Memory of Love
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- 8 -
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When Leanne arrived at the hospital, the next day, Ben was propped up in bed struggling to eat lunch one handed.
“Hello.” Leanne smiled at him. “How are you feeling today?”
Ben pushed the tray away and lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
Just then, Sandra Burton came into the room.
“Oh, hello there.” she smiled at Leanne.
“Hello.” Leanne smiled back.
“See, I told you he’d be alright, didn’t I?” Sandra said, quietly, to Leanne, as she bent to pick up the tray from the bed trolley.
Leanne nodded.
Sandra gave Ben an openly admiring look before backing out of the room with the tray.
“They tell me I’ve been here over two weeks?” Ben said, as Leanne pulled up the chair and sat down, his speech still sounding slightly stilted.
“Yes.” agreed Leanne. “It was a nasty head injury you had. How is your head by the way?”
“Fuzzy.” replied Ben, “Sore.”
Leanne nodded sympathetically.
“My leg hurts too.” Ben added.
The doctors had told Leanne that when Ben had broken his ankle, he had also gashed his leg badly and damaged his calf muscle, which would require physiotherapy once he recovered.
“Has anything come back to you yet?” Leanne ventured.
Ben shook his head, looking at Leanne with eyes that reminded her of a frightened deer.
“Don’t worry.” said Leanne, reassuringly. “It’s quite normal for people to lose their memory after an accident, especially after a wallop on the head like you had.”
“You’ve known me a long time?” Ben asked. Leanne nodded.
“Tell me about myself.”
Leanne sighed. “You’re American, an actor, and you’ve been living in London while you work on a t.v. series. You were born in San Diego, but you live in Los Angeles. I look after your house here in London, cleaning, doing your laundry, shopping, a little secretarial work too.”
“Do I have relatives? Brothers? Sisters?”
Leanne shook her head. “You don’t have brothers or sisters, and I’m afraid your parents are… dead.” she finished, not wanting to upset him with the details at the moment.
Ben seemed unmoved by the information however. Leanne could only assume that it was because, if he couldn’t remember them, he couldn’t feel any emotion towards them.
“No wife, or ex-wife? Kids?”
Leanne shook her head. “No. You’re a bachelor, although you’ve dated a lot of women since I’ve known you.”
“What about friends?”
“Oh, you have a lot of friends, especially in the acting profession.”
Ben looked thoughtful. “How come none of them have been to visit me?”
“You’ve been very ill, Ben. The doctors wouldn’t allow casual visitors. But there’s a pile of get well cards waiting for you at the house, and a lot of people have telephoned to ask how you are.”
For the rest of the day, and over the next couple of weeks, Ben bombarded her with questions, wanting to know everything she knew about his life.
Leanne told him everything she knew, and everything she could ever remember Ben telling her about himself, but none of it seemed to make any impression on Ben at all. Even when she had reluctantly told him about Lui, and the fiasco with Petra, he’d shown no flicker of recognition or emotion.
After his initial panic, at the loss of his memory, he gradually calmed down, as he got used to Leanne and the hospital staff, becoming frustrated, more than anything, that he couldn’t remember any of the things they’d told him about himself.
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For some time, Ben was plagued by violent headaches, and problems with his vision and balance, as a result of his head injury, which made him feel nauseous and light headed, These, combined with his amnesia and his restricted mobility meant that it was another month before the hospital allowed Ben to be discharged, by which time his external injuries had almost healed.
Half of the 3” scar on his temple was disappearing beneath the new growth of hair beginning to show where they’d shaved it to treat the wound. The remainder would always show but wouldn’t look very unsightly since it was a straight cut and not a jagged wound.
He was still limping, from the injury to his leg, and needed a stick to walk with, but the hospital had assured him that, with physiotherapy, he would make a full recovery.
When Leanne arrived at the hospital to pick him up, on the day of his discharge, he seemed very tense. She assumed, correctly, that he was nervous of leaving the now familiar surroundings of the hospital, and the people he’d come to know and trust, to go somewhere he hadn’t the vaguest recollection of. Leanne tried to imagine how she would feel in his place. It wasn’t very pleasant.
She chatted cheerfully to him as they drove along, ignoring the apprehensive silence from Ben’s side of the car.
Eventually, they pulled up outside the house, Ben peering, anxiously, through the windscreen, at it.
“I own this?” he asked.
“You do.” Leanne smiled at his bewildered expression. “Why? Were you expecting something different?”
“I don’t know.” Ben sighed. “I don’t know what I was expecting.” For a moment he looked angry. “I wish I could remember something… anything…”
“You will, don’t worry.” Leanne replied, with more conviction than she felt. Nothing she had said to him so far had jogged his memory. She was beginning to wonder if anything ever would.
Ben nodded, thoughtfully, while Leanne got out and went round to help him out of the car.
They went into the house and Ben wandered around, trying to familiarise himself with it, while Leanne made them some coffee.
They sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, drinking the coffee, Ben gazing thoughtfully out of the window while Leanne studied his face, at a loss for something to say. She’d spent so much time, these past weeks, re-educating Ben about his life, she had nothing left to talk to him about, except his business affairs, which desperately needed discussing but which Leanne had been putting off doing. Not only did he have no memory of what his life had been prior to the accident and would therefore have no idea what she was talking about, but also, she hadn’t wanted to put any more stress on him than necessary. He was having a hard enough time coping with day to day things, like today’s homecoming, without having to try and make sense of confusing business affairs.
They would have to be discussed however, and now seemed as good a time as any.
“Ben?” she began presently.
“Yeah?” Ben answered, without turning to look at her.
“I’ve been trying to take care of your mail and stuff while you’ve been in hospital… but there’s a lot of bills, and things, that need to be paid. Do you want me to help you with them?”
Ben looked at her now, his eyes troubled.
“Do I have any money?” he asked. It seemed a stupid question but, then again, how would he know?
Leanne shrugged. “I should think so. You don’t run two homes on thin air.”
“Yeah.” Ben nodded. Leanne had told him about his home in Los Angeles but, for all it meant to him, it might as well have been on the moon.
“How about I make you an appointment with the bank? They’ll be able to tell you all you need to know about your finances, and can help you sort everything out.”
Ben thought for a moment, a frown furrowing his brow.
“Will you come with me?” he asked, his eyes pleading.
Leanne nodded. “If you want me to.” she smiled. Ben looked like a little boy about to embark on his first day at school, and Leanne had the urge to reach out and hug and kiss him, and tell him everything would be alright.
“I don’t suppose you even remember which bank you use?” she asked him gently.
Ben bowed his head. “No.” he muttered.
Leanne patted his hand. “Don’t worry. If you like, I’ll have a look round later and see if I can track down some bankbooks and find out which branch you use.”
Ben nodded.
“Do you like the house?” Leanne changed the subject.
Ben nodded, slowly. “Yes, I do. But I can’t believe it’s mine.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” he frowned. “I just feel like, this isn’t me.”
Leanne wondered what sort of background he had come from. He’d never said much about his childhood.
“Perhaps you lived in a small house when you were a child?” she suggested.
Ben’s eyes filled with tears as he tried, without success, to remember his family and his childhood.
“I don’t know.” he replied, finally, his voice gruff.
Leanne put a hand on his arm. “Don’t upset yourself, Ben. You’ll remember, in time.”
Ben drew a hand across his forehead, raking it through his hair.
“Yeah.” he agreed, with a sigh.
Later, Leanne searched around in the study and found some bank books and also some legal papers with Ben’s signature on them. She took them in to him and gave Ben a sheet of paper to practice his signature on, surprised to find it not dissimilar to the one on the papers. He practiced a few more times before signing some blank cheques so that Leanne could pay some of the more urgent outstanding bills.
She made an appointment for him at the bank, later that week, and went with him, to see the Manager, to explain what had happened to Ben and to find out the state of his finances. He was one of the bank’s better known customers and the Manager was only too pleased to oblige him with details of his finances, in Britain and, after several phone calls to the States, of his bank account there too.
When they eventually left the bank, Ben seemed in better spirits. Finding out the state of his finances was like finding the first piece in the jigsaw puzzle of his life. He was relieved to know that he had adequate funds for anything he might want, although he couldn’t think how he’d managed to amass that kind of money. Leanne had told him about his work as an actor, but he couldn’t remember anything about it and had no idea of the substantial fees he earned for doing it, and he said as much to Leanne as they drove home.
Leanne told him that she had a couple of episodes of the show on video, and suggested bringing them for him to watch.
“They might jog your memory.” she told him.
Ben agreed, and Leanne brought the tapes with her the next day.
They sat down in the lounge to watch the tape, but Ben seemed very disturbed by it. Leanne didn’t know, and Ben couldn’t remember, that he never normally watched himself on film because he always found fault with his performances and wanted to do them over again.
He was also disturbed by the fact that, although Leanne had told him he had been playing this character for some time, he had absolutely no recollection of doing it and couldn’t relate what he was seeing on screen with himself. Indeed, if he hadn’t seen his reflection in the mirror, he wouldn’t even have known it was himself he was seeing.
After several minutes of agitated viewing, Ben got up and strode out of the room.
Leanne switched off the tape and went after him. She found him in the study, standing by the window, an agonised expression on his face.
“Ben? What is it?” Leanne approached worriedly.
Ben shook his head. “I can’t believe that person is me.” said Ben. “It’s like I’m watching a complete stranger. I wouldn’t even have recognised myself if I hadn’t seen myself in the mirror.” He tilted his head back, exhaling deeply, before turning to look at her, his eyes a turmoil of emotions.
“I…” he began, but then shrugged, unable to find the words to explain how he felt.
“It’s alright.” said Leanne, gazing into his troubled eyes, unaware of the love she was revealing in her own. “It’s alright.” she repeated, squeezing his shoulder.
Ben turned to look at her, a thousand questions in his eyes. A strange expression flashed through his eyes as they met hers, but was gone so quickly that Leanne couldn’t read it.
“Ben?” she whispered, wondering if he’d remembered something.
Ben lowered his gaze and turned away from her.
“This is driving me crazy.” he groaned, sitting down on the edge of the sofa and holding his head in his hands.
Leanne sat down by him and put her arm around his shoulder, the warmth of his body, and his masculine smell causing butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She sucked in a deep breath, trying to shut the feelings out of her mind.
“You’re trying too hard.” she told him, her voice sounding strangely breathless. “The harder you try, the less likely you are to remember anything. You need to relax, get out and about again, start a new life, as of today, forget the past. Then, you’ll probably find that, one day, things will just pop back into your mind without you even realising.”
Ben didn’t answer, gazing pensively down at the carpet.
Leanne sighed. “I’ve got some chores to do.” she told him. She got up and left the room, going back into the kitchen and sinking down onto a stool at the breakfast bar.
It hurt her to see Ben so unhappy, but what about her own happiness? Being near him was driving her almost as mad as Ben’s amnesia was him. Just touching him, as she had just now, made her go weak at the knees and she constantly had to guard her tongue lest she let slip her feelings. Much more of this and she would be going crazy, never mind Ben.
With a sigh, she got up and retrieved the video cassette from the recorder. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea to show it to him. She had suggested it with good intentions, but it seemed to have made things worse. She just wished she could begin to understand what he was feeling so that she could try to help him.
After a week at home, there was still no sign of Ben’s memory returning and he was beginning to get frustrated. He had spent hours going through his things, hoping that something might trigger a memory – books, records, a few photographs he’d taken while in England, legal documents and papers – but none registered any thoughts in his mind whatsoever. They could all have belonged to a total stranger for all they meant to him.
Leanne was worried he was becoming a recluse. Apart from the visit to the bank, and his trips to the hospital for physiotherapy on his leg, he refused to go anywhere. He was afraid go to out in case someone he knew saw him and spoke to him and he wouldn’t know who they were. He wouldn’t answer the phone for the same reason and let all his calls go to the answering machine, and when Leanne had mentioned about him going back to work he had looked horrified, saying that he couldn’t possibly think about that until he’d recovered his memory. He spurned all of Leanne’s attempts to get him out of the house – offering to treat him to lunch, suggesting they take in a movie, inviting him to help her fetch the groceries – spending all his time moping about indoors, watching t.v. or reading books, and brooding.
“You can’t hide away forever, Ben.” Leanne told him, one evening, after he had refused, yet again, to go out for a meal with her. “You have to get out, get on with your life.”
“I can’t.” Ben tried to explain. “How can I ‘get on’ with my life, when I don’t know what my life is?”
“You know what your life was.” said Leanne. “We’ve explained it all to you. And there’s no reason why you can’t move on with your career. You haven’t forgotten how to read, or how to feel emotion. That’s all you need. Losing your memory shouldn’t make any difference to your work. You don’t have to act as yourself. Isn’t that what actors do? Pretend to be someone else?”
“Yes…but…” Ben began, but Leanne carried on speaking.
“Whatever your ambitions were, you’ll find them again. You haven’t changed inside. You’re still the same person you were, so all the things you were, are, will come to the surface eventually, but not if you sit here stagnating.”
Ben shook his head. “How can I pretend to be someone else, when I don’t know who I am?” he said, prodding himself in the chest. He gave a deep sigh. “You don’t understand.”
Leanne gave up. He was right, she didn’t understand. She had no idea what he was feeling. She’d never experienced anything to compare it with and, as such, had no right to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. But she knew that he had to do something, or he would just vegetate. But how did she get that through to Ben?
The following week, a delegation from the t.v. company arrived for a meeting with Ben about the show. They’d had to cut short the end of the previous series due to Ben’s prolonged stay in hospital, hoping to make up the other episodes with the next series.
Ben had wanted to put them off when they called, but, as Leanne had pointed out, they were his current employers and therefore had a right, and so, reluctantly, Ben had agreed.
Leanne watched them arrive and disappear into the lounge, Ben looking apprehensive. She took a tray of coffee in to them, giving Ben a reassuring smile as she left the room and busied herself putting away some laundry she’d just done, before making herself a cup of coffee and sitting down in the kitchen to drink it.
She could hear muffled voices coming from the lounge, but couldn’t hear what was being said. She hoped Ben was alright. It must be hard to be with all those people who he worked so closely with, and who knew him so well, when he didn’t have a clue who they were, or what they were talking about.
He had casually suggested to Leanne that she sit in with them, but that wouldn’t have been fair. The meeting was private business between employer and employee. They wouldn’t want her listening in, and anyway, it would be good for Ben to start mixing with people again.
She turned the radio on low, and glanced through the daily paper that Ben had left on the worktop.
It was well over an hour later when they finally emerged from the lounge. Leanne could just see them, out in the hall, through the slightly open kitchen door. They all shook hands and wished Ben well before leaving. Ben closed the door after them and then walked into the kitchen, his face pale.
“Are you alright?” Leanne asked, wondering what had happened.
Ben nodded, sitting down on one of the stools and rubbing his face tiredly with his hands.
“Want some coffee?”
“Please.”
Leanne got up and plugged in the kettle. “So, how did it go?” she enquired.
Ben sighed, heavily. “They were ‘very sorry’ about what’s happened,” he said, in a cynical tone, “but, basically, if I don’t do the next series, they’ll sue me for breach of contract.”
“But, aren’t you covered for illness or injury?” Leanne asked.
Ben nodded. “But, am I injured? Do I look ill?” He shook his head. “As far as they’re concerned, I’m physically fit enough, now, to work. Unless I’ve got an arm, or leg, in plaster, or lose a limb, or have some kind of disability, I don’t have a lot of choice. Not if I want to keep my money and my ‘good reputation'.” he added, bitterly. “Apparently, having amnesia doesn’t count as a good enough reason not to work.”
“That doesn’t seem very fair.” said Leanne.
“Tell me about it.” Ben replied, sourly.
Neither spoke again while Leanne finished making the coffee. When she turned to place the cup in front of him, Ben was resting his elbows on the worktop, holding his head in his hands.
“Ben, are you alright?” Leanne asked, anxiously.
Ben nodded, removing his hands and picking up the coffee cup. “I’ve just got a bit of a headache.” he replied, picking up the coffee cup and taking a sip.
“Want some aspirin?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ll be alright.”
Leanne eyed his pale face worriedly. Presently, she said, “You’ve got six months before the start of the next series. A lot can happen in that time. You might well have got your memory back by then, or at least be ready to work.”
“And what if I’m not?” Ben raised troubled eyes to hers. “What will I do? They could destroy the reputation they say I have, take my money, make it difficult, even impossible, for me to get any other work.” He sighed. “I can’t remember acting, but I can’t remember anything else either. What else could I do? How would I make a living?” he asked, a note of desperation in his voice.
“Like I said, you’ve got six months yet before you need to worry about that.” said Leanne. “For now, just forget about them and concentrate on getting yourself together. Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked again, as Ben passed a hand across his eyes.
Ben gave a vague nod. “I think I’ll go lie down for a while.” he muttered.
“O.K.” Leanne watched him worriedly, as he got up and left the room. He’d had several violent headaches, while he was in the hospital, which they assumed were a side effect of the head injury he’d sustained.
She finished her coffee and washed up the cups, and then tidied the lounge, disposing of the collection of cigarette ends left by the television people and spraying some air freshener around to get rid of the smoky smell. Then, she collected her things, ready to leave, before going upstairs to check on Ben and tell him she was going home.
She tapped on the bedroom door and called “Ben? I’m going home now. O.K?”
When she received no reply, she poked her head around the bedroom door, expecting to find him asleep, but was shocked to find him curled up on top of the duvet, still fully dressed, groaning with pain.
“Ben?” Leanne hurried over to him. “Are you alright?”
The curtains were closed and it was dim in the room, but, even in this light, she could see that his face was very pale and contorted with pain.
A groan was Ben’s only reply.
Leanne wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t like to go home and leave him in this condition.
“Shall I call the doctor?” she asked.
“No…” Ben whispered. “I’ll… be alright… in a while… Headache…”
Leanne watched him, worriedly, for a moment, before creeping back out of the room.
She went back down to the lounge and switched on the T.V. She would wait for a while longer before going home. She didn’t like the thought of Ben being alone in the house if he was unwell.
She watched t.v. for half an hour, before going back upstairs. She thought he might be feeling better, or at least have fallen asleep, but she was horrified to find him lying on his back, one arm thrown over his face, turning his head from side to side, moaning softly, his fists clenched, tightly.
“Ben?” Leanne reached out to move his arm so that she could see his face, and Ben instantly screwed his eyes tightly shut, even the dim light in the room piercing them like a laser beam.
With a groan of pain, he rolled onto his side, hugging the pillow to him and burying his face in it.
Leanne turned and ran downstairs to the study, grabbed the telephone book and called Ben’s doctor, hurriedly describing his symptoms to him.
“I’ll be right over.” the doctor told him. Ben hadn’t seen the doctor since the time he’d had flu, but he had been informed of Ben’s accident and kept up to date with his progress.
Leanne hung up and ran back upstairs.
“The doctor’s coming.” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting her hand on Ben’s shoulder.
Ben grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly, tears of pain on his cheeks. It felt as though someone was using a circular saw in his head and the pain was excruciating. His eyes, ears, and even his teeth hurt, and there was no escape from it. Lying still was agony, moving about even worse. Even blinking was excruciatingly painful. He was convinced he was dying, and he was scared. He clung to Leanne’s hand as he writhed about, groaning with pain, while she looked on, helpless to do anything for him, her heart in her mouth, wondering what could be wrong. Perhaps the head injury he had received had triggered some sort of haemorrhage, or maybe he was having some sort of stroke, or seizure.
Please don’t die, she prayed, silently, while she cooed, soothingly, to him.
When the doctor arrived, she hurriedly showed him up to Ben’s room before going back downstairs to wait anxiously in the kitchen while the doctor examined him. When she heard his footsteps on the stairs, she hurried out into the hall, her worried green eyes searching his face.
“Is he alright, doctor?” she asked anxiously.
“Yes.” replied the doctor, stopping at the foot of the staircase.
“What’s wrong with him?” Leanne asked, before the doctor had time to continue speaking.
“He has all the symptoms of a severe migraine attack.” the doctor told her.
“Migraine?” repeated Leanne. “He had a few migraine headaches while he was in the hospital, but they weren’t as bad as this.”
“Some migraine attacks can be very intense,” replied the doctor, “especially if the patient is feeling tense or pressured.”
“He did have a rather stressful meeting with his employers this afternoon.” Leanne nodded. “It was after that when he said he had a headache coming on.”
“That was probably the trigger for it.” nodded the doctor. “I’ve given him a shot.” he told her. “He’ll sleep for a few hours now, and the symptoms should have eased by the time he wakes up, but he should rest for the next twenty four hours or so. Will you be able to stay with him? At least until he wakes up?”
“Yes, I can stay.” Leanne nodded.
“I’d like you to get these from the pharmacist.” the doctor told her, as he scribbled out a prescription and handed it to her. “If he has any more attacks like this, give him two of these pills.” he told her. “They’re very strong though, so don’t leave them lying around for him to take, like aspirin, and he should only take them if he’s really bad, or he won’t feel the benefit of them.”
“I understand. Thank you, doctor.”
“I’ll drop in tomorrow, just to check on him.” said the doctor.
“Right. Thanks again, doctor.” Leanne let him out and then ran upstairs.
Ben was deeply asleep, his breathing shallow. It must have been some shot the doctor had given him, Leanne mused.
She pulled off his shoes and pulled the duvet over him, stroking back his hair and gently wiping away the tears still on his cheeks with her finger. She stood watching him for some time, fantasizing about what life could be like if only he loved her the way she loved him.
With a sigh, she dragged her mind back to reality and went back downstairs to make herself a sandwich. She’d have something more substantial later, when she got home.
She went up to check on Ben two hours later. He was still asleep, but there was a little more colour in his face now than there had been.
After another two hours, she went back up again.
“Ben?” she whispered, touching his shoulder.
With a sigh, Ben opened his eyes. He looked blankly at her for a moment, as though not knowing where he was, before finally asking, “What time is it?”
“Half past seven.” Leanne told him moving to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Are you feeling better?”
Ben rolled onto his back, rubbing his face and raking his hands through his hair as he tried to collect his thoughts.
“I think so…”
“That was some shot the doctor gave you. You’ve been asleep for hours.”
“What was… wrong with me…?”
“The doctor said it was a severe migraine attack, probably brought on by stress.” Leanne told him. “Probably from that meeting you had this afternoon.”
Ben nodded, thoughtfully. “Seven thirty?” he said suddenly, looking up at her. “What are you still doing here?”
“The doctor wanted me to stay until you woke up, to be sure you were alright. He’s going to call in again tomorrow, to check on you. He says you need to rest in the meantime.”
Ben reached out and took her hand.
“What would I do without you?” he smiled.
A lump came to Leanne’s throat at the look of gratitude in his dark eyes. She swallowed hard and smiled down at him.
“I should be going.” she muttered. “Will you be alright now?”
Ben nodded, his expression clouding.
“Seriously, Leanne, thanks for today. I really don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here.”
“Hey, that’s what friends are for.” Leanne said lightly. “Listen, if you need anything, call me. O.K?”
“Thanks.” Ben smiled tiredly up at her.
“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow. You get some rest now.”
“Yes, nurse.” Ben looked amused, the mischievous glint returning to his eyes for an instant, before he turned away to fluff up his pillow.
Leanne left the room and went downstairs to make sure that the house was secure before she left. As she drove home, Ben’s words kept echoing in her head. “What would I do without you?” If only he would stop and think about it.
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