The misfortune arrived without warning, though who among us truly awaits disaster? It always comes like a sudden snowstorm.
George was a longdistance truck driver. For five years he had been turning the wheel on the LondonOslo run, back and forth. A photograph of his beloved wife Margaret on the windshield, BBC Radio2 spilling from the speakers, a strong brew in a tin flaskwhat more could a driver need? Yet there was something else: the warm scent of the scarf his mother had knitted, his father’s firm handshake before every departure, and the comforting certainty that a home loved and awaited him. They waited every day, every hour, every second.
One day he did not return from a haul. Only after a few days did Margaret learn that George lay in a hospital in York. A driver of a rival lorry had lost control on a bend, and George tried to avoid a collision. Both trucks tumbled onto their sides. The other driver escaped with only a fright, but George suffered a serious head injury. The parts of his brain that guard memory were the ones damaged. It could have been worseperhaps his limbs, speech, or will would have been taken. As it turned out, he could not recall his own name, who he was, or what had happened. When relatives entered his ward, they seemed strangers to him. At that moment the only familiar faces were the doctors. They could offer no hopeful prognosis. The human brain is a complex, stilllargely mysterious organ; the rest is left to Gods will. If he recovered, that would be good; if not, he would simply have to learn to live with it.
When he was discharged, the reality proved far harder than anyone had imagined. Not only had George lost his past, his shortterm memory let him down as well. He could not remember what had happened three hours earlier, and he forgot many everyday tasks. He could not heat a meal on the stove nor take a stroll by himself; leaving him alone was impossible. There was also the danger that he might never find his way back home. His intellect, will, motor skills, and emotions remained intacthe was not a simpletonbut his memory was gone, a loss that might, with time, be restored. Such things happen.
Margaret was pregnant. She took maternity leave and devoted all her time to her husband. At night she often wept, recalling how George had spoken of their future child, how he would bring a toy from each journey for the unborn daughter.
Why, George, she would sigh, it isnt time yet. They say you shouldnt buy things in advancebad luck, they call it.
George would laugh, twirl Margaret in his arms and answer, Old superstitions, love. I just want our little girl, the first time she sees her room, to be delighted. I want toys everywhereso many that theyre like a sea of joy. He would sort them onto shelves, set them on the windowsill, hang them above the cradle. When he left the hospital, a nurse handed Margaret a small plush bear.
Carrying a talisman, are you? she asked with a teasing smile, puzzled why a grown man would need a toy on the road.
Yes, a talisman now, Margaret replied, and placed the bear not in the babys room but on Georges bedside table.
They often walked together in the park, laughed, ate ice cream. Onlookers surely thought they were a happy couple awaiting a new addition. In truth they were. Yet after a nap following a stroll, George would forget both the walk and the fact that his wife was pregnant. Margaret had to start again each time, explaining that she was his wife and that a longawaited daughter would soon be theirs. The grandparents of the child were heavily involved, helping Margaret shoulder the mounting troubles.
One afternoon Georges fatherinlaw, Edward, summoned his daughterinlaw to the kitchen, closed the door and said, Margaret, well understand if you ever decide to leave George. Youre young, beautiful, with a long life ahead. But how long will you endure? In a year or two youll grow to resent himsuch a heavy burden. And if his memory never returns? You see theres no progress yet. As for the granddaughter, worry not. Well love her. Shes our bloodred rose. Well help whenever needed. Well understand, my dear, well understand everything.
Inside Margaret, fatigue, anxiety and hurt boiled together. Yet she gathered herself, managed a smile and bowed gently to Edward. He stroked her russet hair and whispered, Dont lose heart, dear. Well get through this. Youre strong, even with the weight of a child on you.
Indeed, Margaret had always been slight and not very tall; beside her, George towered like a giant. When he first brought her to his parents house, they were taken aback but kept their composure. Later they asked him, Shes a real gem! Where did you find such a one? They grew to love Margaret at onceshe was kind, a touch shy, and, most of all, she welcomed Georges parents with great warmth. From then on George often called her my crystal.
Their daughter Lily was born. George, together with his parents, greeted his wife as she emerged from the maternity ward. He was overjoyed. The next morning he asked, What kind of child is this? and Margaret began again from the start, now adding the new chapter of Lilys life. Georges eyes always lit up when he held his little girl.
At first Margaret moved Lilys cot from the nursery into her own bedroom, keeping the baby close for nighttime feedingsLily was a restless sleeper. She also kept watch over George, fearing he might wake thirsty in the night or need anything else. She stopped sleeping altogether. The sleepless nights and exhaustion took their tollher milk ceased.
Lily, perhaps we should move you to my parents house. It would be hard for you alone, suggested Georges mother, Katherine.
No, Ill manage, Margaret replied, sparing her aging parents further worry, knowing she would have to live with this forever and remain strong and composed.
Lily was put on formula. One night Margaret awoke not to Lilys cry but to a soft humming of a lullaby:
Scattered toys across the room,
Children dream sweetly,
The fox steals their biscuits,
An elephant roams the gate,
Days spin with the snow,
White flakes glitter outside,
The moon paints shadows,
Seeking its silver portrait.
She lifted her head and saw George rocking Lily. In one hand he cradled a priceless bundle, in the other a bottle of formula which Lily sipped contentedly. Margaret sat quietly on the edge of the bed, saying nothing, afraid to disturb Georgeafter all, the child was in his arms. The room was unusually bright; the full moon flooded every corner.
This is happiness, Margaret thought.
George tucked Lily in, placed the plush bear from the bedside table into the cot and whispered, This is for you, my dear, a gift. Then, shivering, he crawled under the blanket beside his wife.
I love you so much, my crystal, he murmured.
