Husbands and Other Sharp Objects

by Marilyn Simon Rothstein

  Amanda interrupted briskly. “Would you like to take the bagels with you?”

  “Is something wrong?” Georgia inquired.

  I stood and rushed to retrieve my bag from the other room. I scribbled a check for three hairstyles. I handed it to Georgia. She looked at the check, surprised that I had paid her in full. Then she shrugged and waved a bagel at me on her way out the door.

  “Do you want to wash it out?” Elisabeth asked me once Georgia was gone.

  “I would. But it won’t fit in the sink.”

  “Why are you worrying about Mom?” Amanda said, collapsing on the sofa. “I’m the bride.”

  We huddled next to her, one of us on either side. We placed our arms around her. Suddenly, Amanda stood up. She faced me, bending over as if she were punishing a toddler.

  “Mom, why did you butt in? I was bringing Jessica. Can’t you ever just let me do things my way? And Dad, with his pigs in a blanket, and his rabbi, and the brassiere people!”

  I sat perfectly still. I didn’t want to argue on her wedding day.

  “This is your fault, Mom. It’s all on you. You don’t even care about this wedding. All you worry about is Jon. This whole time, you’ve acted like you’re fifteen and never seen a boy before.”

  Her angry words stung my face. I held my hand to my cheek to protect it.

  “Really, Amanda?” Elisabeth cut in. “Why don’t you give Mom a break? You’re not married yet, and you don’t have a clue what it’s about or what Mom went through. Have you ever thought for a moment that what happened to Mom could happen to you? Believe me, I have. After all, I have been on the other side. I’ve been the girl who sees a man who is married.”

  I had to put a stop to the argument immediately. This was no day to argue. I didn’t want Amanda remembering this for the rest of her life as a bitter moment that ruined her wedding.

  “Cool off right now, this minute,” I shouted. “Just stop.”

  Amanda took a step back, rolling her eyes for effect. Elisabeth lay down on the bed.

  I spoke slowly. “Amanda, I’m sorry the stylist didn’t work out.”

  She rubbed her scalp with her fingers. “What about my hair? I have to do my own hair on my wedding day!”

  “Oh, Amanda,” Elisabeth said. “It’s not like you have to give birth in a field.”

  “Shut up, Elisabeth,” Amanda bellowed.

  Elisabeth searched the air above her, studying the speckled ceiling.

  “I’ll go to my room, call the top salons, and have a world-class stylist here by this afternoon,” I said. “No matter what it costs.”

  “I already called other stylists. It’s Saturday. They’re busy.”

  “Leave it to me,” I said.

  “Leave it to you? I’m never leaving it to you again. I thought this would be like everything else I had ever planned,” she said sadly. “I’m so good at planning. So organized. You should see me at work. But it turns out a wedding is . . . a wedding is hell.”

  “I’m eloping,” Elisabeth spouted. “When I decide to get married, I’m eloping.”

  I had reached an all-time low in the history of motherhood. Arguing with my daughter on her wedding day. I wasn’t going there. If I couldn’t calm her down, the best thing I could do was try to find a stylist.

  I left, planning to go to my room and call salons. I had really blown it this time. Literally blown it. After straining to be agreeable for months, I had caused Amanda to go nuclear on her big day. Worst of all, it was aimed at me. Why did she never argue with Harvey? Why was Daddy always perfect? So I had given her incorrect advice about a hair stylist. He had insisted on three tables of brassiere people. By now, he had hired guards. And he was still crowing about his damn pigs in a blanket.

  I wondered whether I could flatten my hair so I wouldn’t have to wash it out and start over. I felt the top. Rods of steel had more give. I tried to separate a strand, but it was impossible. I was about to literally tear my hair out, when Dana and Candy appeared in the hallway.

  “You’re here!” I yelled, relieved to see my two friends. Greeting them made me calm, made me feel like everything would be fine, that I would somehow procure the stylist to the stars, that the celebration was about to really start, and that everything that had happened since I’d arrived was just a warm-up for the big event.

  Dana, in her trademark stilettos, capris, and shirt tied at her waist, hugged me. Her long blond curls fell on my face. Candy stood beside her in navy camp shorts and a starched, sleeveless white shirt. She wore bangles and an arty necklace made of shells. Her pixie hair was shorter than ever. She looked healthy.

  “What happened?” Candy said.

  I knew she meant to my hair, but my eyes filled. “I had a fight with Amanda.”

  “On her wedding day?” Dana said as Candy shook her head as if to say “Clam up, Dana.”

  “About what?” Candy said.

  “The hair stylist,” I said.

  “The one who did your helmet? I mean hair?” Candy asked.

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven, Houston, we have a problem,” Dana said.

  I wiped a tear from my cheek and laughed. Dana smiled as though to say laughter is the best medicine.

  “I know. It’s terrible, but I didn’t want to make a scene, because I was the one who convinced Amanda that she didn’t need to bring a stylist, that the resort would set her up with one. It’s a five-star resort. Who would have thought we’d wind up with a woman who couldn’t braid a doll’s hair?”

  “Well, now you can’t say you never gave your children the wrong advice,” Dana said.

  “Are you saying that the same stylist is now doing Amanda’s hair?” Candy asked, aghast.

  “No. Amanda fired her. I’m on my way to my room to call salons. Where’s everyone else?”

  Amanda had relented and invited Dana’s entire family. Jeremy and Moxie couldn’t make it, because the baby had to nap or something. The twins and Calvin were attending. It was unfortunate that Ellison had a business event in Chicago, so he couldn’t accompany Candy.

  “They went to the pool,” Dana said. “We can help with your hair.”

  “Maybe—after I find a stylist for Amanda,” I said.

  “Call if you need us,” Candy said.

  In my room, I dared to peek in the mirror, wondering how my whole head could be seen in a mirror.

  My cell phone rang. I answered.

  “Is this Margie Hammer?” a voice said.

  Because of the “Margie,” as well as the unknown number, I thought the call was from someone selling something. Second mortgages. Life insurance. Financial services. Maybe the Boys and Girls Club or the Vietnam Veterans of America informing me they were picking up gently used clothing and small furniture this week on my street. But I wasn’t on my street. I hit “End.” Like it wasn’t annoying enough that these people called incessantly on my house phone. Now somehow they had gotten hold of my cell phone number.

  As I began to type in the number for the salon at the Ritz-Carlton, the phone rang again. It was the same southern voice. This time she said my name correctly. She also said, “This is the police.”

  Shivers ran through me, and I felt cold head-to-toe as I attempted to recall where everyone I loved was at that very moment, a roll call in my mind. I hadn’t seen Ben since the previous evening. Had he gone to the ocean? Had he gotten caught up in a wave? Oh no, I thought. Please don’t make this about Ben.

  “This isn’t about Ben Hammer, is it?” I said, shuddering.

  “Harvey Hammer,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Is your husband Harvey Hammer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your husband is en route to Roslyn and Martin Gold Memorial Hospital.”

  Sirens blared in my head. I envisioned the dizzying red light rotating atop an ambulance. I felt as though I would black out. But I couldn’t. I had to get the kids.

  “Is he all right? Is he okay?”

  “En route,” she
said.

  I ended the call, changed into clothes, grabbed my bag, clutched my phone, and raced to Amanda’s suite. I tripped in the hall and scrambled to stand. I knocked frantically on Amanda’s door.

  Elisabeth answered.

  “The police just called. Dad is in an ambulance. They’re taking him to the hospital.”

  “Oh no, oh no,” Amanda cried out.

  “Which hospital?” Elisabeth said. “I have to go there right now. This minute.”

  “What happened?” Amanda said in a panic before I could answer Elisabeth. The bride was on the edge of the king-size bed, more leaning than sitting, clutching the apricot bedspread.

  “I don’t know. I think an accident. I was talking to a moron. I just ran here.”

  “Let’s go,” Elisabeth said.

  “I have to call Jake,” Amanda said.

  “Call him from the taxi.” Elisabeth grabbed T-shirts and shorts from the walk-in closet. She tossed a set at Amanda. When we dashed out of the room, they were both holding sandals.

  Outside, there was an awaiting taxi, and we climbed into the back seat as I shouted the name of the hospital.

  “I wonder where he was,” I said to Elisabeth as Amanda spoke to Jake on her phone.

  “I know where he was. He was out buying a gift for you,” Elisabeth said.

  “What?” I said, confused.

  “He told me he wanted to give you a gift on Amanda’s wedding day to thank you for agreeing to walk down the aisle with him. He went to a jeweler in town.”

  I closed my eyes and prayed for Harvey. Please make him okay. Please make him okay. Please, please, please. My children need their father.

  Chapter 27

  When we hit the hospital roundabout, I threw a bill to the driver. Amanda dashed to the reception desk. She pushed past the line of Floridians waiting to ask questions: “Where’s the ladies’ room?” “Where’s the cafeteria?” “Can you tell me what room my aunt is in?”

  “Harvey Hammer, tell me where he is!” she shrieked at the receptionist.

  “There are others in front of you,” the woman said politely.

  “Tell me where Harvey Hammer is,” Amanda repeated.

  The woman shook her head as though to say “In the mental hospital, where you belong.”

  “Now,” Amanda said, gritting her teeth.

  I took over. “My daughter is hysterical. Could you please just help us now?”

  She typed the name into her computer.

  “He’s in surgery,” the woman said. “So now I guess you will have to wait.”

  Elisabeth rushed off to find a doctor to talk to. Doctors are always willing to talk to other doctors. It’s patients’ families they have a problem with. I remembered when my mother had been admitted due to a broken leg. After testing, a doctor informed me that my mom had cancer. He had been so frigid, I could have chipped him into ice. Immediately, my mother knew there was bad news. As soon as the doctor left, she said, “I didn’t like his shoes.” I wanted to burst into tears, but all I said was “They were way too shiny.”

  Elisabeth returned. Her face was white. “Dad had a heart attack.”

  “Oh no,” Amanda cried.

  My throat went dry. I thought of Harvey. Grasping at his chest. I thought about my children. I couldn’t stand the thought of them losing their father. All three needed him. No matter how old they were, they would always need him.

  We were told we could wait in the cafeteria. Jake showed up. He pulled Amanda away from the group to the corner where the snack stand was. I watched them hug. I felt so awful, gloomy, and miserable that this had happened on the day of their wedding. I dwelled on the sadness as I worried more and more about Harvey.

  They came back. Jake was behind Amanda, rubbing her neck. I moved away, unable to stand the tears streaming down her face. I wanted to hide in the lavatory, to sob, but I was concerned something would occur while I vanished, that a cardiologist would arrive to tell us something. If Harvey died, I did not want my children to be without me, parentless, when a tragedy became news. I did not want to come out of the bathroom to discover them stricken and blank. But Harvey couldn’t die. He couldn’t. He was full of life. He entered a room like a band. I loved that about him. And in spite of everything, I loved him for these children. I knew for certain that there had been a time he could have convinced me to return to help him through this health crisis. But I also knew that day had passed.

  Ben and Jordan arrived. They had been poolside and were in their swim trunks, damp T-shirts, and flip-flops. Their reddened faces glistened with suntan oil.

  “Why are you using oil?” I said, reprimanding grown-ups. “You can get cancer from oil. Don’t I have enough to worry about?”

  “Mom, get a grip,” Ben cautioned.

  Jake broke in. He said there were enough people at the hospital, and he would tell everyone else to remain at the hotel. We sat over hot coffee, then warm coffee, then cold coffee. Amanda began to pace. I looked at my watch. The wedding was just hours away. I knew some decision had to be made, but I didn’t want to get Amanda even more upset by bringing the subject up. Jake made phone calls. Ben and Jordan were silent, fiddling with the empty paper cups. I studied the other civilians in the cafeteria, wondering why they were in the hospital. There was an elderly woman, bent over in a wheelchair, pushed by a woman my age.

  I thought about my mother. I wished I still had her with me. I thought how the woman pushing the wheelchair was probably annoyed to have to care for her mother, who was probably driving her crazy. I’d give anything to be driven crazy.

  Jake suggested leaving the cafeteria for a change of scenery. We assembled in the family lounge. I took out my phone and started searching relentlessly online for anything about heart, cardiac, stent, bypass. I went as far back as Dr. Christiaan Barnard.

  Ben turned on the flat-screen television in the lounge. He saw Wolf Blitzer’s face, said he couldn’t listen to the news, and switched to a cartoon channel. As we planted ourselves, Bugs Bunny scurried around, holding a carrot with floppy greens.

  “What’s up, Doc?” Ben said. “That’s the question.”

  We laughed. It felt good.

  Just then, a physician, a woman in blue scrubs, a cap, and paper shoes entered the room. Like soldiers, just short of saluting, we approached her. We studied her face for the answers to our questions.

  “Mrs. Hammer,” the doctor said to me.

  I nodded. Speak, speak. Tell us. I could feel the kids crowded around me. There were only the five of them, but somehow I felt like there was a crowd, many, many people behind them bending forward, also waiting for the news.

  “Your husband is now in the ICU, a standard procedure.”

  “What a relief,” I said. “He’s okay?”

  “He had a bypass,” the doctor said. “He’s fine.”

  “He’s okay. He’s okay,” Ben said as Jordan held him.

  I had so many questions, but the cardiologist told us she would see Harvey in the morning. She removed her surgical cap, wiped her thin brow, and departed.

  Silently, we gazed at one another through eyes filled with tears. Ben whispered a prayer.

  The cardiologist poked her head back into the room. “By the way, he can’t fly for two weeks. He’ll start therapy while he is here, then continue at home.”

  “Okay,” Elisabeth said, stepping forward to shake her hand.

  The doctor turned to me. “And just so you know, one of our physicians knew who your husband was, because she wears Bountiful bras. He’s a VIP. So of course, I upgraded him to our luxury level, Mrs. Hammer.”

  Although Harvey was still my husband, I felt awkward when he was referred to as such.

  “Amazing,” Ben said. “Even in a hospital, Dad winds up with concierge service.”

  After the doctor departed, there were deep breaths all around. Ben held Jordan’s hand. Jake and Amanda were wrapped in each other’s arms.

  “What’s the wedding plan?” I asked.
/>
  Amanda looked at Jake for confirmation. He nodded, and she spoke. “We’re not having a wedding that Dad can’t be at.”

  “You’re canceling the wedding?” Ben said. “After all this?”

  “After all what?” Amanda responded, a squeak in her voice.

  “Forget it,” Ben said, clearly wanting to drop the conversation.

  “What are you saying, Ben?” Amanda insisted.

  But it wasn’t like Ben to stir the pot.

  “All the preparations,” Ben said to escape.

  “Let’s get coffee,” Jordan said, and the two guys walked off.

  Elisabeth stepped in. “What Ben is saying is that this wedding has been quite the ride.”

  “Oh?” Amanda said.

  “Don’t ‘oh’ me. You know what I’m saying.”

  “Elisabeth,” I said. But it was like trying to stop a train with a feather.

  “No, Mom. I think she should know.”

  “Know what?” Amanda said. “Know that you’re jealous? You’ve always been jealous, because I’ve always been so close with Dad.”

  Jake retreated. Only a fool would come between two arguing sisters.

  “That’s right,” Elisabeth said. “My life goal is to be you. Please, someone turn me into Amanda. So kind, always caring for others. So much so, you had to rush to get married in the midst of Mom’s separation. You just couldn’t wait. Could you?”

  Oh no, I thought, feeling my stomach tighten. This argument was about to turn into one about me.

  “Mom and Dad and all that had nothing to do with my getting married,” Amanda said. “Besides, I’ve listened to every suggestion anyone made.”

  “That’s why you wanted to get married in Fortuda, where Ben and Jordan could be assaulted for holding hands.”

  “I didn’t know that when I first picked the damn island,” Amanda said.

  “But it took Dad to change your plan,” Elisabeth said in a nasty voice.

  “Okay, that’s enough,” I said, fearing escalation.

  “It’s true,” Elisabeth said. “Ben knows it’s true.”

  I put up my hands like a referee at a boxing match. That didn’t stop Amanda.

  “Just you wait. We’ll all see how things go when you find someone, assuming he’s not already married, of course.”