, I don't know which ones to use."
He smiled at me. "I want you to feel at home and comfortable so you can finish healing."
"I feel weird. I feel like me, but I don't. Things are different, and I don't know how or why. I mean, I guess ..." I trailed off, unsure if I didn't know what to say or if I didn't know how I wanted to say it.
"Why don't you settle in and make yourself at home. I'll be downstairs when you're ready. There are some things that we need to talk about."
That sounded ominous, but I was too distracted by being around my own stuff to think about what Kingston might be talking about. After he left, I closed the door and flopped on my bed. I wanted to sleep for about one hundred years. I wanted to wake up without a brain injury and with all my hair back. I was immensely grateful for Kingston and all he was doing for me. Without him, I'd probably be out on the street soon.
My thoughts were racing around in my head, rattling here and there, and I think I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, it was dark outside the windows. It was November, so it did get dark earlier. I hoped I hadn't slept too long. I found and used the bathroom outside my room and headed downstairs to find Kingston.
He was working hard at looking relaxed sitting on the couch, but there was a tension about his neck and shoulders that betrayed him. I remembered sensing an ominous tone to his last comment to me, and wondered what could possibly be the matter.
I sat down on the couch next to him, and pulled my blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around my legs. "What's up?"
He sighed. He opened his mouth to start talking several times, but could not start. Finally, I said, "Kingston, I'm the one with the aphasia. You need to spit it out."
He smiled. "You're right. It's just that when you were in the hospital—"
"The first one?" I interrupted.
"Yes, at Riverside, when you were in the coma, there were times when people came to visit. It would cause a severe spike in your blood pressure and there was concern that it would cause you to have a hemorrhage. There was thought that you may have been having some seizure activity in response to this stimuli as well."
"I knew they were worried about me having a stroke. I didn't know that I was having seizures too. Does this mean I always will have seizures?"
"They never confirmed the seizures and did not record any on EEG. It was more of an observed thing, so I don't know. It is one of the reasons why I want you here, so I can monitor you and make sure you are okay."
I smiled. "I appreciate that."
His smile did not reach his eyes. Uh oh, wherever he was going with this, it did not seem good.
He took a deep breath and continued. "It was very obvious that your blood pressure spiked in response to specific stimuli."
"And what was that? Mary Hart's voice?"
He didn't laugh. "No, your family."
"My family? Were they even there?"
"Oh yes, at the beginning. The doctors finally decided that they needed to go, because you were agitated and in danger whenever they were around. You only started healing when they left. It was only when your parents left that you started becoming responsive again."
"Huh. I thought they had deserted me."
He shifted uncomfortably again. "Um, no, we asked them to leave."
This bothered me. A lot. "I know that you medical people thought you were doing a good thing, and I don't know what you know about my relationship with my family, but it isn't good. Usually they don't give a shit about me. I can't believe that for once they actually cared about me and you made them leave."
"Esther, we had to. It was detrimental to your health."
"But don't you know how lonely I was and how I wanted someone there for me?"
"I know Esther. I tried to be there for you, but you didn't know who I was. And it always made you upset."
"They left me all alone. I can't believe they didn't stay and fight to see me."
"They tried. We argued a lot. I was worried that you had heard some of it that day that I bumped into you in the hall."
"You were fighting with my family?"
"Yes."
I paused. I knew it was looking a gift horse in the mouth, but where did this guy get off telling my family to stay away from me? I said as much to him.
"Esther, I know how much you want your family to accept you. But you have to trust me. I mean, it was your sister's fault that you ended up with a brain injury in the first place!" His voice was rising, getting emotional and agitated.
My tone matched his. "What do you mean, my sister's fault?" I had remembered that Charlie had been to see me initially. "What does Charlie have to do with this?"
"Not Charlie."
"Not Charlie? Veruca wasn't there and I haven't talked to Violet in several years."
"No, not them."
"Jesus Kingston, just spit it out! What do you mean?" I was now yelling. Huh—maybe they were onto something about my blood pressure.
His hands were balled into fists and he looked like he was using every ounce of energy to appear calm. "No, this whole mess, your whole situation, is all because of Aster."
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
"Even though I like to blame Aster for a lot of the strife in my life, I don't see how this can be her fault." I very rarely even mentioned my twin sister to anyone. The fact that Kingston knew about her said something for our relationship, even if I couldn't remember it. When he mentioned her name, it made me remember that I thought she had been in the hospital room with my pare
nts. "You know what's funny? When I was in the first hospital in the coma ... I woke up a few times and one of those times, I could have sworn I saw Aster there with Cheryl and Dean. Isn't that odd?"
He was quiet for a moment and appeared to be carefully choosing his words. "It isn't odd. She was there."
"I'm not that kind of person to believe in spirits and ghosts and shit. Oh—do you think I maybe died a little and saw her on the other side?"
His voice was too calm. It was freaking me out because it was very unnatural for him. "No, Esther. Aster was there. She is alive."
A thousand thoughts barraged my brain all at once, and I could not form a coherent statement out of one of them. My mouth hung agape, and the world started to get dark and hazy. Before I knew it, Kingston was right next to me, urging me to take slow deep breaths and focus on his eyes. I did as he instructed. His eyes were the gorgeous brown of liquid milk chocolate. The lines around his eyes betrayed a soul that laughed a lot, and there was no mistaking the concern and compassion pouring out of them. I could tell he really cared about me. He might even love me. I focused on this thought, and the dark retreated from my periphery, and the world stopped spinning. Gradually my breathing returned to normal, and I no longer had to think about breathing.
"Better?"
"Yes. Well, no, but I no longer feel like I'm going to pass out ..." I trailed off. He looked at me, knowing that my damaged brain was putting two and two together. "I passed out and hit my head?"
"Yes."
"Why did I pass out?"
"Because you saw Aster."
"How did I see her?"
"This is the funny thing. You had been hearing and seeing her, ever since your car accident. You had been worried that you were going crazy or had a brain tumor or something. She was at the club the first time you sang, when you were there with Rob."
"WHos Rob?" I interjected.
"Rob Olsson. You went out on a date with him before we got together."
The name sounded familiar. "Rob Olsson? Wait—is he a doctor?"
"Yup."
"I think I know him from a case at work?"
"Yeah, I think you did. Remember, he's the one who drove you home and you went out with him, before me." Kingston seemed uneasy.
"I don't remember going out with him, but yeah for me—he's hot! I can't believe I went out with him!" Apparently the brain injury and aphasia did nothing to help with my lack of internal filter.
"Um, yeah. You went out once, but you decided to date me instead." Kingston was obviously on the defensive.
"Oh, you're hot too. He just oozes sexiness. I don't even usually like blondes. Oh, wait, you're sexy too, but in a puppy dog kind of way. Like adorable. But he's just sex on a stick."
"Sex on a stick?" He looked at me, dumbfounded. He shook his head. "I reveal life-altering news to you, and you end up telling me I look like a dog and my best friend is sex on a stick. How did we get here?"
I blanched. Jesus, I was an idiot. "I'm sorry. I've always had an E-Z Pass mouth and I guess that hasn't changed. Plus, now I get distracted very easily and it is hard for me to stay focused. Okay, back on topic. I saw her some other time?" I was trying to pay attention to what came out of my mouth.
"Yes, you thought you saw her that night you were with Rob. And you did. Long story short, she started dating Rob, and he brought her to the show. He had no idea who she was. She approached you after the show. You hauled off and smacked her, and then you took off out the door. I was chasing after you and saw you buckle. I couldn't reach you to catch you before your head hit the curb. I am so sorry. I should have been quicker." He hung his head and his voice cracked.
I put my hand underneath his chin and lifted it up so I could look at him. I should not have been surprised to see the tears in his eyes, but I was. I leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. That gesture startled him and he drew back slightly.
"Don't be sorry. This was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done. I wish I remembered us before all this happened. It seems like, from everything you've told me, you've done nothing but be there for me, right from the very beginning. I'm sorry that I'm such a train wreck."
He smiled. "It's what makes me love you."
I returned the smile. "You love me?"
He leaned in and kissed me ever so sweetly on the lips, drawing my body close to his. "Yes, of course I do. These past weeks have been hell. I didn't know if you were going to make it, and even if you did, what would be left. And then to realize that you didn't even know who I was ..."
I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. At this moment, with my life in such disarray, I didn't know how I could be feeling peaceful and content. I let those feelings wash over me for a moment, melting into Kingston's strong embrace. The moment was short lived as my mind darted back to the previous revelation.
"So, Aster's alive and she came to my show?"
Kingston pulled back and looked at me. "Yes." His grip remained firm, as if he expected me to pass out again.
I was quiet for a moment, searching his face for answers that were not his to give. Finally, I spoke. "I'm speechless. Again."
"I know you must have so many questions. I'll do the best I can."
"No."
"No?"
"No, I can't ask you. You won't have the answers I need."
"She's been asking to see you. I told her that she couldn't until you were medically stable. If you need more time, I can tell her you are not ready."
"You ... you're in contact with her?"
His arms dropped down. I suddenly felt cold and alone without his touch. He looked down at his hands, now in his lap.
"How much do you see her?" My voice was rising again.
"I don't see her that much."
I noticed his emphasis was on the word "I."
"If you don't see her, then who does?"
"Rob is dating her. He sees her. They're actually pretty serious, I guess."
Okay, so I didn't know what had happened between Rob and me. I didn't know if I had slept with him or not. But either way, he had gone from going out with me to being in love with Aster. Go figure. She had dominated my whole life growing up. Her disappearance and supposed death had cost me any relationship with my family. And now I was unemployed and brain damaged because of her. And yet, she still gets the guy. I mean, I had this wonderful guy too, but why did she have to be with someone that I had dated first?
I stood up abruptly.
"Esther, are you all right?"
"No," I started pacing. "No, I am not."
Kingston watched me pace. He was guarded, ready to spring into action if I started to fall.
I continued pacing, the thoughts racing and swirling.
"Esther, what do you need right now?"
I stopped and looked at him. "Honestly?"
"Honestly."
I considered for a moment. "I really, really need to break something right now."
Kingston looked at me and stood up. "Follow me."
I followed him into the kitchen. He opened up a cabinet to reveal plates and bowls. With a wave of his hand, he said, "Have at it."
Still pacing, I said, "You mean it?"
He nodded.
After I had broken almost every dinner plate, I finally met his eyes. Out of habit, I ran my fingers through my hair, or rather, where my hair should have been. Dammit, another reason to be mad. I was now virtually bald, and let's not forget the embarrassing Annie episode at the hospital. All because of Aster. I picked up the last plate, held it high above my head and threw it down with all the strength I had.
I looked at my mess. Slowly, I looked up at Kingston and said, "That last one was for my hair."
Without breaking my gaze, he reached into the cabinet and pulled out a serving bowl. He raised it over his head and smashed it down. I jumped, startled by his sudden and unexpected action.
"That was for your hair too."
CHAPTER FORTY
How was I
going to do this? How was I supposed to sit down and have a logical, rational conversation with Aster? I was angry. So angry. My head was pounding all the time. And, as much as I had hated being alone in the hospital, I knew without a doubt that Kingston had made the right decision. I hated it, but he was right.
I had been stalling seeing Aster. I claimed to be too tired, which bought me several days. My therapies were now being done outpatient, although I was really doing pretty well, all things considered. And I was tired. I had no stamina. Chieko had mentioned early on in my physical therapy in the rehab hospital that for every day I spent in bed, it would take me a week to regain my strength. All told, I had been out of it for about twenty days. That meant it would take me about five months to be back to where I was the night I had my accident. It would be spring. Half a year lost.
Not to mention the previous seven years of heartbreak and anguish. I had never once prayed for Aster to be alive. That seemed too unreasonable—too much to hope for. I only prayed for her body to be found. The seven years of feeling dead on the inside. Seven years of not having a family. Seven years of isolation.
I think Kingston understood my anger. If I didn't know better, I would say he was angry on my behalf. Jillian was livid when I told her. It was odd, having people on my side. For so long, it had been me alone, standing against my family. Fighting for what I so believed was right.
But I was wrong. Dead wrong.
And they were right.
All along, I had been the wrong one. I had given up hope. I had believed her dead. I was wrong.
And that was all they would ever see. That was why no one contacted me. They were with her. Celebrating that their family was reunited. And I was still not a part of that family.
There had been a tiny part of me that had wanted to believe they were not all together, making up for lost time. Unfortunately, Rob had told Kingston otherwise. Apparently he was completely and totally head-over-heels for Aster. Go figure.
So I stewed in my anger. I stewed and stewed. I was sick to my stomach all the time and had terrible headaches. I was making slow progress in rehab, and I couldn't help but think that this negative cloud swirling around me and emanating from my pores was partly responsible. It didn't make sense to me that being angry could really have a physical effect on me. It really seemed to, though, so I brought it up in a therapy session. Kevin, my outpatient physical therapist, advised me to let it out and deal with it up front. He apparently had treated me after that car accident. While I remember the accident, I still didn't remember anything after, except for bits and flashes here and there. Since he had known me prior to this injury, he told me that he could see the big difference in me and how much this was weighing me down. He seemed to think that my emotional state would prevent me from making a full recovery.
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