Chapter 24
When I see the red truck, it’s too late.
It’s a rather small one and they seem in a hurry, just as we are.
Possibly just as careless. It speeds up at the crossroads, ignores the stop sign, doesn’t check right nor left.
The truck sprints on, surely there is enough space, enough speed, enough time.
There is not. I’m still looking sideways at Ford, smiling gently at something he’s said.
His left hand is still on my thigh, caressing the flesh sweetly.
He doesn’t see the truck. The truck doesn’t see our car, either.
When I notice, it’s too late. The impact cannot be avoided and is loud on the street.
I scream as the front windscreen smashes into a million little pieces and the metal of the car crumples with a piercing rumble. Ford slams on the brakes and I feel my body bouncing forward before the seat belt abruptly yanks me back. My neck hurts but I try to turn towards Ford anyway.
When I do, I see it. The front of the truck is pivoting from the speed and, in slow motion, I watch the back of the red truck crash against the side of our car at full speed.
As I struggle to keep my eyes open, I see Ford’s terror, his mouth twisted in shock and the frozen, empty glare.
The airbag explodes in my face and the weight of the truck pushes the car further in the middle of the road.
Coming from the opposite direction, a car hits us.
Trapped, I can’t reach out to Ford. Behind us, another car brakes too late, pushes into both vehicles, cracking my neck once more.
I want to turn back. I want to open my eyes, but they feel stuck together.
I’m tired. The image of Ford’s lifeless expression flashes in my mind, and I need to open my eyes, check on Ford, make sure that he’s breathing, alive.
Did the airbag open for him too? He wasn’t even supposed to drive today. And now he might be dying.
But my eyelids close and I can’t bring myself to open them again.
???
Two weeks after the accident, Ford wakes up without recollection of how we got together.
I feel like dying. I keep telling myself that I should be glad he woke up, I should be glad that he’s alive. It sounds meaningless.
When he finds out that we are a couple he’s incredibly calm.
A nurse uses the word ‘partner’ and I hate that stupid word.
‘Partner’ doesn’t even begin to describe what Ford means to me.
Sure, he’s my boyfriend. He’s supposed to be my fiancé.
But of course, it’s another detail that’s slipped his mind.
I didn’t have the chance to use that word once before he lost all of his memories of us.
I’m glad I haven’t told anyone about the proposal. I’m almost glad we never made it to Greg’s house, glad Ford didn’t manage to tell him that he said yes. It makes me sick to my stomach, but I have to keep it together.
At home, Winnie asks about her dad the entire time.
She wakes up and she asks for ‘Da,’ she goes to sleep and cries because Dad is not singing to her.
I try to tell her that Dad is at the hospital, that he’s getting better and will be back soon.
It’s a lie. How do you tell a toddler that her dad might never come home to her?
The first two weeks, while Ford is in a coma, I’m on autopilot, going from task to task without my brain comprehending what I’m doing, where I’m going.
Ford’s father Greg moves in to help me with Winnie and my twin brothers Martin and Edwin visit as much as they can.
They still live in my hometown but it’s a short drive to Sheffield, and they promise me they don’t mind, they have nothing else going on.
I suspect it’s their way of asking for forgiveness for all the years they behaved like Daddy, all the years they made me feel like an only child in spite of having three brothers.
Erik doesn’t come as often but I don’t blame him.
His girlfriend Teddy got pregnant last winter and is due soon, and both are still adjusting to the idea of having twins.
Our neighbour has been helping as well. Her daughter Pippa and Winnie are best friends, and Winnie has been spending time with them while I’m at the hospital.
When Ford wakes from the coma, I have no idea how I settled all of his matters. His family, our family, his work, his friends. I take it one day at a time.
I contact his workplace and his colleagues are all extremely worried and supportive, sending flowers and regards. The adoption order is on standby and our social worker Sadaf tells me that even without Ford’s aid, she is confident Winnie is in good hands.
I call Ford’s mother and Ford’s friend Vicky, and everyone else I can think of. With more or less words I tell everyone what happened, where and when they can visit him.
Telling people also helps me come to terms with what is happening: Ford has no idea how we got together.
He has no idea why he’s now in love with me and a part of me fears that this is for good—I had my chance with him and it’s now gone.
It was too good to be true, anyway. A man like Ashley Bergman could only get that much happiness.
Telling my friends about Ford is more daunting.
As the weeks go by and Ford doesn’t remember, I can’t deny the reality of the situation anymore.
But every time I pause, every time I take a break or try to take a breath, I see Ford’s pale face and empty eyes and I’m reminded that he almost died.
He almost left me. And I get restless. I think about how useless and helpless I was in the face of disaster.
I think about Winnie back at home, unknowing of her dads getting in a deadly accident and almost leaving her.
It makes me cry.
So I spend as little time alone as possible, giving myself something to do at all times. I do university work, I read books, I do laundry.
But the more Ford regains his mobility and starts looking more like his previous self, the more paralysed I feel.
I can’t sleep, can’t read, can’t string words together that make sense for my work.
I can’t eat, can’t feel, can’t stop smoking.
The more I remind myself that I need to keep going, the more lost I am.
I need to take care, not be taken care of.
And when the doctors tell Ford that he can come home, I lose it. I dream of Ford and his heart is not beating anymore. I know it’s only a dream but I can’t wake up and I can’t help him. When I do wake up, I call Sydney.
“I know you are busy, but can you please-”
Sydney sounds alert and ready and he doesn’t let me finish. “I’ll be over in two hours. Bringing the children so Winnie has company.”
When Sydney gets to my house, I have breakfast ready for him and the kids. I tell him everything over butter and jam, although I’m sure the small town gossip has already worked its magic. He listens anyway, patient and open. “I actually was wondering why you didn’t call earlier, Ash.”
“Don’t know. I couldn’t, I don’t know. This is really messed up.”
After breakfast we leave Winnie to play with Sydney’s sons in the living-room and Sydney and I sit outside, on the patio.
“We were discussing that day. In the car,” I tell Sydney.
“Well, it wasn’t a real discussion. More like teasing, I think.
I was making fun of Ford for the way he drives, too slowly.
We were late, actually. We were going to Greg’s house to tell him-” I pause and finally, for the first time, I tell someone.
“We wanted to tell him that we got engaged.”
Sydney holds his breath and I know he can’t wait to tell Darshi. I suspect they’ve always had a bet going on.
“I was supposed to drive. But my hands were shaking and Ford said he didn’t mind the drive and then… then I went and teased him. We didn’t even make it out of Sheffield, Syd.”
“You can’t blame yourself forever, man. It was an accident, it happens, you’re both fine.”
I snap at that. “We’re fine? You think we’re fine?
” I bark. And everything I’ve carefully kept in, comes out.
“I fucking lay in bed every night, and can’t sleep.
I see him all the fucking time. I see death on his face, I hear glass shattering, metal clanging.
And his body is shaking furiously one second, laying perfectly still the next.
” I pause, the words hazy and I’m whimpering.
“I’m in my bed and I feel the fucking cars bumping into ours and I’m trapped in my seat and it’s all my fault-”
Sydney hugs me tightly, rocking my body steadily back and forth. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”
“I’m not fucking okay. And Ford? Ford is not fine.
” I can’t stop the tears from falling, my body from jittering.
“He has no idea how he ended up with me and with a child, he probably doesn’t even care about Winnie anymore.
I’m in this big old mess because I let him drive that day, I should have been the one driving.
It should have been me, me forgetting about him, me dying in there.
It’s been almost a month and no doctor has answers, nobody knows why this is happening. All I know is I wish it had been me.”
Sydney wipes my tears with the edge of his shirt. “You don’t mean that.”
“But I do. Fuck, I’ve known him my whole life. I wish I didn’t. I wish I’d known what it feels to live without him so that if he chooses to leave, if he never remembers, I would know how to survive.”
I let it all out, because once Sydney leaves, I need to push it all back in. I need to be an adult, be responsible for not only myself but for Winnie too.
Sydney stays the entire day and in the evening, Darshi joins as well. She hugs me and makes dinner and when it gets dark and it’s time to leave, she takes Sydney to the side. I hate this, hate being the one they need to care for. I’ve always hated being the child around them.