Open Heart

Chapter 38:Without My Memories?

I HAVE BEEN ON A phone call with my mother for over ten minutes, and though I knew it was to check on how things were I sensed that she was being cautious.

"Mom," I warned to which she gave a defeated sigh.

"How is he?" She finally asked.

I think she didn't ask right away for fear that Samuel was next to me, but it was silly considering that my phone wasn't on speaker nor was she speaking to me in creole.

It wasn't only her who had contacted me to check on how things were going, but it was only her who decided that calling was the better option.

Of course, mom would prefer that.

With my mother's question, I bit my bottom lip as I recalled the day.

After Samuel's bath, he felt tired so he went to sleep almost immediately. He then woke up an hour later complaining about a headache. Before giving him his midday medications, I fed him his lunch.

There was a zoom meeting he had with his psychiatrist. That ended as quickly as it started because Samuel had gotten irritable.

He was in that irritable mood for the rest of the day, therefore doing anything, especially from his old routine was out the question for today.

I looked at Samuel's closed room door, before answering my mother through the phone call.

Throughout our conversation, I was responding to her in English but to avoid Samuel from hearing this specific answer just in case he was awake I answered her question in creole.

I also told her how there was nothing to occupy me. I had probably rearranged everything in this house by now in just a day alone.

"Pran courage, Fafa," my mother encouraged lovingly.

"Thanks, mom, I will. Uhh, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Goodnight mom. Love you."

It was true that I was exhausted, but I wasn't ready to go to bed as yet. I simply didn't feel like talking anymore.

Leaning my head back against the chair, I looked up and whispered, "Lord, give me strength."

****

The next day seemed to have gone by just as the day before. And the day after that.

That was when I decided that both Samuel and I needed to get out of the house.

Although I was practicing patience, I wasn't getting anywhere with Samuel. He was just as to himself as he was when he came from the hospital.

"Get dressed. We're going out, Samuel," I told him that Friday afternoon.

Shocked, Samuel jumped out of his bed almost immediately. I noticed that he didn't hold his side, but I didn't comment on it.

"Where are we going?" he asked, throwing a t-shirt over his head.

Grabbing the keys with determination, I looked back at him and said, "For ice cream."

Throughout the car ride, I'd make little comments here and there about certain areas we passed in an attempt to help with his memory. Nothing I said rang a bell, so I didn't force it.

From the house to Love Boat Ice Cream Parlor was about a thirty minutes drive that I didn't mind.

"Why'd we come here?" Samuel sat uncomfortably on the other side of the table with his hands in his jacket pocket.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I just wanted to do something different today."

He made eye contact with me for one quick second and then looked down at the table. "Did we use to come here?"

"Yeah, we'd come here about once a month before it closed due to covid. We'd get this same order every time. Try it. Do you like it?"

Slowly, Samuel lifted his spoon to his mouth and barely licked the spoon. He rested the spoon back down with no readable expression on his face.

"So..." I leaned forward as I anticipated his answer. "Is it good?"

"It's meh."

This should've crushed my spirits, but I found myself laughing wholeheartedly for the first time in a while.

"Try mine," I suggested as I slid my bowl across the table to him. "You hate peppermint ice cream. You used to say that it tastes like tooth-"

My words came to a stop as I watched Samuel devour my ice cream. He looked fascinated as if he'd never tasted ice cream in his entire existence. It was the first expression besides his post-accident dull expression.

"What were you saying?" He quickly looked up at me.

I shook my head with a smile and just watched him as he ate the rest of my ice cream. In my hand was his vanilla ice cream in a waffle cone that had started to melt so I ate it.

When we were both done we took a walk around. Unconsciously, I slipped my hand through his elbow.

He didn't say anything about it.

"You're eating by yourself now," I commented.

"Oh. I didn't notice." He took his hands out of his pockets to touch his side as if to confirm. "I guess I'm okay now." He even did the breathing exercises we've been doing for the past three days every two hours. "It hurts a little."

Healing from a rib fracture took up to at least 6 weeks. Samuel has been in a coma for eight days and in the hospital for twelve days.

The fact that he wasn't in a coma longer than that and he wasn't immobile and didn't need help to learn to do basic things again after his accident was mindblowing.

It can only be God.

That's the only thought that came to mind as I stole a glance at Samuel.

This was why I didn't feel the need to be discouraged if he didn't regain his memory. The fact that he was here with me and alive was something that I'd forever be grateful for.

My only concern was his new dullness and that we couldn't have a conversation for longer than ten minutes. But these were little problems in front of the big victory that God had allowed us to experience.

"For someone who's been injured as bad as you, you're recovering way faster than expected. Are you sure you're not some supernatural creature Mr. Maduka?" I teased.

For a second, it felt like old time but Samuel's meek shrug reminded me that it wasn't. Pre-accident Samuel would've responded with those smart comments of his. But still, I couldn't help but smile at this.

"Your dad wants to talk to you again later today. Are you up for it?"

Samuel had conversed with his dad three times post-accident. The conversations were never long, but their dialogues were still mostly in Igbo just like in old times so that was good.

"There's not much to say to him. I don't remember anything he talks about," Samuel answered dimly.

"That's okay. You don't remember any of the stories I tell you either. Your dad is more interested in you than your memories, bubba."

By the time, I noticed that I didn't call him by his name it was too late but Samuel's interest wasn't in that. Instead what he told me nearly broke my heart.

"But who am I without my memories?"

🤍 🤍

Translations:

Pran courage (Creole)- Have courage