Chương 7
“We can go slow,” she said.
Daniel looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to tell you who you are.”
His eyes stayed on hers.
“That sounds like something my fiancée would say.”
Emily’s throat tightened.
“Maybe.”
That afternoon, a physical therapist helped Daniel sit at the side of the bed.
It took twenty minutes.
He hated every second.
The man who had run half-marathons and carried two grocery bags in each hand rather than make a second trip shook with the effort of keeping his torso upright.
When the therapist praised him, Daniel snapped, “I sat.”
The therapist, a patient woman named Monica, replied, “You did.”
“I’m thirty-two.”
“You’re also four days out from a serious head injury.”
“So sitting gets applause now?”
“Only if you do it well.”
Daniel looked at Emily.
“She always like this?”
Emily said, “I met her yesterday.”
“Feels personal.”
Monica smiled.
“Good. Be mad. Sit another thirty seconds.”
He did.
Afterward, when Monica left, Daniel turned his face toward the wall.
Emily stayed quiet.
Five minutes passed.
Then he said, “You can go.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“I can.”
“So go.”
Emily looked at him.
His jaw tightened.
There he was.
Not memory.
Not exactly.
But familiar defenses arriving before familiar facts.
“You want to be alone?”
“I want you not to watch me fail at furniture.”
“You sat on a bed.”
“Exactly.”
She folded her arms.
“You think I’ve never seen you embarrassed?”
“I don’t know what you’ve seen.”
The sentence landed between them.
Emily let her arms fall.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Sorry.”
“No. That one was fair.”
He breathed out.
“I don’t like this.”
“I know.”
“Everybody keeps looking at me like I’m coming back from somewhere.”
Emily sat on the windowsill.
“You are.”
“But I don’t know where.”
She did not answer.
He looked at her.
“You see? That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you know the answer and don’t want to tell me.”
“There isn’t an answer.”
“There has to be.”
“No.”
“That’s what doctors say when they don’t want to say something bad.”
Emily felt irritation spark.
“Do not turn me into your doctor.”
“Then stop talking like one.”
“I’m trying not to scare you.”
“Great. It’s working terribly.”
She stood.
“Fine. What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
“I want something true.”
She stared at him.
Then the anger fell away.
“All right.”
She pulled the chair closer.
“The truth is you were supposed to marry me yesterday.”
Daniel went very still.
“We had a wedding?”
“We had most of one.”
He looked at her left hand.
“There’s no ring.”
“We stopped.”
“Why?”
“Because you moved.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I moved?”
“You were unconscious.”
“I know that part.”
“Father Michael asked if I was sure. I put your ring in your hand.”
Daniel stared at her.
“What ring?”
Emily opened her purse.
She took out the small zippered pouch and removed the plain gold band.
Daniel’s gaze fixed on it.
“I put that in your hand,” she said. “It slipped. You caught it.”
His fingers twitched against the blanket.
“You said something.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
She hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“Wrong hand, wife.”
Daniel’s face emptied.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then he looked at the ring again.
“That’s why I knew that.”
“Maybe.”
“You said it to me.”
“You said it to me.”
“But I remembered the phrase.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“Not you.”
Emily looked down.
“That seems to be how it works right now.”
Daniel turned his face toward the window.
She expected anger.
Instead he whispered, “That’s cruel.”
Emily stared at him.
He rubbed his thumb over his index finger.
“I can remember making a stupid joke, but not the person I made it to.”
“You remembered enough to make the joke.”
“That’s not better.”
“No,” she said. “It isn’t.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he asked, “Why didn’t you finish?”
Emily looked at the ring.
“Because once you showed us you might be aware, I couldn’t decide for you.”
Daniel studied her.
“So you were going to marry unconscious me.”
“Yes.”
“That is aggressively romantic.”
“It was probably insane.”
“Both can happen.”
She looked at him.
His mouth curved slightly.
The expression disappeared almost immediately.
“Did I want it?”
“The wedding?”
“You.”
Emily’s chest tightened.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you told me.”
“That’s not proof.”
“No.”
“What is?”
She thought of the signed lease on their apartment.
The shared savings account.
His emergency contact forms.
The wedding invitations.
The voicemail he had left the florist threatening to personally rearrange six hundred dollars’ worth of flowers.
None of those seemed sufficient.
“You stayed,” she said.
Daniel frowned.
“When?”
“When it was hard.”
“That sounds vague.”
“It is.”
“Convenient.”
Emily felt herself bristle.
“You asked.”
“I know.”
“You want proof? Fine. Two years ago we almost ended things. I moved out for three months.”
His eyes sharpened.
“Why?”
“You accepted a job interview in Chicago and told me after you got the offer.”
“That seems bad.”
“It was.”
“Did I take it?”
“No.”
“For you?”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
“You hated the company.”
He almost smiled.
“Good.”
“It wasn’t noble. You were angry I made it a relationship issue. I was angry you made our life a scheduling issue. You slept at Rachel’s for four nights because I told you I couldn’t stand looking at you.”
“Rachel let me?”
“She complained the entire time.”
“That sounds right.”
“You went to counseling.”
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“Together?”
“Yes.”
“Did I like it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“You kept going.”
That quieted him.
Emily held the ring between two fingers.
“You didn’t stay because everything was easy. You stayed because eventually you got tired of protecting the version of yourself who didn’t have to ask anybody before making decisions.”
Daniel looked at her.
“That sounds harsh.”
“It was expensive therapy.”
He laughed.
A weak laugh, but real.
May you like
Then his face tightened from the effort.
Emily moved forward instinctively.
