Chapter 19 #2
“I know.” I hold him until our skin gets pruny and I shiver, freezing.
The next day, I’m ill too. I wake up feeling hot and sweaty and I drag myself downstairs, legs heavy and brain foggy. Great. What a shit fucking morning.
Ash sends Winnie into the living-room with a thermometer and a message: “Pa’ toldu so.”
???
“Tell me something I don’t know. Something I couldn’t have forgotten. And don’t give me the, ‘we’ve known each other forever’. No excuses. Tell me a secret.”
Ash thinks for a while, his fingers tracing my skin.
It’s the week after and I have been home for almost two weeks, with loads of progress physically but very limited progress mentally.
Ash has been planning the university coursework for the upcoming semester, and even though he’s not left the house yet, the entire day has felt like a part of me was missing.
And now he’s here, in bed, beside me and I never want him to leave the room again.
“I used to have this family in The Sims,” Ash tells me and then pauses, as if giving me time to ask what The Sims is.
As if I could ever forget the life simulation game he’s been obsessed with since we were little kids.
He used to come round my house to play it, because his parents never let him on the family computer.
I used to sit by him as he played, keeping count of the graves of the Sims he would drown in the pool.
Ash had a different smile, back then. More tormented. I don’t miss it.
“I’m listening,” I tell him.
“It was me and you. We lived in the desert and at some point, I got us a dog. Queen Cupcake. She was a Shepherd.”
“Queen Cupcake?”
“The name was auto-generated.”
“Right. And we lived in the desert?”
“I didn’t want to deal with bad weather. I made us a little villa and I made us immortal and we just lived, did our thing. You had a guitar and I was writing books.”
“You made us immortal?” After a weekend of illness, immortality sounds pretty fucking good.
“Yes. I had to, after that one time we accidentally set the kitchen on fire and I died. It took me weeks to bring the ghost back to life and so I had to take precautions.”
“Exactly how many hours have you spent playing with our fake selves?”
“I shan’t say.”
“Fucking spill.”
“I wouldn’t be able to quantify. It was across different games. The Sims Two, Sims Three, Four,” Ash admits, an adorable blush colouring his cheeks.
I don’t push it. “You set the kitchen on fire, huh?”
“Shut up. Don’t make this about my cooking.”
“I literally don’t even need to.”
Rolling over onto his stomach, Ash curls beside me and hides his nose in the space under my armpit.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” he mutters against the cotton of my pyjama shirt.
“No, I’m glad you did.” I hesitate before asking him, “So how is real life with me? Better than the game?”
Ash pushes himself closer to me, draping one arm across my stomach. He makes himself impossibly small, my tall strong boy.
“So much better.” The words are soft and I know Ash is almost asleep. “Maybe we could adopt a dog, one day. Winnie needs a friend.”
I run my left hand up and down his side. “Queen Cupcake?”
“Queen Cupcake.” It’s the last thing Ash tells me before he’s out like a light.
The next morning, I wake up before Ash. I make my way upstairs to check on Winnie and I find her awake in her crib, playing with a stuffed teddy bear.
When she sees me, her entire face lights up and I pick her up for a hug.
I change her and dress her and then I stare at the messy twists in her hair.
My fingers itch and I remove my brace, deciding that if I could braid before the accident, I must still be able to.
Following an instinct, I carry Winnie to the playroom and set her on a little stool in front of the dollhouse.
“I will be right back,” I tell her and then I go into the bathroom looking for supplies. I find a pink box next to the sink filled with brushes and hair ties and hair clips. I grab it and leave the bathroom.
“The twins and I are driving on Friday evening. Do you think he’ll be okay?”
The sound of Erik Bergman’s voice echoes down the stairs and I try not to listen. I fail. If he doesn’t want me to listen, Ash should stop putting his family calls on speaker.
“Honestly I don’t know. I’ve been worried.”
“Bro, we’ve been worried. It’s been months now and nothing has changed,” Martin (or Edwin) chimes in. Without seeing them I’m never sure who is who.
“He does remember some things, at home.”
“Doesn’t remember you or Winnie, though,” Edwin (or Martin) adds in a stern voice. The twins sound as aggressive as always only now, there’s a hint of protectiveness.
Ash is incredibly defensive when he mutters, “He remembers me.”
“Of course he fucking does,” Martin (or Edwin) snaps.
“Chill out man,” Erik interjects, his voice calm and controlled as ever. “This is not Ford’s fault. He loves Ash and he loves Winnie and you two need to fucking relax.”
The twins grunt in unison in response and I want to stop listening. I need to get away from here. I need to move and join Winnie in the play room and start braiding her hair.
“Have you spoken to Mom?” Ash asks instead.
“You know we haven’t. Ed’s been home last week and she’s…” Erik says gently.
“She doesn’t want to talk to me. Or you. Well, us.” This must be Edwin Bergman explaining.
“Had a bruised wrist.”
“He can fucking die,” the other twin spits and I hear Ash sighing.
“Okay, let’s all calm down. You’re driving over on Friday evening. Greg is driving Friday morning. You know you can stay here if you want, we’ve got space.”
The sound on the phone changes and I can tell that Erik is not on speaker anymore. “Thanks, but it’s best if we stay at the Inn. Greg’s made a reservation for us all and we’ll have dinner with him.”
At the mention of my dad I keep deathly still, heartbeat pounding in my ears. It doesn’t surprise me that my dad has been spending time with the Bergman brothers. The way he’s always loved Ash, he was going to end up loving the twins and Erik as well. Especially now that we are a real family.
But a part of me is also protective, jealous of the fact that my dad is not here with me, supporting me. He’s supporting everyone, as usual. That’s how big his heart is. But I need him, too, now more than anything. And he is not here.
“Alright. We can hang on Saturday then. You know Ford loves you all, yeah?”
“Yes Ash, we know. Does he?”
And that’s my cue. All my energies are focused on keeping the tears in as I rush down the corridor into the playroom, where Winnie is waiting for me. I find her sitting exactly where I left her, with a grin and a messy head of hair.
“Okay peanut, let’s do this.”
I’m halfway down the third braid when Ash appears at the door. He leans into the frame, tall and lean and so, so handsome. His hair is loose and so long it goes past his shoulders, blue eyes barely awake. He’s already changed for the day in a pair of blue jeans, a white shirt and a green blazer.
“Breakfast?” he asks after studying me and Winnie.
“Pa!” Winnie exclaims, noticing him. She extends her hands towards him and Ash walks to her, kneeling down so he can kiss a puffy cheek.
“Good morning Winnie-pops.”
Grabbing a small hair elastic, I secure the braid and move on to the next. But first, I look up to Ash and purse my lips. “Don’t I get a good morning kiss?”
With a smirk, Ash pecks my lips, quickly but sweetly. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me adoringly.
“Good morning, love,” Ash tells me and I almost let go of the strands, messing up my work.
Winnie starts wiggling restlessly and Ash reassures her. “Almost done, Winnie. Papa’s going to make breakfast now and Dad will bring you down in a minute. Be good.”
I can’t seem to tear my gaze away as Ash makes his way out of the room. The way the jeans are hugging his legs, the long neck and the broad shoulders. I fiddle with Winnie’s hair, suddenly unsure how to proceed with the curly strands.
“Who taught me how to braid?” I blurt out, hoping he’ll stay a little longer.
Ash smirks. “Morgan did.”
“Of course she did.”
Thinking of Ash’s friend, it makes only sense her teachings are one of the few things to transcend my amnesia. I focus on the task, interlacing back and forth until the tips.
“Oh, and your dad will be in town again this weekend,” Ash tells me.
Ah, yes. That conversation.
“My brothers too.”