by C. E. Case
"Are you?"
"I am." She asked, just as carefully, "Have you been depressed?"
"Yes." Natalie glanced away, at a stuffed bear.
Meredith reached out for Natalie's hand, but stopped herself, settling her fingers nervously on the edge of the dinner tray. She said, "You're tapering off some of your post-surgery meds. I can ask Wheeler to give you something mild. Help with the anxiety. The worry. I know it's rough. Believe me, I know."
"Sure. Like it's easy. My car--my life--my leg. Merry, you've seen this before, what--" she hesitated. "What happens?" She studied Meredith's fingers.
"Natalie. I've been praying for you. Rest assured. But God doesn't really say how he's going to heal someone. I just get the feeling He will."
"Thanks. For the praying. Though I don't know what good it will do me."
"Other things will help you heal, too. It's a multi-facted system here at the hospital." Meredith tried to sound jovial. "You should eat."
"I'm not really hungry." Natalie held her gaze, but silence grew between them.
Meredith didn't know what to say. She slid off the bed, to add more stature to her words.
"Just one bite."
"Yes, mom," Natalie said. She picked up her fork.
"It always works."
"I bet it does. You're hard to refuse."
"I'll remind you of that."
Then Natalie grinned, open and genuine and Meredith grinned back, gazing right into those wide, dark eyes.
# #
Chapter Six
The East Carolina Pirates were losing and they were losing by a lot; on national TV, too. Meredith wished she lived in the blackout zone. The carnage was almost too much to bear.
Angelo cursed. Then scowled and glanced at Meredith.
"Don't you make me think my swear jar is working. You'll only encourage me."
"You promised pizza for the shelter, right?"
"If the patronage doesn't dwindle. Blessed is the day."
"Yeah. I don't think we'll ever get there."
"Not with how East Carolina's playing."
"Right. How can we do good works if the world is so bleak?"
"Is it really bleak, Angelo?"
"Don't look so sympathetic, chica. It's only bleak because I clean the bathrooms." He glanced at the television. "I'll clean with a vengeance, today."
"We've got the cleanest bathrooms between Wrightsville and Raleigh, for sure."
"What did you do before the Latinos moved into N.C?"
"Went to Baptist church, instead of Catholic."
"We don't deal with any snakes."
"Nope. In your church, the snakes have to talk to the Pope before they can get involved in church affairs."
"Don't think they don't, either. Snakes everywhere. How's your patient?"
"Which patient? I've got twelve on my rounds."
"Oh, come on. You know the one."
Under Angelo's interested gaze she faltered. "She just looks so lost."
"They all look lost, Merry. And none of them can be saved. You tried on every damn one. No one listens."
She frowned at him.
He got out his wallet, but said, "I'm doing this for emphasis. Her looking lost doesn't make her a little lamb, wandered off from the flock. You're no shepherd. She's a lawyer. You know what a lawyer is? A snake. A rat."
"She hasn't asked for anything yet."
Angelo whistled. "A new record. Not a phone call, not food she can't get here, not morphine, not the Good Book?"
"I don't think she has much to ask for."
"If she latches on, she'll suck you dry. Just like everyone else. Just like--"
Meredith glanced away, flinching when she should have been angry, but it stopped Angelo all the same.
"Merry, got enough problems of your own. Think hers are going to distract you for long?"
"Everyone tells me I need a good lawyer. One just appeared out of the blue."
"It's not a sign from God. Especially if she's on the other team." He sighed and put a hand on her shoulder.
Meredith wiped at her cheeks. "Well, I guess I should have been more specific."
"He knows what you meant, Mer."
"And He knows what He's doing. Give Him a little more credit."
"Si, chica. But don't get hurt, okay? Give yourself a little credit, too." Angelo patted the top of her head, and then left her alone in the break room.
East Carolina turned over possession and took off running, trying to stop the avalanche of players crushing down on them. Meredith understood the futility. But she couldn't tear her eyes away. Having someone new, someone innocent, to talk to--a foreigner, practically--made life feel a little less stagnant.
Angelo singled her out for nothing. Roland had been on the news every day for over a year. Natalie was a local celebrity. Everyone talked about her.
Meredith knew tourists only ever stopped in town for gas. No one ever stayed. But someone had to save her from all this, and it wasn't going to be anyone around here.
#
The cat cried half the night in its carrying case, so Meredith let it sleep on her bed instead. She'd nearly wept herself at its purr--another heartbeat, another life beyond her children and her own.
She had the late shift the next day so Mrs. Cranston came at lunch to watch the boys, annoyed about the cat.
Meredith chided herself for looking forward to work. Throughout her ordeal--and for a long time before, if she were being honest, work was her salvation. Despite the cold stares she got, she had the work.
But work wasn't the reason she was looking so forward to the hospital tonight.
#
"Knock, knock," Meredith said, tapping on the hospital room door.
"Come in," Natalie said. "Since when do you knock?" She ran her fingers across her short hair self-consciously.
"I'm not here on official business." Meredith brought in an old brown shopping bag and closed the door.
"Social call?" Natalie asked.
"If you're up for visitors."
"I am so up for visitors."
"I thought you might be asleep."
"I'm tired of sleeping. It's six o'clock in the evening, shouldn't I be awake?"
"Are you in any pain?"
Natalie glanced away.
"Natalie."
"Yeah. But it's not too bad. Just--mostly sore. And then throbbing when it's close to medication time. And then back down to sore. There's an ache."
"Must be depressing," Meredith said.
"Yes. Yes it is. And I'm awake to go through it." Natalie studied at the ceiling. "Whee."
"Do you miss the sedatives?"
"I'm tired of being tired."
Meredith glanced at all the papers strewn across the bed. "And you're thinking straight."
Meredith's voice held a lilt that took the 'g' off thinking, making her sound soft and sweet, like Dolly Parton really was the angel she seemed like on TV, and manifested in Podunk, N.C., not quite having made it to the beach. Natalie found it comforting. Meredith talking was so far the most soothing curative she'd experienced. She had a sense telling Meredith would make everything awkward. Meredith talked like everyone else. Even Wheeler had a voice that sounded like butter.
Natalie didn't want Wheeler to talk to her.
"Well, I'm back to usual," she said. Her mind did seem to wander more, following tangents, analyzing new stimuli. The last week and a half she'd lived mostly in her half-formed memories--still images floating in front of her eyes. Scents. Feelings. Her brain, done being tormented, was back to tormenting her.
"It's good you have a job where you can still--I mean--"
Natalie couldn't imagine making a career for herself in a wheelchair. Second-chair A.D.A., maybe. All paperwork and witness interviews and nothing interesting. She wouldn't be able to run for office--not as the chick who flipped her car on the way to the beach. She might, though, make judge. There was a thought. Her gaze strayed back to the paper bag. "So, this is
a social call?" she asked.
"Right." Meredith opened the bag, and then pulled Natalie's tray over her lap. On the tray, she laid out a chess board--old and worn wood with black paint, and pieces, some painted with the same black lacquer, some plain wood. Natalie helped her with the pieces. She made herself, by default of the piles, the white player, and lined up the black along Meredith's side.
"We're going to play chess?"
"I saw on The West Wing it helps with mental acuity," Meredith said. She pulled up a chair and settled into it.
"So it's therapeutic?"
"Unless you get all enraged and throw the board across the room."
"It might feel good to throw something."
Meredith touched a rook, thoughtfully running her fingers over the battlements. "Wouldn't want you to pull out any stitches, though. I mean, if you want to, we'd have to start stretching every day."
"Yeah. There's a thought." Natalie felt her face grow hot.
"There's just one problem."
"What?" Natalie was thinking too much. Her body was far too awake. She wasn't ready. She wasn't healed.
Meredith grinned. "Can I go first?"
Natalie turned the board around so the white pieces faced Meredith's chair.
"See, I read all the instructions last night--just a refresher, I'd like to teach my boys to play when they're old enough. But I memorized how to start."
Natalie grinned. "So, start."
Meredith moved a white pawn forward two spaces, and then folded her hands in her lap and smiled at Natalie.
Natalie considered, and then moved a pawn out to meet it.
"So, you're a lawyer. Are you like some chess grandmaster?"
"I was on the chess team in high school. For like, a week. I thought it would be cool, you know? I was bookish. But I was awful at chess."
"What did you do instead?"
"I volunteered for the teen hotline. Far less stressful."
Meredith studied the board, and then moved another piece.
Natalie moved one out to match it. "You're right. This is engaging."
"Don't think too hard. I don't want to lose by an embarrassing margin."
"Will all the other nurses find out?"
"Yup, and then I'll never be able to face playing you again. Or anyone. Can you imagine what Wheeler'll say? He'll want to play you himself. And then you'll just cause a general disruption of hospital operations while the pecking order gets established."
"Well, wouldn't want that. I'll just let you win."
"That'd be really nice of you," Meredith said.
Natalie decided to start moving pieces at random. The last time she'd played chess was in college. Not counting the time she played it on the first computer she bought for herself, just to see if it worked. It worked. She'd closed the program and never opened it again.
Meredith thought carefully over each piece, taking long minutes to decide. Natalie would spend a few seconds on her move, and then spend the rest of the time gazing at Meredith.
"I'm spending too much time thinking," Meredith said.
"But you're winning."
"Are you letting me win?"
"Well, I'm not trying very hard."
"Natalie!"
Natalie froze in mid-movement. A pawn dangled from her fingertips. She had been about to move it into Meredith's kill-zone. Really, thinking up ways to die, to catch Meredith's attention for moves, coaxing Meredith into taking advantage had all been rather fun. She grinned, but Meredith's eyes were filling with tears.
"No one's ever let me win before," Meredith said.
"Will you let your boys win at chess?" Natalie asked. Her throat constricted around the words. Foolish of her to picture Meredith single and alone, an angel waiting for her and having nothing else to do. Meredith had a whole life.
"I'm just glad they're past the age where they'll eat the pieces. They're good at checkers, though. I don't let them cheat. Their dad--he would have let them cheat," Meredith said.
The blood drained from Natalie's face.
Meredith met Natalie's eyes. "They're four. Merritt and Beau."
"Merritt. Like Merry?"
"It’s what we call him. He gets a kick out of having a name like his mommy. It makes Beau jealous."
"Is Beau--" Natalie couldn't get the words out. She set down the piece, in a defensive spot, unwilling to open her side up to attacks when she was feeling so vulnerable, and then tried again. "Is Beau named after his daddy?"
"Nah, his daddy's Vince. He didn't want a kid named after him, so we went with Grandfather Beauregard." Meredith sobered up and glanced down at the board. "Can we change the subject, please?"
"Yeah. Um, sure." Natalie felt heat returning to her cheeks. She was as happy to change the subject as Meredith. She was happy, though not by honest means, Meredith wasn't still married after all--no ring, no visits, and no mentions of going home to her husband. It was nearly seven. Natalie wanted to ask where the boys might be, if not at home, but the topic was now forbidden.
She shrugged and asked, "What's the weather like?"
Meredith chuckled. "We don't have to talk about the weather."
"I haven't been outside in a week. I know it's almost summer. Perfect beach weather. I would have loved to have seen the beach," Natalie said.
"You will." Meredith leaned forward and took her hand.
"Maybe. I don't know if I'll ever swim in it."
Meredith squeezed her fingers. "It's nice outside. Sunny every day. It's almost hurricane season."
"Hurricane?"
"Well, not yet."
"Let's change the subject," Natalie said. Being near the eastern shore of hurricane territory was unsettling. She remembered the devastation Fran wrought, and Floyd, and Hugo--this was not a good place to be. Not when the seasons changed.
"Want to talk about politics?" Meredith asked.
"Oh, sure. Or how about God?"
She meant it flippantly, but Meredith put her other hand over Natalie's, clasping Natalie's hand in both of hers. Her thumbs rubbed Natalie's wrist. "We can talk about God anytime you want."
Natalie managed not to flinch. She turned her head to the side. "Not tonight."
Meredith gave her another squeeze and let her go. "Not tonight. Is it my turn?"
"Yup."
Meredith moved. “Check, I think."
Natalie studied the board. She moved her king out of harm's way.
Meredith moved again. "Check."
"Oh, come on." Natalie shoved a bishop in front of her king.
Meredith circumvented it. "Check-mate?"
Natalie flicked her king over.
Meredith grinned. She offered her hand to Natalie. Natalie shook it, and then fell back on the bed while Meredith scooped the pieces and the board back into her bag.
"When are we doing that again?" Natalie asked.
"If you're good, I'll swing by after lunch tomorrow."
"I have to be good?"
"Teresa tells me everything."
Natalie closed her eyes. She felt a warm pressure on her shoulder.
"I'm going to get you something mild to help you sleep." Meredith said.
"Thanks," Natalie said. Her back and leg were sore, and her head hurt from paying so much attention to something for so long. She hadn't been ready for fun, probably. Was she going to feel like this from now on, every time she wanted to play a game with a nurse?
Meredith ruffled Natalie's hair. "It'll get better."
"Yeah?"
" I know what I'm doing."
And even though there was a note of false bravado in Meredith's voice, Natalie decided to believe her. She exhaled slowly. "Bring me the good drugs."
She heard the door shut. She lay in pain until the door opened again, and someone pressed pills and a paper cup into her hand. She took the pills without opening her eyes and she waited for the pain to ebb so she could sleep.
# #
Chapter Seven
Natalie woke to pain.
Worse than before. Light shone against her eyes. Morning. She was afraid the pain was so bad she couldn't breathe. But, she reminded herself, she'd been breathing before she woke up. She could do so now.
Shooting pain ran through her leg and hip and shoulder and neck. Tears came to her eyes, but it hurt to cry--it hurt to be tense with the need to sob. She tried to breathe more slowly. In and out. If Meredith were here, Meredith would be telling her to breathe. Even though she was already breathing and it wasn't helping.
The room stayed filled with light. Natalie sank into it, and closed her eyes and let the light glow on the backs of her eyelids. The room was so empty and so quiet she couldn't tell if it was early morning light, pure and cold, before everyone woke up, or afternoon light, warm and beating down on everyone who was too busy to interrupt a sleeping woman in a hospital bed.
The pain came in waves. After one subsided, she breathed deeply--into soreness in her chest that was pleasant, after the sharper pains, and turned her head to see the clock. 6:36 in the morning.
She was clear-headed.
The button to call the nurses was by her side. But she'd never called them. She would wait. They'd be in around 7:30, she supposed.
Whatever Meredith had given her last night hadn't lasted, and they'd taken off her IV bag. Nothing dripped through her veins since they established her stomach, kidneys, and intestines, though enveloped by bruised skin, were functioning adequately. Mostly adequately. One of her kidneys, she'd learned when Teresa let her read her chart, frightened Wheeler enough he'd considered scooping it out. But it was still there.
Her back hurt. She shifted, prodding her abdomen, wondering if she was bleeding internally.
At 6:42 she reached for the button, crying before her fingers even brushed the knob. She'd never felt this helpless. She'd never wanted to ask for help this badly in her life.
The doctors and nurses earned her trust in the last two weeks. They took care of her and saved her and cleaned her and put her back together, she should trust them now--maybe the pain was normal.
Maybe she was just being a baby about how much she hurt. Maybe she should pray. Find a way to be stronger.
She clutched the call-button remote in her hand and closed her eyes and tried to open herself up to the universe. The pain ebbed and flowed through her. The light in the room stayed constant. Everything around her was ordinary hospital furniture, and she felt ordinary, too.