White lies

Major Lunning was in Steve’s room a long time, and a phalanx of nurses came and went. Within half an hour Frank arrived, his face taut and set. He squeezed Jay’s arm comfortingly as he went past, but he didn’t stop to talk. He, too, disappeared into Steve’s room, as if something dreadfully important were going on in there.

Jay moved to the visitors’ lounge, sitting quietly with her hands folded in her lap while she tried to plan what she should do next. Return to New York, obviously, and get a job. But the idea of hurling herself back into the business world left her cold. She didn’t want to go back. She didn’t want to leave Steve. Even now, she didn’t want to leave him.

Almost an hour later Frank found her in the lounge. He looked at her sharply before going to the coffee machine and buying two cups. Jay looked up and managed a smile for him as he approached. "Do I really look as if I need that?" she asked wryly, nodding toward the coffee.

He extended a cup toward her. "I know. It tastes worse than it looks. Drink it anyway. If you don’t need it now, you will in a minute."

She took the cup and sipped the hot liquid, grimacing at the taste. It was a mystery how anyone could take simple water and coffee and make them taste so horrible. "Why will I need it in a minute? It’s over, isn’t it? Steve told me to go away. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want me here, so my presence will only upset him and slow his recovery."

"It isn’t over," Frank said. looking down at his own coffee, and his flat tone made Jay look at him sharply. He looked haggard, with worry etching new lines into his face.

A cold chill ran down her spine and she sat up straight. "What’s wrong?" she asked. "Has he relapsed?"

"No."

"Then what’s wrong?"

"He doesn’t remember," Frank said simply. "Anything. He has amnesia."

Frank had been right; she did need the coffee. She drank that cup, then got another one. Her head was reeling, and she felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. "What else can go wrong?" she asked, talking mostly to herself, but Frank knew what she meant.

He sighed. They hadn’t counted on this. They had needed him awake, able to talk, able to understand what needed to be done. This latest development had thrown a monkey wrench into the whole plan. He didn’t even know who he was! How could he protect himself if he didn’t know who he had to be on guard against? He couldn’t recognize friends or enemies.

"He’s been asking for you," Frank said, taking her hand. She started, already rising to her feet, but he tugged on her hand and she sank back into her chair. "We’ve been asking him a lot of questions," he continued. "We used your system, though it takes a while. When you told him you were his ex-wife, it confused him, scared him. He couldn’t remember you, and he didn’t know what to do. Remember, he’s still easily confused. It’s hard for him to concentrate, though he’s getting better fast."

"Are you certain he’s asking for me?" Jay asked, her heart pounding. Out of everything he had said, her emotions had centered on his first sentence.

"Yes. He spelled out your name over and over."

The instinct to go to him was so strong it was almost painful. She forced herself to sit still, to understand more. "He has total amnesia? He doesn’t remember anything?"

"He doesn’t even know his own name." Frank sighed again, a heavy sound. "He doesn’t remember anything about the explosion or why he was there. Nothing. A total blank. Damn it!" The last expressed his helpless frustration.

"What does Major Lunning think?"

"He said total amnesia is extremely rare. More often it’s a sort of spot amnesia that blocks out the accident itself and anything that happened a short while before it. With the head trauma Steve suffered, amnesia wasn’t that unexpected, but this…" He made a helpless gesture.

She tried to think of what she had read about amnesia, but all that came to mind was the dramatic use often made of it on soap operas. Invariably the amnesiac recovered his full memory during a highly dramatic moment, just in time to prevent a murder or keep from being murdered himself. It was good melodrama, but that was all it was.

"Will he regain his memory?"

"Probably. Part of it, at least. There’s no way to be certain. It might start coming back almost immediately, or it could take months before he begins remembering anything. Major Lunning said that his memory will come back in bits and pieces, usually the oldest memories first."

Might. Probably. Could. Usually. What it all added up to was that they simply didn’t know. In the meantime Steve lay in his bed, unable to talk, unable to see, unable to move. All he could do was hear and think.

What would it be like to be so cut adrift from everything familiar, even himself? He had no point of reference for anything. The thought of the inner terror he must be feeling squeezed her heart.

"Are you still willing to stay?" Frank asked, his clear eyes filled with concern. "Knowing that it might take months or even years?"

"Years?" she echoed faintly. "But you only wanted me to stay until the surgery on his eyes was completed."

"We didn’t know then that he wouldn’t remember anything. Major Lunning said that being around familiar things and people would help stimulate his memory, give him a feeling of stability."

"You want me to stay until he regains his memory," Jay stated, putting it into words. The idea frightened her. The longer she stayed with Steve, the more strongly she reacted to him. What would happen to her if she fell in love with him far more deeply than she had the first time, only to lose him again when he returned to his footloose life? She was afraid that she already cared too much to simply walk away. How could she walk away when he needed her?