Marginally. That was the best word to describe how much better Nash felt this morning. He felt marginally better.
“I guess maybe a seven?” he replied in response to Emmitt’s query about his pain level. “My head is more improved than my arm.”
Emmitt nodded. “That’s to be expected at this stage. You’ll probably still have a bit of a headache for a few days, but you’re more alert. You’re looking better, too…your color is healthy.”
Sadly, “alert” didn’t equate to “memories returning.” He did feel more like he belonged among the living again, though. He had some energy now, and had walked himself to the bathroom, with Carlton hovering for the first trip, and up and down the same hallway that he’d strode so many times before while going about his business, and strolled at a leisurely pace accompanying patients on wobbly legs, rebuilding their strength. He’d collected a lot of hugs from coworkers on that trip.
Emmitt stood to his right, loosely holding his hand, rubbing slow circles into his palm—which was strange and exciting at the same time. Strange, because emotionally he remained attached to Sam, although intellectually he understood that segment of his life was over. Exciting, because Nash liked and respected Emmitt, and the restrained attention and thoughtfulness he’d shown toward Nash were charming. Especially sweet coming from this man whom Nash had always considered to be aloof but had shown himself, in just one day, to be anything but. Thrilling, too, because it felt illicit even though he recognized in his mind that it wasn’t.
Sam is your past. Emmitt is your present and your future. He’d recited the words in his mind so many times since he’d learned that was his new reality, and he repeated them again now.
“Scary” was another word to throw into his mix of emotions. He was placing an enormous amount of trust in choices he’d made, but couldn’t recollect, and in a man he didn’t remember loving.
“Your parents’ flight arrived on time this morning,” Emmitt said.
“I really appreciate you taking the time off to deal with all this stuff today.”
Emmitt shrugged. “It’s rare for me to take unscheduled personal time like this. At least it would’ve been an office day…no surgeries scheduled.”
“So they’re at the apartment now?”
“Yes. Your mom was pretty torn, but finally figured she could be more useful there putting your clothes away than hovering here waiting for your release paperwork. Someone needed to be there for the furniture delivery anyway.”
Emmitt was referring to a bed and dresser for the spare bedroom, which he’d explained had been unfurnished, as well as a second dresser for the master bedroom. He’d placed a rush order last night after learning Nash’s parents would be staying for a few days, and probably paid a pretty penny to have it expedited.
He’d pointed out to Nash that he’d only recently moved into the condo himself, and Nash had been in the process of transporting the last of his own belongings when the accident had occurred.
“It’ll be nice to see them. I haven’t visited since I flew home for a long weekend in the spring.” At least, he didn’t remember making another trip to Sioux Falls, if he had.
Emmitt gestured to the bag he’d placed on the over-bed rolling table. “I hope you’re okay with the clothes I picked out for you. I went with track pants, a stretchy T-shirt, and a zipper top that matches the pants.”
“Yeah. Loose is good.”
Emmitt chewed his lip and lowered himself to perch on the edge of Nash’s bed, keeping hold of his hand.
“We need to talk,” Emmitt stated.
“Shit.” Nothing good ever followed those words, did it?
At Emmitt’s inquiring look, Nash added, “Sorry. That sounded ominous.”
“Oh, no. It’s nothing bad. I think there are some more things in your memory gap that should be explained to you. Things that we’d planned, but will need to adjust now to accommodate your injury. I don’t see any reason to change our ultimate goal…only to modify its timeline and, like I said, fill in some blanks for you.”
Nash breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay. That’s good, then. Maybe learning a few things from the missing time will help me recall more.”
“Can’t say that’s my area of expertise, but maybe.”
“So you still want to marry me, then?”
“Absolutely. I need to tell you, though, about the purpose of the timing for our wedding. You were going to give notice here at the hospital today.”
“I’m quitting my job? Do I have a new one? Shit. They’ll be pissed I won’t be starting on time.”
“No, no…you don’t have another job. Not in the true sense of the word. You were going to stay at home and be the primary caregiver—companion, mostly—to my grandfather. He’s recently had a knee replacement. He’s recovering at a PT facility and will be home in about two and a half weeks. The timing of the marriage was for your security, since you’d be quitting your job.”
“I see.” That explained why they were getting married after only dating for four months…at the most. “But, now I’ll be out on disability for maybe eight weeks.”
“Right. So no real need to rush to put in your notice, and therefore no urgency to hasten the marriage ceremony. We didn’t have any kind of huge to-do planned, so it’s not a big deal to move the date.”
“Okay.” The sense of relief Nash felt at this revelation was unexpected. “Tell me about your grandfather.”
Emmitt smiled and seemed to relax a bit. Clearly this was a subject dear to his heart. “Grampy’s pushing ninety, but he’s always been active and still has all his mental faculties. He’s recovering well. He might end up using a cane, now, but has always been able to take care of his own personal needs.” He paused and squeezed Nash’s hand. “You liked him, and he was thrilled when he found out we were getting married.”
“Yeah?” Nash’s grin was reflexive. Emmitt obviously adored his “Grampy.”
Emmitt nodded. “Yeah.”
“What’s his name? What do I call him?”
“Bernard Meacham. You’ve been calling him Bernie, but when I told him about the marriage plans, he said he was going to ask you to start calling him Grampy, too. Said he was gaining a grandson.”
“That’s so sweet. Do you think I’ll be able to handle taking care of him by the time he’s released?”
“I wouldn’t hear of it. No, you won’t be responsible for anything but your own recovery until you’re out of that cast. First, although your dad’s staying only until this next Saturday, your mother said she’d delay her return home for a couple weeks. You should be off the heavy-duty painkillers by then.
“After she leaves, and Grampy comes home, I’ll have a daily home health care nurse come in to take care of whatever either of you might need, and help out with your meals. That kind of thing.”
Nash would be a burden. He sighed. No, that wasn’t fair. If the tables were turned, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if the man he loved was injured, and he pushed too hard.
“Okay. Thank you for that. I’m sorry for screwing things up.”
Emmitt leaned in and softly kissed his lips, then ran a feather-light finger along his jaw. “Nothing important has changed.”
“I guess. If I was in your shoes, I’d want to delay the wedding, too.”
“It’s not that I want to put it off.”
“I know.”
“It feels unethical to proceed until either A…you’ve regained your memories and can move forward fully recollecting all of your previous thought processes, or B…been given a chance to get to know me enough to fairly make that choice again.”
“I understand.” Nash was satisfied just knowing that Emmitt really did still want to marry him. It had been alarming there for a while, thinking he’d regain his memories and then be miserable losing another love if Emmitt had called it off. But, he could see it in Emmitt’s eyes—and actions. There was no need to worry about that anymore.
Nash added, “Now that my thinking is a little less muddled, I see the wisdom in pushing it off a bit.”
Carlton entered with a clipboard. “Are you ready to be unhooked and set free?”
Nash eyed the Patient Controlled Anesthesia pump attached to his IV pole. “Can you give this one more minute so I can get a final hit before you pull it out?”
“One for the road? Sure thing.” Carlton grinned.
Emmitt glanced at the papers on Carlton’s clipboard, then back at Nash. “How about I get your prescriptions filled while Carlton gets you ready?”
“Thank you.”
Carlton handed Emmitt the prescriptions, then eased open the front of Nash’s gown, disconnected the ECG leads, and tore open an alcohol pad to loosen the adhesive on the electrode patches. It helped, but Nash winced as his chest hairs pulled despite Carlton’s efforts.
“Sorry, man.”
Nash leaned back and tried not to tense up as the remainder of the patches were deftly stripped off. He pushed the button to receive a final dose of morphine delivered directly to his circulatory system, then Carlton continued his tasks until Nash was completely disengaged from all the equipment.
Whether it was because he was stoned enough that any awkwardness he might in general reflexively feel was tempered, or if it was due to his acceptance of Carlton’s professionalism, he had no reservations about having the nurse help him get dressed. It wasn’t as if Carlton hadn’t seen—not to mention handled—everything when he’d removed the catheter earlier, anyway.
Nash listened patiently as Carlton went over the obligatory list of dos and don’ts, and indications of dangerous complications to watch for as if Nash didn’t already know them backward and forward. He even managed to nod appropriately, and Carlton managed not to smirk. Mostly.
“I’m perfectly aware you already know this stuff, but sometimes medical professionals are the worst at judging their own conditions. The only reason I’m not going to worry about you is because you live with Dr. Burlingham,” Carlton said with a grin. “You sly dog, you. Anyway, I know he’ll keep a sharp eye on it when he’s home, but don’t hesitate to question any further swelling and call it in when he’s not around.”
“I won’t. Besides, my mom will be staying for a couple weeks, and I imagine he’ll make sure she knows what to look for, too.”
Carlton finished and left the room. Nash was reclined in the bedside chair with his feet up and eyes closed when Emmitt returned. Funny how other senses amplified when one’s eyes were closed, but he knew it was Emmitt simply from hearing footsteps. The brisk pace, the unique clack his shoes made on the hospital floor—he’d never consciously noticed those things before, but immediately recognized the tread as Emmitt’s.
He opened his eyes and put on a smile, hoping it didn’t appear forced. He was about to go home, but it was a home he didn’t remember stepping foot in before, in the company of a man with whom he had no memory of shared intimacies, although they obviously would have.
What Nash wanted more than anything right now was a hug from Sam. Comforting hugs were the man’s specialty.
He stood up slowly, and as if Emmitt could read his mind, found himself enveloped in a gentle embrace. A soft whimper escaped before he could stifle it.
Emmitt pressed his lips to Nash’s forehead. “I’m here for you,” he whispered. “Anything you need.”
A time machine, perhaps?
* * * *