The girls seemed like tiny figures compared to the massive nurse walking before them. The woman pushed the elevator button to go up and turned around to address them.
“Now listen up, ladies. My name is Nurse Robin. I’m an oncology nurse. We’ve gotten Samantha a bed and we’re going to keep her overnight for observation. I’m going to take you up to her room for a very brief visit and Samantha’s husband is going to give you cab fare to get home. He’s staying here with her tonight. Now when you get in there, she may not look so well.”
At that point, Admeta interrupted. “We just saw her covered in blood, Robin, I think we can handle it.”
The woman’s brow furrowed and she put one hand on her hip and the index finger of her other hand in the air. Cornelia was very familiar with this stance. She knew they were in for a lecture of some kind.
“Now you listen to me, little girl,” Robin said to Admeta. “First of all, my name is not Robin, it’s Nurse Robin. That’s what you’ll call me and you will have some respect in your voice when you say it.” Admeta took a defensive stance. She wasn’t about to back down to the nurse or anyone else.
“I am telling you what you need to know to prepare you for what you’re about to see. Don’t stand there and tell me you know what to expect. I give this spiel to all visitors and I will thank you to be quiet and listen. And you can wipe that look off your face while you’re at it because I’m not going to stop talking until I’ve said what I need to say.
“Now, when you get into Samantha’s room I want you to make it short and sweet. No small talk. No complaining. No whimpering. And absolutely no crying. You hear me, girls? No tears will be shed in that room,” Nurse Robin said, now pointing her finger at both of them.
“Put on a happy face like your life depends on winning an Academy Award because I won’t have tears in my patient’s room. Now I can’t tell you if your teacher is going to live or die, only God knows that, but I can tell you that everyone in this hospital wants her to live just as we want all of our patients to live.” Admeta’s face started to soften. Cornelia just stood respectfully listening. She wanted to tell Nurse Robin that she didn’t believe in God. That if God existed then she hated Him because He had taken her precious grandmother and was probably going to take Mrs. Hakim too. But she remained silent.
“She is very weak and needs her rest,” Nurse Robin continued, “so you do as I say and I will call a cab to meet you at the emergency room doors. Are we clear?” Both girls nodded and the doors to the elevator opened. Admeta must have decided that arguing would be pointless. Nurse Robin would have won regardless. The trio walked inside and Nurse Robin pushed the button for floor thirteen.
“You have a thirteenth floor?” Admeta asked Nurse Robin.
“Of course we do, there’s a number thirteen, isn’t there?” Nurse Robin replied, annoyed.
“Yeah, but some buildings go from twelve to fourteen,” Admeta said, her accent thickening.
“What’s the point in that?” Cornelia asked.
“Because some people don’t like the number thirteen,” Admeta replied.
“You sound like Chad; he’s superstitious too,” Cornelia said, smiling.
“What she means is some people have a crazy fool notion that the number thirteen is bad and some of those people just happen to be architects. When they skip thirteen that just makes floor fourteen the thirteenth floor no matter what the number on the elevator says, am I right?” Nurse Robin asked, not waiting for an answer.
“Thirteen is just a number; it’s not going to determine if anyone lives or dies and I won’t hear talk of it in my hospital.” The girls looked at each other. Cornelia felt the urge to laugh but she kept it inside. She didn’t want to face the wrath of Nurse Robin. Looking at Admeta, she could see that she felt the same way. The elevator rode all the way to the thirteenth floor without stopping and the trio got out.
“We’re headed for room 1392,” Nurse Robin said.
“Columbus sailed the ocean blue,” Cornelia said.
“What?” Nurse Robin asked.
“In 1392 Columbus sailed the ocean blue,” Cornelia replied.
“Girl, you’re about a hundred years off,” Nurse Robin said and shook her head. Cornelia looked at Admeta.
“She’s right, it was 1492,” Admeta said, smirking.
“Well, whatever; I had the 92 part right,” Cornelia said indignantly as Admeta and Nurse Robin burst out laughing.
“I’m glad I could be this evening’s entertainment,” Cornelia said, looking annoyed. Nurse Robin wasn’t laughing anymore. She stopped abruptly.
“Here we are girls. Remember what I said. Short and sweet. Now you two march in there with smiles on your faces and you tell your teacher she’s going to live. She has to.” Nurse Robin gave them both a little push on their backs to shoo them into the room.
It was a private room with mauve colored walls and tacky paisley wallpaper trim. There was oak wainscoting along the front wall and a tiny bathroom just inside the entrance. The girls walked past the privacy curtain to see their teacher lying in a hospital bed with several IVs sticking out of her arms. Her wig was gone and she wasn’t wearing a hijab. She looked very tiny lying there in a hospital gown with no hair. Cornelia remembered her grandmother looking just as small, but she fought the urge to cry.
“Hey, Mrs. H., when are they going to spring you from this joint?” Admeta asked, trying to fake a smile.
“Hello my dears,” Mrs. Hakim said. Her Arabic accent seemed faded and her voice was just as small as she was. She self-consciously put her hand on her head. Cornelia thought she was probably embarrassed for her students to see her this way and she wanted nothing more than to run out of that room and have a good cry, but she knew she couldn’t do that, so she simply diverted her eyes.
“Cornelia, would you be a dear and get me a towel from the restroom, please?”
“Sure,” Cornelia replied, glad for the diversion, and went off to grab a towel. She could hear Mrs. Hakim and Admeta whispering, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She found a white towel on a silver rack in the bathroom and brought it back to Mrs. Hakim. Admeta and Mrs. Hakim stopped speaking as soon as Cornelia came out of the bathroom. She couldn’t help but think they must have been talking about her. She wondered what they were saying. She thought Admeta was probably reassuring Mrs. Hakim that Cornelia would keep her secret.
“Thank you, Cornelia,” Mrs. Hakim said, accepting the towel. She unfolded it and wrapped it around her head. Cornelia couldn’t figure out how Mrs. Hakim had managed to fasten it, but when she was through the towel looked just like a hijab. It was a hijab made of terrycloth, but a hijab just the same.
“My husband went to see if the hospital had any hijabs, but being that this is a Catholic hospital I am in serious doubt that he will be successful on his mission. This will do for now,” she said and tried to smile. Cornelia thought her smile looked as forced as Admeta’s.
“Oh, do not look so glum, girls. This is not the end of me. If it were the end, you would be visiting me in Hospice. As long as I am in the hospital, and not Hospice, I am alive. No worries,” she said, taking Admeta’s hand.
“What’s Hospice?” Admeta asked.
“It’s where terminal patients go,” Cornelia offered.
“That is correct, Cornelia. That is spoken like someone who knows a little about that terrible place,” Mrs. Hakim said.
“I -” Cornelia began, but she was interrupted.
“You do not have to speak about, dear. I will not ask anything further, but I am sorry that you ever had to step foot in Hospice,” she said, looking into Cornelia’s eyes. Cornelia felt guilty that her victim was offering her comfort when it should have been the other way around. She wished she could say something positive, but then she thought about her grandmother.
“I hope never to step foot there, myself. But only time will tell.”
“Don’t say that, Mrs. H.,�
� Admeta cried and ran to the side of the bed.
“Do not trouble yourself, child,” Mrs. Hakim said, patting Admeta’s hand. Her accent was thicker and her voice stronger now. “I’m not giving up, Admeta. I assure you of that.”
Admeta’s outburst reminded Cornelia of the last time she ever saw her grandmother alive. It was July 4th. Everyone was having picnics and barbeques to celebrate Independence Day, but Cornelia and her family were saying their good-byes to their beloved matriarch. The doctor had told them it would only be a number of hours before she passed away. She had already been in Hospice for two weeks at that point. Veronica had explained to Cornelia what Hospice meant and she was devastated.
Before she got sick, Cornelia’s grandmother was a strong, independent woman. She had been a widow for many years and lived alone. She didn’t depend on anyone for anything. She even still cut her own grass and did all of the yard work by herself. She never asked for help from her children or grandchildren. She would never have admitted it, but Cornelia was her favorite grandchild. That’s why she left her the diamond-crusted barrette. It was a family heirloom passed down for many generations. She was wearing it that day in Hospice. Cornelia remembered watching the light flicker off of the diamonds when her grandmother turned her head.
As Cornelia, her mother, aunt, uncle and cousins stood and watched, her grandmother labored for every breath she took. She could no longer speak words, but her eyes spoke volumes. Cornelia could see she was glad to see her, but she could also see death looming. She knew it wouldn’t be long. The adults went out to speak to the doctors and the children stayed in the room. Each one said their good-byes to their grandmother. They sat on the bed, leaned in close to speak to her and then kissed her on the forehead.
Her cousins repeated this routine one by one until there was only Cornelia and two of her cousins left. The two brothers went up to her together. The older brother was helping his younger brother who didn’t know what to do. They both kissed their grandmother on the forehead and promptly broke down in tears. The older brother, who was in his 20s, ran out of the room. He didn’t want anyone to see him crying. The younger brother, who was a little bit younger than Cornelia, just stood there, weeping for what felt like an hour. Cornelia said nothing. She had held back her tears up to that point. She was determined to be brave. But the sight of her eldest cousin crying had opened the flood gates and there was no shutting them.
The younger brother finally turned around and walked out the door. Cornelia still did not move. She just stood there looking at her grandmother. She thought if she didn’t say good-bye then her grandmother couldn’t leave. Surely she would never leave without telling Cornelia good-bye. She was crying so hard that she started heaving uncontrollably. She bent over and held her stomach. She thought she might throw up. Then she heard a sound. It was very faint.
Cornelia tried to pull herself together. She was the last one in the room. It was her turn to say good-bye and she couldn’t waste the chance. Not everyone gets the chance to say good-bye. She stood up straight and tried to catch her breath. That’s when she heard the noise again. She looked at her grandmother again. The noise was her trying to speak. She had one arm lifted off of the bed, toward Cornelia.
Cornelia rushed over and grabbed her grandmother’s hand just as Admeta had grabbed Mrs. Hakim’s hand. Her grandmother tried once again to speak, but the cancer that took both of her breasts had spread to her esophagus and she had a tracheotomy tube in her throat. It was impossible. She was so weak that she couldn’t hold a pencil to write anything either. Cornelia patted her grandmother’s hand. She knew she had to be strong for her.
“It’s o.k. grandma. You don’t have to speak. You just rest,” Cornelia said and she wiped her tears away with her other hand. Her grandmother rested her arm on the bed and stopped trying to speak. She just looked at her granddaughter and Cornelia knew what she wanted to say.
“I know what you want to say, grandma. You want to tell me that you love me,” Cornelia whimpered a little, then pulled herself together again.
“And I love you too. That’s why I’m here. That’s why we’re all here, grandma. Because we love you. And we don’t want you to go,” Cornelia stopped again and began to cry. She could feel her grandmother squeeze her hand. She was reminded of her grandmother’s strength. She wouldn’t want people crying over her. Cornelia tried once again to stop. She sniffed and wiped away her tears. She had to be strong for her grandmother.
“We don’t want you to go, grandma, but if you have to –” she paused, trying to keep her composure. “Well, then you can. I know you’ve fought hard to stay with us, but we’re going to be o.k., grandma. All of us.” Cornelia didn’t believe her own words. She was only trying to make things better for her grandmother, but she knew she wasn’t going to be o.k. She didn’t think she would ever be the same again. Not ever.
Cornelia’s grandmother tried to smile, but Cornelia could see the tears streaming down her cheeks onto her pillow. Cornelia’s tears were flowing too, despite her best efforts. They just sat there, staring into each other’s eyes. No more words needed to be said. Each knew what the other felt. They had always had a connection like that. It was as if they could read each other’s minds. Cornelia just sat with her grandmother, holding her hand and crying. She didn’t know how much time had passed by.
When the adults came back in the room, Cornelia knew she had to leave. She had to give her mother, aunt and uncle time alone with their mother. Cornelia suddenly had a thought that disturbed her. She wondered if this is what it was going to be like when her mother died. Would she be one of the adults coming in to say good-bye? Cornelia was an only child. She was all her mother had in the world. The thought made her cringe. She pushed it out of her mind. Cornelia looked into her grandmother’s eyes and then kissed her on the forehead as her cousins all had before her. She felt the barrette as she touched her on the back of the head.
“I love you, grandma. I love you,” Cornelia said through tears. Then Cornelia ran out of the room in tears. She ran past her cousins in the hallway into the nearest restroom. She locked the door and melted to the floor where she sat and wept until her mother came to get her hours later. She knew her grandmother had passed away. Veronica didn’t have to say a word. Mother and daughter left the hospital together. Both crying, but otherwise silent.
“Girls!” Cornelia heard Nurse Robin calling from the doorway. “Your taxi is outside, it’s time to say good-night.” Cornelia got the distinct feeling that Robin was angry with Admeta for crying. Cornelia was surprised to see Admeta show so much emotion about a teacher that seemed to argue with constantly in Writers on the Storm.
“Mrs. H., I don’t want to go!” Admeta exclaimed.
“There, there, young one. Do not fret about me one more minute. I have told you, I am fine. The two of you were very brave today, and I am proud of you, but I am very tired and need to get some rest now. My husband is staying with me, Admeta; you have nothing to worry about,” Mrs. Hakim said. The girls said their good-byes. Admeta hugged Mrs. Hakim, but Cornelia only waved. She didn’t know what to do with herself.
“Oh, I nearly forgot. Here, Admeta. Mr. Hakim left some money for cab fare. Have the driver drop Cornelia off first since she lives closer, then you can pay him. If there is anything left over, just give it to the driver. He or she will have a nice tip, no?” she asked, faking another smile.
“Sure, Mrs. H.,” Admeta replied.
“Now go girls; go off into the night and try not to think about me. I am fine. We are all fine,” Mrs. Hakim said, waving to the girls. They waved back and walked out into the hall with Nurse Robin. She escorted them to the lobby and pointed to the cab waiting outside the emergency room doors.
As they were walking out, Admeta asked, “By the way, what happened with your grandmother?”
“What? Oh..” Cornelia began. “She died last summer.”
“Oh,” Admet
a said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,” Cornelia replied.
“What kind of cancer did she have?” Admeta asked.
Cornelia hesitated for a moment before replying, “breast cancer.”
“Oh,” Admeta said, unable to say anything else. She could feel a knot tighten in her throat as she tried not to cry.
The girls spent the cab ride in silence staring out the windows. Cornelia had never ridden in a taxicab before; it was another first for her that day. Her heart was in turmoil. She didn’t think she could care so much about the well being of someone she once thought she hated. She was terrified that her teacher was going to meet the same fate as her grandmother. It made her angry and sad at the same time. She was filled with regret as the cab pulled up to her house.
Chapter 13
Daruma’s Revenge
Writers on the Storm Page 12