by Moore,Mia
Maybe venting wasn’t such a good idea. Her throat constricted and her eyes were hot, welling with tears at Claire’s simple act of sympathy. Her chin quivered and she could only nod in answer.
When the waitress placed the drink in front of her, she drained half of it and set it down. She inhaled deeply. “Well I spent the morning doing an orientation with him. He’s actually not a bad guy. But it still sucks.” Her mouth pulled to the side as she looked into Claire’s eyes.
“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you seduce him and then have him fired for sexual harassment.” Claire tilted her head and snapped her fingers in front of her. “Presto, the job’s yours.”
“No. With my luck I’d be the one fired. He’s pretty good looking actually, if you can past the boob eyeballing.” She smiled. Thank God for Claire’s craziness. “You should have seen the stick woman drooling over him. She took him to lunch, probably wishing it was a nooner.”
“That’d be too good to be true. He cracks her bony ass and kills her – then everyone advances one rung up the ladder.” From the evil glint in her eye, Claire was getting a kick out of this mental picture having met Mary on a couple of occasions.
“And to top it off, when I got home last night, Peter was boffing some girl in the rec room. I walked in and saw everything.” Abby sat back and closed her mouth while the waitress put their lunches in front of them.
“No shit. Are you serious? Where was Glen when all this was happening?” Claire leaned forward, her mouth open.
“Watching internet porn with your ex, what else? There was a bit of a scene this morning at breakfast. I swear after the shitty day I’m having, I’m tempted to run away to the circus. Or at the very least go shopping.” She frowned before taking a bite of her sandwich. From the corner of her eye she saw the waitress walking by and signaled to her, pointing a finger at her drink.
“Another? I’d fall asleep at my desk if I had two drinks at lunch. But then again, you’re taller than me and can probably hold it better. Besides you deserve it.”
“You got that right.” Abby finished the first drink and handed the glass to the waitress who appeared with another full gin and tonic. “Honestly with the crap at work, Glen ignoring me in the bedroom and now Peter having sex in the rec-room, I’ve had it up to here.” Her hand flew to just above her eyebrows.
“You know what you need—that you should go shopping for?” Claire leaned close and whispered. “A rabbit vibrator.”
“Why would a rabbit need a vibrator?” The image of a rabbit masturbating popped into her head and she chuckled.
“No smartass. Just go to a sex store and ask for one. They’ll know. I had one even before the divorce. The Wolf, as he’s calling himself on-line, is not the sexual performer that he thinks he is. Trust me, it’s better than anti-depressants.” She sat back with a satisfied grin on her face.
Abby took a deep drink of the gin and watched her friend. Maybe Claire was right. If Glen wasn’t into sex anymore, she’d better equip herself for the drought. And the thought of visiting a sex shop caused a tingle between her legs, or was it the gin? If it was the gin, she was going to have another one, maybe call the office and tell them she was suddenly sick. That would serve them right.
Chapter 6
Glen flipped up the face shield of his helmet and looked at his watch. Four twenty. Just forty minutes more of this and he was free for the weekend.
He’d been rehearsing what he was going to say to Peter all day and he had it down pat. Really, the issue wasn’t that the boy was having sex. It was the fact that it was downright disrespectful to be doing it in the rec-room.
How to Christ had Abby known that they were looking at porn? It was that horn ball Barry’s fault. ‘The Wolf’. Jeeze, if that kind of explicit sex was on the internet it was no wonder that Peter was having sex. But then again, he and Abby had been about that age when they started.
The orgy scenes had been pretty hot with the girl on girl shots. And the people in the video were everyday Joes, not porn stars. It was strange but that made it hotter. But what kind of everyday Joe has a bunch of naked people in his living room, making out in every position, with whoever? Certainly no one he knew.
He jumped when the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. He fished it out beneath the layers of clothing and looked at the screen. Private number. Sighing, he answered. It was probably some telemarketer or something.
He listened to the voice on the phone, his eyes widening as his heart sprung up to his throat. He interrupted the caller. “Is she all right?”
His fingers clutched the phone, holding on for dear life. Abby, in a car accident? Oh sweet mother of God.
“I’ll be right there.” He clicked off the phone and tore the helmet from his head, striding outside. A hand on his shoulder from the Weasel Carl was flicked off angrily.
“Hey Henkel. Where you going? It isn’t five yet.” The voice was like a mosquito buzzing around his ear.
“My wife’s had a car accident. I’m goin’ to the hospital.” Say one word, Weasel, one fucking word. He couldn’t get across the lot to his truck fast enough. The hospital had been kind of vague but the fact that Abby hadn’t called herself said enough. He jumped into the pickup and started it up, and peeled away.
The light at the intersection ahead turned orange and he punched the gas to run it. A car screeched to his right. That was close. He had to get a grip on himself. Maybe she was just getting stitches or a cast on and couldn’t call. Cuts and broken bones he could deal with. Please God, let it be just that. But the way his heart was racing, blood pounding a drum in his ears, his gut was telling him otherwise.
He thought of the way he’d walked out this morning, not even giving her a kiss good bye. He’d been so caught up in his own problems that her feelings hadn’t mattered. His chest constricted.
“C’MON, C’MON.” He had to slow down when a car pulled out from a side street onto the road in front of him.
He rode the sedan’s ass and laid on the horn. “C’MON!” At a break in oncoming traffic, he jerked the wheel to the left passing the car, leaving a rooster tail of brown slush.
Almost there. Three more lights to go. What about Peter? He’d call him when everything was alright. Because everything was going to be all right, dammit. His fingers thrummed on the leather steering wheel as he hunched over it, willing the truck to go faster.
Finally, he pulled into a parking spot a block from the hospital. He flung the door open and slammed it shut, his feet already beating a fast jog up the street to the Emergency Room. He rushed to the reception desk.
“My wife’s in here. Abby Henkel. How’s she doing? Can I see her?” The words gushed from his gasping mouth at the triage nurse, perched like a white dove on her chair.
“One moment.” She turned to her computer screen and clicked the mouse a few times while he watched, wide eyed.
“Oh.” She leaned closer to the screen, her eyes squinting.
“Oh? What the hell does that mean? Where is she?” He pounded the counter in front of her.
“She’s in the intensive care unit. I’ll page the doctor and he’ll meet you at the nurse’s station on that floor. Go down this hall.” She stood up and pointed to his left.” And take the elevator to the second floor. You’ll see the nurse’s station when you get off.”
Intensive Care? Oh no… He spun on his heels and raced down the hall to the elevator, hitting the up button a few times with the side of his fist. “C’mon.” He hissed through clenched teeth.
When the elevator dinged and opened to let him in, he pounded the button for the second floor, glad that no one else was there.
The door opened and he raced to the high counter where a nurse and doctor were talking.
“My wife, Abby Henkel, How is she?”
“Mr. Henkel.” The doctor stepped close to him. He stared like a maniac at the green garbed young man. This guy was just a kid! How could he be treating Abby? “Your wife has suffered a subdural hemat
oma. She’s unconscious right now. It was lucky that she was intubated and brought in immediately after the car accident. The sooner she receives care after a TBI the greater are her chances of full recovery.”
Only a few of the doctor’s words were registering. “Is she going to be all right? Can I see her?”
The doctor chewed on his lip for a second. “Well…”
“Hey! That’s my wife! Where is she?” Glen looked around the hallway.
The doctor put a hand on his arm. “Hey.. sure you can. But…”
“But what?” Glen felt his face go white.
“Mr. Henkel, she’s unconscious right now.”
“What do you mean? She’s asleep?”
The doctor held Glen’s eyes and shook his head slightly. “Not asleep.”
What the hell is this idiot trying to say? She’s not asleep but not awake? What the hell does that? His eyes bulged. “A coma?”
The doctor nodded. “We’re going to do an MRI on her to determine the amount of damage the blow to her head caused. You may see her for a few minutes before we take her to Imaging.” He started to walk down the corridor.
Glen followed on the young man’s heels like a puppy, looking left and right at the curtained areas where patients were stretched out, surrounded by machines and tubes.
The doctor pulled the curtain back and Glen’s eyes became warm and blurry. Oh my God. The woman in a head bandage with bruised eyes and a cut across her nose and lips couldn’t be Abby. He rushed to her side and grasped her hand, staring down at her face. Oh Abby, Abby, Abby. How could this happen to you? A tear from his eye spilled onto her bare arm. Did her eyes just flutter?
He stroked her hand.
“Abby, Abby…” What the hell was a subdural hematoma? She’d had a bad bump to the head. She’d wake up. Sure, she’d be out cold for awhile. Look at all those football and hockey players. They always came out of it. My Abby’s tough. His chin quivered.
“You’ll be okay Abby. You just need to rest and then you’ll wake up.” His words were a whisper as the tears flowed down his cheeks.
“Mr. Henkel? We have to take your wife to Imaging now.”
At the soft voice behind him, he brushed the tears and snot on his sleeve and turned away.
The nurse was beside him now, already wheeling the intravenous pole along the bed that was being pulled out of the curtained area by an orderly.
“Abby! You’re strong girl. You’ll be all right.” He called as he walked behind the bed.
The nurse turned to him, kindness in her dark eyes. “We should be back in an hour. There’s a waiting room to the left of the elevator. I’ll come and get you when she’s back.”
He nodded and kept walking only stopping when the door to the elevator opened and Abby was wheeled inside. His hand rose to cover half his face and he turned to go to the waiting room. My God! Anything! I’ll do anything if you let her be okay.
He continued walking to the door marked ‘Waiting Room’. He was like zombie from one of those movies. He pushed open the door to the waiting room. God, I’ll do anything. Just let her be okay. But hey, it’s been a long time since I’ve been to church. Please…please give me a sign that she’s going to be all right, okay? Please? He jumped at the sound of the crash. A vase with yellow silk flowers had fallen to the floor.
Wait. His breath caught in his throat and he looked at the ceiling.
Chapter 7
Peter had been hanging around the house for an hour waiting for his parents to get home. Where were they? Mom would usually be starting dinner around this time. Although really, the fact that they weren’t home was kind of a relief. It was going to be awkward seeing his mother and the old man was probably going to go ape shit. Not a word from him in the truck this morning of what the talk was about. But he didn’t need a crystal ball for that one.
Other than the shitty morning it‘d been a good day. Josee had avoided him but her BFF, Sonia, had kind of come on to him. He wasn’t sure what that was about but Sonia was pretty hot. Maybe not as hot as Josee, but still good.
The phone in the kitchen rang and he grabbed it.
“Hello?”
“Hi Peter. Your Mom was in a car accident. I’m at the hospital.” Dad’s voice sounded shaky.
“Is she all right?” His eyes stared at nothing while every muscle in his frame tightened.
“She’s had a head injury and she’s still unconscious. There’re doing tests on her right now.” There was a pause on the line before he heard his father inhale and continue. “They’ll know in a little while how much damage there is.”
“What hospital? I’m coming.”
“St. Joseph’s. See you soon, son.”
There was a click and then nothing. Unconscious? Like a coma? Oh my God. This couldn’t be happening. A picture of her slamming the plate down in front of him that morning popped into his head. Maybe this was his fault. She’d been upset and distracted and got into a car accident.
He ordered a cab and raced to get his coat and boots on. God, if you’re really up there, help her. It’d been a long time since he’d had anything to say to God. And maybe he was only talking to himself but if there is a God, please help her.
His arm caught in the sleeve of his coat and he twisted around and knocked the vase of silk flowers Mom had kept by the door all winter. It shattered on the floor, yellow flowers scattering across the floor.
Shit, shit, shit! He gathered up the mess and tossed it into the kitchen trash can and ran back to the front door to wait for the cab.
His throat tightened. In his mind’s eye, Mom was helping him with his homework, making his favorite dinner and the way she looked at him…with love and pride. Mom HAD to be all right. He balled up his fist and brushed the tears from his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Thank God! A taxi was pulling up at the curb in front of his house. He raced out the door and down the walkway and got into the back of the cab like his ass was on fire.
“St. Joseph’s hospital.”
The cab driver turned slightly in his seat to look at him. “You okay, kid?”
“It’s my Mom. She had a car accident and is in bad shape. Hurry.”
“You got it.” The driver pulled out into the street, pushing the speed limit as he drove.
And what about Dad? He’s probably a mess. He’d sounded like he was crying on the phone. He’d have to be strong for HIM too.
What if it really was his fault she had the accident? Dad knew about the thing with Josee. Would he blame him? Oh God, please let her be okay.
Doctors know a lot. They’ll be able to help her. They’ll know soon. He crossed his fingers. Please God let her be awake when I get there.
The scenery along the streets was a blur. His breath hitched in his throat when he saw the large brick hospital building in front of the car.
The cab driver pulled up to the curb. “That’ll be ten bucks. Good luck, kid.”
Peter scooped a ten from his wallet and thrust it into the older man’s hand. “Thanks.” He turned, opened the door and ran to the hospital entrance.
When he walked through the door, he saw his father waiting for him. Oh God. He walked to him and was folded in strong arms, his own hands clinging to the fabric of his father’s flannel shirt. They clung to each other for a minute before he pulled away.
“How is she? Is she awake? Can I see her?” He rubbed the tears from his eyes as he spoke.
“She wasn’t when I left. C’mon. Let’s go see.” His father’s arm raised and landed across his shoulders, gripping him close to his side as they walked down the hall to the elevator. When they got off the elevator, a nurse approached.
“Mr. Henkel, your wife is back in her room now.” The deep brown eyes of the Hispanic woman flitted from Peter to his Dad.
“Is she okay?” Peter spoke before his father had a chance to.
“She’s still unconscious at the moment. The doctor will probably see you in fifteen minutes or so to give you the result
s of the test.”
“Can we see her?” His father asked.
“Only one visitor at a time in the ICU I’m afraid.” Her mouth pulled to the side and her eyes were sad.
“You go Peter. I’ll wait. I was in earlier.” His father squeezed his shoulder.
He followed behind the nurse, half afraid of what he was going to see when he got to his mother’s area. She pulled the curtain back and he eased in behind her. Oh my God. If the nurse hadn’t taken him there, he wouldn’t have recognized her. He stepped forward and stood at the side of the bed looking down into her face. Mom, wake up….. Please?
When the nurse left he put his hand on his mother’s, willing his strength and life force into her body. “Oh Mom, I’m so sorry. Please wake up.” His lips moved, whispering as tears and snot leaked from his face.
And the lines of tubes that were connected to her, the machine behind beeping. It was so incredible that this could be Mom. He wanted his real mother back, even the one who’d stood next to him that morning, pissed as all get out. Please God. I promise I’ll be a better son. Help her.
A guy in his twenties, wearing a green cap and shirt poked his head through the curtain. “I’m going to talk to your father. Would you like to be with him?”
“Yeah.” He leaned over and kissed his mother’s forehead and turned to follow the doctor. He didn’t look old enough to be a teacher let alone Mom’s doctor!
It had been just a glimpse of the guy’s face and hard to tell if he was happy or sad. What kind of news would he have? His stomach tightened and was rolling up to his throat. He breathed deeply, preparing himself for the worst.
When they entered the waiting room, Dad shot to his feet.
“Mr. Henkel.” The doctor paused while Peter moved to stand next to his father. “The MRI showed bruising but very little bleeding, which is good. But it doesn’t give us accurate information on the extent of the damage. As it was in the pre-frontal lobe, her speech and memory may be affected when she wakes up. The next seventy hours will determine the speed of recovery or rehab she’ll require.”