mARch Exclusive - "Foggy" - Part 3

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It’s a short walk home, about fifteen minutes. Robert is familiar with the landmarks; the newsagent where Jane sometimes buys a pint of milk, or a KitKat to share; St Peter’s church with the bright red doors.

Fifteen minutes with no conversation, both of them working out what they need to say. Robert steals glances at his wife. Will she be willing to move away? (There’s no way he’s staying here, not with how the locals must see him.) Do they even want to stay together? Robert won’t just walk out on his wife, not after all she’s done for him after the accident, but at the same time, things weren’t great before. They weren’t great before.

If you can’t get on board, then maybe we’re finished.

She sold his home. She sold it for good reasons, but it’s still gone. Can he forgive her for making life-changing decisions without him? Or should he just be thanking her for stepping up in his absence? Without the headache interfering, free from the fog, Robert can balance these ideas, he can explore the nuances. Somewhere between blame and gratitude, obligation and escape.

They reach the house. Robert opens the gate, lifting a latch that had been an impossible puzzle before, and they walk up the path. “We can have a fresh start,” he says finally. “You and me.” He looks at his wife. “You think?”

Jane nods. “And let’s not make any big decisions today. Let’s give you a chance to settle in, now that you’re thinking better.” She turns the key in the lock. She has the key, after all, just like she has the money, the everything.

They cross the threshold. “We can make some decisions today,” replies Robert. “We can at last talk about it.” Everything has to change, because Robert is no longer damaged, and maybe that’s why Jane wants to delay. Will she be happy to give up her control? Robert sniffs. It will probably come as a relief for her, letting him take back the reins.

They take off their shoes, and Robert hands his coat on the hook. Everything he sees is a reminder of the time before; the mittens, dangling from their sleeves, and the sight of the train set in the living room.

Robert stands over the wooden trains. He’d spent almost a year engrossed with them, back in early childhood as his wife looked on. As his wife encouraged him.

Suddenly, he’s furious.

His foot twitches; a well-placed kick would disrupt the tracks, send the carriages flying.

Jane stands beside him, takes his hand. “Feeling okay? You look a bit cross.”

Rober manages a thin smile, but he’s more than cross. So, talking about big decisions; how about they put the keys through the letter box and run? How about they burn this place to the ground?

And then he sighs, the anger leaving him. Because he can relax, he can take a deep breath. He can feel his shoulders lower, the muscles in his jaw loosen.

Jane squeezes his hand, swings it gently back and forth. “So,” she says softly. “What shall we talk about?”

Robert looks at his wife. He almost shrugs. Because where do they start? Where do they even begin?

“How about work?” asks Jane. “You don’t have to start right away; we have plenty of-”

“I do,” Robert says. He rubs at his eyes with his free hand. It’s been a big day, recovering so much of his mind. He feels tired, the energy that had flowed through him at the café has drained away.

But he knows how to relax. He knows how to breath.

“Okay, then,” Jane says. “Do you want to do the same work as before, or something different.”

“Network servers,” Robert says immediately. “It’s what I know, assuming I can remember it all.” He taps his chin thoughtfully. “I bet most of my clients have moved on.” He looks expectantly at Jane. “I need my laptop, and I’ll need to make some calls.”

“Of course,” says Jane brightly. “I’ll fetch them.” She smiles at him. “I’ve been keeping them safe and secure, always wondering if this day might come!” She turns to go, and then pauses. “I suppose, you could tidy up that train set of yours. I mean, it’s not as if you’ll be playing with trains anymore, right?”

Robert laughs. “Sure.” He crouches down by the station and gathers the trains. He holds two of the engines in his hands, remembers the satisfaction of grasping them, one for the left, one for the right. He holds them up to his face in turn. Left and right. He hasn’t forgotten. Because isn’t there a chance, as the sleepy, relaxed feeling builds in his head, that he might forget things. Important things?

He frowns. No way. Not after getting the thoughts back. Besides, there’s no headache, nothing to distract him. He smiles at the train set. So many thoughts now, and so many memories of the last few months. Playing on the carpet with his trains, while Mummy...Jane read her book or talked on the phone.

Jane loved it when he played with his trains, didn’t she. Told him so, what a good boy, what a clever boy.

Robert nods. And then he shakes his head. No more trains. That's just for babies. He’d better tidy it all away so that Jane knows he’s all grown up now. He sits on his bottom. That’s more comfortable. He can scoop the rest of the trains into his lap.

But what next? He’ll need some kind of box or container for all the pieces. He looks up to ask Jane for help, and he’s surprised at first – almost anxious – when he discovers her gone. But then he remembers, blushing with relief; she’s gone to get his computer.

His nose wrinkles as he considers what to do next. It would be easy to call for Jane, because doesn’t she always know just what to do?

No, he’s not a child. He can take care of this. Robert lets the train carriages fall back to the floor with a jumble of wooden pieces. The noise and jumble make him grin. What a mess he’s making. But he’s going to tidy up now. He gets on his hands and knees and starts breaking up the wooden tracks, separating them into straight and curved pieces, stacking them in piles. He’s being very neat and tidy, Mummy will...Robert feels his face grow warm. Jane will be pleased.

Sure enough, when Robert’s wife, returns to the living room, she puts down her bag so she can clap her hands. “Well done! What a good job you're doing!”

Robert beams. Still on his hands and knees, he looks up and says, “I need a box to put all twacks...tracks in, Jane.” He smiles grows with relief; he remembered to call her Jane, not Mummy.

Jane smiles back and she crouches down beside him. “Oh yes, a box, what a good idea. Do you think we need a cardboard box or a plastic one? You can choose, because you’re in charge of your toys. You’re in charge of tidying.”

Robert nods. Of course, he’s in charge. He sticks up his hand. “Plastic!”

Jane nods, and Robert knows he’s said the right thing. “We can use one of the tubs from the garage.” She gives her chin a thoughtful tap.  “I’ll get the tub now, shall I?” She looks at Robert expectantly, as if awaiting orders.

Robert nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, you go get the tub now, Muh...Jane.”

Jane smiles and tousles Robert’s short hair. “I will, sweetie. In a minute.” She looks at the piles of train tracks. “How tidy you’re being. You always take such good care of your trains. I think I’m a little said, knowing you won’t be playing with it anymore.”

Robert frowns. Why wouldn’t he...? And then his face reddens. Of course, he won’t. “I can’t play with trains,” he says, his tone filled with disappointment. “That’s for babies.”

Jane sighs, as if she’s equally sad at the news. “What a shame.” Her nose wrinkles thoughtfully. “How about... we keep it in the living room for one more night. Because I’m not really sure where the plastic tubs are.” She nods, as if to herself. “Yes, that would really help me, if you kept the trains for one more night.” She tilts her face at Robert. “Would that be okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” Robert picks up two of the train carriages. One for left and one for right. He looks at both. Left and right. Right and left. He feels a moment of dizziness, and then he drops the trains back down on the carpet. “No...act...actually, I better not.” He looks down at the ground and says softly, “I better not play with toys.”

Jane puts her arm around him. “I understand. It’s hard to give up your trains, isn’t it, but you want to be all grown up.” When her husband nods, Jane kisses his cheek. “You’ve had them forever and a day.”

“Uh-huh,” Robert says. And then he blinks. “Hey, Juh-Jane, where’s my computer? You said you were getting it.” He stares at her accusingly.

“Oh,” says Jane, wide-eyed. “Did you want to play a game on the computer?”

Robert shakes his head. “No-oh,” he whines. “For work. ‘Cause I got to do work ‘cause I’m a grown up.”

Jane’s mouth forms an ‘o’ of sudden understanding. “That’s right! You’re my worker bee!” She pats his thigh. “What was your job, Robert?” She frowns. “I can’t quite remember...” And then she takes a train of her own and gazes at it. “You weren’t a train driver where you?”

Robert giggles. That’s a silly idea. He shakes his head. “No, I was a...seller. I...selled stuff.” He puffs out his chest, because he is good at selling.

The ‘o’ in Jane’s mouth returns. “Of course, clever boy! Good thing you remember all these things! What sorts of things did you sell?” She folds her arms. “I always thought your work was so complicated!”

Robert opens his mouth and then he pauses. He can't quite remember. Maybe his work was complicated.

“Hmm.” Jane smiles and she reaches into her bag. “Was it toys? Was it teddies?” she asks, her tone playful. She takes Robert’s old bear and places it in his lap.

"No-oh,” Robert replies, giggling. He holds Bee-bee against his chest. “I selled...I selled stuff...for...for the computers...” He trails off, thinking about computers.

Jane shrugs. “Well, that all sounds awfully complicated and dull. If this is a fresh start, you can do anything you want! Like a...fireman...or a farmer...or a train driver...what other jobs are there?”

Robert’s eyes widen at the possibilities. Those jobs do sound better, and much simpler than boring, complicated sales. And he crows with delight, the answer is right in front of them. He jiggles the teddy bear up and down and exclaims, “I wanna be a tain...twain dri-vuh!”

Jane looks surprised. “Gosh, what a wonderful idea!” She beams at him. “Bobby the train driver,” she says sweetly, as if reading the title of a bedtime story. She goes back to tapping her chin. “Now, I suppose if you want to drive a train, you’ll have to practice. Maybe you could practice with these?” She waves at the train set. “So, we could leave it all out, but not because you’re a baby, but because you’re a big boy!”

A few minutes, even a few seconds before, Robert would have protested at being called a boy of any sort. But now, teddy bear in his arms, his minded flooded by painkillers that are suppressing his brain functions, he nods enthusiastically. “Gonna leave it all out!”

Jane rewards her husband’s mental deterioration with another kiss on the cheek. “What a good boy!” She puts her arms around him and they’re cuddling, and Jane rocks them both gently back and forth for a few seconds, and the tells Robert, “It’s okay, Bobby, you can play with your trains. Mummy thinks that’s a wonderful idea. What a clever boy you are! I’m so glad you’re feeling better, it took a while to work but you’re all better now.”

Robert blushes, but he’s not sure why. Didn’t Mummy just agree with his idea? Isn’t he getting precisely what he wanted?

And then he remembers.

Robert clears his throat and mumbles, “You’re not my mummy.” He gets to his feet, looks self-consciously at the mess of trains and tracks around him.

Perhaps Jane will be offended. But it doesn’t seem as though she even heard. “I know you’re not a silly baby, Bobby, but I’m glad you still like cuddles.” She gets up and holds him tight, and Robert feels claustrophobic, and then he relaxes. There’s nothing wrong with cuddles.

“Now,” says Jane, “I know you’re such a big boy, so I’m wondering if you can help me with something.” She looks into his eyes. “Can you be my helper?”

Robert nods.

“Good,” Jane says sweetly. “First thing you can help with...how about you help by getting dressed?”

Robert frowns. Isn’t he already dressed? He looks down at his train sweatshirt and runs his fingers along the lettering. What does it say? He can’t quite remember. But he does like trains.

“I know you have your choo-choo top on” says Jane slowly, as if talking to the youngest of children, “but I think you’re missing something on your bottom parts. Okay if Mummy checks?”

Robert’s frown deepens. That’s not the right name, is it? He’s about to raise the issue when Jane calmly and deftly pulls down his trousers.

“There,” she says with satisfaction. “No undies.” She giggles. “Just your tinkle!”

Robert gapes down at his crotch, and then looks at Jane’s smiling face. He can’t help but giggle as well, trousers around his ankles, as he tries to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“What’s missing, hmm?”  Jane frowns as if she can’t possibly put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Robert chortles, a finger in his mouth. “Nah-pee!” he declares. “Need a nappy, Muh...muh-mee!”

Jane laughs as well, a look of clear delight on her face. “That’s it! Clever boy!  Now, can you help Mummy put a nappy on you?”

“Uh-huh,” Robert nods, finger still in his mouth. He steps out of his trousers without a second thought.

“Good boy. What a good helper you are!” And there's something in Jane’s tone, so familiar and bright, that makes Robert feel as though his brain has turned to warm, sticky custard.

“Now, before we do that, I have another thing for you to help Mummy with.”

Robert stands, exposing his crotch thoughtlessly, eyes on Jane as he wonders what comes next. He nods in recognition when Jane takes the bottle of red liquid and pours some into a spoon.

She nods at Robert. “Take your medicine for Mummy, Bobby, make it all gone.”

Robert does so unquestioningly, opening his mouth wide like a baby bird.

Jane smiles, a look of calm satisfaction on her face. “There, now. That’s really a double-helping, because of the dose I put in your crumble, but you don’t mind, do you.” She strokes his head and watches as Bobby’s eyes go glassy. “Mmm,” she says, tenderly, “isn’t that better. Medicine works so much more quickly the second time.”

“Uhhh...” Robert says. He wants to tell Mummy how much better he feels, but the words won’t come out.

Jane giggles and cuddles Robert, patting his bare bottom. “Away in dream-land again, aren’t you. Well, now we know that if silly Mummy skips a dose of your medicine, your nasty headache comes back.” She continues to pat Robert’s rear as he nods uncomprehendingly, a string of saliva on his chin. “Don’t worry, Bobby. Mummy will make sure you get your medicine every day from now on. And I’m going to give you a little more, just to keep you extra sweet and foggy. Okay?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she wipes his chin tenderly with the sleeve of her top. “Fresh start,” she says to him gently. At the sound of liquid hitting the carpet, she looks down and giggles. “Oopsie! Mummy better get her baby in a nappy! Oopsie-whoopsie!”

Robert looks down at the urine puddling between his feet. “Ooh-thee!” he parrots cheerfully.

“Little rascal,” says Jane fondly. She nods. “Mummy's going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

Robert manages to burble his agreement, drooling and smiling at the woman who has reduced him to infantile dependency. And then he takes her hand, so Mummy can lead Bobby through to the nursery and dress him in an extra-thick nappy.

THE END

"Foggy" A man suffering to keep his marriage afloat heaps on more misfortune with a terrible car accident that leaves him incontinent and mentally foggy. His wife decides this may be an opportunity for a new lease on life - DukoDukoNe