Page 62 of Our Moon
“Yeah, we’re having a great day. And it just got a hell of a lot better.”
“Oh yeah?” he says curiously.
“Escape clause,” I tell him. We’ve taken to referring to Ally as “escape clause” when we’re around Humph. He actually started it, always taking a moment to ask how our “little escape clause” was doing.
He’s silent for a moment, then says, “She’s awake?”
I can’t help the excited laugh that comes out. “Yeah, man! She’s awake!”
“That’s excellent news!” he shouts. And I know he means it. He’s not the derisive type; he genuinely cares. And no, I’m not naïve; he does actually care. His secretary even told us once that she’s never seen him take to a group like he did to us. She said it’s because we respect him, cause no trouble, and genuinely love what we do.
“We’re on our way to the facility now, and we probably won’t know much until after the guys talk with the doctors, but we will let you know what’s going on as soon as we find out.”
“Take all the time that you need,” he assures. “Well, not too much time,” he laughs. “You’re already ahead of schedule with the album since you guys work so damn hard, so you’ve got some breathing room. Do what you’ve got to do, just keep me in the loop.”
“Will do. Thanks a lot, Humph.”
“Don’t worry about it. Give Trevor and Alex a high five for me, or a fist bump or whatever the hell it is you kids do these days.”
I laugh, “I’ll do that. Thanks again.”
“Yep,” and he hangs up. That’s just Humph. He never says goodbye. The first few times any of us spoke with him over the phone, we all thought he hated us. The manager the label had appointed us for the tour, Pompous Thomas, rolled his eyes and told us Humphrey Morris did that to everyone. We never did like Thomas very much and were happy to see him replaced with someone more easy-going after the tour was over.
***
Joey and I are sitting in the waiting room at the facility, waiting for word from Trevor and Alex. They’ve been back with the doctor for over an hour already and I’m starting to get antsy. It’s a typical hospital-type waiting area with one television set to news and the other to a soap opera. To avoid going crazy, you can read a magazine or play on your phone.
“Dude, chill out. What’s your problem?” Joey asks, and I realize I must really be wigging out ifJoeytells me to chill out. But I can’t help it. What if Ally asks for me? What if she tells them about us? Oh man, and what if they tell her about their parents? She’s going to be devastated.
I stop my pacing and sit in the seat one over from Joey. “Sorry, man. They’ve been back there a while.”
“She has been asleep for a year, bro.” He laughs as he flips through aBetter Homes & Gardensmagazine. “They have a lot to catch up on.”
I hope that’s all it is.
Another hour later, and I’m trying to beat level ninety-four ofCandy Crush, when I hear footsteps. I look up to see Trevor and Alex walking into the waiting room. Taking note of their ominous expressions, Joey and I jump up to meet them.
“What’s going on?” I ask. “She’s okay, right?”
Alex, looking utterly lost, looks to Trevor. This isn’t good. Alex was flying high when we walked in this place a couple hours ago. What the fuck happened back there?
“She doesn’t remember us,” Trevor says flatly. “She’s got amnesia.”
And just like that, the bottom drops right back out.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Five weeks. Ally has been awake for five weeks, and I haven’t been able to seen her one time. Trevor and Alex go to the rehab center for therapy sessions with her and to visit. After a rough first week, they say she’s doing well and opening up, but still nothing on the memory front. Which means I’m the only person in the world who knows how much I love her, and how much she loves me. Or loved me. I don’t know what to think anymore.
If it’s possible, I feel like I miss her more now that she’s awake than I did while she was asleep. Knowing she’s there and awake and I can’t see her or touch her, it’s a whole different kind of pain. It’s the pain of the loveof your life living her life without you. Even if she doesn’t know any better, it still sucks. Sucks for her. Sucks for me. It sucks for all of us that she’s not the same Ally she was a little more than a year ago. But I have faith that she’s still in there somewhere, and she’ll find her way back to us. To me.
The good news? She’s coming home today. I will finally get to see her. Even if I can’t hold her and tell her how much I love her, I’ll get to see her perfect face and hopefully, that beautiful smile I miss so much.
***
Acting like a peeping Tom just inside my apartment window, I catch a too brief glimpse of Ally when they first arrive at the house, and damn if it didn’t make my heart hurt. It has been too long since I’ve seen her up and moving about. She looks good. Healthier than when I last saw her, asleep at the facility. The rehab and exercise she has been getting has been good to her. But she seems to sort of break down when she gets out of the car, and it takes everything I have to not rush down there and hold her.
I know it’s a dick move, but I decide to head out to the backyard to catch a better look at her. I can’t stop myself if I try. I know Trevor wants to wait until she’s a little more comfortable at home before introducing her to people, but when I heard them splashing in the pool, I couldn’t resist. It’s like there’s amagnet pulling me to her, and no force can stop it.
