Utterances

by Jo Michaels

  She blacked out again.

  Tristan was nowhere to be found the next morning, but she got up and headed for the bathroom to shower, puzzled as to why she hurt all over. When she flipped on the light and caught her reflection in the mirror, she froze, her feet turning to cement.

  Her hair had grayed overnight, and deep wrinkles had set in around her eyes, mouth, and nose. Skin that was taut under her chin the day before sagged, and the general shape of her body had changed. She looked more like the Grandma Moses at reception than Simone Alice Bookhart. Tears burst out of her, and she fled back to the safety and comfort of the blankets, pulling them over her head.

  The door opened and closed, and Tristan called out.

  “I’m awake. Under here.” Her voice sounded different, gravelly, old.

  “I brought you breakfast.” Dishes clinked.

  “I’m not coming out.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty shocking, huh?”

  She threw the covers off and bolted upright. “Shocking! You’ve seen this?”

  His face would’ve disappeared into the sheet it was so white. “I watched it happen. Last night.” He shook his head. “I thought you were bullshitting me when you said you watched yourself age in the mirror last time. But this. Simone, honey, this is something else entirely.”

  It was what she’d signed up for when she agreed to read, and she knew that, but she still lamented the loss of the youth in her face. Tears trickled out of her eyes and splashed on the back of her gnarled hands.

  Small vibrations shook the bed as Tristan climbed in, wrapping his arms and legs around her, holding her while she sobbed. Not once did he bother to remind her of her position or choice; he only clung to her as though letting go would cause them both to evaporate.

  Eventually, she calmed down and was able to shower, but she avoided looking in the mirror at all costs. What a waste of money that hair dye was.

  A pile of fruit and yogurt, a couple of bagels, and some flavored cream cheese adorned the plates he’d brought in, and she demolished it all in one sitting.

  He sat nearby, watching, his mouth hanging open.

  She sat back, burped, and wiped her mouth. “That was good. Thanks.”

  “I can’t believe you ate all of that.”

  There was no response she could really give, so she shrugged.

  “Okay, so how do we get past the old lady in the front today? You don’t look like yourself, obviously.”

  That would be a major issue, and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it. She racked her brain, trying like hell to come up with something that would work—besides plastic surgery and another dye job. It hit her. “Say I’m my grandmother. We’d look alike, right? And I’m pushing eighty for sure.”

  Tristan’s face fell, but he nodded. “Yeah, that’ll probably work. Okay.”

  “And, can we get a wheelchair today? I don’t wanna risk falling and breaking a hip afterward.”

  He bit his lip, frowned, and moved his head up and down again. “Let’s get ready to go.”

  None of her clothes fit except an old pair of sweats, so she put them on and tottered out of the room, to the elevator, and to the car, her neck wringing wet by the time she got there.

  Like a gentleman, he held the door so she could get in and then closed it softly.

  They didn’t talk, yet again, on the way to the hospital, but he held her hand the whole time, his thumb making small circles over the back. She found it both comforting and alarming. It was obvious the end was near, but she wasn’t quite ready to let go. Doesn’t matter. Not my decision anymore.

  When they walked through the doors of the hospital, the elderly lady at the desk leapt up and came around front like she was going to greet them with a hug once again. Instead, her eyes widened, and she stared at Simone a long time.

  Tristan cleared his throat, drawing the woman’s attention. “My fiancée couldn’t make it today, but she asked that her grandmother be allowed to read in her place. She was feeling rather ill. All this has taken a lot out of her.”

  Eyes as sharp as an eagle’s examined Simone’s face, and she shivered under the scrutiny.

  “Maybe we should just wait until she’s better.”

  “No, please, I’d like to read in my granddaughter’s place,” Simone said, her voice slightly wheezy.

  “Only if you’re sure. She seemed hell-bent on getting to read to those little ones, and I don’t want to upset her. Such a nice young lady.”

  “Her health has sharply declined, ma’am. I’m not sure she’ll be able to return. I’m positive she’d be okay with it. Those kids need the end of this story,” Tristan said.

  “Okay then. You can show her the way.”

  He grabbed Simone’s hand and led her down the hallway, slowly. When they were out of earshot, he leaned over and whispered, “I was worried she was going to ask for your license.”

  That hadn’t even crossed her mind, and she mentally slapped herself for not thinking of it, cursing under her breath.

  “Can’t do that. You’re an old lady now. They don’t use that kind of language.” He chortled.

  There wasn’t as big of a reaction when they entered the ward, but the kids recognized Tristan, and questions about where Simone was followed quickly. Telling them she was sick, something he knew they’d understand, he promised they’d still get their story and introduced Simone as Alice.

  All the kids looked healthier, a rosier tint to their previously sallow faces, their hair a little thicker.

  While she got situated, he left to find a wheelchair for later.

  “Okay, kids! Are y’all ready? My granddaughter”—she choked on the word but cleared her throat—“said this story is wonderful.”

  One little girl, sitting on the end of her bed, her long, brown hair in braided pigtails, nodded and pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “Uh huh. It’s about a bad kitty!”

  “Really? That sounds amazing. Let’s get to reading.” When Simone pulled the book open, it felt like she was yanking her spine to her sternum, and she gnashed her teeth together, wincing when one crumbled from the pressure. Pain electrified all her joints, and she went rigid.

  Tristan returned, pushing the chair, and left it at the door to sprint across the room. He knelt in front of her. “Are you okay?”

  “It hurts all over, and one of my teeth just came to pieces.”

  Examining her face and body, he shook his head. “You’re not doing this today. We need to get you out of here.” As he stood to get the chair, she gripped his forearm.

  “No. I need something to spit this tooth in, but I’m not leaving. This needs to be finished. Right here. Right now. It’s not over yet.”

  When he produced a wastebasket, she spit pink and white flecks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and sitting back.

  Words already flowed over the pages, the silvery ink luminescent amid the dim lights of the ward.

  She took a deep breath and started, projecting her voice as well as she could.

  On and on she read, until medication time rolled around.

  Tristan helped her into the wheelchair and pushed it to the cafeteria, parking her at one of the handicapped tables. “Want anything?” he asked.

  “I’m not really hungry. Why don’t you get yourself something, and I’ll call my parents. I’d like to say goodbye.” Her phone blurred as she stared at it, sitting innocently on top of the book in her lap. A couple of drops fell and magnified spots on the screen.

  “Okay.” He walked away with his head down and his hands in his pockets.

  Swiping at the moisture on her face and the phone, she lifted it and dialed her mom.

  She picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Simone? Honey? Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me. Who else calls you Mom? I’m the only kid you’ve got, remember?” Simone chuckled.

  “Yeah, I remember. Your father told me what he did. I’m so angry I could spit nails
! What are you thinking?” Yvette yelled.

  A black cloak of weight wrapped around Simone’s body. She hated what she was doing to her mother, but it was for a greater good. “Listen, I didn’t call to fight. I have some important things to say, and I don’t have a ton of time. So, will you hear me out?”

  Sniffles came over the line. “Yes. Hold on. Your dad is here, so I’m putting you on speaker.”

  It suddenly changed to a hollower sound, and Dad’s voice floated in. “Heya, princess. Everything going okay?”

  Simone smiled. “Hey, Daddy. Everything has gone exactly as I thought it would. I think today’s the last day.”

  Hissing whispers in Mom’s voice were in the background, but only a few words came through. “What does… That doesn’t… You’re both nuts.” Suddenly, her voice got a lot louder. “What? Are you kidding me? How could you approve of this!”

  After a deep breath, Simone said, “Mom. Daddy. Get close to the phone so you can hear me clearly. I’m only saying this once. You were the best parents a girl could hope for. Both of you taught me how to love, and how not to love, and I feel like I’m a better person for it. There are memories I’ll hold onto until the end, but what I wish for the most is for you both to live your lives to the fullest. Be happy.

  “No matter where that takes you, or what barriers you have to break down to get there. My hope is that one of these kids goes on to do something amazing. Even if they just laugh every day, it’ll be worth it.

  “I know you must think I’m very selfish for doing what I’m doing, but my life, and what I choose to do with it, is my choice—just like yours belongs to each of you. This is what I was put here for, and it’s far better than simply getting married and having a couple of kids. I’m making a real difference. Everything will make sense very soon. I need you to trust me.”

  Mom started sobbing, but Simone paused and waited until it quieted down, her own throat clenching around her words.

  “I love you both to the moon and back. And, you know, I’m not as pissed at Daddy as I once was. That was his life, and his choice, and I owed it to him to be supportive of that no matter what. That’s what he’s done for me.”

  Tristan appeared out of the crowd, carrying a bowl of soup and a soft drink.

  “I need to go. Tristan is headed this way.”

  “I love you, Simone,” her dad said.

  “I… I also love… I also love you,” her mom said between hiccups.

  “I love you both, too. Bye.” Simone quickly hit the end button, dropped the phone back into her lap, and covered her face with her hands while she cried. It was a few minutes before she could lift her head and look at Tristan.

  Rather than eating, he was staring into the bowl, stirring, a blank look on his face.

  “Hey. Thanks for giving me a moment.” She smiled.

  His hand floated over to cover hers, and he squeezed her fingers gently, never looking up from the soup.

  Warmth flooded her from the place of contact. It couldn’t be easy on him, she knew, but she was grateful he wasn’t running away again. In that moment, she decided to forgive him completely, realizing she might have done the same thing if she’d been in his position. Watching someone he loved giving more of herself to others, rather than him, was probably activating all the hurts the other girls had inflicted on him through the years. It was akin to the time she walked in and thought he’d cheated on her—giving the part of himself that was supposed to be sacred to their relationship to another woman. Simone cried again, wishing she’d kept her promise to never break his heart but not seeing a way around it. It was simply too little, too late.

  “I’m sorry, Tristan,” Simone whispered, her eyes glued to their hands in her lap.

  “For what?” Warm fingers nudged her chin, and when she lifted her head, she found him looking at her, his blue eyes soft, watery, and wide, a tight smile on his beautiful lips.

  “For betraying your trust and breaking my promise, but most of all, for not forgiving you right away when I should’ve thought more about what I was doing to you. Instead, I was wrapped up in what everyone else was doing to me. This is something I should’ve told you about when it first started, but I found myself unsure. Maybe I was crazy. Then it became this thing that was bigger than both of us, and I got lost in the storm.”

  “Are you saying I’m off the hook for my part in the crazy that went down at your house?” He lifted an eyebrow.

  “Yeah.” She couldn’t help but smile.

  “I accept your apology. You’re right, you should’ve told me, but I would’ve stuck around anyway. Seems I’m a bit of a masochist.”

  “I shouldn’t have let you. I had no idea it would go this far when I started, even though it’s worth it, to me. I owed you so much more. You’re a good man.”

  He kissed her on the forehead and went to put his tray on the belt. When he returned, he sat, rested his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands, leaning way forward. “You sure you wanna keep going? We can leave.”

  “I’m beyond the point of no return. You know it as well as I do. My body is literally falling apart. It’s just time to let go. Besides, did you see their faces today? They look so much better already.”

  “I did. Okay.” Standing up, he moved behind the chair and unlocked the wheels. “Let’s get you back in there, sweetheart.” During the ride, he leaned toward her ear. “I love you, and in case I haven’t said it yet, I’m proud to call you mine.”

  It strengthened her resolve to know the people she loved most in the world had her back no matter what, and she found excitement within herself again over doing the right thing.

  All the kids were tucked into their beds, machines whirring, pumping the medication into their veins. Some looked like they were sleeping, but when the door opened, they sat up and grinned.

  “I’m back! Are you ready to hear the end?” Simone asked.

  Several yeses came back at her from the crowd of kids. It made her smile to see their enthusiasm.

  When Tristan tried to help her to the recliner, she waved him off, saying she’d be fine in the chair, knowing it would be harder to move back than it would be to stay put. Everything, from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet, was on fire.

  He pulled his chair close to hers and sat, holding her right hand. With the left, she opened the book. It was all she could do to keep from screaming, and keep a smile on her face for the kids, when her organs rearranged themselves inside her body—as badly as it hurt, she was positive that was what was going on.

  Brow wrinkled, Tristan moved slightly, as though preparing to get up and help, but she patted his hand and breathed deeply, letting him know there was nothing he could do.

  Silver words scrawled into existence, and finally able to take in enough oxygen, she read.

  It took a number of hours, with breaks only for small sips of water, for her to reach the last page.

  Simone said, “The end.”

  Earthquake level vibrations spread from her lap, and the book lit up like the sun, filling the ward with blinding light, causing all the children, Simone, and Tristan, to shield their eyes.

  It wasn’t long until the light faded, and she was able to see the clock on the wall again. Only two minutes had passed, but everyone else in the room was asleep, including Tristan. She nudged him, and he groaned, swishing a hand in her direction.

  “Tristan,” she whispered. “Wake up.”

  As though swimming through tar, he rolled his head and moved his arms in slow motion but was able to crack one eye open. “Whatamuhaddapun?”

  “I don’t know. Can you sit up?”

  His movements were jerky, but he managed to pull himself upright and stuck his knuckles in his closed eyes, rubbing vigorously. After a few yawns and stretches, he seemed better, but when he stood, he nearly fell and grabbed hold of the chair for support. “Whoa. What did you do?”

  “Wasn’t me. We need to get out of here. If anyone saw that, we’re busted.” />
  “I’m trying.” He was able to shuffle to the back of the chair and get the brakes undone.

  A moment later, they were headed down the hall, her eyes scanning left and right, watching for some sort of indication that someone had seen or was coming to check things out. Her heart thundered like wild horses on the savannah.

  They got to the car without anyone trying to get in the way or ask questions.

  It was a struggle to get Simone out of the chair and into the seat in her weakened state, but Tristan managed. Tension didn’t leave her until the car was well away from the hospital. Finally, she could breathe again.

  “Wow. That was so weird.”

  “That’s never happened before?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the road.

  “Absolutely not. If it had, I would’ve prepared you for it.”

  “What did it feel like?”

  That wasn’t a question she was expecting, and she had to think about the answer for a long time. When it looked like he was about to ask again, she held up a finger. “I’m thinking.”

  He closed his mouth and returned to watching traffic.

  She wasn’t sure she could describe the feeling. It was a mix between elation and absolute depression—so dark and cold, yet so full of hope. That was the explanation she ended up giving him.

  “So, it felt like life and death, all rolled into one?”

  “Yes! That’s a perfect description. Thank you.” When she confirmed it, she knew the worst was yet to come. That light had to have been the precursor effect. Nerves all over her body twanged to life, and tension knotted her trapezius.

  The longer they were in the car with nothing happening, the more she relaxed. Finally, they arrived at the hotel, and Tristan helped her out of the car, letting her lean on him as they made their way inside. He slung the backpack over his shoulder, flowery motif and all, and if she hadn’t been feeling quite so tired, she would’ve laughed again, remembering his antics at Gretchen’s.

  Through the foyer and into the elevator the couple went, with no incidents. He pressed the button for their floor, and Simone tuned in to the soft, classical music piping through the air via hidden speakers. It was the theme from Schindler’s List, composed by John Williams, and it seemed the perfect melody for the situation.