CHAPTER 16
Ben
The hospital corridor had become all too familiar, a perfect lane for considering crimes and misdemeanors. What new sin had Ben committed the night before, asking his children to lie? He tried to recall his childhood, his catechism classes, and knew, at the very least, he’d forced them into a sin of omission by forbidding them to reveal the details of the accident. For him it was a sure sin of commission.
Big pat on the shoulder for only sending his kids to purgatory.
Jesus, his sins piled up so fast he could barely sort them. Sometimes shutdown was the only way he could function; otherwise looking at Maddy, thinking of her, knowing he’d put her there stopped him dead. Piling up barriers against his self-loathing was a constant job.
His life had become a perpetual loop. Wake. Get kids up. Drive to hospital. Quick kiss to Maddy. Check with nurse. Check in at work. Lean on Elizabeth. Barely know which end is up. Motions, briefs, court appearances—all on automatic. Call kids. Thank Anne for being there. Ask for news on Maddy. Go back to hospital. Hold Maddy’s hand. Talk about anything and nothing in another one-sided conversation. Go home, stopping for pizza, Chinese, bagels, Thai, if no Anne dinner waited. Homework. Laundry. Clean. Read to Caleb. Fall asleep.
How had Maddy ever done it?
When he reached Maddy’s bedside, Ben took out a crayoned picture of Caleb’s. Should he tape it to the side of the pressure monitor? The heart monitor? Finally, he folded it until only a crooked pink rose on a lily pad showed. Using the small roll of tape Gracie had given him, he fastened it to the side of a compression box and then gave it a quiet little pat for luck.
“Ben.” Bernadette gave him a caretaker pat when she came over to Maddy’s bed, her touch conveying compassion with a wee bit of buck up, buddy, and then she placed a hand on his wife’s.
“Maddy, my sweet—how are you? Could I borrow your husband if I send him right back? First, I’ll give you two a moment.”
Agitation hit him in the gut. She couldn’t possibly be bringing good news, right? Hospitals were citadels of horror, with nurses bearing the early warnings. Compassionate canaries in the health mine—that’s what they were.
“I put up another work of art from Caleb, Maddy. That kid is an incredible artist—just like you always said . . . say.” No past tense. One of Ben’s many coma rules. He kissed Maddy’s forehead. “I’ll be right back, beautiful.”
Bernadette looked concerned when he caught up with her at the nurses’ station. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Before answering, she pressed her lips as though physically holding her words inside. “There’s something I’m keeping an eye on, though I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. Really, it’s just instinct.”
“Did you see something?” His chest contracted. “What happened?”
“It’s not really that anything happened. But I watch you and Emma, and the pictures you bring in from the little ones—the way you come in to kiss her good night every night.” She stopped, shook her head, her soft blond dandelion-fuzz hair moving under the thin hairnet she wore. Bernadette was one of those semi-ugly women who wrenched at Ben’s heart—made him wish he were a better man. Someone who would date her because she was so fucking nice and then marry her because she was so fucking good.
“It’s okay, Bernadette,” he said. “I’m not going to hold you to anything.”
“She opened her eyes today.”
“And nobody called me?” Ben’s heart pulsed.
“Shh!” Bernadette glanced at the Haitian nurse, the one who frightened Emma. “I saw it only once, and just for a second. No one else saw it. I put it in the chart, but I wanted to tell you myself.”
“This is good, right?” Ben wanted to hug her, find a kind and gentle man to marry her. “Terrific?”
“I think so.” Caution coated each of her words. “I think so. But the doctors will say it’s that the absence of more instances of eye opening that’s a bad sign, than opening her eyes one time is a good one. More to the point, to regain consciousness, Maddy must both react and respond.”
His hopes sank to where they’d been before as he lost his brief dance with optimism. “So what does this actually mean?”
“The doctor won’t want to raise your expectations—not simply on one eye opening—but I felt her presence, Ben. Truly. It’s like a baby quickening.” Bernadette placed her hands on her belly as though remembering a mound of pregnancy.
He knew nothing about this woman. Was she married? Children? Maddy would have known all that and much more. She’d have brought brownies and taken her out to dinner. No wonder Maddy yelled at him for complaining about their neighbor, Mrs. Gilman, who exasperated Ben each time she buttonholed people for conversations first thing in the morning.
“You have to open your eyes and see people who aren’t your clients,” Maddy had told him. “It doesn’t take much. It’s not as though I talk to Mrs. Gilman for hours on end, but I know she treats her Pekinese like her baby and collects china ballerinas. You could have a thousand suppers with her, and you’d know no more about her than you do today.”
He’d probably screwed up ten thousand suppers with Maddy and the kids just by being an asshole.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but it’s something I feel. As though her soul’s come back.” Bernadette stared as though seeking his soul. “I know this much is true. There’s a spiritual light that’s there or not there. Something indescribable. Maddy’s in there, but you have to pull her back. I think this is the moment to put out your hand and pray she catches it.”
Ben noticed the twisted rope crucifix she wore, with tiny Jesus writhing upon it.
“Thank you,” he said.
• • •
Nothing happened.
Ben sat by Maddy’s bedside each day, waiting. Her eyes didn’t flicker. Her hand didn’t twitch, but based on Bernadette’s report, they held vigil all weekend: Anne, Jake, Vanessa, Olivia, Kath—one of them was always there.
Nurse Bernadette avoided him. She probably knew she’d made a huge mistake with her voodoo I-see-into-the-soul shit. Or maybe she was just crazy. Still, Ben didn’t take any chances. He talked to Maddy about anything he thought would reach her—from his memories of holding her shoulders as Emma slipped into the world, to how they’d snuck into the bathroom to make love when they’d gone away for that week with her parents and all the kids. He played her favorite music—even the shaky-achy country stuff she had a weakness for—using the tiny and wildly expensive CD player Jake had bought for her room.
And he did all this while staring at machines hissing in and out, as he monitored Maddy’s pale, inert body.
• • •
Monday he was dying to get to the office. They’d slowed the vigil. He drove to the hospital on his way to work—back to the loop, back to an eternal round of checking items off a daily schedule that he’d never imagined. This morning he’d left earlier, hoping to buttonhole the doctor making early rounds.
He caught up with a flunky from the big cheese’s office just in time. Dr. Flynn was full of himself and his white coat.
“How’s it looking?” Ben asked.
Flynn looked at his chart, as though he needed to consult the record about someone he’d examined three minutes ago. “Mmm. Hmm.”
Ben self-talked himself out of punching words from the doctor’s girlish pink lips.
“I don’t need a full medical lecture. Just tell me how she’s doing. Any changes? Where’s the hope level?”
Ben watched Flynn’s eyes for truth, more than he’d ever get from the guy’s words. Every bit of hope he’d had—fluttering eyelids, the fucking wonder of pain response—sunk as he watched the doctor’s eyes hesitate, saw him grasp for the right words.
“We never discourage anyone from hoping. The world is full of miracles.”
• • •
He pulled into the Boston Common Garage, sorry he’d let Vanessa pick up the kids to take them back-
to-school shopping. Wanting to be at work had dissipated. Right at that moment he wanted to be with Emma, Gracie, and Caleb. He wanted to break up fights and pick out socks and dresses. Anything not to be hearing the word miracle looping through his mind.
He walked first to Elizabeth’s office, unready for his first full day back, but needing to catch up on everything she’d been taking care of for him.
“Hey,” Ben called as he entered. He sat in her guest chair and reached for the coffee she had waiting. He couldn’t have been more grateful if she’d handed him a hundred-dollar bill. The first sip, hot, black, and bitter, shot straight to his heart.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Least I can do.” Elizabeth tilted her head and gave a sad smile. “How are you?”
He shrugged and grunted. “Not great.”
She shook her head. “Poor Ben. How are the children?”
“Wretched.” He tipped his cup toward her as a mini toast. “Let’s talk about something else.” At least she hadn’t asked about his case. He felt like a ten-year-old the way he’d left the legal decisions in his father’s and the lawyer’s hands. Was he being a fool? The lawyer side of him knew they couldn’t truly come up with a case against him. He hadn’t been drunk. All he’d done was move over to the right; the Ford had rammed into him.
But. There was always a but.
How about turning on the setting for competitive driving control? How smart was that?
They wouldn’t know. It reset back to the normal driving mode after stopping. And anyway, it wasn’t illegal.
Just stupid and wrong.
But he’d been driving recklessly. His wife was in a coma. They could find a way to charge him if they wanted. And Ben, as the Judge was fond of saying, wasn’t a popular guy in the DA’s office.
Stop. It will be fine. Ben knocked twice on Elizabeth’s desk. “What do you have for me?”
She nodded as though husbands coping with wives in comas were part of her protocol. “The Barry Robinson case file is ready for you. Problem: B-bird’s mother keeps calling. She thinks there must be some way to lower the bail. What do you want me to tell her?”
“Why don’t you tell her the truth? That she should give up and let her kid do some time. Tell her that for once he shouldn’t get away with something.” Ben put his coffee down and rubbed his temples. Another monster headache was building to a crescendo. “B-bird needs more cooking. Tell mama to keep her son in the pan and turn him when he’s done.”
Elizabeth flinched. Still tender to the bone as she was, she hadn’t perfected the art of joking at a client’s expense. He missed Maddy. He could fucking die from missing her at this moment.
• • •
When his desk phone rang at five, Ben’s stomach cramped. He didn’t want to pick it up; he didn’t want to talk to B-bird’s mother or some piece-of-shit client or his piece-of-shit brother, Andrew, making one of his twice-a-week duty calls. Too bad ignoring the phone was no longer one of Ben’s luxuries.
“Illica,” he said.
“Bennie?”
Since the accident, his mother-in-law had taken to calling him Bennie. As though he were a fucking dog.
It wasn’t that.
Maddy called him that once in a while. He didn’t want to hear it from Anne.
“Is everything okay? The kids?”
“Everything is okay.” They never used the word fine these days—things were never fine. “How about the kids sleep over at our house tonight? After shopping for school clothes all day with Vanessa, they’re ready for a home-cooked meal.”
“Are you sure? They’re not so easy at night. Caleb, um—”
“I know, I know. He’s wetting the bed. Big deal. A little pee. You think Maddy and Vanessa never peed?”
Ben avoided thinking about exactly how Maddy was peeing these days.
“If you’re sure,” he said.
“I’m sure, I’m sure. Jake and I need a little life in the house. Pick them up after work tomorrow. We’ll all have supper together.”
If by having “a little life in the house,” she meant Emma glaring, Caleb screeching, and Gracie worshipping Jesus, then he was happy to oblige by offering up his children.
Maddy and the kids stared from the picture on his desk. Her smile flew right at him—she’d directed love eyes to the camera as he snapped the shot of her building a snowman with the kids. The snow had been so high it covered the steps to the porch. They’d leapt straight into the pile of cold puffy flakes.
Her cheeks were bright red. He could imagine the taste of her cold lips.
So many times he hadn’t kissed her.
He didn’t know how to keep containing the pain. Missing her was a rusty blade, but no matter how it sliced, he had to keep going. Somehow he had to contain the damn pain.
• • •
Ben and Elizabeth went out to dinner. Then back to her place.
She lived in the Fenway, smack in the middle of the student ghetto, but her building had been remodeled to appeal to young professionals. Her condo appeared as spare as Elizabeth. Pale walls, glossy oak floors, furnished with minimal pieces and maximum money. Certainly not paid for by her meager intern stipend. Those sleek ebony vases and lamps weren’t the T.J. Maxx variety Maddy brought home.
He should leave this shiny place right fucking now.
“Wine?” She held up a bottle of white. “Or an after-dinner drink?”
“Wine,” he said.
She filled an oversized goblet halfway and then settled next to him on the couch. “Thanks for dinner.” She leaned over and lifted a chrome fruit bowl—holding it toward him. Purple grapes and plums overflowed. “Dessert?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks.”
She bit into a plum and curled her legs underneath her. “Everything was wonderful.”
Really? What did she think was so much fun? That he’d had too much to drink and ranted about politics? She’d gazed at him with overserious eyes. “Glad you liked it.”
“I love the North End. Italian food’s my favorite.”
The first time he’d taken Maddy on a date they’d gone to the North End. How had he forgotten that?
What was wrong with him? How had he let his life end up like this?
He drank half the wine, letting the alcohol pile on top of the full-strength martinis he’d had at the restaurant.
Elizabeth slid closer. She brushed her fingertips over his cheek. “Heavy-bearded guy. Do you need to shave twice a day?”
“Need?” He shrugged. “I don’t.”
“Actually,” Elizabeth said, “it feels good.”
Ben finished his wine. Her skin, her skin was so damn clear and perfect. She glowed. From what he could see, there wasn’t a trace of makeup, just her rich vanilla complexion. He reached out, put a hand around the back of her neck, and drew her close, tasting plums and wine and health. She wound herself around him, swung a leg over him, and pressed hard against him. Feeling the heat of her, he thought he might lose control. He laid her on the couch. She allowed him to put her flat, laying her arms to either side. Slowly, he unbuttoned her silky gray blouse.
Seventy percent. He didn’t want to join the seventy percent.
Maddy. Wild hair framing her grimace of joy when he touched her, the deep hollow of her lower back where his fingers met when she rode him.
Pale ashy legs covered by bleach-smelling sheets, tubing trailing from her as though she were a medical Medusa.
Elizabeth’s bra clasped in the front. The two cups fell away when he unfastened it. The first time with Maddy. Licking along the line where a thin locket chain traced her collarbone. His fingers finding home in every curve. He’d wanted to live his life breathing in Maddy.
Elizabeth drew up her skirt and tugged off his pants, and then urged him inside. He closed his eyes.
• • •
“Where are you going?” Elizabeth lifted herself on one elbow. Faint light slid through the blinds. It was four thirty.
&n
bsp; Ben was dressed and ready to go.
“Home. It’s almost six in the morning.”
Elizabeth sat up, surprising him by not being a sheet clutcher. The thin cotton blanket puddled around her waist. Her bare breasts looked casual and ready.
“Are you coming back?”
Did she mean ever? Tonight? “I have to get home. Before the children wake.”
Weak lie. Maddy’s voice. However, of course, you’ve never been an especially good liar.
“Aren’t they with their grandmother?”
“Yes. With Maddy’s mother. But I need to get things ready before they come home.”
Ben considered going to church. Heading straight to confession. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been thirty years since my last confession. In that time, I took the Lord’s name in vain. I was arrogant and mean to my wife. I pulled my son in anger. I screamed at my daughters. I drove like a madman, causing my wife to fly from the car and strike her head. I put her in a coma. Then I slept with another woman. Am I evil, Father?
“Will you be back?” Elizabeth asked again.
Every night since the accident, he’d been at the hospital to kiss Maddy good night. Last night he’d missed it.
“I don’t know if I can,” he said, meaning No. Not ever. Never.
• • •
“Look, Daddy!” Gracie grabbed his hand, pulling him toward an end table the moment he walked into his in-laws’ hallway. The smell of fresh-baked bread mingled with the aroma of simmering meat. Gracie held a small stained glass upright box edged with bright copper, a small slot on top. “Put in a dollar, Daddy.”
“Grandma and Grandpa charging admission these days?” he asked.
“Daddy, you need to. It’s important.”
“Okay, okay.” He stuffed two singles through the opening. “See? Now what is it?”
“It’s a seduction box.”
“A what?” Ben stepped back and looked askance at the box. His mother-in-law walked in laughing.
“It’s a tsedakah box, Gracie.” Anne knelt to Gracie’s level. “You pronounce it like this: suh-dock-ah.”
Accidents of Marriage Page 14