Chapter 10: Chapter 10

MASON

I was in the kitchen, pouring myself another scotch. The house was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the usual noise when Penelope was around. I glanced at the kitchen island and my eyes landed on the drawings she’d made at breakfast.

A smile tugged at my lips as I picked them up. She’d been trying her hand at stick figures but hadn’t quite mastered it yet. Still, I could make out three figures, the smallest one in the middle. I figured that was her.

I often found myself wondering about the impact we had on her life. The way she had grown in the past four years, without me, without Jamie. Jamie was back now, but Penelope didn’t remember us. She didn’t remember having a mother.

What kind of effect would that have on a child?

As I stood there, lost in thought, I heard the distinct sound of a door creaking open and then closing. Shortly after, the clicking of Jamie’s wheelchair wheels against the hardwood floor echoed through the house as she made her way toward the kitchen.

She’d told me she wasn’t feeling well and was going to bed when we got home. I hadn’t expected to see her again tonight.

“You said you were going to bed,” I said, surprised.

“I changed my mind,” Jamie replied, her gaze landing on the bottle of scotch on the counter.

“Can I have some of that?” she asked, eyeing the amber liquid.

She knew she wasn’t supposed to.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You don’t know how it will affect you,” I responded.

“I don’t care,” she retorted, and I let out a sigh of frustration. “You know I’m not completely helpless. I can get it myself.”

With that, she pushed herself up from her wheelchair and started moving toward the counter.

This wasn’t going to end well.

“Jamie, sit down,” I said, my tone calm but firm. I moved around the counter and gently took her arm.

“No, Mason,” she replied, shrugging my hand off.

She continued her slow journey toward the counter, determined to get the alcohol herself.

Her leg gave out and I caught her just in time.

“I’ve got you,” I said, lifting her with ease.

I carried her to a stool and gently set her down. She didn’t say a word.

She knew her limits, especially after a physio session. But she was hell-bent on proving a point.

Jamie reached for the scotch and my glass. I watched in frustration as she poured herself a drink, ignoring my advice. She was in no mood to be told what to do.

She took a sip, grimacing at the strength of the scotch, then set the glass down.

“Do you feel better now?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Jamie shook her head and poured another. I rubbed my forehead, frustration mounting.

Was she trying to be funny? She was pushing her limits.

Jamie reached for the bottle again, but I was quicker. I snatched it from her hands.

“You’ve had enough,” I said firmly.

“Why do you get to decide?” she shot back.

“I should be able to decide when I’ve had enough. I should be able to make my own decisions.”

“Not this one,” I replied, taking the bottle and glass to the sink.

She watched me in silence, her expression unreadable.

I filled a glass with water and handed it to her.

“You should drink some water,” I suggested. The alcohol was clearly affecting her.

She took the glass and stared at it.

“I feel so out of place,” she admitted. “Like my life isn’t mine. Nothing is how I remember it, Mason.”

“Because it isn’t,” I said gently.

“You don’t remember anything before the accident, but this is your life now. You have to give it time.”

I wasn’t sure I believed my own words. Nothing was ever simple with Jamie. Nothing ever came easy. If she ever regained her memories, it would be nothing short of a miracle.

Jamie let out a sigh, her shoulders dropping in defeat.

“I heard you talking to your dad tonight,” she confessed. “I know it’s a lot, you taking care of me. You don’t have to do it anymore. I know you think I’m your responsibility…but I’m not,” she added.

“You are,” I responded, my voice steady and sure.

“But why?” she asked, her gaze lifting from the untouched glass of water. “You don’t owe me anything. I don’t even remember you, Mason. I don’t remember us.”

Her words hung in the air, each one a sharp sting to my heart. The guilt and frustration I felt were suffocating. I never meant for her to feel like a burden, like a helpless child needing constant care.

“You take care of me every single day and I hate it,” she continued, her voice shaking. “I can’t do anything for myself. I can’t even take care of my daughter.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked away.

I let out a slow breath, trying to steady my racing heart. Her words had cut deep, revealing the vulnerability beneath her tough exterior. I wanted to yell, to make her understand how much I loved her. But I knew that would only make things worse.

Jamie wiped her tears with her sweater sleeve.

“I see the way you look at me, Mason,” she whispered. “Like I’m helpless, someone you have to take care of because you feel responsible.”

Her words sliced through me, fueling a burning anger within me. The thought of her believing I saw her as a burden, a helpless child needing constant care, made my blood boil. How could she accuse me of such indifference, of treating her with anything less than the love and adoration she deserved?

I wanted to shout my denials, to prove to her that her perception was as flawed as her memory. But I knew that such an outburst would only fuel her insecurities.

My hands balled into fists, my knuckles turning white as I fought to contain the surge of emotion threatening to spill over. I wanted to shake her, to make her see through the fog of her amnesia and realize how much I loved her.

I had been patient, understanding, and supportive, doing everything I could to help her navigate the confusing maze of her memory loss. Yet, she still saw me as a stranger, an indifferent caretaker rather than the man who changed his life for her.

I shook my head in annoyance.

“You’re being ridiculous,” I said.

“I’m not,” she shot back, her eyes flashing with defiance. “I don’t remember our relationship…but you do. You remember everything, our first date, the way you felt about me. But you don’t treat me like someone you should love. You didn’t even compliment me tonight, I changed my hair, I dressed up. You didn’t even look at me.”

“What the hell do you want from me, Jamie?” I spat, barely containing my anger. “I’ve been nothing but patient and understanding, trying to help you through this mess, but you treat me like I’m the enemy. You act like I’m some kind of stranger who’s out to hurt you.”

I took a step closer, my voice rising with each word. “You pushed me away when I tried to kiss you. I’m respecting your need for space as much as I can, but you still hate me being here. If anyone is treated like a burden it’s me.”

Jamie’s face turned red with anger, her eyes blazing. “You’re so predictable,” she spat venomously. “This is so the Mason Knight that I remember.”

There were things I wanted to say, but maybe it was better for both of us if I kept quiet. I’d already said too much. What she remembers of me from years ago isn’t who I am now.

I was at my worst back then. She doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know that it took years for me to come back from it.

I stared at her, my eyes filled with anger and despair.

“Fuck this,” I muttered, turning away.

I was livid. I needed to get away from her before I said something I’d regret. I stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, the creak of the floorboards echoing in the silent house.

Jamie didn’t call out to me, didn’t try to stop me. She just sat there, her silence as deafening as any argument.

I halted at the stairway’s peak, my fury gradually ebbing away. I couldn’t just abandon her in this state. I spun on my heel and retraced my steps back down the stairs.

Jamie was still perched at the counter, deep in thought. I approached her gently, striving to keep my voice steady. “You should head to bed. It’s getting late. Let me assist you to the chair.”

Her gaze remained fixed on the countertop, unresponsive. I let out a sigh. “Come on, Jamie. I don’t want to fight with you over this. I’m exhausted.”

After a brief pause, she swiveled to face me. I think she realized arguing with me was futile. I hoisted her off the stool, my arms awkwardly wrapped around her back and beneath her knees. We both remained silent, the tension between us tangible.

***

The next morning, I woke up, my mind still spinning from the previous night’s events. The spat with Jamie had left a sour taste in my mouth. The woman I once knew, the woman I loved, felt like a stranger.

Could I still love her the way I used to? The question pounded in my head, unyielding and intrusive.

I found myself questioning our relationship…something I never thought I’d be doing all those months ago when she woke up. I had envisioned things would be different between us…challenging at times, sure. But I had hoped we would find a new normal.

Maybe that wasn’t feasible.

To her, I was the enemy… At least that was how she behaved last night. Jamie had her own views of me, despite my best efforts in this mess.

The familiar coolness of the silver watch on my wrist grounded me momentarily amidst the whirlwind of emotions within. But then, my eyes caught sight of the black box hidden in the corner of the drawer. It had been there since the accident, a constant reminder of the future that was snatched away from me.

I had proposed to her back then. In fact, the last thing she did before the accident was agree to marry me. She wanted it… She wanted that life.

Now, this was what we had, silent meals and separate bedrooms.

I spotted Jamie in the living area as I descended the stairs. She was wrapping up a physio session with Adam.

“You’re impressing me, Jamie,” Adam said, his words filled with encouragement as he guided her across the living area. “You’re determined today.”

Determined. Yes, that was her. Determined to reclaim what the accident had taken, determined to reconstruct a life that bore no resemblance to the one we’d dreamed of together. But where did that leave me?

With his support, she continued her journey across the room. She was doing it. It seemed like last night’s disagreement had spurred Jamie to make progress so she wouldn’t need my help anymore.

“That’s it, you did it. How do you feel?” he asked.

“Tired,” she replied, with a chuckle.

“I bet. You should be proud though. You did good today. Let’s get you sitting down.” As he guided Jamie toward the living room armchair, Adam glanced in my direction. “Did you catch that, Mason?”

“I saw,” I responded, heading toward the kitchen. I started the espresso machine while they chatted in the living area about how the session went.

I overheard Adam discussing future goals. At least he’s doing what I’m paying him for. I hadn’t seen much progress in her until today. I was beginning to doubt his capabilities and her efforts.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Adam said as he slung his gym bag over his shoulder and headed toward the front door.

We were alone again. Jamie glanced in my direction without uttering a word. It was evident how uneasy we both felt around each other after last night.

I have things I want to say to her. Maybe it’s time I let it all out. Instead of making the coffee I desperately needed, I walked toward the living area, my hands tucked into my trouser pockets.

“Did you eat?” I asked, trying to initiate a conversation. I needed to gauge her mood before delving into heavier topics.

“No, I wasn’t that hungry,” Jamie replied, barely audible.

“Rita isn’t in today, but I can whip up something for you,” I offered. “I remember banana pancakes being your favorite.”

Jamie may not remember this, but I used to make them for her on mornings when it was just the two of us, although those were few and far between.

“I’m okay, thanks. I don’t like to eat too soon after my sessions,” she said, dismissing my offer.

Jamie wasn’t giving me much to work with. I let out a sigh, feeling the frustration bubble up inside me. “Jamie, we need to talk about last night,” I said. “We can’t keep avoiding things like we’ve been doing for months.”

She stayed silent, her eyes glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry…,” she started. “I was upset and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair. I heard your conversation with your dad last night. I know this is hard for you too…”

I sighed again. I had suspected she was listening in. That knowledge hung in the air between us, a tense thread in the fabric of our strained relationship.

“It’s not hard,” I lied, letting out a slow breath. “Things just aren’t moving as quickly as I’d hoped…”

“You mean with my physio?” Jamie cut in, misunderstanding my meaning.

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about,” I said, trying to keep my patience. “Of course I want you to get better. But it’s more than that. You don’t remember me, Jamie. Every time I try to get close, you push me away. You still see me as the guy I was when you first started working for my dad.”

“That’s all I remember,” she said, her tone flat. “I don’t know you like you know me.”

“I’ve spent months trying to show you that I’ve changed,” I argued. “I’ve been raising our child, taking care of you. How can you think I’m doing all this out of obligation?”

Frustrated, I got up from the couch and walked over to the fireplace.

“I don’t know, Mason,” she admitted. I noticed her voice was shaking. “Maybe it’s because I feel like I’m being treated like a child by a man I barely know. Everything is so complicated.”

I turned to look at Jamie, sitting on the armchair. Her head was tilted back, her eyes staring at the ceiling.

She was right. Everything was a mess. We needed a break from all of this. I thought about my Aunt Barbara’s crazy offer from last night. It didn’t seem so crazy now.

I didn’t want to leave. I had responsibilities here. But I needed to show Jamie that I wasn’t the man she barely remembered…and that fixing us was my top priority.

“Let’s get away for a bit,” I suggested. “Napa… My Aunt has a place there. We’ve been there before. I think we need a break…and it would be good for Penelope.”

Jamie hesitated. “I don’t know, Mason. What about my dad? He’s not doing well. I’m scared to leave him alone for too long. I feel like I’d be abandoning him.”

“Your brother can look after him,” I reassured her.

“But what about my physio?” she asked, worry creeping into her expression. “I’ve just started making progress. I don’t want to lose that by not seeing Adam.”

“I’ll find someone nearby,” I promised, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “We can leave whenever you want. No questions asked. Say yes, Jamie. We need this.”

She wasn’t as easily persuaded as she used to be. Couldn’t she see that we needed this too? Even my dad could see it.

Jamie looked down at her hands, her freshly painted nails, her bare fingers. Sometimes I wondered if things would be different if she had all her memories. Would we be married by now? It was something I’d never know.

She looked up at me, her face unreadable. I could see her mind working, weighing the options. Finally, she nodded.

“Okay, Mason,” she said. “I’ll go with you.”