Eileen, the older nurse, met them at the hospital the morning they were to leave. Emma could sense that something was happening, but Whitney couldn’t explain it to her, or reassure her. She got her dressed in a pair of pink leggings she’d brought from home and a pink sweater, and Emma stared at them as though they reminded her of something, but she wasn’t sure what, and then she let Whitney put them on her as Eileen watched and smiled encouragement. Three of the ICU nurses came and went as Whitney put Emma’s long blond hair in braids. She’d been wearing hospital pajamas and nightgowns for the past two and a half months, and now she was ready to go home. Whitney’s hands were shaking as she did her hair. They packed up all her stuffed animals and cozy blankets from home, with the cards the cast of the show and some of the fans had sent her. There was more than Whitney had realized, and Eileen helped her carry it downstairs to the car. Then they went back upstairs to get Emma. Whitney tried to get her into a wheelchair, and Emma bolted across the room and hid behind the bed, looking terrified. She had no idea where she was going, or why. Whitney was never sure if Emma recognized her from before, but she was a familiar figure now, since she slept in Emma’s room every night.
Whitney spoke to her soothingly, which she couldn’t hear, stroking her face and her hair, which she understood, and Whitney put her arms around her to hold her and could feel Emma shaking in terror. The hospital was the only home she remembered now. Everything before that had disappeared from her mind the night of the accident, and when Whitney tried to get her in the wheelchair again, Emma hauled off and slapped her in the face hard, as Whitney tried not to react. She glanced up at the nurses, who suggested that maybe they should let Emma walk downstairs if she was willing. She was wearing little pink ballet shoes with sparkling hearts on them, and she was carrying the teddy bear she slept with and clutching it to her chest, as Whitney took her other hand and walked her out of the room she had slept and spent her days in since she had come out of the coma. They walked past the nurses’ desk, as all the nurses on duty waved, and tears filled Emma’s eyes as she looked at Whitney and spoke rapidly in the non-language that was familiar to them now, although they understood none of the words. She sounded like a Martian.
“We’re going home,” Whitney said gently even though Emma couldn’t hear her. She said it over and over as they continued walking to the elevator, and Whitney pointed to the button so she could push it, but she wouldn’t, as the security guard watched them. He was still there to protect Emma from fans, although the crowds in the lobby had thinned since the announcement had been made that Emma had left the show in order to speed her recovery.
Emma hesitated for a long time before she got into the elevator holding tightly to Whitney’s hand. She acted as though she’d never seen one. She gave a start when the doors closed, and a moment later, they were at the level of the emergency entrance where Whitney had left the car with Emma’s belongings in it. She recognized them in the back of the car, and turned to Whitney with a look of panic, and then shrank back against the hospital wall, looking like she was about to bolt and run. It was easy to guess that seeing the car was bringing back some subliminal memory of the accident, and she was pulling Whitney away from the car with all her strength.
Whitney put her arms around her to comfort her and tried edging her toward the station wagon as Emma hid her face and pummeled her as hard as she could and started screaming so people in the parking area were looking at them, wondering what was going on.
“Would you like me to put her in the car, ma’am?” the security guard offered and could have done it easily. Whitney shook her head. She didn’t want anything to happen to Emma by force.
“I’d rather she get in on her own,” Whitney said and handed the car keys to Eileen, who seemed patient as she waited for Whitney to handle the situation. “I’ll sit in the back with her,” Whitney said to Eileen as Emma continued to fight her and swung at her face again, but this time Whitney saw it coming and dodged. They stood there together for nearly an hour, as Whitney tried to inch Emma toward the car, and finally she gently pulled her in with her, sat her down on the seat and buckled the seatbelt, as Emma screamed at the top of her lungs. The security guard closed the door, and Whitney held her close as Emma continued to scream. Eileen pulled out, and they drove home with Emma shrieking and swinging wildly at her aunt. She looked like they were trying to kidnap her, and Whitney was unnerved as they pulled into her driveway in Beverly Hills, and Eileen turned off the engine. For a minute, Emma stopped screaming and glanced around. Whitney could tell that something about the house was familiar to her, but she wasn’t sure what. Emma stared at Whitney with a puzzled expression, her face still red from crying. Whitney gently unbuckled the seatbelt, and Eileen opened the door to let her out. Her first car ride since the accident had been traumatic for all of them, but they had made it home in one piece. Eileen helped her out, and Whitney got out right behind her, walked to the front door, unlocked it, and turned off the alarm. Emma still looked confused, as though something about her surroundings had struck a chord of memory but she had no idea why. Whitney took her hand and led Emma into the house, where she looked around the living room she had seen dozens of times before, and had even spent Christmas in several times. She walked from room to room, checking things out, looking at photographs, picking things up and putting them down. She walked into the kitchen and stopped there for a minute, and then Whitney beckoned her to come upstairs, and they walked to the bedroom she had set up for her, next to her own. Emma looked around and smiled, and Whitney could tell she had recognized her belongings, she stared at the posters on the wall, touched the dolls and stuffed animals, and rubbed her face in the cozy bedspread and lay on the bed, gazing at her aunt.
“Welcome home, Em,” she said as she smiled at her, relieved to see her happy and not terrified as she had been in the car. Then Eileen went to the kitchen to make them lunch, and Whitney was pleased that she had appeared calm in the storm while leaving the hospital, which had been much more traumatic than Whitney had anticipated.
Emma left her bedroom to check out Whitney’s room next to hers and then came back and lay on her bed until Whitney heard Eileen call them downstairs for lunch, and Whitney took Emma’s hand and led her downstairs. She let her aunt settle her on a chair at the kitchen table, and they ate the sandwiches Eileen had made for them, and Emma ate the potato chips thoughtfully, looking around the room, as though still trying to remember it. When she’d finished eating, she went back to the living room and looked around some more.
She stopped in front of a photograph of her mother and stared at it for a long time, but she never looked at Whitney or seemed to question it. She picked it up and set it down and walked away, and it was obvious that she didn’t remember her mother yet or she would have reacted to it, and she didn’t. It was disappointing in terms of her memory loss but also a relief in some ways. After the agony of getting her home from the hospital, Whitney wasn’t eager to deal with another crisis quite so soon.
Emma curled up on the couch with a cashmere blanket and drifted off to sleep after the emotions of the morning, and Eileen came to check on her, and said she’d watch her while Whitney went upstairs. She had realized that it was going to be much harder keeping track of Emma here than at the hospital. There were more rooms for her to roam around in, places to hide if she wanted to, a garden just outside the house, and a pool beyond it, which could be dangerous for her, since she probably didn’t remember how to swim either. They would have to keep careful track of her to make sure she didn’t leave the house or get lost. Whitney was thinking about it when the phone rang, it was Bailey asking how the trip home had gone.
“It was an event,” she said, sounding exhausted. “She was terrified as soon as she saw the car. It took us an hour to get in it, and she screamed all the way home. I don’t know if she remembered the accident, or just the feeling it gave her when she saw the car.”
“What happened when you got home?”
“I think something about the place looks familiar to her, but she isn’t sure what. She looked at a photograph of her mother, but she didn’t react to it. She just stared at it and then walked away. But she recognized her toys in the bedroom I set up for her. She loved it.” Whitney smiled as she said it.
“It sounds like you’re off to a good start.” He sounded pleased. These were all things that he and Whitney had discussed when planning Emma’s homecoming, and he was in favor of trying to provoke Emma’s memory with some gentle prodding and familiar objects, even the photograph of her mother. Sooner or later, it would be better for her to remember than to lose her memory forever, even if reaching back into the past would be painful for her. “How’s the nurse doing?”
“She seems fine. She didn’t freak out when Emma was screaming on the way home. She’s competent and professional and very nice. Emma doesn’t appear to care one way or another.”
“Where’s Emma now?” he asked gently.
“Downstairs, asleep on the couch. We’re going to have to watch her closely. I don’t want her getting lost in the house, or letting herself out and falling into the pool.”
“No, that would not be good,” he agreed. “Call me if you need anything.” Whitney had the sedatives they used whenever Emma got too aggressive, but she was hoping she wouldn’t need them now that they were home. She was also hoping that Emma would settle in and feel comfortable there, but she had brought her brain injury home from the hospital with her, and the problems were not solved yet by any means. In some ways, they were just beginning. This was the next phase of her recovery. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” he promised.
When Whitney went downstairs a little while later, Emma was still asleep. She slept for most of the afternoon, after the upheaval of the morning, and Whitney had a chance to return some calls and answer emails, sitting near Emma on the couch. She smiled at her when Emma opened her eyes and looked around. She still had that puzzled expression, which suggested to Whitney that she remembered something but didn’t know what. She went back upstairs to her room then, found the bathroom and used it, and was playing with her old dolls when Whitney walked into the room to check on her. She nodded at her to reassure her, and Emma smiled her old familiar smile that made Whitney’s heart sing just looking at her. She looked better. She just couldn’t think better yet.