by K A Moll
“He’s sleeping,” Marigold whispered as she moved to join her. “When he wakes up, he’ll be thrilled to see you.” She’d been so afraid that he never would, or if he did, that he wouldn’t know who they were. Surviving cardiac arrest was extremely rare outside of the hospital, but surviving without being comatose was nothing short of a miracle.
“Any change since we last spoke?” Coy asked hopefully. She’d called between flights and on her way from Pensacola.
“I think he’s more alert,” Marigold answered. “The cardiologist said that you having me do CPR right away is what saved his life.”
“He’ll have a long road back,” Coy said pensively, “but with each hurdle that he manages to jump—from his initial survival to hospital admission, and now beyond—his odds get better.”
“That’s what the neurologist said too,” Marigold responded. “They have him on several new medications that are supposed to help,” she continued with a concerned smile, “and they’re talking about bypass surgery and cardiac rehabilitation.”
“That all sounds good,” Coy said with a glance to the nurse’s station. “I’ll be right back,” she added, “I want to take a look at his chart.”
“I told his doctors that you would,” Marigold responded. “Both gave their okay.”
“That’s good,” Coy answered with a thin smile. It was her first in nearly three days. Her eyes moistened as her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Marigold touched her arm gently. “Is everything alright, honey?” she asked. “I mean other than worry for your daddy of course.”
Coy pressed her lips together, shaking her head slowly. “No, Mama,” she choked, “it isn’t.” She turned away, halting her speech to gain control. “I can’t talk right now,” she said, “just let me go take a look at the chart.”
“Okay,” Marigold responded with a touch, “I’ll be in with your daddy until you get back. Then, maybe we can head down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.”
“That sounds good,” Coy said, “but I want to spend a little time with daddy first.”
“Of course you do,” Marigold responded.
***
In that instant, Coby lost all awareness. At that moment, everything went numb. She took no air into her lungs, and her synapses refused to fire. In that flash, she experienced a total absence of feeling. And in the next millisecond, a rush of adrenaline brought her down. She leaned against Coy’s door, her body collapsing like a building razed by a bomb. Her heart pounded into her ribcage, for each word she shouldn’t have said and for the one thing that she should’ve allowed. It’s not the end of the world, she told herself. She’s here somewhere, and you’ll find her. It’s just a matter of time. She sucked in a breath and held it. But once she found her, what was she going to tell her? Would she be honest? Would she come clean, knowing that once Coy knew the truth, she’d be gone? That, she didn’t know. She’d cross the honesty bridge when it came around. The only thing that mattered at this moment was finding her so that she could say she was sorry. She checked her watch—7:35. Coy wouldn’t be at work for another hour. If she got lucky, maybe she’d run into her at the galley.
Diego looked up when she came flying around the corner.
“You seen Coy?” Coby called out.
“Not since I last saw you,” Diego answered. “Why?” As an afterthought, he asked how she was feeling and what she was doing up.
“I’m fine,” Coby responded, “lots better, physically anyway, compared to last night.” Her eyes moistened as she held his gaze. “I really pissed her off,” she added, “and she moved somewhere during the night.”
Diego made a face. “That’s impossible,” he said. “There’s no way she could get a move processed that fast, and certainly not during the night.”
“Well, she must have,” Coby countered, “because she’s gone. Her room’s all cleaned out.” She sat down, holding her forehead and feeling sick to her stomach. “Can I hang out and watch the line for a while?”
“She’s usually through by now,” Diego responded, “but suit yourself.” He wrinkled his brow. “Why don’t you just call her?”
“You think I haven’t been calling?” Coby asked with widening eyes. “She’s not picking up.”
“What’d you say to her anyway?” Diego asked with his mouth hanging open. “She cried all the way down the hall.”
“Thanks,” Coby muttered, “just make me feel a little worse, why don’t you.”
“Just tellin’ it like it is, amiga,” Diego responded.
“I know,” Coby muttered, “it’s not your fault.” She shook her head and looked up. “I’m not sure what I did exactly,” she continued, “I just wouldn’t let her give me an exam; that’s all.” Her head continued to shake slowly. “It might’ve been my tone with her, but I’m not for sure.”
“I don’t think so,” Diego responded. “A sharp tone wouldn’t make her sob like she was sobbing, and I’m sure she’s had people decline exams before.”
“Then, I really don’t know,” Coby mumbled. She monitored those coming and going until twenty after the hour. “Okay, I’m going to the clinic,” she announced. “I’ll make a damn appointment with her if I need to. One way or another, she’s gonna hear my apology.”
“Good luck,” Diego called out. “Stop by after you see her, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” Coby responded.
***
“Hey, Mama,” Coy whispered as she stepped soundlessly up to her daddy’s bedside. She checked his monitors, biting her lower lip as she digested what they had to tell her. Then, with an ever so slight nod, she backed away.
“Hey there, honey,” Cyrus greeted, moving underneath his sheet. The weakness in his voice caused her to fight back tears. Everything, absolutely everything, made her cry these days. “I should’ve listened to you, huh,” he added.
Coy smiled thinly and gently hugged his neck. “Yes, you should’ve,” she choked at a whisper. “But don’t worry, I forgive you.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too,” Cyrus said. He nodded toward the devices keeping track. “You learn anything from all that?” he asked.
Marigold stepped closer to listen to her daughter’s response.
Coy released a quiet breath, searching for the best answer. “Well…I think you’re a whole lot better than you were a couple of days ago,” she said.
Cyrus nodded and met her gaze. “But I’m not out of the woods yet,” he added.
“No, Daddy,” Coy said kindly, “I don’t think you are.”
“They tell me my girl’s quick thinking’ is what saved my life,” Cyrus continued. “Thank you, honey.”
Coy swallowed hard with a glance to Marigold. “It was mama who saved you,” she responded. “I just kept her company while she did.” She swallowed again. “Mind if I take a listen?” she asked, slipping a borrowed cardiac stethoscope from the pocket of her jacket.
“Course not,” Cyrus answered with tender eye contact. “There’s nobody in this world I’d rather have doin’ my doctorin’ than my daughter,” he added.
“Now don’t go and make me cry again,” Coy said, “or I won’t be able to concentrate on what I’m listening for.” She wiped a tear before slipping in her earpieces
“I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” Cyrus whispered.
“Okay,” Coy cooed, placing the bell of her instrument against his chest, “let’s have you take a deep breath.” She glanced down as her cell buzzed in her pocket.
Cyrus coughed. “Sorry about that,” he said.
“It’s okay,” Coy said. “Go ahead and take another breath for me.” She looked up after listening from a few positions. “Have you been coughing up phlegm?” she asked with a pinch of her brow.
Both nodded.
“Not until today,” Marigold said.
Coy met her daddy’s gaze. “And I’m guessing you just had some chest pain.” She pinched her
brow and held his gaze. “When you coughed, maybe?”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Cyrus said sheepishly.
Coy sucked in a breath. “That’s the kind of thing you need to mention promptly,” she said. “I think you might have a touch of pneumonia,” she went on. “If you do, you’ll need a couple of rounds of antibiotics.” She kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right back,” she promised. “I want to return the stethoscope, take another look at your blood cultures, and have your doc paged.” As she stepped out, her cell buzzed again in her pocket.
Chapter Fifteen
Christmas was a HUGE DEAL at McMurdo, so much so that Coby had difficulty disregarding the holiday, as she’d done since she was seventeen. She supposed that these ‘ice people’ went overboard with the holiday spirit to help them forget that they were in the middle of nowhere, on a God forsaken block of ice, thousands of miles away from their families. She shook her head as she stepped by a string of decorations. Large and small, they were on the poles, atop the tanker trucks, and even on the door of the medical clinic. She unzipped her coat and stepped up to the main desk asking to see Coy Davidson. She didn’t bother with the formality of ‘good morning’ or ‘hello.’
The woman looked over her glasses. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but Coy’s no longer with us.”
Coby’s knees weakened. “What do you mean, she’s no longer with you?” she asked, leaning into the desk for support, “Where’d she go?”
“I really can’t discuss that,” the receptionist answered, “but I believe Doc Harmon is available for a walk-in if you’d like to see him.”
“I guess that’s my only choice,” Coby responded. She took a seat, flipping through the pictures in an old issue of Sports Illustrated until he came down the hall.
“Come on back,” Doc Harmon invited with a smile. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Better, thanks,” Coby responded.
“Go ahead and have a seat on the table,” Doc Harmon directed with a hand motion. “I’m glad you came in.”
“I’m not here for anything medical,” Coby responded, taking a seat on the hardback chair against the wall.
Doc Harmon sat down beside her. “How can I help then?” he asked kindly.
“I need to see Coy Davidson,” Coby blurted out. “Where’s she gone?”
“I’m not at liberty to share that information,” he responded.
“So did she transfer to the South Pole or something?” Coby continued.
Doc Harmon shook his head. “It would be inappropriate for me to share Coy’s personal situation with a patient,” he said. “I’m very sorry.”
Coby fought back emotion as she met his eye. “Look,” she choked, “I’m not her patient, and I really need to talk to her.” Her volume escalated as she continued. “Come on, man,” she pleaded, “help me out here.”
“I would if I could,” the doc responded.
“You could if you wanted to,” Coby countered. Her mind raced, trying to think of someone else who might know where she was.
Doc Harmon stood. “I’m very sorry,” he said as he stepped toward the door.
Coby stood as well. “Damn you,” she muttered, pushing past him to step into the reception area, and then to the cold.
***
Coby passed the entrance to her building, continuing on. Never in her life, including those days when she’d first gone on run, had she felt so isolated and alone. She felt like an animal snared in a trap, unable to go anywhere on her own—not off the base, not off the continent, and certainly not home. It all took money, or special permission, or both. As she trudged on, she considered where Coy might have gone. No flights were due in until day after tomorrow, which meant that she was still on the continent. But where, if not McMurdo? And who would know? She passed the clinic and fire station on her next trip through the center of town. Her cheeks stung, wind burned, as she took her fourth lap around. She’d resolved to keep walking until she no longer had the urge to drink herself out of pain. It had never been more important that she get a handle on her problem than it was today. Diego jogged out to join her on her sixth trip through town.
“You trying to set a record?” he called out.
“I don’t know, maybe,” Coby responded.
Diego tugged his hood around to cover his earlobes.
“If I don’t walk, I’ll drink,” Coby admitted.
“I take it she wouldn’t talk with you,” Diego guessed.
“If only,” Coby responded, meeting his eye. “She’s gone.”
Diego furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, she’s gone? That’s not possible,” he said. “There were no flights in or out.” He shook his head with his mouth hanging open. “And no one’s gonna drive her to another base in the middle of the night. She’s around here somewhere.”
“I think you’re wrong,” Coby responded, “and the people she worked with are all hush-hush about where she is. I couldn’t get any of ‘em to tell me anything except that she was gone.” She swallowed hard. “She’s gone because of what I said,” she added, “I just know it.”
“If that’s so,” Diego responded, “there’s nothing you can do except to say you’re sorry.”
“If she’d ever take my call, I would,” Coby muttered. She sucked in enough cold air to nip her lungs. “I don’t know what to do,” she added as her eyes began to water. “I love her, Diego.”
“I know you do,” Diego responded, “but I’ll bet you never told her.”
Coby shook her head. “No,” she choked. “I was afraid if I told her, she’d want to get close.”
“I just don’t get that,” Diego responded, “you like girls, and she’s hot as hell.”
“I know,” Coby sighed. “I don’t get it either sometimes.” She pursed her lips, met his gaze, and added, “Got no one to blame for this mess but myself.” She tugged open the door of her building, thanked him for coming out to walk with her, and told him, “It helped.” As she climbed the stairs, she pulled her phone from her pocket and pressed redial.
***
“I know I told you I was sorry in the last umpteen messages,” Coby recorded, “but there’s something else, something really important, something I have to tell you. Please, please, please. Coy, please. I’m begging you; please call me.” She poked her phone into her back pocket as she pulled her most substantial piece of luggage from the closet. She’d unpacked it with the exception of one item—one item that was tucked away in a side pocket; one item that was big, blue, nondescript, and worn; one item that had, long ago, saved her life. She hadn’t touched it in ages but hadn’t been able to bring herself to leave it behind. She must have known that the old book would be needed during her time in Antarctica.
If only she’d kept on with Alcoholics Anonymous—working the steps, beyond one through three; going to meetings and sharing; reading passages from the AA Big Book with her sponsor—if only. If only she’d kept on, maybe she wouldn’t be in the fix she was in right now. For a fleeting moment, she considered reconnecting with her old sponsor, but then opted not to. She’d failed miserably at sobriety and couldn’t stand the thought of telling her—at least not now. She’d have to crawl back on the wagon herself. Then maybe, probably, once she was sober again, she’d reach out—because God knows she needed help.
With that, she cracked open her old friend, fingering down the circles and highlights to the passage that called to her. She put her index finger under one word at a time, reading, “When...I stop-ped...li-ving...in the prob-lem...and be-gan...li-ving in the...answer, the prob-lem... went...away.” She took a breath as the familiar words resonated like never before. What she needed was to find Coy; to be totally honest with her, and to take her chances with regard to the outcome. What’s the worst that could happen? That she’d lose her? “Yeah, right,” she muttered out loud. “You couldn’t do much worse than you’ve already done.”
***
“This is
nice,” Coy said as she trailed into the recently remodeled hospital cafeteria behind her mama. “I love the new atrium-style food court and dining area.”
“You think that’s nice,” Marigold responded, “you should see the brand new state-of-the-art kitchen.” She nodded that way. “I heard they hired three top-notch chefs to run the place.”
Coy’s eyes teemed with tears as she flashed back to McMurdo—salmon, snapped peas, yellow peppers, long grained rice, grilled artichokes—and Coby.
Marigold’s eyes narrowed as she met her gaze. “That’s a good thing, honey,” she added. “It’s not somethin’ you need to be cryin’ about.”
“I’m sorry,” Coy choked, “I’m a mess these past few days.”
“If I didn’t know better,” Marigold responded kindly, “I’d think you were on your period.”
“No, thank goodness,” Coy responded with a hint of a smile. “If I was, I would be a wreck.” She slid her tray along the trio of shiny cylinders, sniffling again as she ordered the grilled chicken with brown rice.
“What’s wrong, honey?” Marigold asked softly as she took a seat across from her. “Come on, tell me.”
Coy shook her head slowly, looking off. A tear trickled down her cheek as her phone buzzed again in her pocket.
Marigold studied her daughter for a long moment. “You met someone,” she said tenderly, “and you left her in Antarctica to come home.” She drew her eyebrows together, pondering. “But there’s more to it than that because you aren’t answering her calls.” She rested her hand on Coy’s forearm and met her gaze. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Unfortunately, you are,” Coy responded with a tearful nod. “I can’t believe I allowed myself to fall for another one just like Fergie.” Again, her phone buzzed.