July.
I had brought Rose back home a week ago. For weeks, construction workers came and went from the house, building a ramp outside and adapting most of the main floor. It would have to do for now. I arranged the guest room downstairs to be our bedroom for the time being and the en-suite to have an adapted shower. I listened to Dr. Matthews advice and employed a part-time nurse to come four times a week and help. I made sure to place Alexander and Zac, the two other dentists, in charge of the clinic. I needed to take the first month off, to drive Rose to therapies. Speech therapy, which was already showing in her talking, and physical. She was still in a wheelchair, her legs not able to support her. She was already making progress but we both knew she still had a long way to go.
Saturday morning, I woke up at 7:30 and turned around to see that Rose was still sleeping deeply. I kissed the side of her head and walked out, looking back again to see Ginger curled up against Rose's legs. She stared at me then closed her eyes again as I shut the door softly.
I prepared coffee, knowing it was my wife's favorite smell to wake up to. Ten minutes later, I heard Rose call my name faintly. I left my cup of coffee and tablet on the counter and walked to our room. She was still in bed, trying to sit herself up. I hurried to her side and helped so she wouldn't hurt herself involuntarily. Ginger jumped down the bed while I retrieved Rose's wheelchair and ran to the kitchen, probably excited to get her meal. I took Rose against me and sat her in the chair, helping her upright.
"Did you sleep well?" I asked her.
"Yes," she answered softly, her lips curving upwards slightly.
Her doctor suggested I asked yes or no questions at first. That she would feel less overwhelmed. Sometimes, I could tell there were words she didn't understand, no matter how simple they were. Apple, car, laundry. The panic in her eyes whenever I pronounced a word she didn't remember. Her brain was affected more than the doctor first thought.
"Are you hungry?" I inquired as we entered the kitchen.
"Yes," she replied.
I installed the chair in front of the table and kissed her head before retrieving a cup of coffee and preparing some pancakes. I poured some syrup on our breakfast and took the time to cut Rose's pancakes in pieces. She managed a small smile when I put the plate in front of her and she took her fork. She was learning, in physical therapy, to hold things correctly. She was still struggling with utensils although glasses and her toothbrush were fine.
We went for a small walk afterwards to enjoy the sun before it got too hot. Then, I drove Rose to physical therapy and stayed there with her, sitting not too far away. I listened carefully to the young man helping my wife, Adam, and what he suggested I work with her until her next appointment.
"How is she at home?" Adam asked me while Rose was with his intern.
"It's very difficult for her, I can tell," I said. "I can feel her frustration. She needs my help for a lot of things and I know it pisses her off. She was always a very independent woman, you know?" I admitted with a small and compassionate laugh. "I can't even imagine how helpless she feels."
"She's doing great here, though. It will be hard work but she'll get through it. She has made incredible progress since we first started. She is very resilient."
"That, she is," I agreed with him. "More than I am," I admitted. "That man took a lot from Rose, from us. We don't know if she'll ever walk again or if we will be able to have the family we always wanted."
The man that caused the accident downtown was a 54-year-old recidivist addict, who drove his vehicle under the influence in the middle of Golden Triangle during rush hour. When I learned that, a few weeks after the accident, I wanted to find him and kill him with my bare hands.
"I can't promise anything, of course, but I'm telling you that I will do everything I am humanly capable to help Mrs. Hockley get better. And I sincerely hope that means standing and walking proudly."
"Thank you," I whispered as the intern wheeled Rose next to me. "Ready?" I asked, crouching in front of her.
"Yes," she answered and I kissed her forehead.
I nodded to Adam then Rose and I left the building. We stopped at Dairy Queen and shared a Cookie Dough Blizzard. We barely spoke but I knew she was happy anyway. She looked at me with a small smile and her eyes were shining. I almost cried at how beautiful she was. I swallowed the lump in my throat and hugged her tightly, the comforting smell of peaches reaching my nose. She was alive. And somehow, that's all that mattered.
Three weeks later.
Rose was getting out of her appointment and the speech therapist asked to see me in her office to put me up to date.
"How was she today?" I demanded. "She was very emotional this morning."
"It was a good meeting for her, I think. We've been working hard on something for the past three weeks and she succeeded today and I know it was a great accomplishment for her. But she'll tell her that herself," she said with a smile. "She is doing amazingly well, better than I anticipated even."
I exhaled, unaware that I had been holding my breath this whole time. Sometimes, after rehabilitation, Rose was under the weather. I couldn't blame her. But today, with the emotionally draining morning we went through, I was glad to hear she was doing better than when I left her here.
At breakfast, she told me she did not want to go to her appointment and when I tried to understand why, she had gotten into a frenzy. She was incapable of explaining herself and the rage only built up inside of her when she realized she either didn't remember or couldn't pronounce the words she wanted to say. She threw things, a glass full of water and the sugar cup, scaring both me and Ginger, and she cried helplessly while I cleaned up the mess, swallowing my own pain at seeing her this way. And that I was powerless to do something about it.
Afterwards, I just held her while she sobbed into my chest. I was trying very hard to be strong for her, to be her anchor but I was struggling a lot. It was incredibly difficult for me to see her like that. To balance everything in my life.
"What happened?" she asked me when she saw how affected I was.
"She, huh, basically told me that she knew she was a burden to me and that she wished she had died so I wouldn't have to mortgage my future to take care of her," I explained, a lump in my throat. "But she's the love of my life and I will take care of her for the rest of our lives whether she likes it or not… Anyway, she threw things around the kitchen."
"She has a lot of guilt and anger right now, but it will go away. It will take time and patience. Don't give up on her, Mr. Hockley."
"I won't. Thank you," I said with a small smile before walking out the door. "On Tuesday, right?" I asked and she nodded.
Later that night, I was watching TV in the living room and Rose was sitting on the couch next to me, browsing the iPad. It looked like she was drawing or maybe she was simply playing the memory game Dr. Matthews had suggested. We didn't speak much since we finished dinner but I knew she was feeling alright, unlike me.
I couldn't help but think about that April morning, when she walked out the door, furious with me. Maybe a part of this was my fault. If she hadn't left angry, she wouldn't have left the office later than she was supposed to and she would have been at home with me when that drunk driver crashed his car into a minivan.
I was taken out of my thoughts by Rose poking me in the ribs. I looked at her and she turned the tablet towards me. Sorry. It was in a sloppy handwriting, far from her usual cursive, but she had written something. For the first time since she woke up from that coma. I breathed out and took the iPad from her hands to put it down on the coffee table. I took her into my arms, my hand stroking her hair. When I finally pulled away so I could see her face, her lips joined mine. I could tell she wanted to kiss me better – and longer – than that but that it was all she could do for now. I reassured her that it meant the world to me.
"I…" she paused, closing her eyes for a few seconds. "I love you," she said, her eyes staring deep into mine.
And I broke down, tears falling down my face.
We've been working hard on something for the past three weeks and she succeeded today...
"I love you, Cal," she said again.
"I love you too, baby," I replied, taking her into an embrace.
She put her face in my neck and left a small kiss, sending a shiver down my spine. God, I missed her. I missed the small things, the little kisses, her hand on the small of my back whenever she walked behind me, our showers together, our intimacy.
That was something else that man robbed from us.