Page 146 of When Ben Loved Jace
Not much happens over the next three days. Jace is kept sedated. A never-ending parade of nurses and doctors come to check on him. I’m always at his bedside, often joined by familyand friends. We’re all anxious to see him reach the next stage of his recovery, especially when they begin weaning him off the sedatives. I miss my man. I need him back.
“Am I in the hospital?” he asks me late one night.
I’m instantly alert, since it’s the most coherent sentence Jace has spoken yet. Until now, we’ve only gotten mumbled snippets and random words. “Hey there!” I say, taking his hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Kind of weird.” Jace smacks his lips. I help him sip water from a straw.
“You’re on a lot of meds,” I say while he drinks. “That’s probably why you’re feeling a little off.”
“What am I doing here?”
“You don’t remember?”
He shakes his head.
My stomach sinks. I’ve read about this possibility.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Sitting at the table with you,” he says after a long pause. “And the worst headache of my life.”
“Anything else?”
“No. What happened?”
I explain it all, drawing on my newfound acting skills to force myself to sound upbeat. “You’re going to be fine. The doctors want you to rest up. Then we can go home.”
We talk a little longer. I’m assuring him that Samson is fine and looking forward to seeing him again when Jace nods off. He doesn’t wake up again until late the next morning.
He glances to locate me. “Where am I?”
“At the hospital,” I tell him, my mouth dry.
“How come?”
I patiently explain it all again, waiting for any sign of him to remember as I do so, but he simply listens carefully, as if he’s never heard the story before. Over the next few days, we have the same conversation again and again. The doctors inform me this is normal, and that his short-term memory will likely recover, but the situation is difficult to deal with at times. Like when Michelle is visiting on day six.
“I explained everything to Jason,” she tells him. “He says hi and that he hopes you feel better soon.”
Jace peers at her. “Who?”
“Jason,” she repeats. “Your foster care kid. Remember?”
He nods, even though his expression remains confused. “You found one for us?”
Michelle places a hand over her mouth.
I can see the distress on my husband’s face. His recent memories are a mess, but the old ones remain intact. Jace is still the man he used to be, and that means he doesn’t like upsetting the people he loves. His sister especially.
“You remember,” I say, pulling out my phone to show him a photo he took during the concert.
Jace has an arm around each of us, Jason grinning from ear to ear. I look impossibly happy. “Jason is going to come stay with us once you’re better,” I say, despite not knowing if that’s true. I haven’t given the subject much thought. All of my attention has been needed elsewhere.
“Right,” Jace says. “Of course.”
Michelle leans forward. “You remember now?”
“Yeah. He plays the guitar.”
