Yesterday he had stood on the balcony with his eyes closed.
She had only been gone three or four days, but the time had been drawn out for him, painfully. The recording of their final blazing row had not stopped replaying in his head. He could see that there was nothing left for him. It had all been blown away with the slamming of the front door.
He gripped the rail and leaned further forward. Eyes still shut, he let out a slow breath… and toppled.
The surgeon was telling her that the operation went as well as could be expected but the brain damage was extensive. In his view, it was remarkable that he had survived the fall.
“I have to tell you,” he went on, “that these cases commonly result in permanent memory loss; the patient literally has to start again as it were. The scans we have taken indicate that he will almost certainly suffer from what is known as Retrograde Amnesia; resulting in a loss of those recent memories prior to the trauma.”
He pointed the way. “Shall we?” As they walked along the corridor he said, “The police are treating it as an attempted suicide, but they’re not ruling out the possibility that it was an accident; apparently, there were no witnesses.” As they entered the ward he dropped his voice and said, “I should warn you, he may not know you. I’ll leave you to it then.” He turned and went back up the hallway.
She suddenly felt very alone and more than a little nervous. After a few paces she saw him. She went forward with the best smile she could muster.
His head turned on the pillow as she approached. “Justin, you poor thing, how are you?”
He frowned and said “Who are you?”
“Rosie. I’m Rosie your girlfriend. Don’t you remember?”
A sudden change came over him. He wriggled around and sat up straighter. With a big smile on his face, the smile she had always loved, he winked and said “I don’t think I would forget a looker like you!”
Her tears welled, as she realised that they had been given a second chance.