Page 50 of Brain Damage

“But,” Clark adds, a smile playing in his lips, “you have to promise me that we’re going to have a boy. And that we’re going to name him Clark Junior.”

“Oh no,” I say. “She’s going to be a girl and she’s going to be Charlotte Junior.”

“Hmm,” Clark says. “What about some combination of the two? Clarotte? Oh, I’ve got it—Chark!”

“Brilliant!” I laugh.

I dig back into my shrimp grits. One more year until we start on the road to parenthood. Maybe I can run another marathon.

34

AFTER

Walking Group is depressing.

Everyone in the group is doing better than me. Everyone. For some reason, I’m stuck. I can’t get past walking on the ballet bars. Everyone else seems like they can use a walker by now.

What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I do this?

I sit there feeling sorry for myself while Jamie takes his turn walking. If I’m being honest, Jamie isn’t doing so hot either. Steve is holding onto his pants and his shoulder, and even though Steve is a really big guy, I can tell it’s a lot of work for him. Jamie is maybe a couple of inches shorter and thinner, but it seems like a lot of work to catch him when he loses his balance to the right or the left. Which he does practically every fifteen seconds.

When he finishes his walk, Jamie collapses into his wheelchair next to me. He groans and rubs his temples. “Well, that sucked,” he comments.

“Oh, stop it.” Angela rolls her eyes. “You’ve made a lot of progress just since I’ve been here.”

“Not enough,” Jamie mutters.

“Enough for what?” Angela presses him.

“Listen,” Jamie says, “you know I’ve got a kid I’ve got to take care of. I can’t do it if I’m like this.”

“Who’s taking care of him now?” Angela asks. “His mother?”

Jamie grimaces. “No, my parents are looking after him. His mother… she’s not really in the picture anymore. So I’m practically all he’s got.”

Angela looks like she’s mustering up some more inspiring words, but then Natalie comes to help her walk, breaking up the conversation. Jamie just sits there, staring into space as he absently scratches at the scar on his scalp. I bet it itches the same way mine does.

“What’s your son’s name?” I ask him.

Jamie looks at me in surprise. The distressed look fades from his eyes, and a smile touches his lips. “Sam.”

“How old is he?” I ask.

“He’s six,” Jamie says. He adds, “He’s great. I… I really miss him.”

I frown. “Kids can’t visit here?”

“They can, but…” Jamie sucks in a breath. “He can’t see me like this. I mean, I don’t want him to.”

I know if Angela were with us, she would say he was being silly. But I completely understand. I watch as he scratches again at the scar on his scalp. The hair is already starting to grow back around it. At least he’ll look normal again soon. Unlike me.

“How did you get hurt?” I ask.

“I fell down a flight of stairs,” he says. “There was a broken step.” He cocks his head thoughtfully. “That’s what they tell me, anyway. I don’t remember anything about it. I don’t remember anything from the entire day that it happened. And for like two weeks after. It’s sort of weird to have such a big gap in my memory.”

“Was it at your house?”

“It was at a bar,” Jamie says.