Page 3 of The Liar I Married

TWO

NOW

Beep, beep, beep.

I’m here in the darkness but where is here?

I try to move my legs but they’re heavy as if stuck in thick black tar.

Am I dead? Is this what death feels like?

In my personal darkness I drag in a breath and feel the air flowing out of my nose.

Maybe not dead then. My eyelids are heavy, so heavy as if they’d been taped down, but I try to force them open.

A blinding light comes through my eyelashes.

Is this the light I must follow? My brain is muddled; how did I end up dead?

What is that beeping sound? It’s starting to drive me insane.

My tongue moves in a dry mouth and swats across cracked lips.

Perhaps I’ve been frozen and I’m slowly thawing.

I must concentrate harder to open my eyes.

Suddenly, light comes in a blur of color, and moving patterns dance across my vision.

Green and brown leopard spots mingle with sparkling orbs as they wave back and forth.

Slowly my eyes adjust to the light and I see a window in front of me and, beyond, the branches of a tree in fall.

I see a garden and rose bushes. I know this place.

A memory of picking roses with my mom and bringing armfuls into the house drifts past like smoke.

I want to see more but my lids are heavy and drop down, obscuring my view.

It’s been an effort to concentrate as if I’m drugged, or coming out of heavy sedation.

After surgery for a broken ankle, I remember how difficult it was to wake up.

Maybe this is what’s happened? I don’t remember.

When I open my eyes again, darkness presses against the window.

A small light glows on a table and I recognize the thick brocade drapes held with a gold rope through copper rings set in the window frame.

The memories are coming back now. I’m in my grandmother’s house, in the sunroom overlooking the garden.

What has happened to me? I try to think but a fog obscures the details.

It’s like trying to catch shadows. The maddening beep, beep, beep is still there.

“Turn off the noise.” A voice I don’t recognize escapes my lips.

It’s little more than a raspy scratchy whisper.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” The face of a young woman, blonde hair tied back at the nape of the neck, stares at me and then snaps on a pair of examination gloves. “Would you like a drink?”

I manage a nod and a straw slides between my lips.

Cold water slips like nectar down my throat but it’s taken away before my thirst is quenched.

My gaze moves over the woman again trying to recall who she is, but I’m sure I don’t know her.

She’s dressed in a blue shirt, with a gray cardigan over a matching skirt that covers her knees and comfortable slip-on shoes.

The noise thankfully stops and I stare at her as she checks a machine beside the bed.

I lift a heavy arm to touch my face and she grabs it, placing it back down beside me.

“You’ll pull out your drip.” She looks at me, her face critical. “I’m Dolly, your nurse. You’ve been out for a long time…what’s the last thing you remember?”

It came back in a rush of terror, the dark winding road, the grinding of metal…

my twin daughters were in the car. I try to sit up but she presses me back down on the bed.

“My kids. Where are they? Are they okay? I was dreaming about a car wreck and I drove into a tree. That doesn’t matter now.

All that matters are my kids. Where are they? ”

She just looks at me as if I’ve asked her to fly around the room or something. What has happened? My heart pounds. Her indifference is infuriating. “Where’s John? Is he okay?”

“Your husband is fine.” Dolly patted my hand and smiled. “I’ll call him and he’ll be right along.”

So she gives out information about John but not my kids. What’s going on here? I look at her and grip her arm as much as I can. “I need to know if my kids are okay. Tell me.”

“Stay calm, Jessie. I’m just a nurse, I don’t know any details about your personal life.

The only contact I have is your husband, okay?

I do know you’ve been in a coma and mustn’t upset yourself.

Everything will be okay.” The nurse moves away and then returns with a needle and presses the tip into the tubing running to a plastic bag of something hanging from a stand.

I try to fight to stay awake but the drugs drag me into oblivion. Where are my kids?

A voice reaches through the haze. I’m swimming against giant waves, fighting against the drugs. My head weighs a ton, and trying to move is impossible, but I’m awake. It’s an effort to clear the fog from my mind. The last thing I remember is the nurse sticking the needle into my drip.

“Jessie?” A familiar voice close by drags me back to full consciousness. “It’s me, John. Do you remember me? I’m your husband.”

Of course I know him, he’s been haunting my dreams. I turn my head slowly, to find John standing by the door, as polished as ever in his tailored suit.

His face is a mask of concern, but his once-loving eyes are empty.

A flood of memories hit me in a confused muddle.

He looks fine but some part of my consciousness insists he was in the car with me when I crashed.

Now I’m confused. If I ended up in a coma, how did he walk away without a scratch?

What part of my memories is dreams and what is the truth?

I push words through a dry and scratchy throat. “John.” I blink at him, trying to focus.

“Do you remember what happened?” John’s intense expression frightens me.

I don’t remember but I look at him. “Just before, I had a dream about a car wreck.” I see the truth in his face.

Alarm grips me and my hands shake. “It’s true?

I wrecked the car? Oh, God no! Where are the girls?

Are Emily and Olivia okay? Did you bring them with you?

” Tears wet my cheeks and I desperately need a hug.

I stretch out my hand toward him but when he doesn’t move, I drop it and wait for him to speak. Something unspeakable has happened.

“You don’t remember anything at all about that night?” John searches my face. “Only a dream?”

I nod and sniffle. “In the dream I’m fighting to keep the SUV on the road and hit a tree then I wake up. Everything else is blank. Tell me what happened. Where are my girls?” I grip his arm, digging in my nails. “Tell me, dammit.”

“You need to rest, Jessie.” John hesitates, a flicker of something—guilt?—crossing his face. “Don’t worry about anything right now.”

I struggle to sit up, but my body refuses to cooperate. “Don’t worry? They’re our babies, John. I need to know if they’re okay.”

“I’m not allowed to tell you anything, Jessie, so please, don’t upset yourself.

The doctor insists it will all come back to you soon.

The answers are inside your head, and we’ve all been instructed to allow that to happen for your own good.

The doctors said it will take time to get your head straight.

You need to trust me. Everything will be fine.

Just focus on getting better.” He sits on the edge of the bed but doesn’t hold me; he just places a hand on my arm.

It’s meant to be comforting, but feels like a restraint.

Unable to believe my ears, I stare at him. His empty words do nothing to soothe my anxiety. “This is crazy…not knowing makes me upset. John, please , I need to know . ”

“I can’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

He actually looks remorseful as if I’m hurting him. I lower my voice to make him see reason. “Why won’t you tell me where they are? Why aren’t they here?”

“Jessie, please . You’ve just woken from a coma.

You need to take it easy. Getting upset will mean you need to be sedated and that will delay recovery.

It’s better to allow everything to come back naturally.

I don’t know what happened, Jessie, it’s locked inside your head.

” John’s grip tightens slightly and his face pales.

“I’ll help you fill in the blanks when you start to recover.

Right now, I need you to get better, darling. I miss you.”

As I search his face, looking for answers, all I see is a carefully constructed facade. “I remember things from before the accident, John. I remember you missing your birthday dinner I’d prepared especially.”

“I can’t change the past, Jessie.” He sighs. “But I’m here now.”

Memories tumble through my mind in a muddled stream of information.

I don’t know what’s real and what’s an illusion.

For some reason I’m angry with him—why? Do I blame him for the accident?

Where did that come from? An image of him with a beautiful woman slides across my consciousness making me gasp.

Words spill from my mouth. “You should have been here when I woke the first time. You’re never around, John.

Even before the accident, you were always working late or not coming home at all.

” I can’t stop the words tumbling out. “Are you seeing someone else?”

“No!” He recoils slightly, his expression hardening. “Of course not. We have a wonderful marriage. Why would I spoil it?”

I cough, my throat closing. “Then why aren’t you ever home?”

“You knew when we married my work would take up a good deal of my time. I wanted to succeed to give you the lifestyle you deserved.” He wipes a hand down his face. “That takes sacrifices and family time is one of them.”

I look at him, tears welling. “I needed you, John, and now I need answers and you refuse to give them to me. I thought you loved me?”

“You know I do. Look, this isn’t the time to argue, Jessie.

” John holds a straw to my lips. “I give you everything you need. Most women would be grateful. You live like a queen because I work hard. What you’re saying is unfair.

” He blows out a long sigh and lowers the glass.

“I didn’t have time to just drop by, in case you might wake up.

I’ve been waiting for a miracle for almost a year; each time I come it’s a false alarm.

It’s an hour’s drive from my work. I have important clients to see.

Can you imagine how long I’d last at the firm if I kept canceling appointments? My reputation would be ruined.”

I manage to get to my elbows and glare at him.

“Then when is the right time? I’ve been lying here, wondering if my children are alive, and you won’t give me a straight answer.

” I meet his gaze. “That nurse won’t tell me anything.

” I shake my head slowly. “All I know now is it wasn’t a dream.

I hit a tree. I’m awake now, you can’t break me, John.

I need to know what’s happening.” I grip his arm.

“ Please . I need to know about the girls.” Tears stream down my cheeks and I hiccup between sobs. “ Please , John.”

“Not yet, Jessie. You need more time. We need to start back a ways and come forward slowly. That’s what the doctor advised; speaking about the car wreck can cause damage.

” John sighs and untangles my arm. “Do you remember your grandmother’s death?

” He looks away and runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair before returning his gaze.

“You attended the reading of her will, here in the study.”

The question catches me off guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question, Jessie.” John’s eyes bore into me. “Do you remember?”

I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of my memory.

My grandmother’s funeral, the somber faces, the lawyer reading her will.

“Yes, I remember bits and pieces. She left me the house.” I thought for a beat, trying hard to unravel the difference between memories and dreams. “I’m not clear on details.

My head is fuzzy and things come back in pieces. ”

“This is exactly why you need my help. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of you. It’s to be expected. You’ve been in a coma for twelve months.” John nods, his expression unreadable.

I don’t understand. “Twelve months? Are you sure?” I fall back into the pillow, closing my eyes. It can’t be true. I must be dreaming.

“Yes, and you need to focus on your recovery and I’ll get everything sorted.”

I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. “There’s nothing to sort out. What are you talking about?”

“Just trust me, Jessie.” He leans in, his voice low and urgent. “I’m sending a lawyer with some papers for you to sign, and they’ll explain everything.” He sighs and straightens. “I have a client at four. I need to go but I’ll be back tomorrow, if I can.”

Trust is the last thing I feel toward him.

As he leaves the room, with not so much as a peck on the cheek, I’m left with more questions than answers.

I hear whispers in the passageway outside my door.

Why are they whispering if they have nothing to hide?

Doubt gnaws at me, and I can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong.