Jerry looked up and smiled, the expression open and warm. It was an endearing gesture, and Kim tried not to be affected by it.
He placed his hand over the mouthpiece. “This guy told me to hold on, and then he started playing music for me. It’s really thoughtful of him, but I wish he’d stop for a moment and talk to me.”
Kim crossed into the room and sat on the bed beside him. “Who’s on the phone?”
“Besides me?”
Patience, the doctor had told her. Have patience. “Yes, besides you.”
“The guy on television who wanted to give me more information about life insurance.”
“But you have plenty of insurance as an employee benefit with my father’s company.”
“Oh, no, this is for you.”
She stared at the man who suddenly seemed so concerned about her, but his attention was diverted by the salesperson who had come back on the line.
“Yeah, it’s for my friend,” Jerry said. “How much will it cost to ensure that she lives at least another fifty or sixty years?”
Kim continued staring as his face took on an expression of disbelief. He slowly hung up the phone, apparently stunned by what he’d heard.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“I don’t know why anyone would want to,” Jerry said, “but he told me to put the phone somewhere that I don’t think it will fit.”
“He must have thought you were joking,” she offered in an effort to undo the effect of the salesman’s harsh words. Unlike the pre-accident Gerald, Jerry was at a loss for dealing with various types of stress. If she’d been that salesman, she, too, would have thought Jerry was making a prank call.
When the doctor had told her he would suffer memory loss, she hadn’t thought it would extend to such basic life knowledge. Jerry was certainly keeping her busy as she tried to teach him all the things he’d formerly known.
“Buying life insurance doesn’t ensure that you’ll continue to live,” she explained. “It just means that when you die, the insurance company will give a predetermined amount of money to your survivors so they can pay your burial expenses.”
He seemed genuinely surprised. “Then why don’t they call it death insurance?”
Kim shrugged, then put the phone back on the night-stand. “Come on, breakfast is waiting for you in the den. I made banana pancakes just like you asked.”
She stood and offered an arm to help him up, but he insisted on getting to his feet under his own steam. When he was balanced against his crutches, she led the way into the hall toward the adjoining room.
It wasn’t until she heard the thud and crash that she realized he hadn’t followed her out of the room. Dashing back to the bedroom, she found him lying in a heap on the floor, one crutch thrown to the side and the other balanced on his chest.
“Jerry, are you all right?” She ran and knelt beside him as he tried to struggle to a sitting position. “Don’t move until we’re sure you haven’t broken anything else.”
With a light touch, afraid that even a slight pressure could cause further damage, she ran her hands gently over his arms, body and legs to check for possible broken bones.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
He closed his eyes. “No, it feels great.”
She jerked her hands away as if she’d been burned. It was enough that she was taking care of him these next couple of weeks. She certainly didn’t want him to get the impression he could expect anything more than room and board.
Kim helped him to his feet. “What happened?”
He lowered his head and gave her a sheepish grin. “I tried to take a shortcut through the wall.”
She felt her eyebrows draw together. “You can’t go through walls.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “Not anymore, I can’t.”
“Huh?”
Jerry rubbed his head. “Human bodies can’t transmogrify.”
Again, Kim led the way to the hall, but this time she watched her charge to make sure he followed her. “I think you’d better lay off the cartoons for a while,” she advised as he made his way to the den and lowered himself onto the sofa.
With his hands, Jerry moved his leg up onto the cushions and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Smells great,” he said of the food on the coffee table.
“Thanks. I hope you like it.” And she did. Despite the angry way in which they’d parted and the constant annoyances he caused her since he was released from the hospital, it was fun watching him get so excited over small things. Before the accident, it would have taken a drastic improvement in the stock market or the opportunity to travel abroad and do some skiing to elicit anything more than a benign, controlled smile from him.
Jerry dug into the breakfast she’d prepared for him, and Kim watched with delight as his expression changed from hopeful anticipation to pure ecstasy. It had taken some practice, and she was glad to see he’d finally mastered the use of a fork. His attitude changed after he sampled the coffee.
“No offense,” he said, “but this is disgusting.”
Kim put down her fork. “You always loved black coffee—said you couldn’t make it through the day without at least three cups.”
Jerry grew quiet. “I told you before...I’m a different man now.” He looked at her with such silent intensity it seemed as though he was trying to convey some truth, some deep meaning along with the words.
The silence stretched out. Was he trying to win her back? Did he remember what he’d done to cause their breakup? For that matter, did he even remember their breakup? Was he telling her that the accident had made him a changed man and that he wouldn’t cheat on her again?
No, she was convinced he remembered nothing from before the car crash. It was as if Gerald had received a personality transplant. Dr. Richmond had told her he may have suffered some brain injury, which would account for some unlikely behavior, but she’d never expected he’d be like a totally different person. Why, he even insisted on a different name for the new personality he’d become.
She could drive herself crazy if she tried to understand it. Perhaps it would be best to gradually reintroduce him to familiar things that might help him recall his past. In the meantime, she’d let him stay here until his body and mind healed enough for him to move back to his condominium without further injuring himself or burning the place down. And if she enjoyed the company of the sweet, thoughtful man who complimented her and made her laugh, what would be the harm in that? Before long, he would regain his memory and resume his relationship with that woman he’d taken to the motel.
Her teeth clenched at the memory, but she pushed aside the hurt feelings that arose whenever she thought of that fateful day. “Here,” she said, handing him her coffee mug. “Try mine. Maybe you’ll like it better.”
He sipped it, and she watched as he touched his lips to the rim of the mug and drank the sweetened beverage. After he sampled it, his handsome mouth turned downward at both corners. He handed it back to her. “No thanks.”
She got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. When she came back, he was staring at her once again in that odd, penetrating way of his.
She set the juice down in front of him, but he ignored it. “I’m sorry you’re having to miss work on account of me.”
At first she thought he was joking. The old Gerald would have expected as much as his due for merely existing. But when she saw how sincere he was, she gave a little