The neurologist Sophia referred to us is kind. The test results and brain scans came back okay. No brain damage which is something to be thankful for but the bulk of work lies on us. We have to retrain her to do the littlest things. She can’t even hold a spoon. Walking is impossible for now. She’s a human jelly.
Brianna might be fourteen but her brain is not, same as her body. It’s like having a kid in a teen’s body. On some days, the coma seems like a better option. And it gets harder to follow the sequences. Sitting education comes before standing, I didn’t realise how tiresome it would be to teach a person to sit.
Sitting is so normal for an average human that I’m stunned each time I have to hold Brianna up in her wheelchair. She can’t sit straight. But the occupational therapist promises it’s normal. It will take time.
I have a newfound respect for everyone, especially the therapists we have been working with. I would have been lost without them. It has been five days since she woke up and it feels like I live each day thrice. I need to rest and I’ll do that as soon as I find the right caregiver. Who knew this would be hard?
Doctor Dinma, the physiotherapist recommended a few ladies to me. I strike out four names on the list in front of me and pinch my nose. The video on my screen shows four ladies in the lounge. I still have to interview them.
I would have delegated it to Ed so he can handle it the same way he has been handling the office in my absence. But I need to do it myself. Brianna needs the right person, someone patient and kind. I rotate my seat to catch a view of my girls huddled at the corner of my home office. It must be nice to be a kid.
“Hey.” I jump to my feet.
My body protests as I crouch in front of them. They are getting along. If you count Brianna’s silence and the twins’ unending chitchat. They talk enough for her. I smile at Brianna and link my fingers through hers. Touching her calms me. Maybe it’s the same for the twins. They are always around her.
The twins bend over the colouring papers littered at Brianna’s feet. “How is it going?” I point to Wyn’s drawing, she picks a crayon from the floor and hurriedly colours the sketch. Brianna loves to draw too. It’s one more thing they can bond over. “Let me see.”
The sketch is horrible. A pencil drawing of stick images with big ears, bigger heads and tiny limbs. I am not sure what I am looking for but I muster the biggest smile.
“Very nice,” I comment, “I like what you did with the tail.”
“There’s no tail,” Wyn says. Embarrassment colours my cheeks, my lips pucker. Wyn frowns, she pushes herself into a sitting position with her shoulder slightly touching Brianna’s wheelchair. “You like it?”
“I love it.” And will keep it somewhere private, away from external eyes. There are three stick figures, I tap the one in the middle. It has a nest on its hair and the figures by her side are on low cut, I think. The twins are staring at me like they can see through my false enthusiasm. With their matching gowns, they make quite the formidable team. Feeling bad for leaving a quiet Brianna out of our conversation, I take her hand. It is warm to touch. She’s always warm, always asleep. “What’s the name of your drawing?”
“Sisters,” Bren answers. She nudges Wyn with her shoulder and her twin nods. “Me.” She taps on the figure at the left. “This is Wyn and that’s Bri.” I nod until my head is bobbing like a bot out of control. If there is one thing we did right, it’s the girls. Brianna’s eyes open at the sound of her name, she stares at us with the same interest an infant would stare at his parents. Confused with a hint of recognition. “Hello,” Bren says. Both of them wave at her.
“Hello,” I reiterate, like it will cause her to respond. I don’t expect to hear her speak anytime soon. Her neck remains in that awkward angle supported by her chair with her eyes trailing each move we make. I push her closer to my seat and the twins tag along. They have been so helpful, I only had to scold them once. “I am trying to find you a caregiver,” I tell Brianna, tilting the laptop so she can glimpse the applicants. The twins stand on each side of me, breathing on my neck. “Nothing yet.”
Wyn carries my laptop, I play with the loose thread hanging from the hem of Brianna’s gown. “I like this one.” The tip of her hair brushes my face as she turns to Bren. She carries the laptop to the couch beside my table. The office looks different. I had to make lots of adjustments. “Daddy, I don’t like her.” She nods at the sterner looking woman among the four. I think I agree. She frowns too much. Brianna needs someone with positive energy. “Bren?”
“I don’t like her too,” Bren states. I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. She would never have said otherwise.
“We will see.” My fingers slip from Brianna’s. Her eyes are closed but I am not sure she’s asleep.
A knock from the door has our heads turning, El’s head pokes inside. She’s wearing makeup. She sashays into the office with a tray she dumps on my table, I send her a silent word of gratitude at the bowl of soup alongside the flask and empty bowls. Brianna’s throat muscles are still weak, she can’t take solid foods for now.
El plants kisses on the girls temples, my heart flutters when she pecks Brianna and the pad of her thumb brushes her cheek. She straightens up. I frown. No kiss for me. I am a tight ball of jealousy as she serves the twins in their bowls and drags the extra single seat close to Brianna so she’s facing her. It’s the naturalness of it all that tugs at my heart. How she coos until Brianna’s eyelids flutter open and she holds the plate up to signify meal time.
The twins forget about their sister as they devour their meal. El patiently spoon feeds Brianna, dabbing the corner of her lips at intervals. Nobody offers to serve or feed me. In the end, I have to dish it myself.
My mouth waters. The delicious flavour registers on my tongue and my annoyance dissipates. I take a big bite and moan softly, earning a glare from El. My plate is half-empty when I say, “You are going out.”
It’s not a question. But she answers, “Yes. The Gala.” Her tone holds a certainty that says I should have an idea what she’s talking about. El tilts her chair so she has a view of me and Brianna. “The charity ball I told you about.” I nod. I am still unsure of my invitation status. She dabs Brianna’s lips once more and sets the empty bowl on the tray. “The dinner comes after the main event.” They will have a dinner to celebrate her company at four years old. She crosses her legs, exposing a slither of glowing skin. “Are you coming?”
I don’t understand us. She won’t let me move into the mansion but I am allowed to spend as much time as I want here to be closer to Brianna. I am back to using my office because it has a connecting door to Brianna’s room. I can even spend the night in the guest room. The fucking guest room while she’s alone in the master’s.
The anticipation etched on her face sends chills down my arms, I nod at the door and she sighs. I step into the corridor first, she follows behind. I don’t want Brianna to hear us. She deserves only our happy moments. El mimics my stance. We stand on opposite sides with a foot apart, leaning on the wall with one shoulder and our hands folded on our chest. El weaves her fingers in her hair.
“You are not coming,” she murmurs as the silence stretches. My gaze lowers to my feet, they look funny in the flip flops. As funny as I look these days. Ragged. Sex, cuddles, wife and sleep deprived. I have been working from home. The sooner I find a caregiver, the faster I can return to a bit of normalcy. “Brandon?”
“It depends.” She tugs the white robe over her leg to hide the peek of skin I focus on. “Who’s invited?”
“Everyone.” There’s enough sarcasm in her voice to suffocate me. I bare my teeth, she scowls. “People.”
A smirk pulls the corner of my lips, El pushes away from the wall so we are no longer ogling each other. I want her under me. The underlying tension between us is unmistakable, palpable. I know a quick way to fix it. We don’t have to talk. She can continue her partial silent treatment. Our bodies will communicate.
God. I need a release or I will explode. Staying inside for days is driving me crazy with new ideas. When I started the electric cars, I didn’t consider the disabled. Getting Brianna into the car for the first few days showed how much work had to be done. A whole population that had to be included. I am thrilled at the chance to fix it, redesign the car models to suit Brianna’s needs, others too but I don’t look forward to it.
“People I know?” She nods. My fingers sink into my palm. “T?” Another nod. “I can’t. I can’t make it.” I force myself to sound contrite, she turns to me with sad eyes. “Someone needs to stay with the girls.”
Her hands slip into the pockets of her robe. Taking a step forward, her breath warms my face and a plea crawls into her eyes. “Lydia is around, I called her. She can watch them in our absence.” Is that longing I hear in her voice? Didn’t she say I shouldn’t confuse this arrangement with forgiveness? If she’s mad at me, why’s she asking me to be her plus one? She can go have fun with other men. “The girls love her.”
“True.” El smiles for the first time. She is so close it won’t take an effort to kiss her. “But Lydia is not me. I need to stay with my girls. They need me.” Her face falls, I try to cover her hand with mine but she snatches it out of reach. She’s being dramatic. I am doing what she wants. Respecting boundaries. Her hand circles the knob, I whisper, “Have fun.”
“I will,” she snaps.
She slams the door in my face, I take a deep breath. As she once said, I am a monster and she is expecting too much from this monster. I walk in on El pecking the twins, they are done with their meal. She rises to her feet when her eyes meet mine and walks past me. No kisses for me as usual. It doesn’t bother me. The tightening of my chest isn’t as a result of her blatantly ignoring me. I push Brianna’s wheelchair in the direction of the connecting door to her room. I am doing this for her.