The Accidental Wife (22 page)

“It seems surgery is the only way.”

Rihaan nodded solemnly. “I guessed you’d say so. So who’s going to do it?”

“You.”

“Me?” Rihaan laughed nervously. “You’ve got to be kidding. I can’t… Why not you? Or Dr. Garrett. I’m sure he wouldn’t refuse.”

“Rihaan, my boy…” the chief gently squeezed his shoulder. “You are a master in cutting edge focus resection surgical technique. You’ve even presented a paper on it. Besides, would you be able to forgive yourself if someone else did it and there was a complication?”

Rihaan shook his head. His boss was right. He would never be able to forgive himself and Naina would never get another chance. He looked down at his hands. It was going to be the toughest job he’d ever undertake. His ultimate test. And he had to take it if he wished to get her back in his life. And she was going to make it…for herself, for him, for the both of them.

Rebirth

Rebirth—
of a body buried before it had taken its final breath.

A mistake discovered before the flame of life had flickered and died.

H
eavy lids cracked open slowly like those on an ancient coffin. Naina was rousing from a deep, deep sleep. Few perceptions could be more terrifying. What lay in wait on the other side?

She was emerging from an endless pitch black tunnel. The tiny spot of light was growing larger and larger and so bright that it hurt. Her eyes clamped shut, then opened again, slowly, with caution.

Someone spoke at her side—a man’s voice, warm, gentle and caring—one she’d heard before, instinctively letting her know that he was friend not foe.

***

Rihaan had been waiting restlessly for this moment. For his Naina to wake up. The light of life was back in her eyes. They were as beautiful and clear as ever. Dark, luminous pools. And she was looking at him, returning his smile. He was ecstatic, overcome by immeasurable relief and joy.

“Darling! Thank heavens! Welcome back!” He scooped her up gently into his arms. “I’ve missed you so much!”

But he felt her resist his embrace. His joy faltered. “Naina?”

***

Naina pulled away, disregarding his plea, and slowly scanned the rest of the hospital staff gathered in the room. Her bewilderment intensified.

She looked down at herself, surveying her skimpy gown and her much bruised and punctured arms from which trailed an assortment of wires and lines, then demanded in a rough, cracked voice. “Who… Who are you all? And what am I doing here…like this?”

They all looked as one to the man who’d been sitting on her bed and talking to her.

He was now standing up and regarding her with a perturbed expression on his nice-looking face. But he spoke with a voice that was calm and steady.
“You were in an accident, a very bad accident. That’s why you’re here, in the hospital. All these people have been working with you, helping you, trying to get you better. Naina, don’t you remember anything?”

“Naina?” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you calling me that?”

***

“Because that is your name. Naina Rathod Mehta. And unfortunately you’ve lost your memory,” Rihaan said. Then at once turned on his heels and strode out of the room, and out of the hospital and away.

Away from the flurry of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Away from the incredible dejection and gloom that, like a pair of invisible hands, had come clamping down on his throat and were squeezing so hard it felt as if his torso would split wide open and expose his poor, pathetic heart at any moment.

In a rush to exit the building, he lost his footing and stumbled, pitching headfirst toward the icy pavement. As the ground rushed to embrace him, he succumbed gladly, giving himself up to oblivion and to the yawning quagmire of self-pity because he had been betrayed. His immaculate dream had been destroyed. And, as luck would have it, some damn do-gooder chose to yank him up. Destiny wasn’t prepared to let him off the hook that easily.

So he continued to walk, his eyes burning with tears of bitter regret. They spurred him on, goading him to walk faster. With his long frame stiff, head bowed and hands thrust deep in his pockets, he stood at the crosswalk waiting for the lights to change, craving to be just another anonymous, inscrutable face headed for some obscure destination.

How long he walked or how far, he wasn’t aware, just that it was critical for him to keep his body in perpetual motion. When abruptly, amidst an enclosure of several tall shiny buildings, he was forced to come to a standstill. It was as if the looming giants had all ganged up and were hell-bent in fencing him in.

Alarmed, he glanced around, searching the faces of his companions, but none appeared to share his uncanny experience.
It must be in my head,
he thought, closing his eyes and taking in several slow, deep breaths.

Then he looked up warily.

The mammoth structures of concrete and steel, they towered so high it looked as if they were scraping the sky—reflecting man’s eternal quest for the ultimate. And they were all beckoning to him, urging him to join them in their quest. Rihaan responded by drawing his hands out of his pockets, reaching up, craning with every fiber of his being. Yes, if he tried hard enough, he too could touch the sky. Nothing was impossible.

I should be grateful that my Naina is fine.
That she is alive and with me. I’ve all the time in the world to help her get to know me again and love me, just as I love her. Yes, nothing is impossible.

***

He returned to find her refusing to eat or take her medications.

“I won’t do anything until someone tells me what’s wrong with me. Why can’t I remember anything?” she asked.

An indulgent smile lit his face and he nodded reassuringly at the flustered nurse. Seating himself on the bed next to his wife, he took the bowl of soup in his hands and looked directly into her eyes.

She was scrutinizing him with suspicion.

“Nothing’s wrong with you. The reason why you’ve lost your memory is because your brain has suffered a tremendous amount of trauma. I know that can be very frightening. But don’t worry, everything will come back to you soon. I’m damn sure of it.”

“How can you say so and with so much confidence? Who are you anyway?”

“I say so because I know so,” Rihaan said. “I am one of your doctors and I also happen to be your husband, Rihaan Mehta.” He scooped up her hand and gently kissed it.

She trembled before snatching it away and concealed her hand under the bed sheet. “And…I’m supposed to take your word for it? I’m no fool!”

She looked taken aback when he burst out laughing. “No, absolutely not. I don’t expect you to take my word for it, for then I’d be committing the unpardonable offense of insulting a woman who’s not only beautiful but also very intelligent.”

Her cheeks grew warm but her steady gaze told him that he wasn’t off the hook. A few moments passed before he smiled again. He removed his cell phone from its clip and held it in front of her face. “This is our wedding video. No better proof than that.”

Naina observed the ceremony silently. “But I can barely see the girl’s face, it’s hidden by the veil. How can I be sure that’s me?”

“You’re right,” Rihaan agreed. He’d never attended to that glaring fact. Maybe because for him, the girl in the video had always been Naina.

Yet when he saw her continue to look at him expectantly, he knew he couldn’t let this vital moment go by. It was a chance to establish his sincerity.

“Here,” he said, exhaling with relief, “look at these.” He handed her his cell phone again. “They are some pictures taken by my Uncle Rajbir on the day after the wedding. I didn’t realize I had them.”

Her face assumed a flustered expression as she scanned the pictures quickly; most of them showing an uncharacteristically stiff and awkward bridegroom standing next to a demure and shy bride. “But this girl isn’t me! She’s so beautiful! Whereas I’m ugly! I know because I’ve seen myself. I made her brinng me a mirrrorrrr…” She looked at the nurse, who acknowledged guiltily.

Then Naina started to scream. Her faint slur becoming prominent as she got more and more worked up. “Youuur all init togetherrrr, deceivinn me an tellinnn me horribbbbl liessss!”

Rihaan folded her in his arms and tried to calm her as she continued to stammer incomprehensively. “No, darling. I’m not telling you lies… No one is. It’s you in the pictures. Believe me. And you’re not ugly. You are beautiful, more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever met. Everything is going to be fine. Trust me.”

***

Raising her tear-stricken face to his, she examined him keenly with red-rimmed eyes. She wanted to believe in him, desperately.
Why would he lie to her? What did such a wonderfully patient and handsome man have to do with an ugly girl like her, unless he was telling the truth, that she was indeed his wife? Maybe it was worth the risk.

She capitulated and ate the soup.

Missing

N
aina sat next to the window and scanned the scene slowly with her eyes.

Hospital Room - bland, white, synthetic.

Clock reading - 11:03 a.m.

Faded print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night on the wall.

White board stating today’s date - 5/2/2014—the month written before the date in the American way (she did recall that) along with the name of her nurse—Stephie. She’d had her yesterday, too. Pretty, young, auburn-haired and nervous, whom her so-called husband had in his pocket, just like he did so many others.

She had been moved to this room on the 6
th
floor from the ICU exactly four days ago Naina had taken to keeping close tabs on every excruciating detail of what was going on, ever since she had become aware that her memory was suspect.

The reason for the move she was told was that her condition had been downgraded from ‘critical’ to ‘stable’ which was apparently excellent news. Also, because it was a quieter and more secluded location with VOILA! Not one, but two large windows! Though no one cared to elaborate that the only view she got to stare at every day was of city streets full of normal, healthy people, very much unlike her, but she didn’t grumble. Her doctors intended well, Rihaan in particular.

She directed her attention on a pair of pigeons roosting in the eaves while trying to swallow the lump that seemed to form in her throat every time she thought of him. What a horrible plight for a man to be in! If she was really his wife…

She craned to get a better view and winced. Stephie rushed to her side immediately. She fussed around, attempting to rearrange her pillows so it didn’t chafe the raw area on her back which had been freshly grafted that very morning with skin harvested from her thigh.

Stephie asked her anxiously, “Are you hurting? Can I get you something for the pain? You haven’t had anything since you came back from surgery.”

“No.” Naina declined with a determined smile, even though every inch of her body throbbed like it had been pounded by a wrecking ball. She’d have loved an opportunity to escape to some weird and fantastic world that looked and felt so much better than the one she was in right now. But she couldn’t, because she had persevered to hold on to her mind; at least what remained of it.

They’d all informed her (the experts assembled by the man who’d adopted her as his wife) that she suffered from a profound case of dissociative amnesia. They’d arrived at this general consensus after subjecting her to a staggering number of tests that involved spending harrowing eons inside claustrophobic chambers, getting her brain mapped with weird probes plastered to her scalp, plus countless hours of interrogation, during which she was repeatedly posed the same questions, tested on her reading and writing skills, and made to perform silly tasks like counting backwards and drawing clock faces which any fifth grader could accomplish. In conclusion, she was informed that her brain was in excellent working order except—they looked at her with uniformly grim faces—somewhere in the course of events she had lost sight of herself. She had buried herself deep inside her brain and omitted to mark the spot.

Bewildered and frightened, she had turned to Rihaan, who was holding her hand while sitting beside her throughout the whole sermon. Deducing her turmoil right away, he said, “Not to worry. All they mean to say is that part of your memory has taken a vacation. It should be back in no time.”

Thus, he had allayed her anxieties with a smile he seemed to reserve only for her.

And while she tried to come to terms with her ‘temporary’ deficiency, he gave her information about herself—something to build upon, as he put it.

She was a young Asian woman, born and brought up in India—she had gathered as much, going by the color of her skin and that she was fluent in three different Indian languages. She was well-educated (a PhD student of English, no less). And while working in New Delhi, she had met Dr. Rihaan Mehta, and within a short period, got married to him and emigrated to the United States.

“A whirlwind romance?” she had questioned dubiously.

In response to which he had hedged a little before nodding, “Yes, you could say so.” But then he hadn’t chosen to elaborate further.

“What about my parents? I want to talk to them,” she had demanded.

“Your parents are no longer with us,” he told her after some hesitation. “It’s been several years since they passed.”

But when she inquired about the rest of her family, he wasn’t quite as forthcoming. Nor was he about the circumstances that had led to her accident.

“Don’t get flustered, Naina,” he had said. “Think of it as a game of trivial pursuit that you’re playing with yourself. The picture will become clearer as your brain builds on bits of new information.”

She had taken him for his word. But the picture continued to remain as elusive and abstruse as ever.

“Time for lunch!” her nurse chirped.

Naina was snapped out of her morose musings by Stephie, who placed a tray of sterile hospital food in front of her.

“No, take it away,” instructed Rihaan, as he breezed in, looking suave and handsome as ever. “My wife’s having none of that junk today. She’s going to eat something I’ve made especially for her.” He opened a brown paper bag from which emanated a mouthwatering aroma.

“It’s the very same that you fed me, when I came hunting for you at your apartment the day after we met.” He placed a spoonful into her mouth. “I didn’t realize it then, but I think that’s when I fell irrevocably under your spell. Remember, Naina?”

Naina tried to nod and smile as she chewed on what felt like sandpaper on her palate. But her husband was no fool.

“I’m so sorry to be such a disappointment!” she burst out, reaching for his hand. “Frankly, I don’t remember anything at all!”

“It’s okay, darling. How can I blame you for my abysmal lack of culinary skills?” He laughed, grabbing a tissue and dabbing at her tear-stricken face.

Later, to make amends, he snuck her down to the lobby for a delicious sundae, then as an added bonus pushed her wheelchair around the moonlit courtyard until she fell fast asleep.