Invisible Ellen

by Shari Shattuck

  Temerity smiled. “I think I know where she might be.” Ellen waited. “Where did Janelle say she lived?”

  “Something Estates,” Ellen told her. “I’d have to look it up.”

  “You know, that Newland woman’s voice . . . What was her name?”

  “Susan.”

  “Right. It kind of stuck with me. She really cared about that baby, and I think she must have been truly disappointed—it makes me sad. But the way her husband talked, I’m still glad we did what we did. Imagine having a father who resented you from the start.”

  Not being able to imagine having a father, Ellen had no response. But she too had thought about Susan Newland and her strong insistence that they keep the baby. She hadn’t cared that the child was a different race. It probably took that kind of determination to be a good mother. Ellen remembered the mother kissing her child’s head in the thrift store.

  “Okay, let’s make like the Jews and wander out into the desert,” Temerity said, taking hold of Ellen’s shoulder.

  Having never been outside the city, Ellen wondered why Jews would want to go out into the desert. Was it nice there? Did Christians like the desert too? Did Muslims? Maybe it was fun. It was probably sunny all the time, and some people liked that. They decided to go floor by floor, working their way down. They made their way through the fifth floor fairly quickly. No police occupied folding chairs outside any of the closed doors, and the ones that were open and occupied contained the elderly in various stages of dementia. It was depressing. Floor four was busier—there were casts and doctors studying charts and families bringing flowers—but other than dodging the crowd, it too was proving uneventful until Ellen saw the detective coming down the hall toward them.

  He walked purposefully, his face screwed into what might have been a perpetual, preoccupied scowl.

  Ellen stopped and turned to face Temerity. “It’s the detective,” she whispered. “He’s coming this way. What should we do?”

  Temerity tilted her head so far to one side that it almost touched her shoulder. “Really? Let’s see, what are our options? We could . . . ignore him and traipse aimlessly through these antiseptic halls for hours, or . . .”

  “We could follow him,” Ellen finished.

  “Great minds,” Temerity said, and tapped her skull with her folded stick. Half of it swung free of her grasp on its fanlike hinge and smacked her harder than she had intended. “Ouch,” she said. “Well, moderately competent minds anyway.”

  They huddled together until the detective passed, and then trailed a few yards behind him. They didn’t have far to go until he went into a room, closing the door again behind him. There was no police officer posted outside the door, which, when Ellen asked Temerity if she thought that was good or bad, caused her to comment that it could go either way.

  The room was near the end of the hallway, not far from the elevator banks and an area that included a few random chairs, so they took up their positions and waited.

  “I wish we could hear what he’s saying,” Temerity bemoaned. “You don’t think you could slip into the room and listen, do you?”

  “I’m not much of a slipper,” Ellen said, glancing down at her thighs overlapping the folding chair. “Those rooms are small, and I’m not.”

  “Which increases the odds of being bumped into,” Temerity observed.

  Ellen didn’t say it, but it also increased the already strong possibility of her knocking over some outrageously expensive and fragile piece of medical equipment, causing the immediate demise of some unwitting patient as well as exposing herself. All she said was, “And I’m not really the most nimble person, as you may have noticed.”

  “Why?” Temerity said. “Because you slid across my living room floor and tried to take out my coffee table? Personally, I think you were acting in self-defense. I’ve had my suspicions about that table’s intentions for quite a while. It’s attacked my shins on several occasions when I wasn’t looking.” She snorted with laughter and Ellen found herself smiling at the image. “I refuse to believe it had anything to do with your nimbility factor.”

  Ellen frowned. “Is ‘nimbility’ even a word?”

  “It is now!” Temerity told her. “You are present at the birth of a noun. Nimbility factor must be computed against sneak attacks of all ornamental furniture.”

  “Shhh, he’s coming out.” Ellen squeezed Temerity’s arm and they sat quietly as the detective strode to the elevators, dialing on his cell phone. He held it to his ear.

  “Morton here. Yeah, he’s not much help. He says he knows the kid by sight, but not by name. . . . Yeah, I do believe him . . . because most of these guys go by tags. He confirms that he let him in, but won’t say why, for obvious reasons.” He listened as he pressed the down button for the elevator, then continued. “No, the place was clean except for a small bag of weed—personal stash, I’m betting. If he had quantity, the kid took it. . . . I have no idea, sold or smoked by now. It looks like a dead end.” The elevator doors opened with a chime and the detective stepped in. The last thing they heard him say was, “Seems like a nice enough drug dealer. Small-time. Too bad he’ll probably be dead soon. . . . No, he’ll survive this, doctor says, but there’s not a chance in hell the Germenes will let him stay alive if he can finger one of them.”

  The doors slid closed and Ellen watched Temerity think. “Germenes,” she said thoughtfully. “I heard a radio news report about them. They’re a relatively new gang who consider themselves sort of an elite group, very organized. Kind of like the Mafia, but meaner.”

  “Do you think that, you know, bracelet-scar thing on his wrist meant something?”

  “The cop said it did. It’s like their mark or something.”

  Ellen rubbed her wrist unconsciously, then touched her face, feeling the remembered, searing, haunting pain of her own wound. The prolonged throbbing ache and the infection that lasted for months, aggravating the scarring. She could not fathom any reason why someone would willingly take on that kind of pain. It had been horrible. Her face twitched at the thought, so she shoved the disquieting memory aside with a great mental thrust.

  “I’m going in,” Temerity announced, standing suddenly. “Point me in the right direction.”

  “What are you going to say?” Even as she asked it, Ellen realized that she couldn’t fathom Temerity at a loss for words. “Never mind, stupid question, just leave the door open so I can hear you.”

  “You can come in too, if you like.”

  “I don’t think so.” She walked Temerity to the right door and pushed it open. Though it was a double room, only one bed was occupied and Ellen could see her neighbor in it, closer than ever before except through the lenses of her binoculars.

  He was awake, she could tell that at a glance. His left arm was bare, and his shoulder was covered in a large bandage. The various tubes that she assumed were dripping medicine into him snaked under the blanket, which covered the rest of his thin body. He turned his head to look at Temerity, and, for a split second, Ellen thought his eyes registered her as well. Then Temerity spoke, drawing his gaze again.

  “Excuse me, I’m looking for a friend. Is this room 5023?”

  “Don’t really know, but it’s just me in here,” he said. “It’s awful boring.”

  “I’ve got a minute, if you want to chat.” She advanced into the room. “My name is Temerity. Sorry I can’t see you; it’s a curse.”

  “And a blessing sometimes, I’ll bet. It would be if you had to look out this window.” J.B. laughed, but it turned quickly into a painful-sounding cough.

  “Are you all right?” Temerity asked, concerned. “Do you want me to call a nurse?”

  He waved away the idea with a hand that only rose a few inches. “No, no. I’m okay. I have some congestion in my chest. Took a bullet in the shoulder and I smoke too much. You wouldn’t have any cigarettes on you?”
>
  Temerity smiled. “No, sorry. I’m not sure they’d let you smoke in here anyway.” She found a chair and sat down.

  “At this point, I’d climb onto the window ledge for a nicotine fix.” He smiled. “Who’s your friend?”

  Shocked, Ellen drew her face back around the doorjamb, her heart beating wildly, before she realized he was asking who Temerity had come to visit.

  “Oh, a girlfriend—minor thing, no big deal, but like you said, it’s boring to lie around all day. You were shot? That’s exciting. Not fun, I’m sure, but it’s more interesting than an appendectomy.”

  “No, it was not fun,” he said. Ellen risked leaning around the door again. He was turned away now, toward Temerity on the far side of the bed. “I’m J.B., by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, J.B. You live around here?”

  “Not far, apartment over in Morningside.”

  “Oh, I have a friend who lives in Morningside.”

  “I’m sorry for them. You?”

  “Midtown. I’m a musician, so I have to commute to the music center, and with my particular affliction”—she pointed to her eyes—“public transportation is a must.”

  He grinned with a wry amusement. “Must be interesting, seeing the world through your eyes, if you know what I mean, no offense intended.”

  “None taken,” Temerity said cheerfully. “I know what you mean. I always think it must be interesting to see the world from anyone else’s point of view. I think it might be a better place if we all tried it more often.” There was a quiet moment while they both considered this and then Temerity asked, “What do you see?”

  J.B. seemed taken aback by the question. “Oh, good things, bad, lots of things that could be better than they are. Some people give up, some people go on trying.”

  “It’s about the same from here,” Temerity said. “Are you going to be in here for long?”

  “A few more days, at least.”

  “Then back to your Morningside mansion?”

  J.B. gave a short laugh, but then stopped himself as a cough mustered. “No. Then I’ll be leaving town, pretty quick.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Let’s just say the bullet they took out of me has owners, and they’ll come looking for it.” Ellen saw his face darken, and he fixed his stare flatly on the wall.

  “I’m guessing that means they didn’t catch the person who did this?”

  He shook his head and grimaced from the movement. The hand under the blanket came out to gingerly touch the bandage. “No such luck. And I’ve had a sudden loss of income, loss of merchandise, and an inability to finance future business endeavors.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have somewhere to go?”

  “Got a son. He’s in Flagstaff, Arizona. Talked to him this morning. He said I can crash with him for a few weeks, but he didn’t sound too happy about it. Can’t say I blame him.”

  “Kids today,” Temerity said.

  J.B. managed a weak laugh. “Yeah.” He yawned; his eyelids seemed to be getting heavy.

  “So, not to pry, but I am curious. Did you know who shot you?”

  “I knew him, not well, he was a kid, a . . . customer who decided it would be a better deal if he cut out the middleman. Me.”

  “He robbed you. Do you think you’ll be able to recover your . . . stuff?”

  “Not damn likely. The guy who did this isn’t exactly the kind of person who thinks things over and has a change of heart. In fact, I’m not sure he has a heart.” He snorted softly and then winced. “Most likely any heart he had was ripped out of him when he was little. No hope after that. Probably a good time for me to get out of the business anyway. Time to start over.”

  “That sounds like a healthy attitude,” Temerity said.

  “Yeah, it would to me too if I weren’t so tired.” His lids came to half-mast as he said it. “Morphine’s kickin’ in. Sorry if I get slurry, but . . .” He licked his lips and tried to straighten his head.

  “I’ll let you sleep,” Temerity said. “That’s the best thing you can do right now.” She stood.

  “Thank you, young lady,” J.B. said, closing one eye to prop the other open. “Not many people would take the time to talk to somebody they don’t even know.”

  “I like talking to people I don’t know. Breaks up the monotony, you know, same old voices, over and over. I’d like to come back, maybe tomorrow?”

  “That would be nice, to have something to look forward to.” The words connected to each other as he lost control of his speech.

  “You feel better,” Temerity said softly. “You never know, maybe the police will catch the guy while you’re napping.”

  The response was a soft snore. J.B. was already out. Temerity turned and felt her way out of the room.

  She took Ellen’s shoulder and they walked down the hall in silence until they reached the elevators, then Temerity said, “He seems like a kind soul, actually.”

  “He likes dogs,” Ellen said, remembering how gentle he’d always been with the mangy old poodle. She wouldn’t have wanted to touch it.

  “That’s always a good sign.”

  Ellen made a mental note to try petting Mouse more often. He certainly seemed to seek her out, but she’d always thought that was for warmth. “Can we go now?” she asked.

  “Don’t you want to see if we can find out anything about Irena’s baby?” Temerity asked. “I mean, we’re here.”

  Ellen did want to find out. So they went to the pediatric wing and walked slowly through the halls. This was much more difficult for Ellen. For some reason, seeing children sick was much harder to reconcile than the elderly. And the parents all seemed so lost. Ellen was grateful that it wasn’t long until she spotted Irena.

  Through an open door, she saw the Russian woman asleep in a chair near a sterile crib draped with plastic sheeting, her head crooked at an awkward angle. It was difficult to see inside the sheeting for the humidity. Ellen explained the scenario to Temerity, who whispered, “Sounds like pneumonia. Or some kind of bronchitis maybe.”

  “Will the kid die?” Ellen asked, watching the exhausted figure of Irena and debating whether or not the demise of the child would be a relief for her, though a sad one.

  “Probably not,” Temerity said. “I had it when I was a kid. As long as the baby gets the right antibiotics and care, which it sounds like he is, he should be okay. Do you want to talk to her?”

  “What?” Ellen drew back, a knee-jerk reaction.

  “I didn’t think so. We’ll stop by tomorrow when we come to see J.B.” They began their stroll to the exit. “So nobody at work sees you either?”

  “Not for a long time. I mean, I had to be interviewed and stuff when I first got the job.” She gritted her teeth at the thought. “They didn’t say so, but I know that my . . . how I look . . . is why they put me on the graveyard shift, so no one would have to see me.” Her cheeks burned as she recalled for Temerity the experience of the human resources woman who had physically recoiled when Ellen had come into her office, and then, embarrassed, nervously kept her focus on her paperwork and never looked directly at her again. She found it easier to tell Temerity the story than she thought, because Temerity would never see the face that had made the woman in human resources stare, horrified, her mouth an unguarded grimace, her eyes wide and bulging.

  “I’m sorry,” Temerity said softly.

  “Don’t be,” Ellen told her sincerely. “It’s been great for me. I can work on my own and I never have to deal with, you know, people.”

  “I think I do know.” Temerity patted her arm. “You haven’t had many people to trust, have you?”

  This irrefutable fact was a punch in the gut, but, much the same way a fighter learns to tense his muscles to take the hit, Ellen automatically deflected the blow off of emotional calluses developed from long
practice. “Not many,” she muttered, trying to think of even one. She hadn’t trusted anyone, at first out of necessity, but then it had become habit. All her life she had watched attentively and seen that some people were good, loving, caring, giving. It had been enough for her that those people and relationships existed. Allowing herself to hope for it personally would have been begging for a beating, so she’d not permitted herself that luxury. That was okay, she told herself, as she did every single day. It doesn’t have to happen to me, it doesn’t happen for lots of people, as long as it’s out there, as long as it could be true.

  Ellen turned to gaze at Temerity’s face, and felt a wash of relief.

  Proof.

  Tell me more about Irena,” Temerity said as they made their way through the hospital’s maze of hallways.

  So Ellen did. She told her the whole story as she knew it. Starting with Irena’s fear-filled existence, she moved on to how the immigrant’s misery had been compounded by the Boss’s sexual harassment. Then Ellen told the saga of discovering the Boss’s fake-receipt ruse, how she had stolen the conned money from him and passed it on to Irena anonymously with the note. She could not remember ever talking so much in her life, but explaining the world she saw to Temerity had become like writing the story in her notebook, and the words just flowed out of her until her mouth felt dusty and her throat was dry.

  And still she talked, about Irena’s cautious new optimism and how it was cut short by the emergency phone call. She finally concluded with the Crows’ attempts to entertain themselves with information from the hapless Irena.

  At some point, they had stopped walking, and Ellen was surprised, when she looked around, to find that they had exited the hospital and were standing off to the front of the entrance.

  Ellen cleared her scratchy throat. “So what do you think?”

  Temerity held out both arms, stepped forward and hugged a confused, and suddenly rigid, Ellen.

  “I think that you are an amazing person, and I’m really glad you coldcocked your way into my life. Now can I tell you something?”