Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
‘How are you, Ava?’ the doctor asks, slipping his glasses on and scanning her medical file on his desk.
‘I’m good,’ she replies quickly, reaching for my hand and squeezing.
‘And the headaches?’ He looks up over his glasses and smiles a little, noting our held hands.
‘They’ve subsided.’
He starts jotting down notes. ‘What about physical movements? Your coordination, for example?’
All I see in my mind’s eye is Ava’s hand finding my cock with perfectly steady hands. Her coordination is just fine, though I refrain from telling the doc that. ‘She still has a slight limp,’ I say, knowing Ava won’t. ‘And her head is still fragile around the wound.’
‘To be expected.’ He gets up and circles his desk, taking a small penlight and bending to shine it in Ava’s eyes. ‘And your sensory functions?’
I raise my brows, and Ava flicks a coy look my way. ‘I can feel, see, smell, hear and taste.’
I smile back at her, despite it being inappropriate. ‘I’ll vouch for that.’ I flip her a wink, letting my muscles relax for the first time since I walked into this office.
‘Good.’ He slips the light into his jacket pocket and checks the site of her head injury, nodding happily, before checking her leg, too. He returns to his chair. ‘Any breakthroughs in your memories?’ Resting back, he taps his pen on the palm of his spare hand.
She shrugs, glancing at me. ‘Small things here and there.’
‘No matter how small or insignificant they may seem, they’re all important.’ Another smile. ‘Your symptoms are classic to traumatic amnesia, Ava. I’m very hopeful that given time and patience, your memories will return. The brain is an immensely complex organ, and the function of our memories engages many different parts of it. In your case, a blow to the head has damaged the structure of your brain and the limbic system which controls your emotions and memories.’
Patience. The stuff I’m not well furnished with.
‘Obviously we’re focused on retrieving your memories, Ava, but may I ask how you see your future?’
I feel my forehead furrow with a frown, and I look across to Ava. She’s staring at the doctor, seeming just as confused by his question as me. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t follow,’ she tells him.
Good. Me neither. I redirect my attention across the desk to find the doctor smiling again. All these smiles are beginning to irritate me. What’s there to be so pleased about? ‘It’s common for sufferers of amnesia to find it hard to imagine their future when so much of their past is missing. The past and our futures are linked heavily in our memories and the people in our lives, so it’s common for patients to struggle with the prospect of their future.’
‘Ava is not struggling with the prospect of her future,’ I pipe up, unable to stop myself. What is he suggesting?
For the first time, the doctor looks wary of me. Good. He should be. ‘Ava?’ he says, keeping his eyes on me.
‘I don’t see my future,’ she says quietly, and I throw a look her way, deeply injured, and very worried. What? ‘I feel it more than see it,’ she finishes. ‘With Jesse and the twins. It’s hard to explain.’ She shakes her head, frustrated. ‘At first I was frightened and confused. I didn’t know him.’ I shrink into the chair, my hand coming up to my forehead and rubbing gently. ‘But it didn’t take long for me to realise that I do know him. Every sense I have recognises him, even if my stupid brain doesn’t. And as for my children, I feel like I have a huge piece of me missing right now, and it isn’t the memories. It’s them. Their presence.’
I close my eyes and swallow, feeling the doctor looking at me, judging me. I swear to God, if he passes comment on my way of dealing with this, I’ll launch his arse across the hospital. ‘I understand,’ Dr Peters replies quietly, going back to his pad. ‘When are the children home?’
I clear my throat and pull myself together, pushing back my anger. ‘They’re on their way now.’
‘That’s good. The sooner Ava gets back to real life the better. Routine is key.’ Going to his computer, he starts tapping away on the keyboard. ‘Try to weave some relaxed time into that routine. There are a few ways we could move forward. I would recommend an occupational therapist who can work with you to acquire new information to replace some of your lost memories. A personal digital assistant may be helpful, too, in helping you with day-to-day life.’
‘A personal assistant?’ I ask, trying my damn hardest not to sound affronted. I know I fail when Ava squeezes my hand, her way of pleading with me to keep my cool. I’m struggling. ‘She doesn’t need a personal assistant. She has me.’