Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Ava
His voice is the same. The way he walks and sips his coffee. His dark hair with that cowlick on the left. All of those things tell me he’s Trevor.
Except he’s not.
The man sitting on the plane next to me is not my husband. He’s distant. Peculiar. Argumentative at times. He’s wearing a T-shirt, something he would rarely be caught in outside of when he exercised. And he has facial hair—something he was vehemently opposed to before.
Before.
For the past two days, everything has been classified as before or after.
Before his accident, he looked at me with love and adoration. After, he looks at me like I could be anyone on the street.
Before his accident, he was this confident, larger-than-life doctor who took the bull by the horns and commanded every room he walked into. After, he’s hesitant, unsure of himself.
Before, we were Trevor and Ava.
After, we might as well be two strangers, because I don’t even know how to talk to him.
I thought reminding him about our past would be something he wanted me to do, but every time I’d bring up what should be a good memory, he would just gaze out the hospital room window and my heart broke a little more.
I cried for hours in Dawn’s arms last night.
Two torturous days in a room with a man who doesn’t even seem to be trying to remember brought most of my remaining hope crumbling down around me.
I know it’s not his fault. That he has no control over the situation.
But I thought he’d at least be interested in hearing about our past. His childhood. Our town. Me.
It’s strange sitting next to the man I’ve loved for over two decades and not being able to find anything to talk about.
“It must be kind of exciting in a way,” I say, trying to break the tension. “You’re doing everything for the first time. Like now, being on a plane.”
“I was on a plane three days ago.”
“Right. But there are other things.” I chuckle. “There are about a hundred books I wish I could go back and read for the first time. Maybe we should plan some things like that. You know, fun things you’ve done but don’t remember so they’ll be brand new experiences.”
He turns away from the window. “You think this is funny?”
“No. Of course not. I’m just saying if you wanted to experience something for the first time… I’m sorry.” I sigh, mentally smacking myself in the forehead. “It was a stupid idea.”
His eyes narrow. “For arguments sake, what exactly did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know. You used to love roller coasters.
We went snow skiing once, and you really took to it, although the doctors might take issue with either of those.
Maybe riding in a hot air balloon. Oh, you really really like chocolate, especially Snickers bars.
We should pick one up at the airport when we land.
You have an unnatural appreciation of sushi, we should get some of that.
For dinner maybe? I could take you for a walk on one of the trails. ”
When I pause to think of more, he cocks his head and asks, “I rode in a hot air balloon?”
“We both did. On our honeymoon.”
I have the pictures to prove it, so I scroll through my phone and find them, hoping this will be the one thing that triggers everything.
“Hmm,” he mumbles when he sees one, then he immediately passes the phone back to me.
I might as well have shown him a billboard ad for a political campaign.
Tears prickle my eyes. How can he not remember our honeymoon?
Dawn’s hand touches my arm. She doesn’t seem nearly as broken up as I am about Trevor’s condition. Sometimes I want to yell at her and Chuck. Ask if they even care that the man who was their son might as well have died…
Because this man is not him.
I still haven’t told them about the baby.
It almost slipped out during my breakdown at the hotel last night.
I’m not even sure why I’m still keeping it a secret.
But now that Trevor is back, he deserves to know before anyone else.
I just have to pick the right time. Maybe after he’s settled in back at home. Hopefully after his memory returns.
In between their shifts at the hospital, his parents spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours making arrangements for his homecoming.
Dawn is making last-minute calls and texts on the train from JFK to Calloway Creek, as Chuck discusses the coffee shop with Trevor, who barely pays attention to his dad as he gazes out the window.
I watch them with a sense of dread, trying to keep upbeat, but scared of what comes next.
As we approach our stop, I find it hard not to feel angry.
This is not at all the homecoming I’d been anticipating for years.
It’s being tarnished by his injuries. Then the guilt creeps in.
Because he’s alive. And he’s home. But this feeling of uncertainty over our future is overshadowing what should be such a joyful occasion.
“What happens now?” Trevor asks as we exit the train.
Dawn shrugs. “Now we do what the doctor said and try to get you back into a routine.” She cracks a smile at Chuck. “But before we drop you at your apartment, we have one stop to make. You’re not too tired are you? Does your head hurt?”
“I’ve been in bed for three weeks straight,” Trevor says. “I’m tired of resting. So go ahead and run your errand.”
Errand. It’s no errand. Dawn insisted days ago that we surprise Trevor with a grand homecoming at their house—his childhood home. She invited everyone who could be familiar to him, hoping to jolt his memory.
Their street is lined with cars on either side of the driveway. Chuck pulls up in front of the garage and turns to Trevor in the front seat. “Does this look familiar?”
“Should it?”
Dawn sighs and leans in to touch Trev’s shoulder. “This is our house. We live here during the summer months when it’s too hot down south. You grew up here, Trevor.”
“Oh.”
Two men approach the car, neither of them familiar.
“Trevor Criss?” one says loudly. “How does it feel to come back from the dead?”
“Reporters,” Chuck says snidely. “I’ll handle this.”
He exits the car, waving his arms around and poking one of them in the chest as he has some very strong words to say to them about privacy and police and trespassing.
The two men move to the curb, but continue to fire questions at Trevor when he exits the car.
We ignore them and head to the front door.
“We should have anticipated this,” Dawn says, clearly irritated. “It’s been all over the news. I wonder how long they’ve been camped out here.”
“Who knows.” Chuck looks back over his shoulder, glaring at the reporters, then turns his attention to Trevor. “You don’t have to talk to them. Not now, not ever.”
Trevor laughs sadly. “Wouldn’t know what to say if I did.”
“The truth would just set them on a feeding frenzy,” I add.
Chuck nods. “You’re not wrong. We should all keep this amnesia thing to ourselves.”
Dawn eyes the front door. “That may not be easy considering what we’ve done here.”
My shoulders slump. I was against this whole homecoming party idea from the start. How is that easing him back into his life? It’s more like throwing him in the deep end when he doesn’t even know how to swim. And then adding sharks to the water.
“What are you talking about?” Trevor asks.
“Come on. You’ll see.” Chuck unlocks the front door and holds out his arm for us to walk through.
Trevor looks at the street and the several cars lining the road. He shakes his head as if he’s all too aware of what’s coming.
As if by instinct, I reach out and take his hand. It’s something we’ve always done. Even after all these years, we hold hands like a newly minted couple, especially when things seem emotionally charged.
His hand jerks at first, then a burst of air blasts from his lungs.
His hand relaxes in mine, and my heart lurches, hope inching its way in.
Has he just remembered who I am to him? But the hope is short-lived, because while the tension is no longer there, he’s most certainly not holding my hand. More like he’s allowing me to hold his.
And another arrow pierces my heart.
A few more steps in and we reach the living room.
Several dozen people are standing and waiting.
Nobody yells ‘surprise.’ Everyone just looks at us and then at each other, all waiting for someone to make the first move.
They’ve all been told about Trevor’s condition. I guess nobody knows what to do.
Carter Cruz is the first to approach. He walks right up to Trevor, hand extended.
“Trevor. I’m Carter Cruz. I guess you could say we’re best friends.
Have been for quite some time.” Carter’s eyes go to Trevor’s casted arm, and he chuckles.
“Ah, handshakes are for wimps, get in here man.” He leans in and puts his arms around Trevor, who hesitantly pats him on the back.
I stay by his side as others pile behind and around Trevor, all introducing themselves and hugging him one after the other.
Patrick pats him on the shoulder. “We went through paramedic training together.”
Trevor’s eyes widen. “I was a paramedic?”
“For two years after college. It’s the bug that bit you and started your love of medicine.”
Trevor shakes his head. It has to be all kinds of crazy to hear about your life from virtual strangers.
“Patrick is Captain Kelsey now,” I tell him. “He runs one of the Calloway Creek fire houses.”
“Oh.”
That word. It’s Trevor’s way of acknowledging everything we say. It kills me every time he says it. Because what I really think it means is that nothing we’re telling him means anything to him.
Hudson McQuaid takes his turn. “I’m a physician as well,” he says.
“Hudson is an OB/GYN,” I say. “Well, not mine, because that would be way too weird.”
I stiffen because I just realized I will have to visit my doctor, and soon.
Several people around us laugh. But not Trevor.
“Oh,” is all he says.