Underestimated Part 30

"You did have, it was in the car when you wrecked it."

"Well, do you think that I could get another one?"

"Not yet. The doctor is afraid that too much eye movement will cause seizures. You have a television. You can watch that for a while if you want."

"I don't want to watch television. I wanted to do some research on my head injury. I would kind of like to know what I am up against, maybe find some stories from other survivors."

"I'll tell you what. You get a bath and rest for a while, and you can come down to my office and use mine for a while. Okay?"

"Why would I take a bath?" I asked. Why would he say that?

"Is that not what I hear in the background?" he asked. I relaxed.

"Oh, yeah, I guess it is. Sorry."

The hot water felt amazing, and the jet streams were hitting sore spots that I didn't know that I had. I think I was dozing off a little when I heard someone in my room.

"h.e.l.lo," I called out.

"It's just me, Terri," the one female called. "Can I come in?" she asked.

"Sure," I replied, covering myself as much as I could.

"Mr. Kelley said that you were requesting some more comfortable clothes while you recovered. Mellissa went out to get you some things. I brought you some lunch," she added.

"Thank you," I replied. She smiled and left me to get out. The only problem was. I couldn't get out. Every time I tried to pull myself up, the pain was unbearable and shot from my pelvic all the way down my right leg. Why the h.e.l.l did I get in there?

"Terri!" I called out with no response. She was gone. Great, how long was I going to have to stay in there until someone came back?

I tried a couple more times with no avail. I couldn't lift myself out. I wanted to cry. I felt so helpless, so alone, so lost, and now I need something for the pain. If I ever got out the bathtub.

I heard Drew call out next.

"Morgan," he tapped on the door.

Great. I didn't want him to be the one to come and rescue me.

"Can you go and get Terri for me?" I called out, not wanting his help.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"No, I just need help getting out of the tub."

He didn't wait for a reply. He opened the door and was smiling at me.

"I can help you out, Morgan. We slept together for almost eight years. I've seen you naked before."

I took a deep breath. I supposed he was right, and I was being obtuse. I smiled and nodded.

He took my arm and helped me out of the tub. I quickly grabbed the towel to cover my front. He was looking at me with pure l.u.s.t. I knew that's what it was.

How could he look at me like that when I was hurt? I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit.

"I'm good now. Thanks," I coolly said, wanting him to leave.

I didn't put on any of the clothing, and settled for the terrycloth robe hanging on the back of the door. I lifted the silver lid from my tray and actually felt a little hungry.

I had turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, corn and a roll. I sat on the edge of the bed and picked at it. I guess I wasn't as hungry as I initially thought I was. I pulled pieces of the roll off, dipping it into my potatoes and gravy as I looked around my room. I felt like crying. Nothing seemed right. I didn't feel rich, and certainly didn't feel like I belonged there. Why couldn't I remember who I was? I hated this, and only hoped that the doctor was right, and I would regain my history.

I covered my half eaten food and lay on the bed. I wiped a falling tear with my thumb. I didn't understand. I could remember the words to songs, but not how I knew them. I could remember whole books that I had read, but not where or when I read them, and this place. I had absolutely no recollection of ever living there, at all.

I slept for a couple of hours, and when I woke I had a horrible headache, but was happy to see the freshly washed clothes folded and laying on my bed. I took two of the pain pills by my bed, went to the bathroom and pulled on the normal panties, a bra from the drawer, pink and green flannelled pants, and a simple white t-s.h.i.+rt.

I walked out and slowly descended the stairs. I felt every step as the pain shot up my pelvic and back. Why the h.e.l.l would he put me on the second floor with a broken pelvic? I intended to ask him along with a few other questions.

"Where is Drew?" I asked the lady chopping up vegetables in the kitchen.

"I think he's in his office," the lady that I didn't recognize explained. I looked at her, and she read my mind. "It's the door straight across from the living room."

I opened the door to the office and Drew was on the phone. He looked up with instant anger.

What the h.e.l.l?...

I slowly lowered myself to the settee across from his desk. He replaced the irritated expression with a smile, telling whoever he had been talking to that he would have to call them back.

"Did you also forget how to knock," Drew asked, annoyed.

"I don't know. Did I always knock before I came into your office?"

"Yes, and I would appreciate you doing so in the future. I do conduct business in here. Is there something that I can do for you?" Drew asked with a smirk that I wanted to slap off of him.

"Yeah, there is," I said, giving him att.i.tude. Who the h.e.l.l did he think he was? "Maybe you could show me some wedding or vacation pictures. Where did we meet?

Did we always live in this house? Do I have any friends that I could talk to?"

"Must you walk around dressed like that?"

What?

I looked down at my comfortable attire. "Are you concerned with the help seeing me? Did I always dress in the fancy clothes upstairs to lounge around the house?"

"Yes. You did, and I would also appreciate you doing that as well from now on."

"You're surely not telling me how I should dress,"

I asked in disbelief. Was this guy for real? Did I really stay married to him for almost eight years? No wonder I was in another country.

Drew got up and came to me. He took my hand and smiled a warm smile. "I'm just trying to show you what your routine was before the accident. Dr. Tharp says that getting you back into your normal element should help with your memory. You never dressed this way, Morgan."

I pulled my hand away. "Can I use your computer now?" I asked. I knew he was just trying to help me regain my memory, but it was still frustrating as h.e.l.l. I still couldn't believe that I dressed in the fas.h.i.+ons that hung in my closet on a daily basis.

"Sure," he said, patted my leg and walked over to close out of what he had been doing.

I sat in Drew's chair and tapped traumatic brain injuries on the keyboard. I looked back at Drew who was watching me. "How is it that I know how to type on a keyboard, but I can't remember learning it?"

"I have faith. You're going to remember every little thing that you've ever done," he said with a cold face. I still couldn't believe that I was married to this man.

I mean, shouldn't I feel something?

After about twenty minutes of reading things that Dr. Tharp had already told me, I leaned back, took an exasperated breath and rubbed my temples. My finger traced the L shaped scar from my injury, reminding me that I had no idea who I was.

Drew rubbed my shoulders from behind. Hmm, it felt good. I didn't realize how tense I was.

"Just give it some time, Morgan," Drew said.

"What about the pictures? Do we have any of those?" I asked, tilting my head for him to hit the crook of my neck with his magic hands.

"That's kind of your fault. I have told you and told you that you needed to print the hundreds of pictures on your digital camera. You never would. It burned in your car."

"What about our wedding pictures? Do we have those?"

"I wish you could remember this stuff. I feel like the bad guy here. You didn't want a wedding. We ran away and got married."

"How long did we know each other?"

Drew laughed, and I knew it was going to be bad.

"We got married after spending three weekends together."

I turned to look at him dumbfounded. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with me? Maybe I didn't want to remember who I was. She sounded pretty stupid.

Drew kissed the top of my head. "You were married to me for almost eight years. I think you would have left had we not been right for each other."

"I was away taking cla.s.ses in France, how long was I there?"

"That was all you too. I didn't want you to go, but you insisted. You were there not quite two years, but came home often, and I would fly there to be with you when I could."

"Why is my purse the only thing that survived the crash?" I didn't understand that either. My camera, my laptop and all of my clothes had burned in the car, but my purse came out unharmed.

"It was on your lap. They a.s.sumed that you were digging for something in it. That's why you hit the bus.

You weren't paying attention."

I still didn't understand it. I mean the scar above my eye along with the bigger one on the side of my head had to have bled. Why was my purse free of blood?

I sat up straight when I had an idea. I rested my fingers on the correct letters of the keyboard.

"Where did I grow up?" I asked. Maybe if I could find some pictures or my school or something it would jog my memory.

"I think that's enough for one day," Drew decided, spinning me away from the computer.

"Did I always let you decide what was best for me?" I asked, standing up. He didn't move. We were inches apart.

"Always," he whispered, and moved close to my lips.

I placed my hand on his muscular chest to stop him, although I have to admit I was staring right at his lips.

"Drew, I don't think I am ready for you to kiss me," I said in a low tone.

He placed his hand over mine on his chest and smiled. "I'll see you at dinner," he replied and let me step around him.

"I want to see our bedroom, the one that we shared," I said, turning to him before leaving.

"Okay, but it's kind of empty right now. I moved my things into another room when I had yours moved. I couldn't stand the thought of you not being in our bed with me."

Well that was sweet. It made me feel guilty for being such a pain to him. I never once thought about how hard this was for him. I smiled, and he walked out with me.

Nothing. I didn't recognize that room any more than any other one in the house. It was just another fancy room with expensive furnis.h.i.+ngs.

"Anything?" Drew asked, looking down at me.

I shook my head lightly.

"Don't worry about it. Maybe you should just stop trying to remember and let it come when it's ready."

"Maybe," I replied. "Drew why did you move my things to the second floor, knowing I have a broken pelvic."

"Awe, s.h.i.+t Morgan. I never thought about that. That was your favorite bedroom in the house. I just thought you would feel better being in there. You said it was the best view in the house. You used to go in there and read a lot."

he explained with a sincere response.

I smiled. "It's okay. My therapist made me climb steps at the rehabilitation center. It's probably good for me."

"Do you want to go rest before dinner?" he asked, placing his hand on the small of my back as we closed our shared suite.

"I think so, but I would rather just lie on the couch, I think," I replied.

"The couch?"

I looked up to him. "I didn't do that either, right?"

He smiled. "No, but if you want to do that, I will close the doors and make sure that you are not disturbed."

"Thank you," I smiled. I didn't want to be in that room for some reason. It didn't feel like my favorite room in the house at all.

Drew brought me a pillow and a blanket. "Do you want the television on?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so. I kind of just want the quiet for a while," I answered, snuggling under the soft blanket.