Page 52 of Forgotten
“Some things are best left unsaid, Ashford.”
I laugh at Vicky’s tone. Same old Vicky. No surprises. It’s reassuring, when the whole world changes but some people never do. And when I talk to Vicky, I become a different person, too. My walls go up, I can’t help it. “You didn’t visit. Where do you live now?”
“Perhaps I didn’t need to see your ugly beard.”
I could call her bluff knowing how much she used to like my beard when we were together, but I don’t. “I actually shaved it this morning.”
“Giving Ashley the sexy dimple and red hair package?”
“Don’t play with me, I have no idea where we stand. And I mean Ash and I but I also mean you and I. Do Italk to you about Ashley? Do we brush our hair and do face masks together? I forgot everything.”
“Shanghai.”
“Pardon?”
Clearing her voice Vicky explains, “Where I am at.”
“Bitch. The Orchestra?”
Before Vicky was my girlfriend, she was the best violinist at Sheffield University. Afterwards, Vicky was still the best violinist in Sheffield. Perhaps the best in England.
“No, I’m here picking apples. Of course I’m in the orchestra, you prick.”
I laugh into the phone but I know Vicky remains serious. “Do you like it? Are you already rehearsing for the Christmas Concert?” I ask, but I know that she is. Orchestras are like that. I scan my nails, short and healthy, and I miss none of my days of playing the viola.
“I didn’t call to make small talk about me, Ashford. Talk me through the past twenty-four hours.”
But I don’t know where to begin, and I tell Vicky exactly that.
“You woke up yesterday morning, did you not?”
I did wake up yesterday morning. I blush, thinking of the way Ash had gripped my cock with his hands and wrapped his mouth around me. How he’d worshipped me until I lost sense of who I was. But this is not what I tell Vicky.
Instead, I tell her how lost I felt when Dad brought home Winnie, how the entire day felt like a big fat dream montage out of a sappy rom-com. Ash, Winnie andmyself in the living-room, building blocks and laughing until our bellies hurt. Ash and Winnie in the kitchen, snacking on carrots and bread while I was cooking them an actual meal. Winnie tapping on my arm brace gently, asking, “What?” in the most innocent voice. Her sweet expression when I gave a taste of dinner. Ash begging me to let Winnie sleep in our bed and the three of us falling asleep exhausted but together. Just like a family.
“I’m honestly getting diabetes as we speak,” Vicky comments.
“Send me the hospital bill.”
Vicky lets out a laugh, clearly mocking me. “You barely speak English, Ashford. What do you want to do with a bill in Mandarin? Now quit dilly-dallying and tell me how today went.”
“Shall I do that in English then?”
Vicky scoffs and doesn’t reply, instead waiting for me to continue.
“Okay, whatever. Violinist’s attitude. Winnie woke us at six and again, it doesn’t feel real. We snuggled in bed for a little and Ash was holding my hand like I might disappear at any moment. Then Winnie wanted breakfast so Ash made her some but she really hates how he cuts apples. So I had to do it. Then my dad came round, and Ash and I went to the hospital for my check-up. Do you really want to know every detail?”
“I’m sitting in a train, Ashford. Nothing better to do.”
“Right. My check-up was with a different doctor but they seemed really impressed with my progress. They couldn’t believe that my accident was just two monthsago. They gave me a band to do some exercises to strengthen the elbow and they showed me some movements to do with my body weight. As long as I keep it light, they said. I have a full mobility program for my legs now, even more intense than what I’m used to.”
“So really giving Ashley all the dimples and the red hair and the muscles.”
“Hardly the muscles I used to have.” I sigh, thinking of how weak my arm has gotten underneath the sling. I don’t tell Vicky how I’ve been avoiding the mirrors, scared of how my body looks. How different it will be from what I remember, or worse, how similar. How exactly identical my reflection will be now that I am in love with Ash and I am Winnie’s father.
How can I be the same on the outside, when on the inside there’s so much uncertainty?
“You might have lost some muscle, but you’re still exactly the same Ashford you’ve always been. Smitten with Ashley and ridiculously annoying with a guitar.”
