chapter three
chapter one
chapter two
“Kurt, would you mind leaving us alone for a few seconds? You can take your photograph back but we want to check Blaine out a bit more, test his memory. We can be fairly sure now that his speech is fine, and his sight - at least, he can recognise you - but his memory could be in trouble.”
All Kurt can do is nod, accept the photograph back into shaking hands.
“Wait, what did you say your name was again?”
“I’m Doctor Smith, Blaine.”
“Let me kiss Kurt goodbye.”
Kurt runs over to Blaine’s bed, presses their lips together a little too hard, as if the passion could ignite the fire of memory.
When he pulls away he notices Blaine’s cheeks are a little wet.
He refuses to believe it’s from tears.
-
It’s only sitting outside that he comes to the realisation:
His worst fear had been that Blaine wouldn’t remember him.
And now Blaine can’t remember anything but him.
-
The sky is blank and he’s falling falling downwards, spiralling away from control and into nothingness. The deep waters of uncertainty welcome him into the tide that pulls him away from everything he’s ever known. They whisper and resonate and echo, romantic poetry and quotes and the songs of old, and somewhere he’s dancing but no he doesn’t want to dance but they force him through a waltz quickstep cha cha cha rumba of the heart. The joyous endings twist around him, leave him speechless and helpless and isolated.
Take a bow; you’ve performed exquisitely.
And he succumbs to the screams of the millions.
-
“Excuse me, Sir, are you alright?”
“Oh - sorry.”
Kurt looks up to find a teenage boy, concerned.
“Would you like a tissue?”
He offers one to Kurt in an open palm.
Kurt stares at it for a moment before accepting it, dabbing at his eyes.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah - sorry, I just got some bad news. My husband, he’s been ill, it’s destroyed his memory -”
“I’m very sorry.”
“Don’t be. I don’t need sympathy.”
-
Nothing feels more suffocating than the passing of everyday events. As he sits on the steps before the front entrance, all he sees is how the word reels by, how they don’t care. A man talks on the phone. A teenager plays music too loudly. A woman runs to catch her bus, almost breaking the heel on her shoe. A couple walk by at an easy pace, holding hands.
Each beat feels like a knot tightening around his throat.
Time begins to lose its meaning.
-
He could run.
He could run and not come back.
He could just leave Blaine there, let him be taken care of.
He could regain his grip on the world. Continue the dream for a little longer.
It’s possible.
He could do it.
Just leave now, no looking behind...
-
But of course he returns to Blaine.
How could he not return to Blaine?
-
Kurt hates himself for even thinking of running in the first place.
-
“Mr Hummel, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Of course.”
“Here, take a seat. We’ve assessed Blaine’s condition and we don’t have good news. Physically he’ll be fine, but mentally - we did another MRI, and the virus has caused serious damage to his memory. He has total amnesia; there are two types, retrograde and anterograde, and Blaine has shown clear signs of both of them. As you saw earlier the only person he can seem to remember is you. He knows that the two of you are married, and he clearly loves you very much, but he can’t remember anything else. Not how you met, what his job is, not even who his parents are. But what we’re more concerned about is Blaine’s anterograde amnesia. The two conditions combined means that not only does he remember very little before his illness, but he won’t be able to form new memories either. As a result, he’s almost wholly contained to the present.
“This is not going to be easy for either of you. But there are options. Places where Blaine can be taken care of around the clock. Of course you can take care of him yourself, if that’s what you feel would be best for him, but please know that there’s always the choice. I have a couple of pamphlets for you here, if you’d like them.
“Also, I have one last question: you’ve said that Blaine used to sing in High School? Did he play any other instruments as well? You see, while his declarative memory is damaged his procedural memory is very much separate from it and he may therefore retain the ability to do a number of things that he used to; he can read things, and write. He’d be able to dress himself in clothes that match. And he may also be able to play instruments. If he, for example, played the piano, or the guitar, or the cello, or anything else he could still be able to do that. He won’t remember how he learnt, or what he’s played, but in the moment, he can. He might even be able to remember song lyrics and tunes. You could try singing to him and seeing if he remembers.
“You’ve got time to think. Blaine won’t be out of here for at least another week, and probably more. We need to keep him on the acyclovir to reduce the chances of any reoccurrence, and monitor him. You’re welcome to stay with him whenever you need to.
“You’re handling this very well, Kurt. It’s clear Blaine loves you very much.”
-
But how?
How can Blaine love him?
Blaine, who can’t even remember what his own reflection looks like.
Who stares with eyes that read vacancy.
Who doesn’t know who he even is any more.
How can you love someone who cannot love you back?
-
Suddenly, the idea of leaving seems much more of a possibility.
It sounds so quick and easy.
Leave Blaine somewhere that’s safe, where they can take care of him.
Maybe visit every so often.
It could be better for both of them.
-
“Hello, Dad? Are you there?”
“Kurt, I’ve been ringing you! Is everything okay?”
“Dad, I need to talk to you. Something’s happened. Something really bad. And now I don’t know what to do -”
“Hey, Kurt, it’s okay. Calm down. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s Blaine. A few days ago he was ill. We thought it was just flu at first, but then he started hallucinating and having seizures and screaming every time he was moved, so we came to hospital and they sedated him for a few days and basically there was a virus in his brain, and physically he’ll be fine but it’s destroyed all his memories and now I don’t know if I can deal with this because he’s not Blaine anymore. I love him more than anything, Dad, but he’s not himself, and now his Doctor just asked me about care options - ”
“Kurt, slow down. Take a deep breath, ‘kay? Where are you now?”
“In the hospital.”
“And what do you mean when you say his memories are destroyed?”
“He can’t remember anything, and he’ll never be able to remember anything new. He knows his name, and he recognises me, but no one else. Not his parents, not anyone from high school, not even Rachel -and we see her at least three times a week!”
“And what is this other option?”
“There are - homes. Places where Blaine can be looked after all the time. Where they know how to help people. Where we can visit him, but without having to be his carers.”
“What do you think is right?”
“I don’t know, Dad! That’s the whole problem!”
“Woah, wait a minute! You said you’re at the hospital, right? This means two things. The first is that you need to calm down. The second is that you’re still there. You’re still with Blaine now. You’ve not given up on him when he’s been about to die, so why do you want to give up now?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I just don’t know if I can handle it or not.”
“Kurt, you’ve stayed with him even when he’s been about to die. Did you give up on him then? Look, you are the strongest person I’ve known and I’m incredibly proud of you. This decision is up to you but think about it; you’re still there now, so why just turn around and walk away? Think back to everything else that’s happened. Did you give up when your mother died? When you went through all that shit in high school? Yeah, you transferred, but you came back. And that’s the Kurt I know. One not afraid to face up to all the crap life throws at him. I have faith in you, Kurt, okay?”
“Thanks, Dad. Give my love to Finn and Carole.”
“Of course. When Blaine’s ready to come home, let us know and we’ll come up and see you both.”
“Sure. See you soon. Bye, Dad.”
“I love you, Kurt.”
“Love you too.”
chapter four