Page 20 of The Reaper

The neurologist wrote something on his piece of paper on his clipboard. “I’m going to recommend a programme of recovery, I’ll monitor you every day, we’ll do these games, memory tests to be sure you can pick up and retain new information. I’d like you to see the therapist every day, too. I’ll also get you a physiotherapist, we have a gym on site here, you won’t be weightlifting anytime soon but you’ll be able to exercise safelywith them. We’ll progress you onto walks outside in the yard once the physio says you are ready for it.”

He got out a board game, ‘Who wants to be a Millionaire’. He watched them play. Jack cleared the first questions easily, they laughed at some of the silly answer options that were blatantly not right. A, B, C or D. He got the £1000 prize. They moved to the higher figures, for £8000, who painted the Mona Lisa. For £16,000 which mountain range features the Twelve Apostles. For £32000 who wrote the book Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha. His general knowledge was strong, they moved onto the times tables, the doctor encouraging them to test each other. Jack knew them, too. Did he remember how to tie a shoelace? They laughed about him not having any shoes. Hannah offered up her lace up trainers, propping her leg onto his lap. He smiled at her, and flawlessly untied and tied her shoe lace. He could remember all of that.

He was then asked what he had for breakfast. What day was it? Jack struggled with this.

“All the days are the same, they all merge into one.” he said. The doctor jotted down notes. Jack was able to correctly estimate how long he’d been in the hospital, he’d been able to recite the tale of how he’d been found since the accident. The doctor laid out some playing cards and played a memory game, holding onto certain numbers and covering others, and Jack had to match the covered ones with the cards in his hand. He correctly learnt and remembered where the cards were placed.

And then they all left him to rest. But he found no rest. He ruminated on all of it. Dwelling, replaying bits of conversation, trying to figure it all out.

The other day, she had mentioned those two little words… new beginnings. That had been something, an important phrase for them.

And when he had paused on that, and thought twice about what that might mean, he’d seen the panic on her face. His suspicions had been confirmed. She was lying about something. There was something she didn’t want him to know about.

He’d given her a wink yesterday. He wanted it to say; I know something’s wrong but I trust you, for now. I’m playing along, too. He wanted to show his cards a little, show that he knew something was up. He wanted to show that he did really care for her, genuinely, and wanted to make it better, whatever this was, this thing she was afraid of, he could help, if she let him in on it.

He didn’t care that there was something else going on. For now, he didn’t care. He had felt so aroused by her. He was completely and utterly under her spell. He couldn’t think of anything else, but her, since that moment they had taken things to another level of physicality. And yes, watching her, touching her and her touching him, hearing her coming, hearing himself coming, that epic release of falling over the edge. Yes, it was bringing things back. The pornographic video rewound in his mind to them together, tangled up, tangled in clothes, removing them, then tangled in each other’s bodies. Just limbs, and feelings, heat, darkness. But he was remembering.

He almost didn't want to, yet he yearned for more. He didn’t want to remember, because this erotic haze would fade, and whatever it was, whoever he was, the reason for being beaten up and now in this hospital in the first place, would take over. For now, he just wanted to stay in this stage of hard arousal, and blissful release. Not think, not worry. Just look forward to the next time she’d visit and they could be intimate with each other. He wanted to do more, explore her more, also feel more himself, feel his enjoyment, learn what he liked. He’d liked everything they had done so far. He wasn’t ready for it to stop.

Because he had a feeling that she didn’t want him to remember, because it would stop. Whatever it was, the giantwall of lies between them, she thought it would stop them being together.

She wasn’t shy, she wasn’t a shrinking violet. That’s for sure. The thing she was hiding, it wasn’t between them, it couldn’t be anything about their relationship, it had to be something else. His suspicions had taken a back seat the last few days, and he’d just embraced how he was feeling. It didn’t feel familiar, letting go like this, following his feelings. He’d wanted to fight it, he knew he was used to ignoring his impulses, not acting on a whim. But it was Hannah, somehow, they had meant something to each other and he was prepared to follow her lead. It was helping, the more he explored the relationship with her, the more he remembered. She was good for him, the thing she was hiding from him wasn’t a lie about her feelings for him. What else could it be?

And she had trusted him, she had sunk back into his arms, into his hands, giving everything to him. She had teased him, she had artfully hooked him in and worked him into a state of near drooling over her. What lie could it be, that she is telling him? Because it all felt so right, being with her. Yes, at this stage, he didn’t care.

He wanted to let it play out. He wanted to pretend she was his for a bit longer.

CHAPTER

TWELVE

HANNAH

She lickedher lips and struggled into his hospital room, carrying a large hessian tote bag of things. She had bought him a book selection of current best sellers and some old classics. She had thrown in a few non-fiction titles too, as she had no idea what he would like. She doubted he read books to be honest that he would sit down long enough to read a book. But hopefully it was something that kept him distracted for a few more days. Distracted from being stuck in the hospital, Because he was obviously getting frustrated, but also she secretly hoped, distracted from remembering who he was, too. He had laughed and shrugged when she had asked him what kinds of books he wanted her to buy him too, As if he wasn’t really bothered but he appreciated the gesture. She had picked up some of her favourite books too, daydreaming that they could chat over who the characters were, whether we could tell the plot twists were coming. A day dream, she knew, of a future where they lived happily ever after.

Hannah poured them all out of the shopping bag, onto his bed. He was sitting up, on top of the bed sheets, off the sideof the bed, rather than in it. He must have been feeling much better.

“The Economics of Happiness?” he read off the front cover of one of the books.

Hannah blustered busily. “Yes, it was on the top ten list, I think it won an award, or was shortlisted… or something, anyway, my friend at work had mentioned it before and said it was really interesting…”

He nodded, amused, maybe charmed by her excitement. The sourness of the other day dissipated easily and quickly.

She leaned in close to the book he held in his hand and breathed in theatrically. “Smell that lovely new book smell!” she exclaimed, pleased to be sharing her love of reading with him.

He laughed, that disarming, surprising open, honest laugh that she suspected he didn’t get the chance to do often..

She picked the top one up. “Here is a good one, I’ve read this one, it’s about a cop in South Africa-”

He barked out a laugh and rolled his eyes. “You and your crime thriller dramas, honestly!”

“What?” she replied, nonplussed.

“You love a crime drama, huh?” he quipped and pulled her close in an intimate hug then, in between his legs. With him sat up, and her stood between his legs, their bodies were closer than they had ever been so far in the hospital. She was properly in his arms now, she felt his warm chest, and his heart beating in his neck. She reached out and wrapped her arms around his back, as well she tried to resist but she couldn’t grab him or grip him, pressing him closer to her.

“You love a bad boy, is that it?” He dropped his voice to a seductive murmur, and sent it right into her ear, his breath blowing the wispy bits of hair she had tucked behind it. “I used to work with dangerous people, we think, my job was a mystery… maybe I’m on the wrong side of the law, huh?”

She gulped. She tried not to freeze, she tried to stay relaxed in his arms, truth be told it was very easy. So close to his heart, pounding next to her head, his breath on her neck. It was easy to push out the fear for now.

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