The Man I Didn't Marry

by Anna Bell

  ‘Apart from that,’ I say, wishing my situation was a movie and not real life.

  ‘Oh, I’ve seen that one,’ says Helen, and we all look at her. ‘Come on, Magic Mike is not the only Channing Tatum film I’ve seen.’

  ‘Perhaps if I’d watched it I’d know what to do.’

  ‘Oh yes, it might give you some tips,’ says Helen. ‘You could be like the family and manipulate Max into doing things that he normally wouldn’t do. You know, telling him he always puts the bins out or always sorts through the laundry. Or maybe he cooks for you every night. Or he rubs your feet without you having to ask when you get home from work. And he has sex with you all the time when you’re pregnant,’ she says wistfully, getting caught up in the fantasy.

  ‘I’m sensing a theme here,’ I say. ‘Do we need to talk about your marriage?’

  ‘Oh no, I mean we probably do, but now is all about you. What can we do to help?’

  ‘There’s nothing I think any of you can do, really, unless you either know why Max was in Chiswick or you’ve got any idea how I can get his memory back.’

  ‘Imagine not knowing how you fell in love with one another,’ says Polly, a tear rolling down her cheek. ‘Not that I know how you two fell in love, but I know that if my husband forgot I’d be really upset.’

  ‘It’s hard. You don’t realise how much of your shared history is part of your everyday life and vocabulary. And it’s lonely too. I mean, it’s only been three days, but going through even basic everyday things – like when the baby’s kicking or when I’ve got awful heartburn – I don’t feel like I can turn to him. Even though he shouldn’t feel like a stranger to me, he’s become one because I’m a stranger to him.’

  Polly reaches over and rubs my back and I blink back the tears.

  ‘You know you can message us,’ she says. ‘That’s what the WhatsApp group is there for.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ says Helen.

  ‘But hopefully if the doctors are right, then he’ll be getting his memory back any day now,’ says Polly.

  I nod. ‘That’s what’s keeping me going at the moment.’

  ‘But aren’t you worried about what happens if he doesn’t get his memory back?’ says Anneka, helping herself to some of her carrot sticks dipped in salsa.

  Helen shoots her a look.

  ‘What?’ she says, chewing on her carrot. ‘I’m sure we were all thinking it. I’m just thinking out loud.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not going to come to that,’ says Polly, patting my arm again.

  ‘I’m just trying to be realistic,’ says Anneka. ‘Surely you should be using this time to get him to fall back in love with you because if he doesn’t get his memory back, he’s still going to be a stranger. And this isn’t about me being tactless or blunt. You went to antenatal classes to prepare to give birth and have a newborn, so why wouldn’t you prepare in case he never remembers?’

  ‘I hate to agree with her,’ says Helen, ‘but there’s a certain amount of truth to what she’s just said. I’m sure that Max is going to get his memory back, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to try and get to know you all over again.’

  I take a sip of my drink and consider what they’re saying.

  ‘Look, what Anneka and Helen are suggesting is the worst-case scenario,’ says Polly. ‘What happened to thinking positive?’

  ‘I can do positive too,’ says Anneka. Helen raises an eyebrow with suspicion. ‘It’s just that I like to be practical. We’re all rooting for him to get his memory back as soon as possible but, in the meantime, I think your best bet is to make him fall in love with you again.’

  ‘Oh yes, I’ll just wave my magic wand,’ I say, running my hands through my hair. ‘It’s not that easy, is it? Falling in love, I mean. There are so many variables to consider and everything has to be just right. There are tons and tons of stories of people meeting their soulmate but it not being the right time for one of them, or something’s prevented them from getting together. If I’d have re-met Max a few years earlier I’d doubt we’d be together now. He was out with the lads most nights and having flings with drop-dead-gorgeous model types.’

  The words tumble out of my mouth before my brain catches up with me. Max still thinks he’s living that life. And he said it himself; he’s happy with the life he’s living.

  ‘But if he’s your soulmate,’ says Polly, tilting her head as she looks at me.

  ‘What if that’s not enough?’ I start to feel panicky. ‘What if we only fell in love because of that particular path of events? What if we couldn’t fall in love again?’

  ‘Firstly,’ says Helen, cutting me off, ‘we’re supposed to be cheering you up and this is heading in the wrong direction. Stay positive, remember? And secondly, it’s utter bullshit. Timing is bullshit. You fell in love once before; you’ll fall in love again. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘But what if it’s not? I mean, us falling in love, it was so fast but full of those little moments, you know, like when we’d played mini-golf as friends and we didn’t want the night to end so we kept on playing and playing until we got kicked out. Or when he took me to Paris for a romantic mini-break and told me loved me for the first time. Or all the times in the run-up to our wedding we spent practising our first dance, and each time I had to pinch myself as I thought how lucky I was that I was going to spend the rest of my life with him.

  ‘How could we possibly recreate all those feelings from those moments?’

  ‘I’ve got it,’ says Polly, wriggling forward in her chair and clapping her hands together. ‘You do it all again.’

  ‘I do what all again?’ I say, confused.

  ‘You do all your memories again,’ she says. ‘It’s absolutely perfect. You were just saying that what if you both only fell in love because of a particular path of events that led you to where you are now? So, by recreating these memories, you could still keep the variables the same.’

  ‘Variables? What is this, a school science experiment?’ Helen points down at my bump. ‘Besides, I don’t think all of the variables are going to be the same.’

  ‘She’ll be fine, as long as none of the dates were skydiving,’ says Polly.

  ‘I’ve also got Sasha now. Taking her on a mini-break isn’t exactly conducive to romance.’

  ‘Didn’t you say that your mother-in-law offered to be there for you if you needed anything?’

  ‘I guess so,’ I say, wondering if I should take her up on her offer to help out more with Sasha.

  ‘There you go. I think this sounds like a great idea,’ says Polly. ‘I’d love to do this with Jason. Perhaps I’ll suggest it, although we met at a twenty-four hour dance festival and there’s no bloody way that I’d make it even an hour stood in a muddy tent at the moment.’

  ‘It wouldn’t work with George either. We got together when he was still living with his ex-wife after they’d separated. And my days of a quickie in the back of his Jag are well and truly over, thank goodness.’

  ‘I feel like we’re learning so much about each other,’ says Helen, pulling a face. ‘But, Ellie, do you think this might work?’

  ‘I don’t know. Max is already totally freaked out about the fact that we’re together and we live in the suburbs.’

  ‘Oh hun, you don’t tell him that’s what you’re doing,’ says Anneka. ‘That’s not part of the plan. The thing with men is, you’ve got to take them by surprise but make them think that it was all their idea. That they’ve fallen in love with you all by themselves.’

  ‘But Max and I aren’t like that,’ I say, sighing. ‘We don’t play games.’

  ‘That’s when it was an even playing field,’ says Anneka, who clearly has too much experience in such matters. ‘These are definitely extenuating circumstances. And he is your husband already. It’s not like you’re trying to seduce a man to leave his wife.’

  ‘We can’t wait to hear all about it,’ says Polly, moving on swiftly. ‘We’re going to get you through this.’

&nb
sp; ‘Yes,’ says Helen. ‘We’ll be here, whenever you need us.’

  ‘We’ll help you every step of the way,’ says Anneka. ‘I’ve never been part of a gang like this before. We’ll be like The A-Team.’

  ‘Just without the violence and the bad jewellery,’ says Polly.

  ‘Speak for yourself. I could take down a few people, I reckon, and I love a bit of tacky jewellery, me,’ says Helen, and we all laugh.

  ‘Thanks, guys,’ I say, trying not to cry again. ‘I’m so glad that I met you all.’

  ‘Same,’ says Polly.

  Helen looks at Anneka before nodding in agreement.

  I might be experiencing a major life crisis, but, for the first time since Max’s memory loss, I feel positive about it. And they’re right; I need to start making things happen. Max fell in love with me once; how hard could it be to make him fall in love with me twice?

  Chapter 9

  Last night’s meet-up with the girls was just what I needed. Despite the fact that when I got home at 10 p.m., Sasha was up watching Peppa Pig with a flustered Max and Mick, who were like some comedic double act. I needed that time away from Max to remember that he fell for me once and to give me that hope that he could do it again.

  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what the girls said. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but the more time I spend around him, the more appealing it becomes.

  Max is meeting with his psychotherapist at the moment, and I hope that she has found the key to unlock his memories. I did try to go in with him, but I was kindly asked to wait outside and directed to a pile of magazines. It somehow feels fitting that they are years out of date; perhaps it provides a little comfort for his amnesiac clients.

  My phone starts to ring in my bag and I fumble around for it, convinced that I’d put it on silent, only to find that my screen is blank. A man at the end of the waiting room deliberately looks up at the big NO PHONES sign pinned on the wall and points at it. But the phone is still ringing, and I realise that it’s coming from Max’s jacket, which he left on the chair when he went in. I pull out the offending phone, about to decline the call, when I see that it’s a London number. I swipe up and answer it.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, picking up my bag and Max’s jacket and heading out into the corridor away from the disapproving looks of the man.

  There’s silence on the other end of the phone, but I’m convinced I can hear breathing.

  ‘Hello?’ I say again, but then the line goes dead.

  I know logically it was probably a sales call, but after the strange few days I’ve had, I have to check.

  I dial the number back and I get an automated answer for the switchboard of Charing Cross Hospital. Without knowing who I want to be connected to, I hang up. Surely that wasn’t a sales call? I get my phone and Google the hospital thinking it’ll be near Charing Cross station, only to find that it’s a large hospital in Hammersmith, just a few minutes’ drive from Chiswick where Max lost his memory.

  My heart starts to beat faster, but before I can do anything else, Max pokes his head out of the door.

  ‘Ah, there you are. I thought you’d done a runner.’

  ‘No, sorry, your phone rang and I came out here to answer it because I thought it might be important. Sorry.’

  ‘Oh, OK,’ he says, taking it back from me and swiping to see for himself. ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Someone at the Charing Cross Hospital. They didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Probably just a wrong number,’ he says, slipping the phone in his back pocket.

  ‘I guess, but it’s near to Chiswick, which certainly is a coincidence. Do you remember being at a hospital? Maybe you went there when you were confused?’

  ‘No, no,’ says Max. ‘I remember being outside of Chiswick station and not knowing how I got there. That’s when I went to Brixton.’

  ‘Right, OK,’ I say, thinking that it’s a bit of a dead end. I can hardly phone the switchboard asking them to find out who phoned Max. We start to weave our way out of the labyrinth of corridors. ‘So, how did the appointment go?’

  ‘It was intense.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ he says, rubbing his eyes. ‘Stuff.’

  ‘Stuff?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  Glad we cleared that up.

  ‘But it was useful?’

  He shrugs and sighs. ‘Maybe. To be honest, I’m exhausted; do you mind if we don’t talk about it? I guess I usually tell you everything, don’t I?’

  I’m torn. Max has never been one of those people that pours his feelings out to me, but I desperately want to know what’s going on in his head right now. Thoughts of Helen suggesting I use his memory loss to my advantage pop into my mind, even if her ideas were only related to domestic chores.

  ‘Mmmhmm,’ I say, not exactly correcting him.

  ‘Hopefully I’ll get better at that.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  If I don’t make anything other than noises, that’s not really being manipulative.

  I usually feel secure in our relationship, and it’s never bothered me beforehand to need to know every little thought in his head. But what’s going on now isn’t normal.

  We make it back to the car and, as I pull away, I can’t help but feel sad. It’s not like I truly believed he’d see the psychotherapist and be cured right away in one session, but it’s just that each day that ticks by, and he doesn’t have that breakthrough moment, it’s another day where my Max seems to drift further away from me.

  He really does look emotionally wrung-out, though. He leans his head against the window and shuts his eyes. I put the radio on and leave him alone for the rest of the drive.

  He stays in the car when I stop and pick up Sasha from nursery and he only really pays attention to his surroundings when we arrive back in Fleet.

  ‘Can we just pop into Mum and Dad’s?’ he asks.

  ‘Oh, um, I guess,’ I say, looking in the back and for once Sasha is wide awake and not snoozing in the car. ‘Do you want to give them a ring and see if they’re in?’

  ‘But their house is just up there,’ he says, pointing. ‘We’ll just knock and see.’

  ‘Oh, um,’ I say, feeling awkward. I’d told Judy that we’d give them notice before Max went round.

  I pull up on the drive and park behind Judy’s car.

  ‘Aren’t you getting out too?’ asks Max as he unclips his seatbelt.

  ‘Oh, are we going to be a while?’

  ‘Well, I wanted to talk to them about some of the questions that the psychotherapist asked me. You know, to check that I’ve got things right.’

  ‘Of course,’ I say, wincing slightly.

  I take my time unclipping Sasha from her seat before I formulate a plan.

  ‘Do you mind just nipping to the shop for me?’ I say. ‘I’m having another craving. I would go but my ankles are swelling and—’

  ‘And this craving wasn’t there when we drove past the big supermarket?’

  ‘No, just started. It’s for… gingerbread.’

  ‘Gingerbread?’ he says in disbelief.

  ‘Uh-huh, they do gingerbread men in the bakery section.’

  ‘Right,’ he says, as I pull Sasha out of the car. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘No, I think that’s it,’ I say, smiling sweetly.

  ‘Right.’ He doesn’t move. Instead he kicks his foot into the gravel and I’m wondering if he’s going to tell me to get my own gingerbread. ‘Before I go, do you, um, know if I’ve had therapy before?’

  ‘I don’t think you have,’ I say.

  ‘Right, it’s just it didn’t feel weird talking about myself, like I imagined it would.’

  ‘Huh, well, you’ve never told me you have, but I guess you might have seen someone before we met.’

  He nods his head slowly, looking down at the hole in the gravel that he’s made, before he smooths it over.

  ‘OK, well, I’ll see you in a bit. No cherry bakewells
to go with your gingerbread?’

  ‘No,’ I say, and he turns and walks off down the drive. It isn’t until he gets out of sight that I curse, realising that he won’t know that my ‘no’ really meant ‘yes’. My Max would have known that and bought the cakes too.

  How do I teach him all those little codes again? I try not to let the thought pull me down and I ring the bell.

  Mick answers it and he looks alarmed to see me.

  ‘Oh, darling, Ellie’s here,’ he shouts down the hallway before turning back and looking over my shoulder. ‘Is Max with you?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s just nipped to the shops.’

  ‘Right, good, sorry, we weren’t expecting you. We’ll get ourselves sorted. Graham’s in the kitchen with Judy.’

  ‘Oh right.’

  Judy comes hurrying out of the kitchen and along the corridor.

  ‘Did the psychotherapist help?’ she says.

  ‘Not in the way I was hoping for.’

  She sighs but I notice Mick looking a little pleased. I think he’s torn between wanting Max to get his memory back for his sake and enjoying his time with his son again.

  ‘Max will be back any minute. Did you want me to pretend you weren’t in, if Graham’s here?’

  ‘No, it should be fine. Judy’s got some story concocted,’ says Mick.

  ‘We couldn’t just not come up with something. Max still thinks he’s your best friend so it would look a little weird if he never came over.’

  ‘Come and have a cup of tea,’ she says, beckoning me down the hallway. ‘You can come too.’

  She points at Mick and I get the impression that the two of them are staying as far away from each other as possible whilst Max isn’t around.

  ‘I’m going to go and get some tennis racquets from the shed first. I was going to ask Max if he fancied a game, like old times.’

  As Mick heads off, Judy rolls her eyes. ‘He’s loving this, you know. It’s like none of the awful things he did matter any more.’

  I rub her arm.

  ‘Max’ll remember again soon,’ I say, and I release Sasha from my arms and she toddles up to Judy.

  ‘Hey, sweetie.’ She bends down and gives her a big squeeze. ‘Grandma will see if she’s got a biscuit for you.’