Never Close Enough (27 page)

   “I'm sorry Megan.  I am really not trying to be an ass.  I just miss her,” he said sadly.  “Knowing
she is in there awake and not seeing her is killing me.”

   “I know.  Don't worry about it.  Everything will be ok.”   Megan and Patrick sat down again, and the four of them began another agonizing wait for any news about Ella.

   Finally, Dr. Andrews came into the waiting room.  Porter stood, along with everyone else.

   “Doctor, how is Ella doing?”  Porter asked.

   “Ella is doing well.  She is coming in and out of consciousness, which is typical after being on this medication.  This last time she woke up, she was conscious for about twenty minutes and was answering questions and following commands.  It would seem that she has retained all of her speech abilities and as far as we can tell, she is able to move normally.  There doesn't seem to have been any detrimental or irreversible damage in that way.” 

   Porter exhaled a breath that he felt like he'd been holding for days.  He shook, endorphins pumping through his system from the news he'd been waiting to hear since she was brought to this hospital.  H
e needed to sit down, and his body moved backwards until he found a chair to collapse into.  With his elbows resting on his knees he held his head in his hands and focused on taking deep and even breaths.

   “She's ok?” He finally managed to choke out.

   “She seems to have dodged most of the complications these types of brain injuries can cause.”  Porter's head rose slowly to meet the doctor's eyes.

   “Most?”

   “Yes, unfortunately, there does seem to be some retrograde amnesia.”

   “Retro-what?”

   “Retrograde amnesia.”

   “What does that mean?”

   “Sometimes when these types of brain injuries occur the brain shuts certain connections down.  As doctors, there's only so much we understand about the brain and most of the time the way it works is still a mystery.  Where memory loss in concerned, there are two types.  Someone either loses the ability to make new memories, more commonly known as Short Term Memory Loss, or they lose old memories, also called Retrograde Amnesia.  In Ella's case, she has lost some of the memories in the past.”

   “Is it permanent?”

   “Not always, although there is no proven way to 'cure' this type of amnesia.  Usually when a patient gets their memory back it is random and not linked to any kind of specific treatment.”

   “But ther
e are ways to treat it?”

   “There are methods to encourage recall, yes.  Hypnotherapy, counseling, simply looking through old photos or visiting memorable locations.”

   “No medication?  No operation?”

   “No.  Unfortunately, there are no known medical tr
eatments used to bring back lost memory.”

   “I want to see her.”  Porter stood up from his chair and began to march towards her room.  Dr. Andrews took a step in front of him and put a hand up to meet his chest.

   “Right now, Mr. Masters, that is not a good medical choice to make for Ella.  She is in a fragile state at the moment and any disruption to her emotionally is not advisable.”  Porter stared so deeply into Dr. Andrews eyes, he was surprised the doctor didn't shrivel up onto the floor or burst into flames.

   “I am going to see her.  I haven't been sitting here for days just for you to tell me what's best for her
emotionally
.  There is nothing better for her than me.”  Porter could feel his heartbeat pounding in his neck and he knew he looked like he was about to lose control.  He wasn't so sure himself that he wasn't teetering over the edge.

   “Mr. Masters, again, with her memory loss, seeing you wouldn't be in her best interest.  If you cannot accept this and still intend to enter her hospital ro
om, I will have to call security and have you forcibly removed from the building.”

   “What the hell does her memory loss have to do with keeping her away from me?!”

   “It's you, Porter,” Megan interjected, looking at the ground, avoiding all eye contact.  “You're the memory Ella lost.  She doesn't remember you.” 

The End

Epilogue

Dear Porter,

   If you’re reading this letter, it’s because something has happened between us.  I told you specifically not to open this letter unless you felt me slipping away, so I assume we’ve had a fight or some nonsense.  I was hoping to write you this letter to preemptively bypass any stubbornness on my side (I’ve been accused of being stubborn by a certain handsome man I know).  But seriously, if you’ve opened this envelope, I’ve made a mistake.

   I want you to know that there should never be any doubt in your mind that I want to be with you, that I want us to be together.  What we have, our relationship, is bigger and more important than any problems we may
be going through at the moment.  So, even though circumstances are pushing us apart or perhaps even I am pushing you away, I want you to fight Porter.  Fight for us.  Fight for me.  Don’t let me slip away.  Don’t let me give up and please don’t give up on us.  I don’t know if I will always have the determination to keep marching on when obstacles get in our way.  I will always want you, but I won’t always be strong enough to tell you that or remember how much we are supposed to be together.  You will need to remind me.

   I am positive I am the one running and that you are hurting.  I can’t tell you why I’m losing faith in us, but please just don’t give up.  Just remember that I will always love you, no matter what.

   There has never been another man in my life that I have loved with the depth of feeling or sense of need as I have with you.  You are my heart.  You are my soul.  And you are sexy as hell.

   Don’t lose me, Porter.  Don’t let me slip away.

I love you, almost as much as you love me.

Come and get me,

Ella.

   The paper that Ella used to write her letter on was soft and supple.  That tends to happen when too much handling occurs.  The natural oil from hands seeped into the paper causing it to feel almost like leather, making it appear to be
deceivingly strong even though constant handling made the paper fragile.

   Porter read the letter from Ella hundreds of time since he left her at the hospital eight weeks ago.  Ever since the day that Ella woke up and had no memory of him, or the beach, o
r breaking up with Kyle, or even finding Kyle with another woman; Porter was at the mercy of Ella’s family.  Her parents were adamant that even though they knew that Porter loved her, they thought it was best not to pressure Ella into talking to him or even telling her he existed.  Unless she remembered him on her own, they were not going to let him see or speak to her.  They promised that if Ella regained her memory they would contact him.  They made it clear he was not to contact them or Ella.

   Megan wa
s a little more understanding of Porter’s position.  In the beginning, she would send him updates on her progress, let him know how she was doing.  But as the weeks waned on, she had less and less to say to him.  Ella still remembered nothing of him or the time they spent together.  Porter was optimistic that, given time, her memory would return.  Surely, the memories of what they shared together, those eight days at the beach, were so permanently engrained in her mind they would eventually surface and one day he would get a phone call from her and all would be repaired.  But each and every day that passed wore him down and eventually he found himself struggling. 

   When he got to the bottom of the pit of darkness that he usually resided in, he pulled out
her letter and read it over and over again.  Sometimes he cried because he missed her and felt her absence so deeply that his chest and arms ached for her.  Sometimes he yelled and threw things against the walls of his house that betrayed him with memories of her.  She was everywhere in his house; she was shrieking up the stairs running from him playfully, she was in his bed haunting him with memories of loving her, she was waiting for him on his couch every day when he walked in the door. How could he go and get her if she had no idea who he was?

   Today, however, he read her letter on the beach.  He had tried to stay off the beach since her accident, not wanting to be reminded of the times they had spent there together.  But today he felt a pull to the oc
ean and, inevitably, Ella.  He read the letter while listening to the waves, trying desperately to hear Ella’s voice speak to him.  Today, a new piece of the letter stood out to him. 
You will need to remind me.
  How could he remind her if they won’t let him speak to her? 
Remind me.
  He could hear her, calling to him, asking him to help her remember.  To remind her. 

Coming in 2014

Never Far Away

Acknowledgments

   Here is where I feel like I will start to sound like every
other author on the planet.

   To my dear husband, Demian, without your support and encouragement, our house would be cleaner, our children wouldn’t miss me, and we would have more money in our bank account because I wouldn’t be drinking so much coffee.  However, when you gave me free reign to do this, and follow my heart, you gave me the greatest gift.  I hereby bestow upon you one “Follow Your Dream” coupon, which you can cash in whenever you have something completely out of left field you want to pursue.  I promise to support you 100%, and show you all the love and devotion you’ve given to me since this whole process started.

   Brook, what you have done for me and this book is nothing short of incredible.  The book might not have even gotten finished ha
d you not been so wrapped up in it.  I was fueled by your enthusiasm and driven by your feedback.  You’ve been my best friend since forever, and I can’t wait to share more of my crazy stories with you, until you tire of reading them!  I am so excited that we both are doing something we love, and that we can support each other. 

   Matt, thanks for pouring the wine and hating Kyle with such raging passion.  Can I get a Grande mocha for ‘Not a Pervert’?

   Krysta, your talents and gifts made Never Close Enough so much better.  I cannot express how much I appreciate all the time and effort you contributed to this endeavor, and I am forever grateful that you agreed to be a part of this book.

   Finally, Mom, thanks for all the support you show me in anything I
venture in to.  I could have been writing an owner’s manual to a car and I am sure you would have been just as excited and proud.  Thanks for watching my kids so I could write in peace and quiet and for listening to all the updates I excitedly told you about (and will continue to bombard you with).  I am so lucky to have you.