Misfortune struck without warning though who truly expects it? It always comes down like a sudden snowstorm.
Im Gregory, a longhaul lorry driver. For five years Ive been turning the wheel on the LondonEdinburgh run, back and forth. A photo of my beloved wife perched on the cab window, Capital FM humming from the speakers, a steaming mug of tea in a thermos what more could a driver ask for? Yet something was still missing: the familiar, comforting scent of the scarf my mum ever so lovingly knitted, my fathers firm handshake before each departure, and the steady certainty that at home Im loved and awaited every minute of every day.
One day Gregory never returned from a shift. A few days later, his wife Imogen learned hed been taken to York Hospital. The driver of an oncoming lorry lost control on a bend, veering into his. Both trucks tipped onto their sides. The other driver escaped with only a fright, but Greg suffered a serious head injury. The blow struck the parts of his brain that hold memory a cruel twist of fate. It could have been worse: loss of limbs, speech, or even his will. Instead, he woke up not knowing his own name, who he was, or what had happened. When his family entered the ward, they seemed strangers. The doctors could offer no hopeful prognosis; the human brain is a complex, stillmysterious organ, and ultimately its up to fate. He might recover good luck or not, and wed have to learn to live with it.
They discharged him, but life proved far harder than expected. Greg not only forgot his past, his shortterm memory kept failing him. He couldnt recall what had happened three hours earlier, and many everyday skills slipped away. He couldnt heat a meal on the stove or even take a short walk unaided. There was a real danger hed lose his way home. His intellect, will, motor skills and emotions remained intact he wasnt left dimwitted just his memory, which, with time, could mend. It happens.
Imogen was pregnant. She went on maternity leave, devoting every moment to her husband. At night she often wept, remembering how Greg used to bring a little toy from each journey for their unborn child.
Why, Greg? she would sigh, Its not yet time. They say you shouldnt buy things in advance bad luck, they say.
Greg would laugh, twirl her in his arms and answer, Forget those superstitions, my love. I want our daughter, the first time she sees her room, to be thrilled. I want toys everywhere a sea of them. He would sort them onto shelves, place some on the windowsill, hang a few above the cot. When he left the hospital, a nurse handed Imogen a tiny plush bear.
Strange, a talisman for a grown man on the road? she asked, halfamused.
Yes, a talisman, Greg replied, smiling. Imogen set the bear not in the nursery but on Gregs bedside table.
They often strolled handinhand through the park, sharing ice cream and laughter. Passersby likely assumed they were a happy couple expecting a baby and indeed they were. Yet after a nap following a walk, Greg would forget the walk entirely, even that Imogen was pregnant. So Imogen had to start over each day, reminding him she was his wife and that a longawaited daughter was on the way. Their parents pitched in, helping Imogen cope with the mounting challenges.
One afternoon, Gregs fatherinlaw, Arthur, called Imogen into the kitchen, shut the door, and said, Imogen, well understand if you decide to leave Greg. Youre young, beautiful, with a long life ahead. But think how quickly you might grow to resent him, the weight of his condition. And if his memory never returns? Progress is still unseen. As for the granddaughter, well love her, our little bundle of joy. Well help however we can. Well understand, dear, well understand everything.
Imogen felt a surge of anger, fatigue, and hurt mingle inside her. She steadied herself, smiled, and gently inclined her head to Arthurs shoulders. He stroked her chestnut hair and whispered, Dont lose hope, love. Well get through this. Youre strong, even with a newborn weight of zero pounds.
Indeed, Imogen had always been slender and petite; beside her, Greg looked like a giant. When he first brought her to his parents home, they were shocked but kept it hidden. Later theyd tease their son, Shes a crystal! Where did you find such a one? They fell for Imogen at once. She was kind, a touch shy, and, most importantly, embraced Gregs parents with warmth. From that day forward Greg often called her my crystal.
Their daughter, Millie, was born. Greg met Imogen at the maternity ward, his face alight with joy. The next morning he asked, Whats this child? and Imogen began the story anew. Shed grown accustomed to retelling the same tale, each time adding a new detail now that detail was Millie. Greg would take his daughter in his arms, his eyes shining each time.
At first, Imogen moved Millies cot into her own bedroom so the baby would be close; the little one woke often, fussed, and slept poorly, and Imogen stayed up nights watching over both husband and child, fearing he might need a drink of water or something else. She stopped sleeping altogether. Exhaustion took its toll her milk supply dwindled.
Sweetheart, let us move in with you. Its too hard for you alone, suggested Gregs mother, Maureen.
No, Ill manage, Imogen replied, sparing her parents more worry they werent young any more and knowing she would have to live with this forever, staying strong and composed.
Millie was switched to formula. One night Imogen awoke not because of her babys cries, but to a soft humming lullaby drifting through the room:
Scattered toys across the floor,
Children dreaming sweetly more,
A clever fox steals a treat,
An elephant rumbles at the gate,
Days whirl by in snowy swirl,
Outside the white snow glitters bright,
The moon draws shadows, painting light,
Searching for its silver sight.
She lifted her head and saw Greg rocking Millie. In one hand he clutched the precious bear, in the other a bottle of formula that Millie was sipping. Imogen quietly settled on the edge of the bed, saying nothing, afraid to startle Greg after all, the child was safely in his arms. The room was unusually bright; the full moon bathed every corner.
Thats happiness, Imogen thought.
Greg tucked Millie in, placed the little bear on the cot and whispered, Here you go, darling, a gift from me. Then, shivering from the chill, he crawled under the blanket beside his wife.
I love you, my crystal, he murmured, his voice soft as the night.
