AllFreeNovel
Share Us
ALEC
Irest a hand on Paisley’s shoulder. She gazes at Tana with trepidation and a little resentment. On the other hand, Gemma is smiling her huge, gap-toothed smile. I knew when Tana was in the accident, it wasn’t necessarily Gemma I’d have to worry about. That girl is basically made of rubber. Everything bounces off her.
But Paisley. . . Paisley, I knew, would require more careful handling.
“You don’t remember anything?” Paisley asked with her characteristic bluntness.
Tana’s hand clutches the strap of her bag. Her eyes flit around her surroundings. “Not much about myself. Your dad told me to be honest, so I’m happy to answer any questions. I remember how to do things most of the time. Like brushing my teeth or doing algebra or things like that. But not most of the more important stuff. I don’t remember my family. I don’t remember me. I don’t even know what kind of movies I like or my favorite food.” She glosses over mentioning the girls. I don’t blame her. I couldn’t imagine not knowing them. If Tana is half of my heart, our girls are the other half.
I swallow hard. I’ve been so caught up by what I lost—everything—that it hadn’t occurred to me, not really, that she lost everything too. My hand tightens on Paisley's shoulder. More out of reflex than reproach.
Paisley doesn’t seem to notice. She’s focused intensely on Tana. “Do you want a tour of the house?” Paisley offers. I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Honestly, their meeting could’ve gone either way. For now, it seems as though Paisley is willing to be on her best behavior. Which is more than I could’ve hoped for.
Gemma loves this idea. She bounces up and down, eyes bright, and goes to Tana’s side to take her free hand. “Yes! Let’s have a tour. Come on, come on, I’ll show you my room.”
I meet Tana’s eyes before Gemma can drag her from the room. I mouth, “Is that okay?”
Tana merely nods and allows Gemma to drag her up the stairs to where the girls’ rooms are. Paisley follows cautiously behind and manages to give me a small smile. It reassures me a little, but I know this may just be the calm before the storm.
While the girls show Tana their respective bedrooms and, I’m sure, regale her with as many memories as they can recall–Gemma in particular—I retrieve the rest of Tana’s things from the truck. I want to put them in our bedroom. I find myself moving in that direction, then abruptly stop. It’s the place I’ve missed her the most. I’ve woken up every morning since she’s been gone reaching for her. She always takes up too much of the bed. Steals the covers. And though she’d never admit it, she snores. But goddamn, I’d give anything to be cold, smothered, and kept awake because she sounds like a buzz saw. I truly didn’t know what I had until it was gone. My heart aches, and I spin around, forcing myself to think of anything else.
I bring her things to the spare room just off the kitchen in the back of the house. It used to be her craft room, where she would make the girls matching shirts for our Disney trips. She would wrap ribbon to make elaborate bows for their hair or customize birthday cards for her friends. Tana had a way of making the ordinary moments in our lives extraordinary. The little crafts she would do for the girls when they were small had become a lucrative business in the past few years. She sold her creations online to the point where the side hustle became a success. I couldn’t have been prouder.
But now, all her supplies are boxed up in big Rubbermaid storage bins. Her paper and glitter and ribbon and blank T-shirts. The machines that worked whatever magic they did. All that stuff is now stored in the attic waiting for her to use them again. Waiting for her to remember.
Like the rest of us.
My mom cleaned out the room and carefully boxed everything up. I didn’t say it to her, but I think she knew I couldn’t bear to pack away Tana’s things. She’d given us a spare bed from their house and dressed it with a matching floral quilt and shams. It was the color of sunshine and soft grass. The punches of green and yellow were tied into the curtains and a small rug at the foot of the bed. It was homey and warm and inviting.
And I hated it.
I hated that she would be in this room so close to me and yet so far away.
I took my time unpacking her clothes, putting them in the dresser, and hanging them in the closet. The ritual was surprisingly soothing. She may not have my wife’s memories, but she still smelled like her. The same clean, feminine scent without perfume or other adornments. It reminded me that she was in there somewhere. The essence of the woman I loved was there.
That’s all that mattered.
Soon, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. With the clothes and other things unpacked, I went out into the kitchen and found them standing around the generous island.
This is where I feel Tana the most in our home, aside from our bedroom. She loved to cook. If cooking were a love language, I’m pretty sure it would be hers. Along with the crafts she would make for people for any given holiday, she would also bake or cook them something to go along with it. When her parents passed away and left her a small life insurance policy, she used it to renovate our kitchen into her dream kitchen.
I heard or read somewhere that the kitchen was the heart of the home. I found that true now more than ever, having Tana back in it. Because she is the heart of our family.
She’d been determined to have restaurant-grade everything—the stove, the oven, the dishwasher, even the sink. Most of my favorite memories of our family are in this kitchen, with Tana at the stove and the scent of something delicious lingering in the air.
The house feels empty now, like the kitchen has been since she’s been gone.
She stands next to the sink as Gemma describes her favorite dinner.
“Do you like spaghetti?” Gemma asks, her high-pitched voice full of excitement. I should’ve known she’d be thrilled at the thought of food. At eight, she eats like a line-backer and is still willow thin.
Tana shifts from one foot to another and gnaws on her lower lip. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
Paisley’s watchful eyes slide from Tana to me. “You used to make it all the time,” she says in a voice that isn’t accusing or resentful but somewhere in between.
It’s like a sucker punch. My little girl can’t believe she’s looking at her mother, who doesn’t remember something they used to do every week. Something as ingrained in her core memories as Tana’s scent is in mine.
It occurs to me then that this could’ve been a terrible idea. What if this completely screws them up more than they already are? Maybe I should’ve found somewhere else for Tana to stay until we figure things out more. The girls have been so excited, but they’re children. They need me to protect them from the harsh realities of the world.
I’m about to recommend that they give us some space when Tana rests her elbows on the island and leans conspiratorially closer. “Well, I guess the only way we’re going to find out is if we make some. Do either of you know how to make spaghetti?”
Paisley’s shoulders relax a little. Spaghetti was her favorite. But everything in me tenses up. The smile on Tana’s face and the soft, somewhat mischievous tilt of her lips made me fall in love with her in the first place.
Gemma squeals with glee. “Yes, you let us help you all the time.”
“Gemma,” I say warningly.
“No, she didn’t. But we can tell you how to make it,” Paisley says and nudges her sister with her shoulder. “Remember what Dad said. No lying to Mom, especially about stuff she can’t remember.”
I let out a breath. So far, so good. The jury is still out on whether we’ve screwed them up. I’m sure we probably will eventually, but they’re doing alright for now.
“Well then, I guess we have to go to the grocery store,” Tana says and glances at me.
Talk about a sucker punch. All I can imagine while she was in the hospital was having her back home, and now that she’s here, it’s bittersweet. I’m glad she’s safe, I’m glad she’s home, but at the same time, I’m scared I’ll never get her back. How can you mourn someone when they’re right in front of you?
Clearing my throat, I say, “Well, load up. I guess we’re going to get all the fixings for spaghetti.”
Gemma squeals and Paisley looks a little lighter than she has in a long time. Tana hangs back while the girls sprint to the truck to climb inside. She glances at me a little warily.
“I hope that’s okay.”
I want to take her hand and squeeze it to reassure her like I’ve done a thousand times before, but I know how physical contact makes her nervous. “Sure. We gotta eat it sometime. I appreciate you indulging them. I know it’s hard on everyone.”
Tana lifts a shoulder. “They seem like nice kids. And besides, I figure doing things they’re used to might be a way to jog my memory.”
I chew over that statement as we can get loaded up in the car. The girls chatter excitedly in the backseat, and a quick glance in the rearview mirror shows them content for now. Tana buckles in quietly and clasps her hands tightly in her lap.
This must all be so strange for her. We’re all essentially strangers, and she has to fit herself into a life that’s supposed to be hers that she has no memory of. What a cluster.
“Is there anything else you need?”
Her eyes dart to mine. “What do you mean?”
“From the store. Anything you want to eat? Anything like toiletries or whatever?” I say the last awkwardly because even though we were married for more than a decade, this isn’t the same woman. We’ve been thrown into this forced intimacy without even knowing each other. Like an arranged marriage, for fuck’s sake.
“I—I’m not sure. I hate sounding helpless, but I don’t know anything. You basically have a third child.” She chuckles nervously.
My heart squeezes in my chest. She can’t quite meet my eyes, and her whole body is tense. I’ve got to remember to take it slow with her. Be careful with her.
“I know this is hard on you. I can’t even begin to imagine. But I hope you know I’m here for you, whatever you need. We’ll go to the store, get stuff for supper, and see if there’s anything else you need.”
Tana shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do,” I say as though it’s the easiest thing in the world. Because it is. She may not remember me, but she’s my wife. I would do anything for her.
She sighs. “I may not know much, but I’m starting to learn that you are the most hardheaded man I’ve ever met.”
At this, I crack a smile. “Have you met many men?”
Scowling, she says, “That’s not the point. I keep trying to tell you that you don’t have to take care of me, and you’re not listening.”
I glance at her pointedly as I pull to a stoplight. “I hear what you’re saying. And, yeah, maybe I am hardheaded. But I vowed to take care of you, and that’s exactly what I’ll do. If that means giving you a safe place to stay while you figure things out, I’ll do it. If it means taking you to and from doctor’s appointments, I’ll do it. And if it means things don’t turn out quite the way I want them to, I’ll deal with it. You let me worry about all that. You just worry about healing.”
When she speaks, her voice is thick with emotion. “You don’t even know me.”
My hands clench the steering wheel. “I know you as well as I know myself. And even if I didn’t, it’s the right thing to do.”
She’s quiet for a long time. We’re nearly to the grocery store when she says, “I just don’t wanna hurt you.”
I glance in the rearview at the girls, who are now watching a movie on their respective tablets. They have headphones on, so they can’t hear us talking. I turn to Tana and say, “You let me worry about that. I’m a big boy; I can handle that. In the meantime, I’ve been thinking about how to help you.”
She raises her eyebrows. “More than you already are?”
“I mean with your memories.”
She angles her body towards me. “Yeah? How are you going to help with that?”
“Well, I’ve known you most of your life. We share a lot of the same memories. Obviously, you can ask me if you have any questions, but I think it might help if you actually saw the things we were talking about.”
“Do you mean like take me places?”
“Yeah, sort of. Take you to some of your favorite places, look through pictures, stuff like that.”
“Don’t you already have your plate full? You have two kids and your job. I can do some of the stuff on my own.”
“Now who’s being hardheaded?”
Tana rolls her eyes. “I have a feeling arguing with you could be a full-time job.”
I pull into a parking lot spot at the grocery store and cut the engine. “Get used to it. That’s probably the first thing you should know about me. It’s something that you used to complain about quite frequently. Besides, you told me that acts of service is my love language. Doing things for other people is sort of how I live my life. It’s why I became a paramedic. So it’s only natural to me to want to help you.”
When she starts to speak, I shake my head and say, “Just think about it.”
The girls are unbuckling their seatbelts and throwing themselves out of the car. I help them and meet Tana at the front of the truck. Normally I would take her hand with Gemma to my right, and Paisley would grab Tana’s free hand. But Paisley pauses awkwardly, so I take Paisley on my left, and Gemma takes the right. Tana doesn’t seem to notice the moment of awkwardness.
“Come on, Paise. Let’s see what we can get for dessert.” I don’t normally agree with sugar as a stopgap, but the girls have been through enough. Besides, cheesecake was Tanas’s favorite dessert ever. I wonder if it still is.
Time to put my theory to the test.
