Bittersweet Dance of Love

Bittersweet Dance of Love Chapter 2

If the day have to come

That you should go

Just like the sun, the wind and the moon

If I have to stay back alone

I have to see how you are leaving

—Andriëtte Norman

She slowly open her eyes. Merlyn becomes aware of the intense silence surrounding her. The stark white walls of the large room, with strikingly white, stiff bedding around her, are even more confusing and frightening. 

    Everything smells like disinfectant, and the silence is frightening. Her head aches terribly. She slowly moves her right hand to that part of her head. Dressings block her seeking hand. Her left arm feels heavy, and she notices that her forearm, wrist, and part of her hand are in a gypsum mould.

     Anxiously, she tries to sit up but falls down against the pillow with an audible groan. 

    What is going on, and where am I? she wonders fearfully. She cannot hear any cars or loud noises, no hospital personnel either, and she starts getting scared. I must be in a hospital, she thinks or maybe I am dead?

    Greatly startled, she sucks in her breath. Then a movement near the window catches her attention.     “Where am I?” she asks immediately as the tall figure of the unknown blond giant arrives at her bed. His piercing ice-blue eyes are unnerving, as is his overwhelming presence.

    “You’re in hospital at Koës, Marilyn,” replies the man with a deep grumbling voice, his face stern and drawn as if he has not slept much.

    “Are you the doctor? And what happened?” she nervously asks, visibly upset and struggling again to get up. Merwe puts his arm around her to help her slightly up against the pillows before giving her water to drink.

    “Nice try, Merlyn!” Merwe growls before he speaks to her again. “I have no intention to change my occupation. Dr Dirk will surely arrive any moment now, as is his habit. He will be greatly amused by your suggestion of me being a doctor.” He angrily bends over her.

     “What the hell got into you to drive so fast on that road, Merlyn? You know that turn and its life-threatening curve!” he shouts unsympathetically at her. 

    She stares dumbfounded at the angry man who pretends to know her so well.

    “I do not know! She shouts back. “Ouch!” she grumbles softly, and she touches her head, which feels as if wants to burst.

     “Why can I not remember anything?” she then asks, confused but stubbornly persistent, while rubbing her temples worryingly.

    “If that is a way to seek my attention, Merlyn, I’m the wrong guy to look at. You were always good at receiving attention from men, but this time your irresponsible behaviour has had lasting consequences.”

    His reply is even more confusing than his anger.

    “Dr Dirk is here.” Merwe turns his stern expression to the door, where he greets Dirk. As always, he is good-humoured, though concern veils his jovial expression when he greets his friend.     

    Merlyn’s mouth hangs open at the sudden change in personality. His face looks less rough, and that wide, sensual mouth, smiling spontaneously, makes him seem so young. What a difference it made in the unfriendly man who just moments before spoke harsh words to her. His unsympathetic treatment makes her wonder what she has done to face his contempt.

    “Your patient woke up just a few minutes ago, Dirk,” Merwe informs Dirk, relieved. He moves aside for him to see for himself. 

    Walking swiftly to her bed, a bright smile enlightens the features of doctor Dirk, who is still handsome at the age of sixty.

     “I hope that you did not have to suffer much under Merwe’s bad temper, Merlyn?” he humorously replies, but his watchful old eyes miss nothing, and he heaves a sigh and knows that she was not spared.

    “My head aches like hell, and it seems as if I cannot remember anything,” she replies while glancing anxiously at Merwe, who looks mockingly at her. Dr Dirk looks seriously at her while performing his tests.     He sits down on the bed next to her. “Do you know what your name is—who I am or he?” asks Dirk, pointing at Merwe with his thumb, but she shakes her head from side to side.

     “Can you remember the passenger who was with you, Merlyn?” he asks, and slowly she shakes her head and squeezes her eyes closed, a tear trickling down her cheek. 

    “Now now, Merilyn, do not upset yourself too much. This is quite normal after such an accident, and your head injury is extremely serious. It is not strange that you cannot remember anything after three days of unconsciousness. I’ll give you something for the pain and to help you sleep well tonight, and when you have had a good night’s rest, we’ll search for your memory again.” He smiles kindly. “The most important thing is to be pain free, allowing as much rest as possible for the brain to recover from its injuries,” he explains patiently to her.

    “Who was with me, and what happened to them?” she asked anxiously.

    Dr Dirk grasps her hand and holds it tightly. “I am sorry, Merlyn, but Uncle Sammy did not survive the accident. He was dead before Merwe and I came upon you.” He looks worriedly at her pale complexion.     “Amnesia is a very common occurrence for people with brain injuries. This is because of the traumatic experience and concussion during your accident. It is the inability to recall old memories, and it usually resolves without treatment in good time.”

    I feel very nauseous!” Merlyn suddenly complains, and in a rush, she bends forward to vomit, but Dr Dirk already has a bucket ready. He and Merwe helplessly stare while she repeatedly vomits all over the bucket before relaxing back against the pillows.

    Dr Basson orders some tranquillizers and pain medication specifically for brain injuries. The nursing staff are to give it to her before they clean up the room. 

    Merlyn feels drained and embarrassed as she tries to hide behind her closed eyelids, but the headache seems a little better after the vomiting,

    Silent tears run down her pale cheeks as she lies with closed eyes. She can hear Dr Dirk leaving the room, giving orders to the nursing personnel. She cries silently because she feels lonely and deserted. 

    She cannot remember Uncle Sammy, but she realizes she most certainly caused his death. He must have been dear to her to be with her in the car … if only she could remember. Her head throbs again, and in her heart she does not feel anything except fear. 

    If only she could remember.

She feels his closeness before she opens her eyes. He has a distinctive clean and fresh grassland smell about him, which calms her senses. He is sitting quietly and at ease next to her bed, his ice-blue eyes puzzling, scrutinizing her face for signs of falseness, which he is still sure must be there. 

    Why does he mistrust her so? Merlyn tries to search her memory, but … nothing. Why, then, does she feel safe in his presence if her presence only aggravates him?

    “If you know me so well, tell me who Uncle Sammy was and what happened, please,” she asks him softly, sadness clearly visible in the deep green pools shining with tears that are still running soundlessly and unhindered down her face.

    Puzzled at her uncertainty and confused expression, Merwe leans down to her and takes her uninjured hand in his calloused one, engulfing the small feminine hand with its soft skin and well-manicured nails within his. 

    He leans forward on his elbows while holding on to her hand. She feels so soft, and his relief on seeing her opening her eyes is immeasurable. Perhaps his anger is uncalled for and he has frightened her, although he wants to embrace and kiss her instead.

    Lifting her hand to his mouth, he impulsively plants a soft kiss inside it before he starts talking. 

    Taken by surprise at his sudden tenderness, Merlyn inhales sharply at the impact his lips have on her skin. She closes her eyes before he can witness her reaction. The soft rumbling of his voice has a calming effect on her.

    “Uncle Sammy has been living in Koës for many years, long before you and me. He had a soft place for you and took you under his wing from a young age. He has a nightclub, called the Brave, next to his house at Koës, and you were with him more than with your parents. You worked there every weekend and holiday until you went to university,” he explains.

    “Why with him and not my parents?” she asks uncertainly, looking him unpretentiously in the eyes.

    “They died six months ago because of a farm attack. You came for the funeral and left shortly after that again,” he replies while drinking in her every expression. 

    “I suppose he knew more about you and your home than any of us. You were almost never with your parents at your home on the farm near Koës.” For a while he just stares at her thoughtfully before he starts explaining what he knows about the accident.

    He explains in an even and very cryptic tone. “I heard the car coming and knew that you drove too fast but could not do a thing. I was next to the car when it stopped, but you fell out and it was only Uncle Sammy inside. When I reached him, he was already dead, and I knew that you were the driver. At least he used his seatbelt. I looked for you and found you in the dust a few yards away from the car. You were alive but unconscious. Your arm was broken, and we were afraid of your neck, but all was in place. My mother called Dr Dirk, and after he examined you, we took you to the hospital. You were unconscious for three days, and the rest you know. Uncle Sammy did not have any other family, that I am aware of, to inform about his death. We had to put a notice in the newspapers to be sure.”

    Her eyes move to the wall behind his back, which is as blank as her memory is about everything that is supposed to be dear to her.