Brian’s calls made her feel sour because she mostly agreed with him and gutless because she didn’t want to tell him that. Peter’s calls made her feel hopeful for about two minutes during which he asked after her and she asked after him, and until he told her how many laps Will was swimming, how good he was looking, and how little change there was to his mental health.
And then she felt empty and raw and aching.
On nights she spoke to Peter it was better to get drunk before she tried to sleep, otherwise the nightmares were like bathing in scalding water, and in the morning she felt like her skin had been stripped off her bones.
She sat on the floor in front of the answering machine and hoped there was a bottle of wine in the fridge. She pressed play and Peter said, “He’s back. Call me whatever time you get this.”
She sat on the floor in front of the answering machine and tears streamed down her face. She was still crying when Peter answered.
“Oh Darcy, don’t cry. It’s good news, it’s all good.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just...”
“Yeah I know, I bawled too. Don’t tell anyone. Especially not Will.”
Darcy mopped her face with her t-shirt. The idea of talking to Will was a stopper in the open bottle of her crying. “Can I talk to him? Fill me in.”
“Today he remembered Bo. And he remembers me too. And he’s not just being polite or humouring us. He re
members details. He remembers his apartment and the mansion house. He remembered how Bo’s wife died. He fucking well remembers I failed tax law, and the name of the first girl I crushed on at uni.”
“That’s incredible.”
“He’s come back so strong so quick in just a day. Dr Yang says everything we’ve told him about Will suggests he was biding his time before he declared himself. But Yang also said given the passage of time he thought Will might not recover at all, so I’m not sure exactly where we are on this roller-coaster, but I’m happy not to have been chucked off the ride.”
Darcy squeezed her eyes tight shut; they were stinging from the residue of industrial strength makeup mixed with the saline of her tears. “What else does he remember?” A spineless way to phrase the only question she wanted answered.
“He remembers customer names and cars he used to own. He remembers Aileen’s wedding, and every chick flick Jiao made him sit through. He remembers he hates olives, anchovies, and chilli chocolate. But he doesn’t remember much about Tara or anything about being kidnapped, or the jail or the riot. The doc says that’s normal for him to block out the worst of the trauma.”
She gulped. As the cause of Will’s trauma, what right did she have to be remembered?
“I don’t know if he remembers you,” Peter’s voice softened. “He hasn’t mentioned you, but it’s only been a day, and his memories are patchwork. He can remember things from fifteen years ago but not from two years ago. Are you there?”
“Yes, yes. I’m...it’s overwhelming.”
“I know. I didn’t want to leave him tonight. I was scared it was a random glitch, and if I let him sleep, he might forget it all, go back to being silent and closed off. In the end he shouted at me to go. Best thing ever to have Will shout at me again. You should come see him.”
“Is that fair?”
“Fair. What’s been fair about any of this?”
“If he doesn’t remember me, is it fair to force him to?”
“Oh, I see. I spoke to the doc tonight. He sees no reason now for Will not to make a full recovery, but he also said Will is in control of the pace of that recovery, and he may choose not to remember certain painful things. Kind of like a defensive reaction. It’ll be his choice if he wants to remember what happened.”
“What if I was a trigger and brought it all back before he was ready?”
“Darcy, he loved you. I only had to see you together in Quingpu. No, before that, right back when you slugged him one, to know he loved you. If he remembers you, how can it be bad?”
She couldn’t answer Peter. Her breath robbed by trying to hold back another torrent of tears.
“One thing you need to know. He’s back, but he’s not the same. Physically he’s better. I’ve never seen him look so fit. But his personality has changed. He’s still angry, easily irritated and he has no filter. He’ll walk away in the middle of someone talking to him. He broods. He exercises till he drops from exhaustion. He breaks things. We don’t know if this is all part of the recovery, or a permanent change. Now he’s talking it might be better, but honestly, with the amount of head trauma he suffered, well, anything is a miracle. I want you to come, but I understand if you think it’s too much.”
Sitting on the floor in the dark in her half empty apartment, her eyes swollen and stinging, her frayed heart beating double time, Darcy considered her options. If she went to Will and he remembered her it would be a chance to start again; to see if the new Will and the new Darcy could mean anything to each other again. If she went to him and he didn’t remember her it would be an end to it, a full stop. A new sentence for the rest of her life. Both options were frighteningly real. Neither could be ignored.
“I’ll be there this weekend.”
33. False Memory