Chapter 7 Alone

The situation in her memories was an absurd confusion, and she wanted to have something, someone, to cling to. She was longing for some normality to the point that, when her godmother entered the room for the last visit of the day, with the nurse asleep, she gathered her courage and whispered softly:

"Godmother, do you know anything about Robson?"

Tatiana stared at her attentively.

Sara noticed the reproach in the doctor's eyes, but she didn't back down. Swallowing her embarrassment about asking for information about her ex-current-in-her-mind-boyfriend, she returned the gaze, hoping to convey all her desperation for help.

"The last news I heard about him is that he opened an art gallery in downtown São Paulo."

Sara smiled. Robson's dream had come true, to have a gallery to showcase his works. Then sadness hit her as she remembered that he always included her in his plans. How had they ended? When? Why?

She massaged her head, groaning as the painful twinge clouded her vision.

"What are you feeling?" Tatiana asked, concerned.

"It's just a little ache. Whenever I try to remember something, it comes," she confessed.

"Have patience. With treatment, we'll reverse your condition."

She nodded, though patience was hard to come by locked up there, with sporadic visits from her forgotten husband.

She took a deep breath. At least she knew that Robson and she were in the same city. She had been surprised when Tatiana told her that she had been living in São Paulo's capital for a few years. Now she understood why her colleagues from tiny Cezário never visited her. Unfortunately, it would be easier to find Robson in Cezário than in a metropolis like São Paulo. Even so, she was determined to reclaim a piece of her past/present-in-her-mind.

"Godmother, do you know the address of Robson's gallery?"

"Sara, what do you intend to do?"

"I just wanted to talk to him, to understand..." She looked away to her hands. "We loved each other so much..."

Tatiana stroked the top of her goddaughter's head, feeling sorry for the young woman.

"I don't believe seeking him out will help you remember anything. The effect might even be the opposite," she warned. "Being calm in your thoughts, following the treatment, and resting will do you more good than confronting people."

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to follow the advice, to relax and patiently wait. However, it was easier said than done. She couldn't relax stuck in a hospital and knowing that as soon as she was discharged, she would have to live with a complete stranger who claimed to be – and everything pointed to the fact that he was indeed – her husband.

~*~

The days passed slowly for Rodrigo Montenegro. He divided his time between work, the hospital, and the loneliness of his apartment. He didn't feel comfortable in any of these places. At work, he thought about his wife; at the hospital, he avoided getting close to her, as she looked at him with fear; and in the apartment... The place wasn't the same without her.

During the lonely nights, he replayed the argument they had on the day of the accident over and over, which only intensified his guilt and anger for being so harsh on his wife. If he could turn back time...

"Mr. Montenegro?"

He snapped out of his reverie and looked irritably at the employee who dared to get his attention. The poor man shrank in his place. Rodrigo then glanced at the other employees, seated around the large conference table of his company. They all mirrored the first man's reaction.

He was feared for having a difficult temperament and not liking to be interrupted in any way, but at that moment, he was the one in the wrong. He was in a meeting, and his attention was elsewhere. He would never admit that, of course.

"The meeting is over, go back to your tasks," he ordered impassively.

Without ceremony, the employees gathered their papers and left at a normal pace, though they probably wanted to run far away from their boss. Only his curvaceous redhead secretary remained seated by his side, but as soon as they were alone, she stood up, positioning herself behind Rodrigo to massage his shoulders.

"These unnecessary worries make you tense. It's not good for you, Rodrigo," she said, sliding her red-painted nails across his masculine chest. "Once Sara signs the papers, your life will get better." She leaned in to whisper in Rodrigo's ear. "I promise I'll help you with whatever you need."

Rodrigo roughly pushed the secretary's hands away.

"I want to be alone. Go back to where you belong, just like the others did, Karen," he ordered without even looking at the surprise on her face.

Karen couldn't believe that Rodrigo was dismissing her when she was offering her unconditional love to end his loneliness.

She was indignant about Rodrigo's constant rejection. She knew very well why he was distracted; everyone knew. But this would be temporary; soon, she would get the powerful Rodrigo Montenegro to do what she wanted. He would crawl on the ground after her and desire her as his wife, once she removed the pesky obstacle from her path.

For now, she would passively accept the only option that the man she loved most in the world offered her, for now.

"Whatever you say, Rodrigo," she grumbled dissatisfied.

Alone, Rodrigo leaned his elbows on the polished wooden table, clasped his hands in front of his face, thumbs supporting his chin, and reviewed that unusual week.

There had been no progress with Sara. Examinations after examinations were done, but she only remembered things that didn't include him: friends, places, and even though she never mentioned it, boyfriends she had before meeting him... The name Robson had been haunting him for days.

He was stressed and couldn't hide his displeasure, which in turn made Sara uncomfortable with his presence and led to scoldings from Dr. Tatiana.

Dr. Tatiana was a demon in the form of a woman; she feared him not at all and shouted – whenever she could – that he was ignorant and worse things. No one had been as tough on him as Sara's godmother, not even his parents.