Chapter 5: Chapter 5

MASON

The kitchen was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the soft clinking of silverware against a plate. My dad was engrossed in making Penelope’s lunch, carefully arranging her favorite foods—fruits, cheese, and crackers—on her plate. He seemed completely unaware of the internal storm brewing within me.

His tendency to spoil Penelope, to cater to her every whim, always rubbed me the wrong way. I was afraid she’d grow up expecting the world to bend to her will, a sense of entitlement I was determined she wouldn’t develop. But maybe I was worrying prematurely.

Penelope was still so young, so innocent.

“When are you picking her up?” he asked, his eyes still focused on the plate.

I hesitated, my thoughts racing. Should I open up to him? Share my fears and anxieties? But the words got stuck in my throat, a lump forming as I grappled with the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

“She gets discharged in an hour,” I finally managed to say.

My dad paused, his brow creasing as he turned to look at me. “You seem nervous. Are you?” His eyes held a knowing look.

I hesitated again, struggling to put my feelings into words. “I don’t know what to feel,” I confessed. “I should be happy that she’s coming home. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. But things are more complicated than I anticipated.”

“Because of the memory loss,” my dad stated.

“Because she can’t stand to be around me,” I corrected him, being more honest than I intended.

“That’s not true,” my dad insisted reassuringly. But how could he possibly understand? He’d never felt the sting of a broken relationship, the pain of lost love, the fear of an uncertain future.

“It is true,” I shot back. “Jamie might not say it, but I can see it in her eyes. Every time I look at her, I see fear, confusion, distance. She only remembers the worst parts of me, and why wouldn’t she? That’s all she’s ever known. I changed for her, I gave up everything, but she doesn’t remember.”

My dad sighed. “You’ve both been through a lot, Mason. You’re not the same couple you were. Things have changed, and it’s going to feel strange for a while.”

Strange? That didn’t even begin to cover it. I wanted to go back to how things were, to be the couple we used to be. But to her, I was just Mr. Knight, the man who grilled her from dawn to dusk in that office. The man who shamelessly flirted with every woman he saw.

“Jamie will get her memories back,” my dad assured me. “It’s going to take time, Mason. We just have to be patient and do everything we can to help her.”

“You don’t know that,” I argued. “None of us do.”

“Have a little faith, Mason,” he urged. But his words offered little comfort. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the uncertain future that lay ahead.

“Have a little faith,” Penelope echoed, her voice bright and cheerful as she walked past me, a wide smile on her face.

She plopped down at the dining table, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

My dad laughed, a fond look in his eyes as he placed her lunch in front of her.

Maybe he found her mimicry amusing, but I didn’t. I had assumed she was in her room, busy with her toys. Clearly, kids were better at being sneaky than I’d given them credit for.

“I should go,” I announced. “I need to pick up a few things.”

“A little something for Jamie, perhaps?” my dad teased, a knowing smirk on his face.

I rolled my eyes at his playful jab. “What do you think, Penelope?”

“I think Dad is getting her flowers,” she replied, her mouth full of blueberries.

Penelope continued to pop them into her mouth, one after another, a contented smile spreading across her face.

I bent down, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “I love you. Be good for Grandpa.”

“Love you, Daddy,” she mumbled back, her words slightly distorted by the blueberry she was munching on.

***

I fiddled with the bouquet of flowers in my hands, a gesture that felt out of place and unnecessary. Jamie had always admired the beauty of nature, but I had always seen flowers as an unnecessary expense. In a strange way, I was thankful for the selective amnesia that had wiped away memories of my less-than-romantic tendencies.

As I neared her hospital room, I paused. My ears strained to catch the sound of her voice. The door was slightly open, and I could see her sitting on the bed, engrossed in a one-sided conversation.

“This is weird, Dad. I don’t know Mason, and now I’m supposed to live with him. How am I supposed to feel about this?” Jamie’s voice, laced with confusion and apprehension, filled the room.

Her words resonated within me, even though it was clear how she felt every time I looked at her. But hearing her speak those feelings out loud was different. It wasn’t just a worry in my head anymore. She was unsure about me.

With a sense of reluctance, I knocked on the door, breaking into her private moment. She spun around to face me, her face a blend of surprise and guilt as she quickly ended the call.

“How long have you been standing there?” Jamie asked. Her eyes, filled with surprise and worry, confirmed my suspicion: she knew I had heard.

“I just got here,” I responded. Her eyes drifted to the bouquet of flowers in my hand. It felt odd, almost ironic, to present them now, after eavesdropping on her conversation.

“These are for your nurse. I thought you could give them to her as a thank you.”

Her face flickered with disappointment, or maybe it was just my imagination, reflecting my own unease.

“Oh, that’s good thinking. Thank you,” she responded somewhat flatly.

I moved closer to her, the gap between us closing with each step. I set the flowers on the small table by the window, my gaze lingering on her packed suitcase.

“You’re all packed,” I noted, a forced smile on my face.

“Since last night,” Jamie confessed. “Amy was a huge help. She basically packed everything for me, which was great. She should be back any minute to say goodbye.”

Amy, her devoted nurse, had formed a strong bond with Jamie over the years. It was evident that their relationship went beyond the typical patient-caregiver dynamic.

“How do you feel about coming home?” I asked.

Jamie paused, her eyes distant. “I feel good about it. I’m excited to spend some time with you both, and to get used to Penelope’s routine. I want to be there for her now that I’m actually here.”

“It’s going to take some getting used to for everyone,” I confessed, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed. The closeness felt both familiar and foreign, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between us. “Penelope is excited about you coming home. She even made you a card. I thought it would be better if you had the night to settle in, so she’s staying with my dad.”

“So I won’t get to see her until tomorrow?” she asked, looking disappointed.

“Yeah, just one night. I want to make you dinner, impress you with my cooking skills,” I joked.

She laughed, a small smile easing the tension in her face.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes, dinner sounds good,” she agreed.

Relief washed over me. I knew this was a small victory, but it was a start. I was determined to make her transition as smooth as possible, to dispel the doubts and fears that had taken root in her mind.

Her conversation with her father had made it clear that I had a lot of work to do.

***

As the scent of simmering sauce filled the air, I found myself stealing glances at Jamie. She was exploring the living room, her eyes scanning the walls adorned with photographs and the carefully chosen furniture.

“Do you like the house?” I asked, breaking the silence.

She spun around, startled. “Sure, it’s a lot bigger than I expected. I love the furniture. Did you hire a decorator? Not that I know your style, but you seem like a leather couch and white walls kind of guy.”

A grin of warmth spread across my face and I chuckled. “I think that might be an insult.”

She laughed in return. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…guys aren’t usually great at decorating. I know from my brother. He thinks an empty pizza box is a centerpiece.”

“I guess you have a point,” I conceded, a smile tugging at my lips. “But just so you know, I’m not scared of a little color. You can thank Penelope for that.”

I brought two plates into the living room and placed one on her lap before settling down on the couch next to her.

Jamie looked at her meal with surprise. “Wow! This looks incredible. I had no idea you could cook like this.”

“I cooked for you on our first date. You don’t remember, but you were pretty impressed. You even told me it was the best date you’ve ever had,” I teased.

Jamie raised an eyebrow, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “Really? The best date? I’ll have to take your word for it.” She took a bite of her food, her expression shifting to pure delight. “This is amazing.”

“Told you,” I replied, grinning.

“I guess I underestimated you,” she admitted, surprised.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. It felt odd, almost dreamlike, to be sharing a meal with her after so long.

Jamie hesitated, then spoke. “So, um…there’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss. The accident…”

“What about it?” I asked, sensing that this conversation was inevitable. But I was hoping to dodge it.

“What happened?” Jamie asked, her eyes searching mine. “My dad hasn’t told me much, and you’ve only mentioned it was a hit-and-run. I feel like there’s more to the story than what I’ve been told.”

“There’s not,” I replied. “I told you everything there is to know.”

“Are the police even searching for the person who did this?” she asked.

“Of course, but they couldn’t find anything. The car that hit you was stolen. It belonged to some old guy. They told me they can’t do anymore,” I explained, frustrated. “I wish I had more to tell you, but I don’t.”

“I guess that’s that then,” she sighed. “I’ll never know who did this.”

A wave of guilt washed over me. I knew the truth, a truth I had buried deep within myself. But revealing it would only bring pain and uncertainty. I had taken care of the problem, but the knowledge of what I had done weighed heavily on my conscience.

“You need to let that go, put it behind you. You’re here, Jamie. You’re home, and you’re going to be okay,” I assured her.

She turned to face me, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and confusion. “Then why don’t I feel like that?” she whispered.

“Everything you’re feeling is normal,” I said softly. “This isn’t the life you remember. It’s a new reality, and it’s going to take time to adjust.”

I set our plates on the coffee table and turned to face her. “I remember when you first told me about Penelope. At first, I didn’t know how to feel. Was I ready to be a father? I had changed, but was I enough? I couldn’t let my fear stop me from being in her life.” I shrugged, a wry smile on my lips.

She managed a small smile, too. “From what I’ve seen, you’re a good father to Penelope. She really loves you.”

“Well, after the accident, she was all I had left. I tried to raise her the way I thought you would have wanted, but no one could ever do it as well as you. Now you’re back, and she needs you. You need to be strong for her.”

Jamie let out a laugh, though it was forced. “I suppose that means getting back on my feet first. Those physio sessions are brutal, so it might take a while.”

I shot her a playful smirk. “You’ve got this.”

We nestled back into the couch, savoring our meal in comfortable silence. After we finished eating, a movie flickered on the TV screen, but I could tell Jamie was somewhere else. She smiled, tucking a loose strand of her brunette hair behind her ear.

It was a sight that stirred up a whirlwind of memories, all those times I’d watched her do the exact same thing.

“You know, before the accident, you were a blonde,” I said, hoping to spark a conversation, maybe even jog a memory.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Me, a blonde? No way. That doesn’t sound like me at all. I’ve never wanted to be blonde.”

“It was a spontaneous decision. You looked good as a blonde, but you look just as good with your natural color,” I replied, smiling wistfully.

“Natural doesn’t look too good on me right now. I’ve been too busy sleeping for two years to get a haircut,” she joked, a self-deprecating laugh slipping out.

“I can arrange for someone to come by and do your hair. It might help you feel more like the Jamie you remember,” I suggested.

“That sounds great. Thank you, Mason,” Jamie replied, her lips curving into a smile.

But it was quickly replaced by a yawn. “I’m feeling a bit tired. I think it’s probably time for me to go to bed.”

A wave of disappointment washed over me, though I understood her exhaustion.

We had already discussed the sleeping arrangements. Given her condition, she would be staying in the downstairs guest room. It was a practical solution, but it was also a painful reminder of the distance between us.

Jamie lifted the beige throw from her legs and reached out her hands toward me. I helped her up from the couch, my arm around her waist as she stumbled slightly.

She looked up at me, a grateful smile on her face. The moment felt electric, a surge of desire coursing through me. I wanted to kiss her, to rekindle the passion we once shared.

The old Mason wouldn’t have hesitated. But this new, cautious Mason was unsure.

I leaned in, my lips brushing against hers. It was a soft, gentle kiss, a tentative exploration of a connection that had been dormant for far too long.

But as quickly as it had begun, it ended. She pulled away, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

“I think I’ll go to bed now,” she mumbled, avoiding my gaze.

The rejection was palpable, a harsh reality that shattered my hopes. It was clear that she wasn’t ready, perhaps not even open to the possibility.

I knew that already, but I had to try. I needed to remember what it was like to kiss her.