Page 91 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

“Is she okay?” I ask once he’s shut the door behind him.

“No,” Blanks says curtly, walking past me towards the kitchen. I slide my hand through my still-wet hair and follow behind.

“When did it happen?” I ask, bracing my hands against the kitchen counter while he pretends to make coffee. He doesn’t answer.

“Does she love you back?” He stops, standing still.

“No,” he nearly chokes on his own word and I sigh out in relief. Like I have a leg to stand on. Fuck, it was only a few months ago I slept with Jess. I was still in love with her. At least partially. Well, I guess I didn’t know what it was anymore. I’d sat with it for a month. I’d wrestled with the what if, and every time I came to the other side of it all...I didn’t know that Jess was the one I wanted standing beside me in the end.

“I would prefer if we didn’t talk about this. She asked me to stay, and I will. Otherwise, I would’ve left. That’s the end of it,okay?” He starts the coffee pot and finally turns around, his face hard and the message clear. That’s the end of it.

I put the same hard face back on. “Understood.” This isn’t the first time we’ve both been into the same chick. Maybe it was the first time we were both inlovewith the same woman, but I knew Blanks would take a back seat. At least he had once before.

“Let’s chat,” Becks says. “She’ll be in the bath awhile.” I don’t know what that means, but I agree, and Becks sets a folder in front of me.

“Honestly, I think this place is only moderately better for her than a hospital or rehabilitation facility.” I know. She’s told me every day since we brought her home.

“She’s responded well to the small amounts of physical therapy I’ve done with her, but again, that’s not really my area of expertise.” Again, she’s told me this every day.

“She’s ready for real cognitive therapy, which I know for certain I am not trained to administer.”

“What would that entail?” Blanks asks.

“Well, it would focus mostly on her memory loss. So, working on what happened before the memory loss, what happenedduringthe loss. Recalling events to try and get her to remember. It’s a lot of talk therapy as well.” Blanks and I both shift uncomfortably.

“Pick the therapist, and let’s get it scheduled.” It’s like signing my own death sentence.

“Okay, then.” Becks pushes away from the table. “I’m gonna go check on her.” I just nod.

“Bet you’re remembering why you ran away in the first place?” Blanks stares at me over the rim of his coffee cup.

Yup.

Blanks passes me a mug, and we sit at the kitchen table together. Somberly. I love Emma, but do I love her more than he does? Would she be happier with him?

The sound of the bedroom door opening pulls my attention, and I watch her walk slowly toward the kitchen. God, it’s fucking painful. It’s painful to remember this is the same girl who could have lapped me up to the ridge. And now, she’s only managing a hobble.

Would she ever make it to her little Airstream again?

Blanks is already standing, giving her his seat.

“Coffee?” he asks her, and she nods.

We sit beside each other like strangers. Instinct says to reach out for her, but she seems feeble. Like I might break her. I want to say something, but it feels like if I open my mouth, my voice will only manifest as a slight croak.

“How—” “I—” We both start at the same time, interrupting the other. I can feel Blanks watching. Judging.

I give a tightlipped smile with a hand up for her to proceed.

“I was going to say that I just want things to go back to normal, okay?” she asks quietly, almost sheepish. God, this guilt would kill me.Could we ever go back to normal?

“Sure,” is all I manage to get out.

“So you’re walking outside today, huh?” Blanks asks, setting a coffee mug in front of her.

“Yeah,” she replies, smiling back at him. How the fuck is she supposed to go for a walk outside? She can barely walk inside.

“That sounds nice,” I add. “Want some company?” But she shakes her head.