by Saks, Tessa
Ellen leaned back and stared at her stomach. “How could anyone?” She thought of her own loss. Her own heartache. “I lost a baby once …” Her voice was a soft whisper. “Miscarried.”
“What? When?” Rory moved closer to her.
“Years ago … when I was young … younger, much younger …” She turned and looked out the window unable to focus on anything. Her face started to feel heavy, her body followed, slowly pressing her downward, making breathing difficult. “It’s like something … pulling down and you have no resistance … down you go …” She hung her head. “I wanted that baby. I felt his life inside of me. We connected. There was part of me in him, a part that was lost when he was lost …”
He stroked her back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She turned to Rory and looked at him, his eyes, full of trust, his face lit with compassion. “I never told anyone that I was pregnant. It was such a shock at first, a mistake … a terrible, terrible mistake. I was too young and I trusted … and I was so afraid, scared my life would be ruined, that my uncle … that he would deny what he had done, anyway.” She wiped her eyes and breathed in deep, allowing the air to calm her raw nerves. “It was so evil, so shameful … and my aunt, she wouldn’t believe me, how could she? … it would mean he was a monster and I … anyway, I knew she would hate me … so I didn’t tell anyone. I was scared they would stop loving me, that my world would collapse around me, that everything I knew, everyone I trusted would abandon me, that revealing the truth would destroy more than living the lie, so I suffered in silence, in guilt and pain …”
“I’m sorry Sam, I had no idea. I never knew you had an aunt and uncle who cared for you. I never should have said anything about—”
“It’s funny, I’ve never told another soul about this, about any of it or about how I felt … or how much I hurt, how betrayed I felt and how I believed that somehow I deserved it, that I allowed it to happen. What did I know about all that? About any of it?” She gave a forced laugh then, her body tightened and grew cold.
She hesitated. “He was a part of me that I can never have back, that tiny little baby. A part that will never be repaired … and the worst part is that I let it happen … I didn’t take care … and … and he couldn’t take it.”
She looked at Rory. “His little heart stopped,” her voice cracked and she wiped her eyes again. “At first I didn’t want him,” she cried, taking in a deep breath, “but only at first … only for a moment. I was scared, so young and so very scared. I shouldn’t have thought that, I never should have imagined—how could I know that by thinking such a horrible thought, that it would happen, that he …” Her voice faded and she looked out into the distance for several minutes.
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “He wouldn’t stay with me. He let go. I can never undo it. Never. It was my fault.” She rocked back and forth for a few moments, holding herself, then whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I lost you. Forgive me. I lost you forever before you had a chance to live …” Ellen was sobbing with her whole body.
Rory put his arms around her and held her. He wiped his eyes and pulled her closer. Nothing was said between them as she cried against his shoulder and the darkness fell softly around them, the light fading like the last dying ember of a fire, leaving the deep and eternal blackness of night.
***
Sam sat in bed, staring out into the hallway, deciding what to do. She pushed the nurse buzzer. A few minutes later, a nurse appeared in the doorway.
“Mrs. Horvath, what’s wrong?”
“Becky, I need you to do something for me. Come here.” Becky came into the room. “There is a name and number on here,” Sam said and held up a piece of paper. “I need you to call and say that his cousin Wendy is in the hospital, in room 22056 and needs to talk to him.”
“But that’s your room number.”
“I can’t explain.”
“You better start,” she said, crossing her arms.
“He’s mad at me,” Sam blurted. “If I phone, he’ll just hang up. It’s about money. You know, inheritance stuff.” Becky nodded but remained motionless and silent, waiting for more. “I want to apologize to him,” Sam continued. “I need to sort things out. You know, just in case …”
“Uh, huh.” She unfolded her arms. “And this Rory, who is he?”
“My cousin. But you are to call me Wendy … because he’s mad at me. He won’t come unless you say it’s Wendy. Please, just help me.”
Becky shrugged and strummed the paper. “Does anyone else know about this?”
“No. It’s personal. Please help me.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Becky checked the IV drip before leaving.
Sam lay back, hoping to see Rory. She thought about his smile, the feeling of his arms around her, all the late-night talks. And his body, his beautiful body. It seemed strange that for all the years together, she had never imagined what it would be like to never see Rory again.
Did she believe that after Jonathan married her, she would lock Rory out of her life? Had she secretly hoped that Jonathan would not live that long and that somehow they might still end up together? Slowly she began to realize it would never be as before. Not only would she not get back into her body, she couldn’t get out of this place. Sam turned onto her side and a jolt of pain shot through her broken arm.
She adjusted herself as she stared at the gray surroundings. She hated this room. She hated the pathetic metal chairs, the desk with the plastic white top and the boring lamps with safety cords. She even hated the patterned wallpaper. And, she hated Jonathan. She was tired of everything, tired of this body, tired of fighting, tired of being sick. Tired of being lonely.
Yes, she was truly lonely. No one came to see her; no friends; not even Patty. Where was Patty? Why had she abandoned her? Sam missed Patty, but knew no one wanted to visit a crazy person. Why would they? Would she have ever visited anyone in here? Not likely.
And no one cared. She lay engulfed in fear, realizing no one really cared, except Brianna. She cared. But she cared for Ellen, for her mother. No one cared for Samantha Miller. No one. She wiped a tear from her eye. She was even tired of crying.
Would anyone even notice if I died? Would anyone care? Sam lay on her back and looked up at the ceiling. She would disappear forever without a word, without recognition. Slipping away into oblivion. No record. No one knowing. Did it matter? Did any of it matter?
At least if she could see Rory one last time, she could say goodbye. And maybe, just maybe someone would miss her. Someone would actually miss Samantha Miller.
***
Ellen was looking forward to seeing Jonathan. Six days had past and she hoped the time apart had helped soften his stance. She stepped out of the shower as the phone rang.
“Hello?” she said, wrapping the towel around her body.
“Sam, darling. Listen, I have to cancel tonight. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, Jonathan. You aren’t still upset with me, are you?”
“Yes, and no. I am still annoyed, but no, I have to go back to the hospital. It’s Ellen.”
Ellen sat on the bed. It never ends. “What now?”
“She’s fallen. She hit her head on the floor and broke her arm. I need to go and meet with her doctors. Can we reschedule?”
“Yes, of course. I have work to do on my photos anyway.”
“How about Thursday?”
Three more days of waiting. “I was hoping to see you, it’s been—”
“I am sorry. This whole thing … it’s never-ending. I thought I might get some peace with her in there. But now, I certainly worry more,” he said with a sigh. “She’s gone from bad to worse. It’s tragic.”
“That bad?”
“Sam, you can’t imagine. She looks terrible. She’s not eating—can’t, actually. They’re thinking of not allowing any solid foods for her. She gags and throws everything up anyway. And she cries all the time. Apparen
tly, she is even confused and forgetting things.”
“Sounds awful.”
“Brianna went to see her. I guess she’s still paranoid, still unstable and still thinks she’s in danger. The kids are worried. They think she’s gone completely mad. I can’t always be there for her,” he said, “I won’t … I’m tired of all this drama.”
“Poor thing.” Ellen paused, holding her hand over the receiver, deciding what to say. “Maybe she’s not imagining all this—”
“God, not you, too,” he snapped. “That’s all I need. Are you telling me you hired a hit man to kill her? Just what the hell are you saying?”
“No,” Ellen said. “No. I was just thinking, who knows why she thinks these things?”
“She thinks these things to get attention! She thinks these things because she is mentally unstable. She’s losing her mind, for God’s sake.” His voice was so incited, Ellen could practically picture him spitting into the receiver. She sat, waiting for him to finish. “Damn it all, I have to go,” he said sternly, “I’ll call you.”
Ellen stared at the phone. What could she do? What should she do? One thing was certain; she was glad she wasn’t Ellen Horvath any more.
***
Rory glanced up at the map of the hospital buildings, then back down at the number on the piece of paper. He forgot to ask why his cousin Wendy was in the hospital and wondered if he should still bring flowers. The receptionist at the desk pointed to the gift shop. Inside he was informed that no flower vases were allowed except unbreakable plastic. He chose a bunch of cheerful sunflowers.
Rory paid and went back to the front desk and asked about room 22056. The receptionist went through a list of procedures and restricted items, mostly sharp objects, belts and drawstrings or shoelaces. The security guard opened the locked gate, allowing him into the restricted area.
Rory punched in the pass code for the elevator and rode to the second floor. He got off and approached the desk. Two nurses were laughing. One of the nurses stopped laughing and turned to Rory. “Pretty flowers.”
Rory smiled back. “I’m here to see Wendy.”
“Wendy? I don’t know any Wendy, do you?” She turned to the other nurse.
Rory looked at his paper. “Says Room 22056.”
“Ellen? That’s Mrs. Horvath’s room. Let me see …”
Rory smiled and pulled the paper away. “That’s right, Mrs. Horvath. She used to go by Wendy Horvath, her middle name. I forgot. Is it over this way?” Rory pointed to the right.
“No, that way.” The nurse pointed in the opposite direction. “Follow the hall until it splits, fifth door on the left. She’ll be in bed. She’s not well, so don’t say anything to upset her.”
Rory nodded and headed toward her room. The hallway smelled like cleaning chemicals. He winced as voices cried out from the darkened doorways. Were they in pain? A man shuffled in front of him, his slippers sliding along the polished linoleum, his one arm waving to anyone, or no one. He whispered to himself, shaking his head side to side.
Rory said, “Hello” as he passed by. The man continued whispering and shuffling. Another lady was sitting in a wheelchair with her head tipped sideways. Her eyes followed Rory as he passed. “Hi,” Rory said, smiling. She smiled back, their eyes meeting briefly. The background of voices grew dimmer as he reached room 22056.
A sign posted said: ELLEN HORVATH
Rory rapped at the door. “Hello,” he called into the darkness. “Hello,” he said again.
“Yes?” A weak voice called out from the silence.
“It’s Rory Chasen. Can I come in?”
“Rory! Yes. Yes, come in,” the voice called out, louder and more animated.
Rory entered the darkened room, unlit except the slashes of light finding their way through the slatted blinds. Ellen Horvath lay on her side and appeared to be trying to sit up. Her one arm was in a cast, making any movement difficult. She smiled when she saw Rory. “Are you really here?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rory said. “But I’m not sure why I’m here.”
“But here you are.” Sam watched as Rory set the vase of flowers on the desk. “No, bring them here. They’re so pretty … for me?” she asked, patting her nightstand.
“For you, and my cousin Wendy.” Rory smiled, placing the flowers beside her.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I had to make that up.”
“Apparently. How did you know about my cousin, and why the scam to get me here?”
“I needed to see you. It was urgent. I … I asked around.”
“May I?” Rory asked as he pulled the chair closer to her bed.
“Yes, please stay. I don’t get any visitors. Except Brianna, but she lives far from here and has to work.” She motioned for him to move closer. “Come, turn on this light. I want to see you.”
Rory reached over to the light on the nightstand. Her hand touched his face as he turned on the light. “I forgot how handsome you are,” she said, unable to take her eyes off his.
“Thanks.” Rory made an awkward grin, unable to mask his discomfort.
Sam laughed. “You love it, don’t you? Come on, I know you.”
Rory cleared his throat and sat back down. “Do you?” he asked, adjusting his shirt. “Know me, that is? I don’t know you.”
Sam turned away. “You don’t, do you?” She pulled the cover closer. “Well, no matter—tell me what you’ve been doing these past months? I loved the paintings at the coffee shop, they’re so powerful and raw. Are you painting anything new?”
Rory narrowed his eyes, as if uncertain whether to continue talking to her or leave. He gave a shrug, and then relaxed, relaying the past three months to Sam. She nodded with approval as he talked about his new job and the success of his show. He told her about selling several paintings and that another gallery planned to have him show in a few months.
“Mrs. Robinson would be rolling in her grave to see you now. I’m so proud of you.”
Rory looked at her with a puzzled stare. “You don’t even know me, why do you care what I do?”
“But I hear all about you.”
“From who?”
Sam looked away as tears formed in her eyes. She couldn’t tell him, he might leave. She wanted him to stay as long as possible. “From Jonathan.” She waved her hands to dry her eyes. “Whew … sorry, I’m rather emotional these days,” she said. “How is Sam?”
“Sam? She’s great. Say, how did you know my teacher, Mrs. Robinson?”
“I hear the wedding is going ahead. I bet she’s excited. Are you?”
“I guess. Yes. Why shouldn’t I be?”
“No reason … and the baby?”
“Baby?” Rory’s face twisted with unease.
“Come on, I know all about it.”
“How?” Rory cleared his throat as his face relaxed. “How are you … about that, I mean?”
Sam waved her hand in the air. “I don’t care anymore. It’s all hopeless, really …” She leaned closer to Rory. “I can’t change anything, can I? I am stuck in this situation and I just have to accept everything—and so I have. I have accepted my whole lot in life, however pathetic.”
Rory studied her face for a few moments. “May I ask you a personal question?”
Sam smiled. “Sure,” she said, then reached for his hand and held it.
After an awkward moment, he pulled his hand away and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, then asked, “What will Jonathan do if Sam keeps the baby?”
“Keep it? She wants to keep it? Oh my God, why?” Sam sat forward in eagerness, unable to imagine anyone so foolish.
“She doesn’t think she can go through with an abortion,” Rory said, sitting back and tapping his hands on his legs. Sam’s eyes followed his hands, staring at the firm thighs filling his tight jeans.
“She’s just playing him, I bet.” Sam smoothed the bedcover. “She knows it would be better to have a baby, insurance policy, you know, a lifetime of alimony … every girl knows that.”
“I don’t think that’s why.”
Sam pressed her lips, trying to imagine another reason. “Why else would you keep it?”
Rory shrugged his shoulders and traced his fingers along the edge of the nightstand. “Conscience … seems she has developed a conscience and can’t have the abortion.”
“Oh, you’re shitting me!” Sam blurted.
Rory opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“She’d be crazy to have it if he insists on an abortion. Has he figured out it’s not his?”
“Not his? Why wouldn’t it be his?” Rory asked, crossing his arms.
“Come on, don’t tell me you two never hooked up.”
Rory’s face lost color. “I don’t think that’s anything you should …”
Sam lay back and grinned. “I would if I were her. I would bang your beautiful body the way I used to, without shame, without regret, to the sound of “Hungry Like the Wolf,” remember? That was our song. Then I would shower with you, and soap you up and slide against your skin, slipping and sliding against those massive muscles, and then I would tie you to a chair and dress up like a warrior princess or a nurse—those were your favorites. Or maybe like when we—”
“How do you know this stuff?” Rory yelled, jumping to his feet, his face violently red and twisted. “Did she tell you all this?”
“No, calm yourself, tiger,” Sam said, leaning forward on her good arm. She stared into his eyes. “I know because I am Sam Miller, deep inside, I am Sam.”
Rory stood, his hand clenched into a fist, smacking his palm. He started to walk away.
“No, please, stay and hear me.” Sam tried to reach out to touch him and missed, falling forward, half hanging off the bed.
“Damn it.” She struggled to prop herself back onto the bed, her broken arm a useless support. Rory turned around and stepped forward, then lifted her back against the pillow. “I’m sorry,” she said as she looked up at him. “I don’t care anymore what anyone thinks. Johnny won’t let me out of here—I hate my life. I plan to kill myself, anyway.”