Page 82 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

He nods, leaving us.

“She can’t just leave,” the nurse looks at Alex.

Alex stands still, staring at me like he doesn’t recognize me. I don’t blame him. I don’t recognize myself either. I don’t even want to go back to his house. I want to go somewhere and be alone, though I doubt they would let me.

“If she doesn’t want to be here, she doesn’t have to be,” he eventually says solemnly to the nurse, relief flooding me.

I mouth to him “thank you,” and he gives me a barely sympathetic smile in return. I don’t like it.

TWENTY-ONE

Alex

Six weeks in the hospital.I’dcost her six weeks of her life already.

Blanks brings a wheelchair into her room, and a smile spreads across her face. She stares at him, and he stares at her, and suddenly I feel like a third wheel, an odd burn hitting my chest.

“Mr. Palomino, I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Becks, our night nurse, pleads with me. But it doesn’t matter what she thinks.

Emma is floundering here. Or maybe I don’t want to admit what’s actually happening, that she’s fading, not healing. She should be home, in a comfortable environment where she might actually get rest. I should have taken her home a week ago.

The guilt that weighs me down intensifies. I would work on finding a nurse to live in, get extra help around the house. It’s not as if I can’t afford to do this for her.

“I-I don’t have any shoes, do I?” she asks, looking at me then Blanks, who lifts her frail frame out of the bed, setting her in the wheelchair.

There’s probably a bag of clothes from the accident somewhere, but I would make sure it got thrown away before anything that touched her body that day would touch her again. In a lot of ways, I’m jealous of her. I would do anything to forget that day. To forget the last six weeks.

“No, sweetheart,” I say. If I’d known we were leaving, I would have prepared or at least had Brit bring something. Aside from a few stale floral arrangements, the room lacks anything that actually belongs to Emma. Per the doctor’s orders, I hadn’t even brought her phone here.

“Is it cold out?” she asks, and Blanks nods, removing his own jacket and placing it over her shoulders.

“Yeah, Angel, it is. I’m gonna go warm the car for you,” he says. Then, turning to me with an open palm held up, he asks, “Keys?”

I toss them into his waiting hand, not missing the hard line of his jaw or the way his knuckles turn white as they tighten into a fist. I almost ask what his fucking problem is, but he shoulder-checks me on his way out, and it doesn’t take an emotionally inept asshole like me to realize he’s pissed. Still.

You just couldn’t leave her the fuck alone, could you?His words from earlier in the hallway come back to haunt me.

I should have, I know.

“I need you to sign paperwork before you go,” Becks says as she helps put a pair of socks onto Emma’s feet. “And you should know, she needs care, maybe even round the clock. She’ll need help showering, and going to the bathroom, and eating. Do you understand?”

“You do realize I’m right here? Right? I haven’t kicked the bucket yet.” Emma looks between the nurse and me.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Becks grabs her hand. “I just want you to be taken care of, okay?”Fuck.The words are like a knife to the back. I hadn’t taken care, but I would. As long as she needs or as long as she wants. Whichever comes first.

I know that if her memory does return, she’ll be gone without a second thought, especially after all this.

“I know, thank you. I-I keep trying to remember your name, but I’m so sorry,” Emma’s tears start to return as she fumbles, trying to recall.

“That’s okay. It’s Becks. It’s a funny little name to remember.”

“Becks,” Emma repeats. Then she repeats it again, “Becks.” “Becks, Becks, Becks.”

She’s trying to commit it to memory, and my fucking heart shatters. I turn away to hide the tears, pretending to shuffle through paperwork that doesn’t really exist. It’s just pamphlets they brought me on cognitive and occupational therapy. I slip them into my back pocket like this is all on purpose.

But on second thought, I pull out a card.

“If you’re interested, I’ll double your salary.” I hold the card out for Becks. “Think about it.”