My speech was still not sufficient for the task. Barking and whining were not suitable for the occasion. I had a dry-erase board that I was learning to rely on for my missives. First, I stroked Brett’s face gently to set a loving tone and then wrote that I was sorry to hurt him but I was breaking off our relationship, only it came out:

“I no breakfast off you. Can no more. Sorry.”

“I don’t get it.” He shrugged, not understanding.

I handed him the ring and shook my head.

“No,” I said.

It was my first spoken word.

That was six years ago. Brett is now married to a fellow Texan, Becky. I always call her Becky Thatcher because she looks just like the illustrations in Tom Sawyer with her blue eyes, straw-colored hair, and freckles everywhere. She is adorable and funny and perfect for Brett. I met her for the first time when they came to Kauai on their honeymoon. They’ve since had two kids and bought a sheep ranch near Austin where they plan to raise their family. It’s incredible where we all eventually plop down and with whom we find ourselves plopping.

I keep a steady e-mail correspondence with friends and family. Dr. Foreman and I chat once a week and play Scrabble online. I know he plays easy on me. I’m guessing that monitoring my Scrabble abilities is his way of tracking my brain’s progress without having to constantly ask medical questions.

Recently Daddy and Anna sold the Mausoleum and moved into a smaller home in the flats of Beverly Hills. Daddy still reports to the studio every day, but I know from Anna that he functions more as a consultant. After my father’s bypass surgery last year, Anna insisted they get more exercise. When they visited this summer, we went swimming in the bay every morning; Daddy clutching a kickboard and me belted into my floaty vest. Anna swam right beside us, her long strokes sure and strong in the calm warm sea. When the sun was at its hottest in the afternoons, the three of us strolled to the village for shave ice, Daddy and Anna in matching sun visors laughing like teenagers as they slurped from their mango pineapple coconut flavored cones. They are already planning to come back in the spring.

I saw Nicole once more before I moved to Kauai. She stopped by the apartment Emme and I had moved into near the hospital. She went on and on nervously about her career and her many clients. I could tell it was hard for her to hear my fragmented speech and watch me struggle with my canes. I know deep down she feels guilty about her part in my accident. Truthfully, I still haven’t forgiven her. Maybe one day, Dr. Dave. I’ve still got time.