Jenny

Later in the morning I can't say I'm sorry to see Candace leaving, her white Jeep bouncing back down our gravel driveway. I don't know where she's going, or if she plans to return but I hope the answers are somewhere far, far away, and never. Childish, and maybe unfair of me to think that way about someone I don't even know. Candace may very well be a great person.

I have no interest in wishing Candace and Walker a life of happiness together, however. There may be another woman out there who can look at the guy they love, in the arms of someone else, and feel content in knowing that at least he's happy.

Call me immature or selfish, but I'm not that woman.

I've been pea-green with envy and steaming mad with frustration all weekend. Looking out the window, I watch Cian's truck leave their house. Walker is sitting in the cab next to him and I can see their fishing gear in the bed. Candace turns right at the end of our drive, but the boys are going left. I wonder what that means. Why isn't she going with them?

Argh.

"Who cares?" I think to myself, getting all worked up again. How dare Walker invite her home with him?

Yeah, yeah, I know.

I know. I know. I KNOW.

Let's be serious, though. I'm all lathered up in a tizzy, and I would rather temper tantrum my way around this cabin than admit Walker has every right to do whatever he pleases with whomever he pleases.

I'm acting like a two-year-old and that's how I want to stay at this moment, thank you very much. When I feel a wet nose nudge my hand I look down.

Poor Sage. She has no idea what's wrong with me. She's following me around the house trying to figure out why I'm all over the place and how she can help.

I sigh and feel guilty for doing this to her. I sit down on the couch to rub Sage's back.

"It o-k, Sage," I coo. "Mommy lose mind today. Big, bad, mean, very gor...gor...ge...ous mariiine-stealing thief make me jealous. Try take...Walker a...way. You believe?" I ask, talking to Sage in goofy aphasia-broken, toddler-ease, as if she can answer me.

Sage whines in response and puts her paw on my lap. Then she stands up and licks my face.

"I know. I...sorr...I sorry. Good Sage. Good gir...girl."

Sage goes over to her toy pile and brings me back her Frisbee. I take a deep breath and look at her happy face. She drops the Frisbee at my feet and sits down, looking up at me while her tongue hangs out of her mouth. I rub her ears.

"Ok. Go out-side. Go " I say, standing up.

Sage wags her tail excitedly, and picks up her Frisbee. She stands by the door, while I grab a sweater and then let her out into our back yard.

When Uncle Artair was working with me to recover my speech, we tried Melodic Intonation Therapy for a time. In a nutshell, I used singing to help my brain learn to talk again. The right side of the brain is responsible for music and singing, while the left side is responsible for speech. Since my injury is on my left side, I'm unable to speak like before the accident, but I can still sing like a champ.

Consequently, I'm right in the middle of belting out the words to the Cranberries' song, "Zombie", nodding my head in time with the tune of it while throwing the Frisbee around, when Sage's ears go up and her body turns at attention towards the front of my cabin. A dust cloud rises from the gravel drive before my house and I hear a door shut on the other side of the building. I don't know who could be coming. My cousin and Kim are picking things up at the store, and the boys are out fishing. Trying to calm my nerves, I keep singing "Zombie" to myself, while keeping Sage close by and ready to pounce.

When Candace rounds the corner, I let out the breath I was holding. Then I furrow my brow and give her a look. It's somewhere between, "I wish I never met you" and "I'm going to try to be civil, but don't push me." Juvenile, I know, but have I mentioned that the ugly, green, jealousy monster has taken root in my head today?

"Were you just singing?" Candace asks, looking around in case someone else is with me.

I nod my head.

"You were?" she asks, looking surprised. "But I thought..."

"Talk hard. Singing easy. Weird brain," I cut in, tapping a finger to my temple. "Broken," I say, throwing my hands up in surrender.

"Why...you...here?" I ask. "Walker went fish Cian. I don't know when come home. Thought you stay...Walker."

"Yeah, well, about that." Candace starts. "Here's the thing, Jenny: I left. I mean, I'm leaving. Now. Well, right after we talk, then I'm outta here."

I look at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise. I wait for her to continue; a little kernel of hope stirring in my heart.

Candace laughs. "Oh, yeah. I can see that makes you very happy."

I blink.

"I. Not. I mean. No, well...," I say, stammering. Great, now she has me feeling guilty because I'm happy she's leaving. Chagrined, I apologize. "Sorry, Can...dace."

"No, you're not, Jenny," she sighs, calling my bluff and surprising me.

"K. No. Not happy. Don't want you-Walker together," I admit stubbornly. "Sorry you hurt, though." I say a little more quietly.

Candace takes a seat on the nearby picnic bench that we keep out back. Sage tentatively approaches her. She sniffs her scent and looks back at me to make sure I'm ok with her friendliness towards the enemy. I cue her that it's alright. Sage sits down beside Candace and waits.

"I'm leaving," Candace explains. "But I feel bad about how things went down."

Holding up her hand so I can't interrupt, she continues, "This whole thing was my fault. Walker tried to tell me when we were on tour, but I didn't hear what he was trying to say. I didn't want to hear him, Jenny. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

"What?" I ask, shaking my head.

"Jenny, Walker's in love with you. For these last few years he has been a walking ghost. Don't get me wrong. He's been a great Marine and carries out all our missions with nothing but the best skill. On the inside, though, he's a shell. His heart's been on a shelf somewhere and I only now just figured out where. Well, let me rephrase that statement, I only now admitted to myself where, or rather, with whom, his heart has been all this time."

I look at her and hold my breath. I'm waiting for her to continue in case I'm wrong about what she's trying to tell me.

"Here, Jenny. It's been here the whole time. With you. No amount of distraction has been able to sway Walker's devotion to you. My coming here has been a mistake. I thought if we met outside the field maybe something might happen. I've wanted it to, that's for sure.

Have you seen his abs, Jenny? Happy hormones, is he hot!" she curses.

I raise my eyebrows in response to her comment. Oh, yes, I 've seen those abs. (Not that I'd tell her that.)

"Anyway, I came back to let you know. I figure you have a right to know. Last night, Walker slept in his old bed and I took the couch. Nothing has ever happened between us, Jenny, not now or before. This mess is my fault. I should never have come."

"But, Walker invite you," I say.

"Nah, he didn't. Not really, Jenny," Candace replies. "I kind of invited myself and he was too polite and lonely to tell me no. I mean, dammit Walker, you should have! You big dope! (She's talking to the sky now, looking at it as if Walker might hear what she's saying).

Turning back to look at me, Candace continues, "Look, Walker and I...there's nothing there. Not like that. There never was. I wanted there to be, you know? But, it didn't happen. We're really good friends. We served together and we'll always have that history. No one can take that away," she says looking at me pointedly. I return the look.

Touché!

"It's nothing, though, compared to what you two have, Jenny. So, look, my point is, don't hate him. Don't walk away. He needs you. He loves you. If you love him, go to him. Don't hesitate."

I nod, standing there stunned at the direction the conversation had taken.

"Why...tell me...this?" I ask, suspiciously grateful.

"Because as much as I would love to leave and watch this thing you guys have fall apart," she replies. "I do care what happens to Walker. I wish I could be the one to warm his sheets, Jenny. Oh man, do I ever! But if I can't, then I want him to be happy. It was a long, hard thing getting through this last tour. Real hard. Walker deserves some peace, and most of all, love. If I can't make Walker happy, you better take care of him."

"Oh, and, by the way, you might wanna to make the first move."

I gasp at her candor.

"Seriously, Jenny. That man is the fiercest person I know. He's cut like a god, and strong as steel, but damn! He's like a 10-year-old boy at an 8th grade YMCA dance. No balls when it comes to taking that big leap."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing. Candace may not have Walker's heart, but she does have his number.

When Candace leaves, I start my planning. I have to find Kim and Siofra for some last minute shopping. The I-S fundraiser is going to be the perfect place to blindside Walker, and I needed some sexy battle gear for my impending attack.

_____________________

Jenny's Uncle Artair used Melotic Intonation Therapy to assist her in learning to talk again. For more information about this form of therapy, I've included some videos below from YouTube. Reference information for ownership and publication information of these videos can be found at the end of this novel.

More Resources Related to Aphasia:

Hurkmans, J., Jonkers, R., de Bruijn, M., Boonstra, A. M., Hartman, P. P., Arendzen, H. & Reinders-Messelink, H. A. (2015). The Effectiveness of speech-music therapy for aphasia (SMTA) in five speakers with apraxia of speech and aphasia. Aphasiology: 29: 8: 939-964. 

Mccall, D., Shelton, J. R., Weinrich, M. & Cox, D. (2000). The utility of computerized visual communication for improving natural language in chronic global aphasia: Implications for approaches to treatment in global aphasia. Aphasiology: 14: 8: 795-826.

Morrow-Odom, K. L. & Swann, A. B. (2013). Effectiveness of melodic intonation therapy in a case of aphasia following right hemisphere stroke. Aphasiology: 27: 11: 1322-1338.

Searleman, A. (1977). A Review of right hemisphere linguistic capabilities. Psychological Bulletin: 84: 3: 503-528.

Tamplin, J., Baker, F. A., Jones, B., Way, A. and Lee, S. (2013). Stroke a chord: The Effect of singing in a community choir on mood and social engagement for people living with aphasia following a stroke. NeuroRehabilitation 32: 929-941.