Forgetting You

“I rang the hospital this morning,” he said casually. “They told me you were discharged a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah.” I licked my lips. “It’s been kind of hectic, I’ve been settling back into . . . life.”

“Are you here because you’re ready to come home?”

Christ. My heart hammered against my chest as I tried to figure out how I was going to end my marriage to him.

“Anderson,” I began, shifting in my seat. “We have a lot to talk about, but first I want to talk about Bailey. She’s gone.”

Anderson said nothing.

“You knew.”

It wasn’t a question and he knew it.

“I wanted to tell you ages ago, but your parents and Elliot were dead set against it. They didn’t want you to know, for their own selfish reasons.”

There wasn’t anything selfish about Elliot or my parents keeping Bailey’s death – or anything else – from me . . . they’d done it to protect me. I wanted honesty from Elliot, but it wasn’t something I could cope with just after my accident. I was barely holding it together now.

“I feel like everyone should have told me,” I replied, emphasising the word. “Everyone. I understand why no one did though. It’s killing me to learn about it now . . . I wouldn’t have been able to handle learning of her . . . of her death when I woke up.”

“I only got to speak to you one-on-one on two occasions,” he said. “You don’t know me like you once did, so how would you have reacted to news of Bailey’s death coming from me compared to him?”

I blinked.

“You have a point,” I said. “But either way, I didn’t know and now I do, and it’s killing me inside.”

Anderson sat forward. “I’m sure it’s distressing – in your mind you were still close to her, but the fact of the matter is you weren’t close to Bailey, or him – or anyone except me. You never spoke of them at all.”

I flinched at his words. They were so abrupt, cruel and completely unnecessary considering the topic. I had only spoken to Anderson twice before, like he said, but both of those times he’d been upset and sweet and someone who I wanted to take care of because my situation was hurting him. His coldness while talking about Bailey upset me.

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” he said. “It’s your bathroom too. Down the hallway, first door on the right.”

I got to my feet and, without my crutches, made my way out of the room and towards the bathroom. When I was inside, I locked the door. I felt sick at how dismissive he was being about her death and how I felt about it. He was my husband; he should have been comforting me, or at least understanding of how I felt. I wanted to leave but I couldn’t; I hadn’t found out anything about Bailey yet and I needed answers. I took out my phone and saw a text from Elliot that he’d sent just two minutes ago.

Everything okay?

I swallowed.

Yeah, it’s a bit awkward, but I expected that. He made me some tea and we’re talking now. I’m waiting to broach the subject about Bailey. If I don’t reply, it’s because my phone is on silent.

I sent the message, then relieved myself in the toilet before I washed my hands. I checked my phone and read Elliot’s return text.

Okay. I’ll be out here, so don’t worry.

Love you.

I pocketed my phone after I’d thumbed out my reply, and returned to the sitting room where Anderson was staring into space.

“How have you been?” I asked as I retook my seat. “Anderson?”

His eyes moved to mine. “Not great.”

I frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything,” I said. “None of this is your fault and you’re suffering because of it.”

He didn’t reply; he just took a gulp of his tea before placing the cup on another coaster on the table.

“You came here to see me?”

I blinked. “Yes.”

“Why?”

I shifted. “I wanted to ask you if you know why I was with Bailey that night? Like you said, I pushed her away and had no contact with her. Why was I with her?”

“I have no idea,” he answered with a blink. “I’ve been wondering that myself. I didn’t even know that you’d left the flat that night. There was a blackout and I went to bed early . . . I awoke to the police at my door informing me of the car accident.”

My shoulders slumped as his words sank in.

“You have no idea?”

“None.”

My gut twisted. “I was hoping you’d be able to shed some light on it . . . I can’t remember anything. I’ve had no flashbacks, no dreams of things I don’t remember. Nothing.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he said, as if things were that simple.