Chapter 17 #2
Grabbing the fork, I start eating without looking away from Winnie.
She’s gorgeous, with a pink bow around her head and matching pink overalls.
Her dark curly hair is parted in four quadrants and tied in short twists.
Around her wrist there’s a gold chain with something engraved on it that I probably don’t remember.
I bet the Ford I was in 2024 would know what is written on his daughter’s bracelet.
This Ford, however, has no idea. Winnie catches my eyes and gives me a wide smile that I can’t help but return in full.
My heart aches with something new, and I don’t feel so hungry anymore.
I push the food around my plate a bit more while I study Winnie and I listen to my dad and Ash make casual, familiar conversation about the neighbour and a lady named Kirsty.
When everyone is done and Ash stands to gather the plates, I stand too.
“Let me,” I offer, needing to feel useful.
“You go spend some time with Winnie, Ash,” my dad says. He helps me clear the table and together we move to the kitchen.
Ash nods and lifts Winnie up, “Okay, I will go ring Sadaf then.”
Once the dishwasher is loaded and I have heard Ash climb the stairs with Winnie, I meet my dad’s eyes, the same brown as mine.
“Fordy,” he says simply, opening his arms wide.
“I don’t remember anything, Dad,” I whine, just like a child. “I know you and I know Ash, but I have no idea how I ended up with a child, or a house, or a whole fucking life. Ash is my boyfriend? How did that happen? And who’s Sadaf?”
Hugging my dad tightly, I wish I could go even more back in time, when Mom was still living with us and we were all a family and homework was the hardest part of my day. When Dad was younger and taller and his words were my law.
“Oh, my sweet sweet boy.” Dad holds me tight in his arms and speaks in his softest, wisest voice.
“Sadaf is your social worker, who’s been taking care of Winnie.
You were just about to apply for an adoption order when you had the accident and now everything has been on standby.
Lovely woman. She even visited you at the hospital. ”
I think of the contacts in my phone and I recall a list of different social workers saved there. I don’t have the chance to ask anything further, though, before my dad speaks again.
“And you and Ash, are you really surprised? When you two met for the first time, I knew I was going to love that man as my own son for the rest of my life. You used to be so different, before you met him, you know? You were so shy, so small. And then when you met him, I got to watch you become who you always were supposed to be. This strong minded, wonderful man. You became confident and you made it your mission to protect Ash, to make him feel like he belonged with you and with us. You might not remember what I told you the day you came out to me as Ash’s boyfriend but I’ll remind you.
I told you that I always knew, Fordy. I got to witness my son meet his soulmate when he was seven years old and every year after that, it was a step you took towards each other.
You two were always destined to be and it was a privilege to witness your love story. ”
I let the tears fall freely down my face, the first real ones I have allowed to escape my eyes since waking up without half of my memories.
I have tried and tried speaking with Ash, telling him more of how lost I feel, how desperate to go back to whatever was normal life before.
But, somehow, this is the first time that I feel completely understood.
“I don’t know what to do, Dad. How do I get all of my memories back?
” I cry, pulling back and wiping the snot away on the cotton of my t-shirt.
Should I research more about patients with amnesia?
Should I try shoving my head against a wall to see if it helps my brain?
Get into another accident and hope it fixes me?
My dad does what he’s always done when he sees me cry.
He finds a handkerchief in his back pocket and hands it out to me with a kind smile that reminds me of Ash’s and impossibly, of Winnie’s.
“You don’t need to do anything. Just know, just because you don’t remember your love story right now, doesn’t mean it hasn’t always been one. ”
“My love story,” I repeat, wondering what exactly my love story is.
“You know what Ash would say?”
I shake my head wordlessly and my dad grins at me.
“He’d say some crap like friends to lovers.”
I bark out a laugh, knowing exactly what he means. “Keep working on your impressions.”
My dad bends his head sheepishly, “You know what I would say, though?” He doesn’t wait before adding, “You two are two peas in a pod.”
When Ash makes his way downstairs with Winnie, he walks my dad to the door and leaves me in the living-room. Winnie and I sit on the carpet with some wooden blocks to stack and I twist one of her curls around my finger.
I can’t help but listen as my dad tells Ash, “Call me if you need me, alright? I’ll be over around seven-thirty tomorrow so you can drive Ford to the hospital. Be safe, will you. And Ash, he hasn’t called his mother.”
I blink away the tears, glad that finally Ash has a dad who cares for him and is there for him.
When he joins us in the living-room, Ash scoops Winnie up and hugs her to his side, soft eyes betraying him. One doesn’t need to know Ash since childhood to know he has missed his daughter. He does not mention my mother.
“Blo’!” Winnie yells and wiggles until Ash drops her back down on the carpet.
“Okay, okay. You can play blocks with Dad.” Ash scoffs exaggeratedly at Winnie, and in return, the little girl gets on her feet and wobbles in my direction. When she reaches my crossed legs, Winnie lets herself fall into my lap and her short arms come around my chest.
“Midyou, Da,” she tells me and she looks up with big warm eyes.
“I’m glad you’re okay, peanut.”
I have no idea where the endearment comes from, but I catch Ash’s approving smile.
Winnie then goes back to her blocks, so I must be doing something right.
???
The next day around twelve I’m making lunch sandwiches for Winnie, Ash and myself when my phone rings. The display tells me Vicky is calling me, and when I pick up she starts talking immediately.
“Ashley texted me you might be flipping out so I’m ringing you.”
“To check on me. Because you love me,” I supply.
“Some things are best left unsaid, Ashford.”
I laugh at Vicky’s tone. Same old Vicky. No surprises. It’s reassuring, when the whole world changes but some people never do. And when I talk to Vicky, I become a different person, too. My walls go up, I can’t help it. “You didn’t visit. Where do you live now?”
“Perhaps I didn’t need to see your ugly beard.”
I could call her bluff knowing how much she used to like my beard when we were together, but I don’t. “I actually shaved it this morning.”
“Giving Ashley the sexy dimple and red hair package?”
“Don’t play with me, I have no idea where we stand. And I mean Ash and I but I also mean you and I. Do I talk to you about Ashley? Do we brush our hair and do face masks together? I forgot everything.”
“Shanghai.”
“Pardon?”
Clearing her voice Vicky explains, “Where I am at.”
“Bitch. The Orchestra?”
Before Vicky was my girlfriend, she was the best violinist at Sheffield University. Afterwards, Vicky was still the best violinist in Sheffield. Perhaps the best in England.
“No, I’m here picking apples. Of course I’m in the orchestra, you prick.”
I laugh into the phone but I know Vicky remains serious. “Do you like it? Are you already rehearsing for the Christmas Concert?” I ask, but I know that she is. Orchestras are like that. I scan my nails, short and healthy, and I miss none of my days of playing the viola.
“I didn’t call to make small talk about me, Ashford. Talk me through the past twenty-four hours.”
But I don’t know where to begin, and I tell Vicky exactly that.
“You woke up yesterday morning, did you not?”
I did wake up yesterday morning. I blush, thinking of the way Ash had gripped my cock with his hands and wrapped his mouth around me. How he’d worshipped me until I lost sense of who I was. But this is not what I tell Vicky.
Instead, I tell her how lost I felt when Dad brought home Winnie, how the entire day felt like a big fat dream montage out of a sappy rom-com.
Ash, Winnie and myself in the living-room, building blocks and laughing until our bellies hurt.
Ash and Winnie in the kitchen, snacking on carrots and bread while I was cooking them an actual meal.
Winnie tapping on my arm brace gently, asking, “What?” in the most innocent voice.
Her sweet expression when I gave a taste of dinner.
Ash begging me to let Winnie sleep in our bed and the three of us falling asleep exhausted but together. Just like a family.
“I’m honestly getting diabetes as we speak,” Vicky comments.
“Send me the hospital bill.”
Vicky lets out a laugh, clearly mocking me. “You barely speak English, Ashford. What do you want to do with a bill in Mandarin? Now quit dilly-dallying and tell me how today went.”
“Shall I do that in English then?”
Vicky scoffs and doesn’t reply, instead waiting for me to continue.
“Okay, whatever. Violinist’s attitude. Winnie woke us at six and again, it doesn’t feel real.
We snuggled in bed for a little and Ash was holding my hand like I might disappear at any moment.
Then Winnie wanted breakfast so Ash made her some but she really hates how he cuts apples.
So I had to do it. Then my dad came round, and Ash and I went to the hospital for my check-up.
Do you really want to know every detail? ”
“I’m sitting in a train, Ashford. Nothing better to do.”
“Right. My check-up was with a different doctor but they seemed really impressed with my progress. They couldn’t believe that my accident was just two months ago.
They gave me a band to do some exercises to strengthen the elbow and they showed me some movements to do with my body weight.
As long as I keep it light, they said. I have a full mobility program for my legs now, even more intense than what I’m used to. ”
“So really giving Ashley all the dimples and the red hair and the muscles.”
“Hardly the muscles I used to have.” I sigh, thinking of how weak my arm has gotten underneath the sling.
I don’t tell Vicky how I’ve been avoiding the mirrors, scared of how my body looks.
How different it will be from what I remember, or worse, how similar.
How exactly identical my reflection will be now that I am in love with Ash and I am Winnie’s father.
How can I be the same on the outside, when on the inside there’s so much uncertainty?
“You might have lost some muscle, but you’re still exactly the same Ashford you’ve always been. Smitten with Ashley and ridiculously annoying with a guitar.”
“I’m not that annoying.” I can’t help but sound defensive.
“Little annoying. Not as annoying as when you started sleeping with Ashley, though. Could have lived without knowing how little I appreciated your sperm in comparison to a certain friend of yours.”
“Okay, so I do tell you everything. Glad we got that sorted.”
Vicky doesn’t laugh, because she’s cheeky like that. Instead she reminds me of where I have left off. “Check-up went well then. How’s the gay sex going?”
“Fuck, Vicky, I can’t even think about that. I literally forgot everything, I don’t know anything. I’m a father now. Am I supposed to have sex?”
Vicky whispers something to someone else, and then comes back on the line without missing a beat. “It never stopped you from being a nasty whore before.”
“I’m not-” I pause, thinking of the way I have thoroughly enjoyed being with Ash the last week. Maybe, in 2024, a nasty whore hungry for sex with my best friend is precisely who I am. The mere thought makes me giggle. Before. I want to know more about before.
“Right, maybe. I think we’re doing things slowly now. I think… I think we’re both worried I won’t get my memories back.”
“And if you don’t? Do you still want this? Ashley and Ashwin?” Vicky always knows what to ask.
Over the years, I’ve learned not to just give her any answer, but something real.
I’ve done so since we decided we were better off as friends and I don’t intend to stop now.
I think of Ashley and Ashwin and the upcoming appointment with our social worker this afternoon.
I think about how Ash looks at Winnie as if she’s his entire world, and how he looks at me the same way.
It’s the same look Ash has been giving me since we were young and dumb, and we kissed in my kitchen for the first time.
My voice cracks and no matter how hard I try to find a better answer, all I come up with is this.
“I don’t know. I’m scared,” I tell Vicky, thinking of how impossible it would be to live without that look, without Winnie’s soft curls and Ash’s hand holding mine.
“You’ve always been scared of wanting a family, Ford. It’s your mommy issue, figure it out,” is the last thing Vicky says before ending the call.