Chương 6
“Yeah.”
“That was hard.”
Emily looked at her.
“For you.”
Rachel’s face tightened.
“I didn’t mean—”
“No, I know.”
“You think I’m saying it should make you feel better.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying he didn’t remember me either.”
Emily looked back at the vending machine.
Rachel flattened the napkin.
“I’m his sister. He broke my wrist when I was seven.”
“Accidentally.”
“That is what he claims.”
“You jumped off the garage roof.”
“He told me I could make it.”
“You were seven.”
“He was ten. He had authority.”
Emily laughed once.
Rachel’s mouth twitched.
Then the humor disappeared.
“He’s known me my whole life,” Rachel said. “And he looked at me like I was a nurse.”
Emily’s anger softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
They sat in silence.
Rachel eventually asked, “Do you want to know something awful?”
“Sure.”
“I was mad about the wedding.”
Emily turned to her.
“Before the accident?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Rachel shrugged.
“I don’t know. He moved here. He spends holidays with your family sometimes. Mom likes you more than me.”
“Your mother does not like me more than you.”
“She absolutely does when you help her with her phone.”
“That’s because you tell her to Google things.”
“She asks questions Google can answer.”
“She asks because she wants to talk to you.”
Rachel looked down.
Emily wondered if she should stop.
Then Rachel said, “See? This is why she likes you.”
Emily rubbed her eyes.
Rachel tore the napkin in half.
“When he got hit, I kept thinking the last conversation we had was me complaining that he hadn’t called Mom enough.”
“What did he say?”
“‘I talked to her Sunday.’”
“That sounds like him.”
“I said, ‘You think ten minutes while you’re buying cereal counts?’”
Emily could hear Daniel answering.
Probably something defensive.
Probably stupid.
“What did he say?”
Rachel stared at the torn napkin.
“He said, ‘You call her, then.’”
Emily waited.
“That was it.”
“Rachel.”
“I know. It’s not some terrible last conversation. That’s what bothers me. It’s so normal.”
Emily reached across the table.
Rachel let her hold her hand.
“I thought if he woke up, everything would be over,” Rachel said.
Emily looked at her.
“Me too.”
Neither of them had the courage to laugh at that.
Daniel remained awake for longer stretches the next day.
He recognized Rachel by morning.
He knew Emily’s name by noon.
At one thirty he asked if they worked together.
Emily went into the restroom and locked the door.
She sat on the closed toilet in Daniel’s T-shirt and stared at the tile until her breathing slowed.
Then she returned.
Daniel was watching a muted television.
He turned his head when she entered.
“Emily.”
“Yeah.”
“I said something wrong.”
She stopped beside the bed.
“What?”
“Your face.”
“My face does lots of things.”
“I asked if we work together.”
“We did meet at work.”
His brow furrowed.
“We did?”
“Sort of.”
“What kind?”
“A terrible nonprofit fundraiser.”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly.
“Sounds familiar.”
“You complained about the wine.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“You also told me my shoes were impractical.”
He looked at her feet.
She was wearing hospital socks.
“I stand by it.”
Emily froze.
The response came naturally.
So naturally that for a second she saw him exactly as he had been.
Daniel noticed her reaction.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. What?”
“That sounded like you.”
His face changed.
Not pleasure.
Pain.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to sound like.”
She immediately regretted saying it.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
“You don’t have to perform being yourself for us.”
“I know.”
He looked toward the window.
After a moment, he said, “I don’t.”
Emily sat down.
Daniel’s hands rested on the blanket.
His right hand was stronger than the left. The IV had been moved. The wedding ring sat in a plastic zippered pouch inside Emily’s purse because she no longer trusted herself not to lose it.
Daniel glanced at her bare left hand.
“Are you married?”
Emily’s pulse changed.
“No.”
He nodded.
Then, after a moment, “Boyfriend?”
She almost said yes.
Instead she asked, “Why?”
“Trying to figure out who sits in a hospital this long for somebody they work with.”
The joke was dry.
Very Daniel.
She looked down.
“We’re engaged.”
He stared at her.
She watched the information move across his face and fail to find a place to land.
“To each other?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
It was the smallest possible response.
Emily felt it like an injury.
Daniel looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I feel like I did.”
“You got hit by a truck.”
“That seems like something.”
She laughed despite herself.
He looked relieved.
Then embarrassed by his relief.
“Were we…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“Happy?”
Emily considered lying beautifully.
Instead she said, “Mostly.”
His mouth twitched.
“Good answer.”
“We fought about your mother’s Christmas schedule last year.”
“Why?”
“Because you said we could do two dinners in one day.”
“That was stupid.”
“Thank you.”
“And you were probably right.”
“Don’t invent a personality just to impress me.”
He turned his head toward her.
“That bad?”
“You hated being wrong.”
“That seems exhausting.”
“It was.”
Daniel looked at the ceiling.
“What else?”
Emily felt the temptation to tell him everything.
Their first date.
The apartment.
The proposal.
The lake in Maine.
His father’s funeral.
The night they almost broke up because Daniel refused a job offer in Chicago without discussing it with her and called it practical.
The week Emily moved out.
The three months it took them to rebuild trust.
The fact that he hated cilantro but ate it when Carol cooked.
The scar on his left knee from falling off a skateboard at fourteen.
The way he always checked the stove twice.
She understood suddenly how dangerous memory could be in the hands of the person who wanted it back most.
She could give him a version.
May you like
She could make herself kinder, make him easier, make their relationship cleaner.
He would have no defense.
