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The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I didn't have supper but went straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Jane.When I woke up, she was still there at the table writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again.In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn't want anything from me, but needed a month's notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month's time and she didn't want to disrupt him with our broken marriage.This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding day. She requested that every day for the month's duration I carry her out of our bedroom to the front door ever morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days. I'll get you some painkillers in a moment. That was quite an accident. You just relax." She removed the thermometer, checked the temperature, and smiled her pleasure. "I'll be right back."Maybe nurses were like dentists, capable of understanding you even when your mouth was full and you mumbled. Jeez I was sore. My right forearm felt heavy and thick. My mind wasn't very sharp. My right leg burned in several distinct spots.Why was I in hospital? Ah, yes. Accident. Where was the Triumph? Where had I been going?"I see you're awake," a young, prematurely balding doctor said, striding into the room with energy and authority and grabbing a chart. "How are you feeling? Any headache? Sensitivity to light?" he asked, reaching for my wrist to take my pulse with a cool, dry hand. "How's your arm feel? Motorcycles are dangerous. It's your head we were concerned about."Was he going to stop and take a breath? Did he really care what I had to say?"Concussion is a strange injury," he advised me,.
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