That first month after waking had been the hardest for Leah—trying to not only come to terms with the loss of her fiancé, but the realisation that Brennan did not even physically exist. For so long, all she wanted to do was crawl back into her own mind and shut the rest of the world out. Living seemed intolerable, even impertinent, without Brennan. Over and over, as she stared into the space before her, she replayed the final moments of Brennan’s life. A life that didn’t exist in any reality except Leah’s. A death that would remain unknown to all except Leah. A love now shattered into a million shards; a love so intense and so consuming, now lost, not only to Leah, but also to reality and time itself.
Month two and three, in her foggy recollection, seemed marginally easier. Not because she felt any less of the sense of longing and desperate pining for Brennan, but because she was kept busy. Without even realising, Leah broke her entire day down into small, manageable cycles of action, not willing to see beyond the end of the current one, whether that be a two-hour long physio session where her leg was painfully stretched backwards as far as she could allow, or an hour long speech session to regain her ability to pronounce th sounds.
Her coping strategy, her only method of getting through each day, each hour, each minute, and each second of her life without Brennan, was to focus solely on the now, never the past, because that brought with it pain, because her past was Brennan. Never contemplation of the future, because that meant to contemplate living without Brennan, never seeing the flicker of amazement in his eyes as she walked down the aisle on her wedding day, never seeing him cry with joy as he held his newborn baby in his arms, never touching his cheek and telling him that she loved him with every beating part of her body and soul.
Even after leaving the hospital and moving in with Cait and Greg, things hadn’t become easier. Months on, Leah still felt emotions as strongly as the moment she had felt Brennan’s lifeless body under her hands as she beat desperately on his chest, unable to revive him. She missed him so much, so intensely, that often she would cry herself to sleep wondering why she had been cursed to fall in love with an imaginary man and lose him to an imaginary death. To be left to grieve for him with every part of her that was real.
Leah realised in that moment that her long-held premonition of death by her thirtieth birthday had come true. She knew that she wasn’t dead in the physical sense. She hadn’t been lowered in a casket and covered with six feet of dirt. But the old Leah was dead. Nothing about Leah after thirty was anything like her former self; the accident, the coma, and losing Brennan made sure of that. Each moment lived since the day her head was pummelled by a car window was a new day, seen in a new light, and nothing would be the same again.
Chapter 18
The next session with Dr Martinez arrived soon enough. Leah had become very accustomed to lying on the black leather couch, looking up to the ceiling. She explained to her therapist the events of the week gone by. She informed her of the exercise schedule she maintained all week: at eight every morning, walking Ralph the boisterous boxer around the neighbourhood. She told her therapist of her rediscovered skills in the kitchen, cooking up a storm all week with meals ranging from Thai beef salad to Pandang chicken and sweet and sour fish.
“Very well done. You need to keep it up, keep the regimen,” said Doc.
“I’m actually enjoying it.”
“From an emotional perspective though, how did you go?”
Leah sighed and closed her eyes. “Not so good.”
“Tell me about it?”
Leah drew in a shaky breath. “Wednesday afternoon I was in the kitchen cooking a roast lamb with spring vegetables. I could smell it cooking. The sweet, gamey aromas filling the kitchen, and I knew immediately it was the wrong choice.”
“Wrong choice how?” asked the Doctor.
“I was completely overwhelmed with nostalgia, and was continually bombarded with thoughts of Brennan, of his mother, how she taught me to bone a leg of lamb. Or as I remember it, to mutilate one.”
“How did you cope with that?”
“I was doing okay to tell you the truth. I was enjoying the memories. But then I was looking into the fridge for some cheese to add to my cauliflower sauce when I pulled out a packet of cheddar and saw that it was Dairy Lee cheese.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“It was the brand of cheese that Brennan’s family made.”
“Oh. It’s a real brand of cheese?” asked the doctor, unable to hide the astonishment in her voice.
Leah nodded. “Yes, it is, and I was holding it in my hands, unable to cope with what it represented. I completely lost it, sliding down the fridge until I was sitting on the marble floor, crying louder than I ever have before. When I looked at that cheese, I saw it as the final piece of proof that Brennan was not real. That he was a complete concoction of my fucked-up mind.
“I knew that I had subconsciously created an entire life with someone, using memories, experiences, and stimuli from the real world. Even a brand of cheese that I had probably passed a thousand times before in the supermarket, without ever really noticing it.”
“That’s quite a breakthrough.”
“A devastating breakthrough. I’ve tried so hard for six long months to hold onto memories of Brennan in the hope that by some miracle, some peculiar twist of fate, he actually turns out to be real, like we met on some astral plain that only someone in a coma can reach. Seeing that cheese took all that hope away. And it felt like my body broke in two along with it.”
“Sometimes, Leah, it feels as though in order to move forward you have to first move backwards. But I assure you that this is a positive progression, as painful as it may seem. There’s the chance for you now, without any niggling doubts as to the validity of these memories, to start taking giant leaps ahead in your life.”
“I really hope so.”
Dr Martinez remained silent while she looked through her notes. “Okay, now, the coming week,” she said. “I want you to take measured steps to open up your communication lines again. Get back into communication with family members, friends, whoever was an important part of your life before the accident.”
“I haven’t seen Danni for a good two months.”
“Great. Organise a date with Danni, catch up, have a coffee, go to the movies.”
“Yeah. I can do that.”
“What about your father?”
“What about him?”
“Do you see him as much as you used to?”
Leah paused for a moment, feeling a subtle guilt wash over her body. Softly, she answered, “No. No I don’t.”
“Involve him in your life again. Go and visit him at the hardware store, invite him over for dinner or vice versa. And give your sister in Ireland a call. Have a good gasbag on the phone, update her on your life and listen to what she has to say about hers.”
“Sure.”
“All these people love you. They will welcome you with open arms,” she reassured, sensing Leah’s hesitation.
“Deep down, I know that,” said Leah. And deep down, she did. Her hesitation wasn’t because she felt that those people wouldn’t want her in their life or wouldn’t accept her socially. It was because to do anything, anything at all, even to have a coffee with her dad, when her heart and mind felt completely burdened with grief, seemed… too much.
“Even if these people don’t understand your pain or what you’re going through, you’ll find it tremendously comforting just to have Danni, and your Dad, and Sinead, back in your life.”
Leah nodded. “I’ll give it shot.”
“What is the hesitation for? What are you worried about?”
“I’m worried that I’ll start crying because someone will say something the wrong way, or I will see something that reminds me of Brennan and I won’t know how to explain why.”
“That’s a very reasonable concern. And if it happens, then so be it. The best way you can handle it is to talk it through truthfully. These peop
le love you and I promise they will understand, no matter how absurd it sounds in your head.”
“Okay, Doc.”
“That’s all I ask of you this week, to open up your communication lines. Let me know next session how you go, please. And keep up your diet and exercise.”
“Will do.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you the same time next week.”
***
Leah rode the bus back to her sister’s apartment in the city, bewildered that her near emotional breakdown in Caitlin’s kitchen over a cheese packet could be perceived by the therapist as progress. As she made her way up the internal elevators she laughed out loud considering the notion. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed her reflection in the mirror that lined the back wall of the elevator and stumbled backwards in shock.
It wasn’t the first time that Leah had seen her reflection since the accident, but it was the first time she had really seen herself staring back in the six months since she woke. The image she saw, though, did not hold many similarities to the Leah she envisioned in her mind’s eye, the sparkly, healthy Leah from before the accident.
First to catch Leah’s attention was her gaunt face, the cheekbones overly defined, the mouth unnaturally long in contrast to her taut skin over bony features. Her eyes seemed too large for her face, and appeared dull against her exaggeratedly pallid skin. But not dull enough to hide the chasm of pain and longing behind them.
Leah rang her fingers gently along the silvery-pink scar running down the middle of her cheek and over her lip, the evidence of the ten-centimetre gash she received from a rogue piece of glass. She winced as she ran a hand through her hair; her once long, blonde tresses had only grown six inches since they were shaved off by the hospital staff when she was admitted. Since then Leah hadn’t had it cut or even styled, only washing and brushing it and occasionally pinning it back off her face with a couple of bobby pins. Leah decided there and then that she was going to get her hair cut into a style that at least looked flattering. If she couldn’t have her long hair back, she was going to wear the shorter crop with a bit more pride.
Moving her gaze from her face and hair, down the length of her body, she noticed her ill-fitting clothes. Her once-snug jeans were now baggy, hanging low on her bony hips. Her long-sleeve shirt was now one size too big. She couldn’t believe how much weight she had lost without even realising. Gone were her usually voluptuous curves, her full D-cup breasts. Left was a body that suggested a decade of eating disorders.
The elevator bell dinged and the doors opened at Cait and Greg’s apartment. Leah dashed to the sleek, modern kitchen and ram-raided the fridge, seized by a sudden determination to eat her way back to good health, or at least a body with a bit of substance. She fried up eggs, bacon, toast and tomatoes, and devoured the lot, sitting at the dining table by herself, savouring the taste. It felt strangely comforting to feel her stomach full. She wondered if she had been persistently hungry, body pleading her for food. It was now thankful that she had finally heard it and given it what it wanted.
Too full to take Ralph for a walk like she had originally planned, Leah went into the television room and lay down on the long leather couch, finding it uncomfortable to do anything else, and flicked on the big screen TV. She pulled a few cushions under her head and settled in to watch whatever might be interesting on the box for the next few hours. Since leaving hospital, she had been unable to concentrate on anything that required too much attention, especially television.
She marvelled as she randomly flicked through the channels at what was happening to her in this very moment, at her ability to finally take in her surroundings, to be present in her environment, not trapped in a grief-filled void in her head. Not to say that the all-encompassing sadness wasn’t still present, but she felt somewhat detached from it, able to see it from a different angle. Leah had no idea why this sudden shift in consciousness had occurred. Perhaps it was the fright she received seeing her image in the elevator mirror. Perhaps it was the therapy actually working. Or maybe an injured part of her brain had finally set itself right. For whatever the reason, she was finally finding herself firmly in the present, and she was happy that something was different.
Leah turned her attention to the television screen as she flicked through the endless channels, trying to find something that aroused her interest. That’s when she saw him. Already one channel too far, her heart suddenly racing, she fumbled with the remote control and turned to the previous channel. There he was, Alex, in an advertisement for Lee Super Sports. Leah jumped up from the lounge and stumbled towards the television screen to get a closer look. She edged forwards, on hands and knees, so her eyes were only half a meter from the screen. It was definitely Alex, dressed in casual sporting gear, urging customers to come in and take advantage of their three-day super-sale.
“You’ve got to be fucking joking,” she yelled at the screen. “He’s real. Alex is real. I can’t believe it.”
Leah shook her head, bewildered, mouth gaping. First the cheese, now Alex, both of them real. She had obviously seen Alex on the television before and subconsciously brought him into her coma life, making him a part of her lucid dream. But what were the odds that she would focus on one particular family and its two products—Lee Super Sports and Dairy Lee cheese?
That thought led her down another path that had the potential to be destructive and harmful. If Alex was real, and the cheese was real, could it be that Brennan was real as well? It was probable she had seen him on the street or on the television and, as she had with Alex and the cheese, turned him into a wonderful vision to help her get through her six days of solitude.
Leah watched Alex as he spoke to the camera; his features and physical characteristics, even the timbre of his voice, were so vividly similar to Brennan’s. A strong wash of desire surged through her veins. A desire to see Brennan again.
As her rationality started to rein her thoughts in again, she moped back to the couch and flopped down on it, realising that even if, by some slim chance, Brennan was real, he wouldn’t know her. She would have no real concept of his personality. He could be a complete arsehole for all she knew. But then she thought of how wonderful it would be to just see him again, or to walk casually past him and catch his gorgeous scent in her nostrils and carry it home with her. She didn’t have to talk to him. Only look at him.
Leah shook her head, trying to return sense to a brain that was currently having fun cliff diving into the realm of insanity. She knew that if she let herself get carried away with such whimsical notions, she would be taking a giant leap backwards in her progress. She hopped back up off the couch and retrieved Ralph and his collar from the back patio, deciding she needed some fresh air after all.
Chapter 19
Leah woke up early and had breakfast with Cait before she had to leave for the office. She cooked a giant plate of blueberry pancakes, smothering them with lashings of maple syrup.
“Wow,” said Cait, watching Leah from across the dining table as she shovelled her breakfast into her mouth. “What’s going on here? You’re actually eating with some gusto.”
Leah smiled.
“And smiling?” said Cait.
“I saw myself in the mirror yesterday and realised I really need to put on some weight.”
Cait nodded. “I’m glad you finally noticed.”
“How could you have let me get around like this, Cait? I’m embarrassed.” She ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it up in her hands. “And this, this is just horrid. You should’ve forced me, bound and gagged me, and carried me to a hairdresser.”
Cait laughed loudly. “I tried. You wouldn’t listen. It was as though I was talking to a wall.”
Leah sighed, reflecting on the hazy memories of her life over the last six months. “I know. I’m sorry, Cait. You’ve been so wonderful taking me in and I’ve been an absolute mess.”
“It’s the least I could do,” she answered, lowering her eyes to her plate and taking anothe
r mouthful of food. “Something has changed, though. You seem different.”
“I’m here. I’m present. I don’t know what happened, but it was like I actually woke up from the coma. For real this time.”
Cait shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe that’s it. I read that some people can take up to two years to recover after a brain injury. Most people never really recover.”
“Whatever the reason, I’m just glad it happened. So first thing this morning, I’m going to get my hair cut into something that looks like it’s from this century.”
Cait laughed. “That’s a good place to start. Who knows, in another month or so, you may even be able to go back to work. You know I would love to have you come and work with me again.”
Leah chewed her mouthful of food slowly. “I appreciate that.”
“No worries.”
Cait pushed her chair out and stood. “I would love to stay and chat,” she said glancing at her watch. “But I need to get into the office before I’m late.”
“Sure.”
“Thanks for breakfast, and have fun at the hairdressers.”
Leah smiled. “I will.”
***
On Leah’s agenda was to walk Ralph for the designated thirty minutes, be at the hairdressers for her appointment by ten, and then go out and visit her father at his hardware shop.
Leah swallowed her multivitamin and omega-oil supplement, as per the doctor’s orders, and set off with Ralph on their daily walk around the block. As they toddled at a casual pace past all the people frantically making their way to work she spied two women jogging, side by side, on the other side of the busy street. It looked like something she would like to do, so she loosened Ralph’s lead and started to jog down the street, past bustling commuters, feeling exhilarated as the air was forced in and out of her lungs and the muscles of her legs tensed and relaxed with every step.
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