Interior Designs

by Pamela Browning

  She adjusted the vent so that the car's air conditioner wafted cool air across her face. As she watched, a bright silver bird winged slowly up and away over the terminal building, sunlight glinting on its swept-backed wings. Drew would soon leave on a plane like that one. She missed him already.

  Her cell phone beeped to indicate that she'd received a text message. It was from Drew.

  "Boarding now," it said. "Love u love u love u."

  She couldn't help the sudden tears that rushed to her eyes as she pulled out of the airport road onto the highway. Thinking about it later, she wasn't sure if it was the tears or the bulky sunglass frames that blocked her vision. In any case, there was no way to avoid the blue pickup truck careening through the intersection past the yellow light as it tried to beat the red.

  Cathryn was never to remember the truck or the driver, just wildly squealing brakes, a harsh rending of metal and her own shock that this was actually happening to her.

  * * *

  "Cathryn? Cathryn! Wake up, dear. Open your eyes."

  The command issued from an unfamiliar voice and was remarkably clear, considering that everything else swam through her vision in a blur. The pungent odor of antiseptic stung her nostrils. She blinked and tried to focus, wondering where she was and what she was doing. Nothing felt right; her arms and legs were cold and her head hurt.

  No, her head didn't just hurt. It was excruciatingly painful. She opened her eyes again and dots spiraled through her field of vision. She was looking up at a water-stained acoustical ceiling, and when a body in a scrub suit insinuated itself between herself and the dots, she realized where she was. She'd watched enough television to recognize a hospital emergency room when she saw one.

  "Drew?" she whispered, but no sound came out. Then she recalled that Drew was gone, had taken a plane. Thank goodness, she thought. He's safe. The last thing she remembered was the crunch of metal. An accident. But Drew hadn't been there. She was thankful for that.

  The head above her smiled a toothy smile. "Good. You're awake." A gentle hand adjusted something on her forehead. "There. Is that more comfortable?"

  Cathryn stared at her, willing her vision to cooperate. Her mouth felt unbelievably dry, and her lips had gone numb.

  "You've been in an accident, dear, an automobile accident. I've called the name on the card in your wallet. Judith Carruthers? She's coming right over."

  So they had called Judy. She swallowed, or tried to. "Who are you?"

  "Emergency-room nurse. Don't lift your head like that—I'm still brushing glass off." The nurse rattled a few instruments around on a tray before stepping from view behind the gurney where Cathryn lay. Capable hands gleaned shards of safety glass from Cathryn's hair.

  "You have a small cut, nothing serious. It might require a few stitches, that's all. It's above your hairline, so the scar won't even show. In the meantime, we'll shuttle you over to X ray, make sure nothing important fell apart."

  The nurse checked Cathryn's blood pressure and removed the heavy cuff from her arm. Cathryn's arm prickled as though not blood but soda pop flowed through her veins.

  "Blood pressure's fine, and your color's good. You take a ride up to X ray, and maybe your friend will be here when you get back." The nurse spared Cathryn a comforting little pat on the foot as two aides wheeled her from the room.

  Cathryn closed her eyes against the hazy pattern on the hospital corridor's ceiling as she was trundled along. She wondered if Drew's plane had landed in New York yet. She had no idea what time it was. But afterward, on the way back to the ER, they passed a wall clock, and she saw that it was almost noon. Drew's plane would be landing at LaGuardia Airport soon.

  Good, she thought, as relief washed over her in a wave. He didn't know, couldn't know, what had happened to her. And she didn't want him to find out. She didn't want anything to spoil his reunion with Selby.

  Judy was waiting in the emergency cubicle when Cathryn returned. Concern was written all over her pale face, and the scattering of freckles across her nose stood out against her unnatural pallor. Cathryn's heart went out to her friend for the worry she'd caused.

  "They told me you were barely injured," Judy said in a shaky voice as she grasped Cathryn's hand in her own. "But I wouldn't believe it until I actually saw you for myself."

  "I think it's just my head," said Cathryn, wiggling her toes experimentally. It was the first time since she had arrived in the emergency room that she had been able to manage movement in one of her extremities. Sensation was returning to her body, and her eyes had stopped whirling in their sockets.

  "How do I look?"

  "Like someone who's been in a car wreck," said Judy in obvious relief that Cathryn was talking and moving. "Like you won't be jogging for a while."

  "Jogging? I should say not!" This emphatic statement was emitted from a newcomer on the scene, Cathryn's doctor, the same Dr. Folsom who had attended to her cuts and flu and vaccinations as she was growing up and to Judy's as well. He was tall, but stooped and frail, and he had looked exactly the same for the past twenty years. Judy must have asked the emergency-room nurse to call him. Her parents were close friends of his family.

  "I happened to be in the hospital, so I stopped by," he said. He tugged the cubicle's curtain closed and quickly assessed the cut on Cathryn's forehead. In order to suture the wound, her hair would have to be shaved.

  "We'll take off about a square inch, that's all," soothed the nurse, assembling a tray with a razor, scissors, and a bowl of warm water.

  Cathryn swallowed and fretted, but Judy, becoming her bubbly self again now that she'd determined that Cathryn wasn't on death's doorstep, reassured her. "You can comb the rest of your hair over the spot, and no one will notice it," said Judy. Nevertheless, Cathryn closed her eyes as the nurse cut off the long flaxen locks at her temple.

  "I checked your chart before I saw you," Dr. Folsom said after he had sutured the cut and applied a small, neat dressing. Cathryn, still lying on the gurney, reached up her hand and touched the dressing gingerly. It wasn't as big as she'd feared.

  "Actually," Dr. Folsom continued, "you should remain in the hospital overnight for observation."

  "I don't want to stay in the hospital," protested Cathryn. She felt more like herself now, and not so weak. But the cut was beginning to hurt, and her head throbbed. Her eyes beseeched the doctor.

  "How would it be if I took her home with me?" Judy suggested quickly.

  "Cathryn has had a concussion, and after a blow on the head such as this, we like to keep an eye on our patients. But since I know you both so well, I'd say it would be all right to take her home, either your home or hers. If you stay close to her, and if you report anything unusual in the way of symptoms."

  "No problem," replied Judy, placing her cool, comforting hand on Cathryn's forehead.

  Dr. Folsom signed a release form and cautioned Cathryn to take it easy for the next week, and after he left, Judy and the nurse helped her to sit up. Cathryn's head reeled for a moment, but then the world righted itself and she was able to ride in a wheelchair and transfer from it to Judy's minivan.

  "What about my Jaguar?" Cathryn asked hesitantly when she was tucked into the front seat with a light blanket across her lap. Judy started the motor of her own car.

  "The nicest patrolman came into the ER while you were gone. He said there really isn't much damage, only a crushed fender. Ron's taking care of your car—don't worry about it. You were lucky. Evidently the pickup truck barely glanced off the front of the Jag, and your head snapped forward and hit the windshield as it flew out. The other driver wasn't even injured, just shaken up a bit."

  Somewhat relieved, Cathryn rested her aching head against the back of the seat. She couldn't believe how disoriented she felt, how out of sync. The world seemed brighter since this morning, and it flashed by the car windows at a pace greater than Judy's steady speed of thirty miles per hour would indicate.

  "You know," she said haltingly, "I'd really like to
go home to my own apartment."

  Judy shot her a worried look. "Seriously? You could come to my house. I'd take good care of you."

  "It's just that I'd feel so much better with my own things around me." Cathryn bit her lip. The emotional and physical traumas of the day were finally beginning to catch up with her. She ached, she missed Drew, and she wanted most of all to return to her own familiar surroundings.

  "I suppose Ron could pack an overnight bag for me, and I could stay in your guest room," said Judy thoughtfully. "You shouldn't be alone."

  "If you could do it, it would be wonderful. I can't wait to get into bed and sleep. My own bed." Cathryn felt perilously near tears.

  When they approached the turnoff, Judy unquestioningly drove across the bridge to Palm Beach, and Cathryn found herself wondering how she would have managed if, back in fourth grade, she had gone ahead and eaten the cafeteria's canned spinach and thus missed out on her long friendship with Judy.

  Chapter 10

  "If you'd like, I'll call Drew for you," said Judy, bustling into Cathryn's bedroom later. Cathryn, wearing her best blue nightgown, was huddled in bed and feeling pale and wan.

  "I'll call him myself. Where's my cell phone?" Cathryn belatedly realized that she'd left it on the passenger seat of her car after she got Drew's text message.

  She fell back on the pillows. "Never mind. It's gone. He was going to call me when he got to New York. I'm sure he's there now."

  "If he was on a nonstop flight, yes. Let's call him on my cell." Judy whipped it out of her pocket.

  "I don't want to tell him about my accident."

  "Wouldn't he want to know?" Judy sounded incredulous.

  "Drew would be so upset that he might cut his visit with Selby short," Cathryn said. "I can't let that happen. He deserves this time with Selby. I won't have it interrupted when I'm going to be all right anyway. By the time Drew returns, I expect to be good as new."

  "But Cathryn," objected Judy with a puckering of her forehead, "that's not fair to Drew. Let him know and then he can make the decision about whether to come home early or not."

  Cathryn's eyelids fluttered and closed out of sheer weariness. She barely had the strength to talk. "I think I'll sleep awhile," she said, her voice trailing away.

  Judy bit her lip and regarded Cathryn with a worried frown before slipping out the door.

  Cathryn was glad that she didn't have to argue any more or further explain her decision. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she was doing the right thing for Drew's sake.

  Much later, the ring tone of the telephone beside her bed awakened her. She could have let Judy or her voicemail take over, but she was positive that it was Drew. Her hand groped on the bedside table for the phone, and she answered it on the second ring.

  "Cathryn," Drew said. "I miss you already."

  She struggled to sit up in bed, wincing at the aches and pains. Outside it was dark, and much time had elapsed since she had fallen asleep early in the afternoon. "I miss you, too," she said. She hoped she sounded normal. "Have you seen Selby?"

  "I picked her up at Talma's apartment this afternoon." He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice trembled with emotion. "She's a terrific kid, Cathryn. She ran into my arms right away."

  "Is she with you now?"

  "I've taken a suite here at the Plaza. She's asleep in the next room. We had a wonderful time this afternoon. I took her to the Children's Zoo in Central Park, and we went to her favorite restaurant for dinner. Selby's a lot of fun. I can't wait for you to meet her."

  Cathryn was glad that he was enjoying Selby and relieved that his fears about their meeting had been groundless. "Was she happy to see Raggedy Ann again?" She reached over and switched on the lamp next to the bed.

  "Very. You know what she said? She said, 'Daddy, I thought when we got divorced, I got divorced from Raggedy Ann, too.' I had to explain that only Talma and I had been divorced, and that she'd always be my daughter. And that Raggedy Ann would always be her very own doll, no matter what. Evidently Talma didn't explain things too well." A trace of bitterness crept into his voice.

  "How is Talma?" Cathryn said carefully. Her head pounded, and she touched the gauze dressing on her wound to make sure that it hadn't slipped. She was careful not to let the pain edge into the tone of her voice. She didn't want Drew to guess that anything was wrong.

  "The same. She's very uncommunicative, but at least she's cooperating about my visitation privileges, so I'm thankful for that. Anyway, she and Alfredo are leaving for Italy tonight. Enough about Talma. How are you?"

  "Fine," she lied.

  "I've sent you a few texts and called your cell. I even sent a selfie of Selby and me at the zoo. I figured you must be really busy, since you didn't reply. Did you get much work done today?"

  "Mm-hm," she said, at a loss. If they kept on in this vein, he'd suspect that something was wrong.

  Judy nudged the door to the bedroom open and said clearly, "Is that Drew?"

  Cathryn nodded but frowned and waved her hand, indicating that Judy shouldn't speak. Drew had heard her, however.

  "That sounds like Judy's voice," he said.

  "It is. I've asked her, uh, to spend the evening with me."

  Judy, with an exasperated look over her shoulder, left the room. Obviously she still felt that Cathryn should level with Drew.

  "I'm glad Judy's there," Drew said warmly. "She'll keep you from being lonely. Is Amanda with her?"

  "N-no, Amanda didn't come," Cathryn said.

  "Since you have a guest, I'd better let you go. I just wanted to check in and tell you how well everything is going for Selby and me. And to tell you that I love you, my Cathryn."

  "I love you, too," she said, meaning it as never before. For one wild moment she wanted to give in to her need and tell Drew about her accident. She longed to ask him to come to her as quickly as possible. She ached to feel the security of his arms around her, his soothing touch, his gentle kisses, but she wouldn't disturb his precious time alone with his daughter for anything in the world.

  "Take care of yourself, sweetheart. I'll call you again."

  "All right. Have a good time. I miss you, Drew."

  "I miss you, too. A lot. Talk to you soon."

  "Goodbye," she whispered. She cradled the phone against her cheek for a moment before replacing the receiver.

  "So what did Drew have to say?" Judy asked conversationally when she arrived bearing a tray of fruit and sandwiches for Cathryn's late supper.

  Cathryn picked at a pimento-cheese sandwich. "He and Selby are having a wonderful time. She was really glad to see him."

  "Well, I suppose so! How long has it been?"

  "Sixteen months," said Cathryn.

  "I'm sure the separation hasn't been easy for either of them."

  "No, it hasn't." Cathryn set the sandwich down on the plate. "I—I guess I'm not hungry. Judy," she said. "The sandwich is very good. I just can't eat it."

  Judy's sharp look cut into her. "I don't think it's only the accident that has taken your appetite away. It's Drew. You miss him a lot, don't you?"

  Cathryn didn't speak. She couldn't.

  "Let me tell Drew about the accident, Cathryn. I'll call him at his hotel. Just knowing that he knows—that he sympathizes and cares about you at such a time—would make you feel better." Judy implored Cathryn with her eyes.

  "No," said Cathryn firmly. "I don't want him told. Anyway, I already know that he cares about me."

  Judy tried again. "Think how he'll feel when he arrives home and finds out what you've been through."

  "No, Judy."

  Judy fell silent for a moment. Her concerned gaze came to rest on Cathryn. They were filled with worry. "I just want you to be all right, you know."

  "I am all right," she said gently and deliberately. "Physically I'll be well on the way to recovery tomorrow."

  "But emotionally?"

  Cathryn didn't speak, and after a few moments Judy patted Cathryn's c
heek thoughtfully and silently switched off the bedside lamp before walking softly out of the room.

  * * *

  In his suite at the Plaza, Drew sat quietly by the telephone, picturing Cathryn in her apartment with Judy. Cathryn would laugh, would smile, would toss her pale blonde hair over her shoulders in the gesture he knew so well. In the gesture he loved so well.

  He'd known he would miss her, but he hadn't counted on this hollow ache inside, as though something vital had been torn from him. In the long, lonely hours ahead, Selby would sleep and he would lie awake remembering the night before when he and Cathryn had made love with such passion and such abandon, knowing that it was the last time for a week.

  He stood and walked slowly to Selby's room, where he watched her sleep. His daughter. His child. He slid the sheet up to cover her bare arm, and he smiled as she frowned in her sleep.

  And then he walked back to his bed, his lonely bed, and lay staring into the dark, thinking of Cathryn.

  ***

  Cathryn slept well that night and awoke the next morning feeling mentally refreshed. But her body was still stiff from being jolted in the accident, and every joint ached.

  Judy insisted on staying the whole day and the next night, too, even though Cathryn, who was beginning to walk around the penthouse and itching to get back to work, was sure she didn't need Judy anymore.

  "Don't be silly," Judy said briskly. "I'm enjoying this. It reminds me of when we were roommates in college. Just to make this more authentic, I'm going to order a pizza."

  Drew called again that afternoon, and Cathryn regaled him with details of a make-believe day while Judy stood by helplessly, raising her eyes to the ceiling as Cathryn manufactured incidents that supposedly had happened to her while she was running on the beach and lunching with Judy.

  "Honestly, Cathryn, I don't know how you can lie so easily," said Judy after Cathryn had hung up.

  Cathryn stared at her unhappily, tears welling up in her eyes. With Drew, anything less than honesty cast a shadow on their love. The ugliness of her deception overwhelmed and saddened her.

  Judy, immediately sympathetic, rushed to Cathryn's side and patted her caringly on the shoulder. "Sorry," she said awkwardly. "I shouldn't have said that, I guess."