“Eric!” Nicole's eyes light up. “Very nice to meet you, Eric.” “It's a pleasure.” Eric nods at her. “I'm eternally grateful to you for looking after my wife.”
Wife. My stomach flips over at the word. I'm his wife. This is all so grown-?up. I bet we have a mortgage, too. And a burglar alarm. “My pleasure.” Nicole gives him a professional smile. “Lexi's a great patient.” She wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm and turns to face me. “I'll just pump this u p . . . .” “He's gorgeous!” she mouths, giving me a surreptitious thumbs-?up, and I can't help beaming back. It's true. My husband is officially gorgeous. I've never even had a date with anyone in his league before. Let alone get married to them. Let alone go and eat croissants in the George V hotel. “I'd very much like to make a donation to the hospital,” Eric says to Nicole, his deep, actory voice filling the room. “If you have any special appeal or fund...” “That would be wonderful!” exclaims Nicole. “We've got an appeal right now for a new scanner.” “Maybe I could run the marathon for it?” he suggests. “I run every year for a different cause.” I'm nearly bursting with pride. None of my other boy 65 friends has ever run the marathon. Loser Dave could barely make it from the sofa to the TV. “Well!” says Nicole, raising her eyebrows as she lets the blood pressure cuff deflate. “It's a real pleasure to meet you, Eric. Lexi, your pressure looks fine...” She writes something on my notes. “Is that your lunch there?” she adds, noticing the untouched tray. “Oh yes. I forgot all about it.” “You must eat. And I'm going to ask everyone not to stay too much longer.” She turns to Mum and Amy. “I know you want to spend time with Lexi, but she's still fragile. She needs to take it easy.“ ”I'll do whatever it takes.“ Eric clasps my hand. ”I just want my wife well again.”
Mum and Amy start to gather their thingsbut he stays put. “I'd like a few moments, just the two of us,” he says. “If that's okay, Lexi?”
“Oh,” I say with a dart of apprehension. “Er... fine!” Mum and Amy both come over to hug me good-?bye, and Mum makes another quick attempt to straighten my hair. Then the door closes behind them and I'm left alone with Eric, in a still, strange silence. “So,” Eric says at last. “So. This i s . . . weird.” I attempt a little laugh, which immediately peters out to nothing. Eric is gazing at me, his brow furrowed. “Have the doctors said whether you'll ever retrieve your memories?” “They think I will. But they don't know when.” Eric gets up and strides to the window, appearing lost in thought. “So it's a waiting game,” he says at last. “Is there anything I can do to speed the process?” 66 “I don't know,” I say helplessly. “Maybe you could tell me some more about us and our relationship?” “Absolutely. Good idea.” He turns, his frame silhouetted against the window. “What do you want to know about? Ask me anything at all.” “Well... where do we live?” “We live in Kensington in a loft-?style apartment.” He proclaims the words as though they're capitalized. “That's my business. Loft-?style living.” As he says the phrase loftstyle living he makes a sweeping, parallel-?hands gesture, as though he's moving bricks along a conveyor belt. Wow. We live in Kensington! I cast around for another question to ask, but it all seems so arbitrary, like I'm padding out time in an interview. “What sort of things do we do together?” I say eventually. “We eat fine food, we watch movies... We went to the ballet last week. Had dinner at The Ivy afterward.“ ”The Ivy?” I can't help gasping. I've been to dinner at The Ivy? Why can't I remember any of this? I shut my eyes tightly, trying to mentally kick-?start my brain into action. But... nothing.
At last I open my eyes again, feeling a bit dizzy, to see Eric has noticed the rings on the cabinet. “That's your wedding ring, isn't it?” He looks up, puzzled. “Why is it here?” “They took it off for the scans,” I explain. “Shall I?” He picks up the ring and takes hold of my left hand. I feel a sudden prickle of alarm. “ I . . . u m . . . n o . . . ” Before I can stop myself I yank my hand away and Eric flinches. “I'm sorry,” I say after an awkward pause. “I'm really sorry. I just... you're a stranger.” “Of course.” Eric has turned away, still holding the ring. “Of course. Stupid of me.” Oh God, he looks really hurt. I shouldn't have said “stranger.” I should have said “friend I haven't met yet.” “I'm really sorry, Eric.'' I bite my lip. ”I do want to know you and... love you and everything. You must be a really wonderful person or I wouldn't have married you. And you look really good,“ I add encouragingly. ”I wasn't expecting anyone nearly so handsome. I mean, my last boyfriend wasn't a patch on you.“ I look up to see Eric staring at me. ”It's strange,“ he says at last. ”You're not yourself. The doctors warned me, but I didn't realize it would be s o . .. extreme.“ For a moment he looks almost overcome, then his shoulders straighten. ”Anyway, we'll get you right again. I know we will.“ He carefully puts the ring back on the cabinet, sits down on the bed, and takes my hand. ”And just so you know, Lexi... I love you.“ ”Really?“ I beam delightedly before I can stop myself. ”I mean... fab. Thanks very much!“ None of my boyfriends has ever said ”I love you" like thati.e., properly, in the middle of the day, like a grownup and not just pissed or while having sex. I have to reciprocate. What shall I say? I love you too. No.
