Life Support

by Candace Calvert

  “Counselor. But that’s not all she is. Angela’s funny; she’s a runner like you; she volunteers with dog rescue—”

  “So take her a chocolate bar. Marry her. She sounds perfect.” She folded her arms tightly against her chest.

  “Jess . . .”

  She turned and met his gaze fully, eyes stormy gray again. “I didn’t like it when Eli lectured me about my ‘problems,’ and I don’t like it any better coming from you. You’re supposed to be my safe place, Fletcher.”

  Keeping her safe was what he’d always tried to do. It still killed him that he’d been in Hawaii with his folks when she ran away that spring. . . .

  Jessica checked her watch. “My break’s almost over, and if I don’t get back in there, Gayle’s going to chew my behind for no good reason. Again.” She reached for the chocolate bar, offered Fletcher what looked too much like a Band-Aid smile. “This will hit the spot later. Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  He watched Jessica walk back toward the hospital doors, fairly certain she was faking her interest in the candy bar. He wasn’t convinced that she’d been telling the whole truth about her manager either. What was going on there?

  - + -

  “He looks comfortable,” Lauren whispered as Eli slipped off the borrowed stethoscope and set it on Drew’s bedside table.

  “No wheezes. Upper airway’s nice and clear.” He glanced toward the iPod dock sitting beside the framed photo of the young Landry fishermen. Florine had removed the earphones but left Drew’s music playing softly. A woman’s voice, pure and gentle, singing about blessings coming through raindrops.

  Eli reached out to stroke his sleeping brother’s hair. The corner night-light cast a soft glow over both men’s features. They could have been mistaken for twins.

  “Are you going to stay?” she whispered.

  “I . . .” Eli glanced her way almost as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Yes. I’ll be staying for a while. But I’ll walk you to your car.”

  She started to tell him there was no need but decided it was useless. Eli was stubborn. Still, they’d managed to get through the past several hours unscathed. No reason to rock the boat. Walk to the car, get in, and drive away. Simple . . .

  But once they’d hiked down Mimaw’s moonlit driveway, she had a feeling she’d made a mistake.

  “I didn’t think I’d parked so far away,” she told him, her voice provoking several indignant clucks in the dark distance. “Out with the poultry and the sandbags.” Lauren glanced back toward the building, on a gentle rise that Odette’s plan had required, and saw the warm glow of lights from the windows. A staff person, likely Renee, moved in and out of view. “Quite a place.”

  “It is.” Eli held her gaze for a moment. “That day in the ER, I didn’t think this would be possible. I thought he’d end up on a ventilator in the ICU, like last Christmas.” Something that looked like a physical pain came into his expression.

  “That time must have been awful.”

  “It was.” Eli shook his head. “Emma made him a Christmas stocking, wrote his name on it with glue and glitter—maybe a pound of the stuff. Shrek stepped in it and left sparkly footprints all over the house. She brought the stocking to the hospital and hung it on the pole with one of the IV pumps. I remember there was glitter on the floor, the wheels of the ventilator . . . even the restraints tied to my brother’s arms.” There was a noise low in his throat like he’d swallowed a groan. “She drew a Nativity scene, too, and talked a janitor into taping it on the ceiling over Drew’s bed so he could see it whenever he opened his eyes, day or night. When they had to poke him with needles or shove suction catheters down the ET tube . . .”

  Lauren winced.

  “He kept looking at me with this fear in his eyes.” Eli’s voice was husky, low. “Like he expected me to make it all stop. He was begging; he couldn’t understand why I was letting all of it happen. In my whole life I’ve never felt so blasted helpless.” His dark eyes were intense. “Can you understand what I mean?”

  She nodded. “I felt that way when Jess was missing. When I thought she might try to . . .” Lauren couldn’t talk about this. Especially not with Eli.

  “I know,” he said. “I saw how worried you were. I was there, remem—?”

  “I need to go,” Lauren insisted, cutting him off. She stepped away, began searching her purse for her keys. “Thank you for the coffee.”

  “No.” Eli grasped her arm. “Don’t leave. We need to talk about that time. All of it. Jessica and me. And you. About . . . us.”

  Her heart stalled.

  “Please, Lauren.” Eli let go of her arm. “Just talk with me?”

  THEY WERE SITTING on stacks of sandbags. Downwind from a chicken coop. The countless times Eli had imagined this moment, it had looked very different. But at least Lauren was here. Though from her expression, she was still thinking of escape. Even if that meant running him down with her car.

  “I don’t see the point of this,” she told him, swiping at her hair in the humid breeze. Her eyes looked wary in the moonlight. “There really isn’t anything we need to discuss.”

  “Except the elephant in the room.” His stupid cliché was refuted by an immediate volley of bawk-baaawks and wing flaps. This was off to a lousy start. “It’s been more than a year, Lauren. You ran off to Austin before—”

  “I didn’t run.” She stiffened, lifted her chin. “Jess was trying to make a new start after all that happened that Easter. She needed to feel independent and asked me to give her space.”

  And you wanted plenty of space too . . . between us. Because I kissed you.

  “Okay,” he conceded after taking a slow breath. “I get that. But those times I called to explain, you wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “I don’t see what more you could have explained, Eli. We heard it from Jess. She was feeling low; she reached out to you as a friend.” Lauren’s brows pinched. “There was an argument. She filled the prescription for sleeping pills and took off.”

  “It wasn’t that simple.” He regretted the word instantly.

  “You think that was ‘simple’ for my family? We had to file a missing persons report. Ask for her dental records. My father was so sick with worry he had a stroke!”

  “I’m sorry.” Eli reached for her hand without thinking. “I didn’t mean that. I’d change all of those things if I could. That’s what I wanted to tell you those times I called. That I’m sorry.” He couldn’t believe she hadn’t pulled her hand away. “What I meant was that the change in my friendship with Jessica happened over weeks . . . months. Not because of one isolated argument.”

  “That’s not what she said.”

  Eli warned himself to be careful. This was about mending things with Lauren. Offering his opinions of her sister’s psychological problems would be as welcome as a fox in that chicken coop. “I’m not going to defend myself. I’ve made too many mistakes to even try to do that. But the truth is, I haven’t been looking for relationships, friendship or otherwise. Not with anyone. I can’t afford the complications. Emma is my first priority. In truth, work is probably my second. And third.”

  Lauren’s fingers curled under his. “And my sister—”

  “Understands that. I don’t think she’s in a place to deal with relationships that require anything more either.” He hesitated, weighing his words. “I sensed that about her from the beginning. And I wasn’t surprised when she found reasons not to spend time with me. Frankly I was relieved. I had a lot going on with my family. Jessica and I hadn’t had so much as a cup of coffee together in weeks before she ran off to Corpus Christi.”

  “But the argument . . .”

  “She called me on the phone early that morning—woke me about 2 a.m. She was sort of generally angry about a lot of things. Rambling, the way she does sometimes. She insisted that I meet her for breakfast. To use me for a sounding board, I figured. I told her no. I had Emma, and I was leaving for a fishing trip that morning. She hung up on
me.”

  “I see.” Lauren’s hand slid away from Eli’s, but not before he saw the pain in her eyes. How could she doubt this was true? She knew Jessica’s mercurial moods.

  Somewhere inside, you know your sister needs help.

  “My parents think Jess’s problems were caused by you. That you led her on. Used her. Maybe beyond friendship.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Eli explained. “I don’t know what Jessica told you. Or what you might have heard from hospital staff. But we barely knew each other until we played on the Grace softball team. We didn’t get together that many times beyond work. Group stuff, mostly. Not anything you’d call a date.”

  “I get what you’re saying.”

  “No, I don’t think you do,” Eli continued, seeing it on her face. “She never met my folks. Or Drew. I think you’ve seen Emma more times than your sister has. I was at her apartment maybe twice. She never came to my house or . . .” He saw Lauren’s teeth scrape her lower lip and decided it needed to be said. Even if she went into big-sister protective overdrive and bolted for her car. “I didn’t sleep with her, Lauren. I never even came close to wanting that. She’s a friend. That’s all.”

  Lauren closed her eyes, made a sound that might have been a sigh of relief but was probably a muffled expression of disgust. He wouldn’t blame her. But he couldn’t leave any room for doubt.

  She shifted on the sandbags, moonlight splashing her face. “I think we’ve come full circle. I still don’t see the point of this.”

  “I have one.” His mouth was going dry. This had to be said too. “It’s true that I wasn’t interested in a serious relationship. After Emma—because of her—I haven’t wanted that. I wasn’t looking.” The breeze swept strands of hair across Lauren’s cheek, and he had to stop himself from brushing them back. “And then I met you. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Or the situation. Your folks launched you at me like a drone missile strike.”

  Her brow puckered; he wasn’t going to wait long enough to interpret it.

  “And then, when I’m trying to figure out how to handle that and still get to know you better—maybe even convince you I can be a decent guy—Jessica runs off.” He leaned closer, urging her to understand. “I went looking for her out of genuine concern. I do care about her, Lauren. But when you arrived at the beach . . .”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.”

  “I saw that. I understand because of Drew. I wanted to help you. I wanted to fix it.”

  “You did. You found her.” Lauren flinched. “I don’t think we ever thanked you. Not really.”

  “That doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say here is that in spite of the situation, I meant the things I said to you that night. After Jessica went home with your parents and you dropped by my house. I said it all badly; I admit that. I was trying to comfort you, make you understand that you hadn’t failed Jessica in any way. Then it turned into something else, and I’m sorry for that. But it’s all true, everything I said: I do think you’re special, Lauren. Beautiful and caring and brave.”

  “Eli, don’t . . .”

  “Don’t tell the truth?”

  “I mean, I don’t think we should do this.”

  “You’re wrong. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I wasn’t thinking; I’m sorry. But that was a year ago. This is now.”

  There was a long stretch of silence, punctuated here and there by distant clucks.

  “I think . . . ,” Lauren said, barely above a whisper, “it wasn’t all your fault. I think I kissed you back. Maybe a little.”

  “No need to apologize.”

  There was a hint of a smile, the first he’d seen since the cherry-chocolate scone.

  “So where do we go from here?” he breathed.

  “Go?”

  She might as well have hit him with a sandbag.

  “I’d still like to see you,” Eli explained. “I know it’s sort of awkward. Because of everything that happened back then. But—”

  “Awkward? That’s when someone shows up with the same dress at a party . . . or when you accidentally send a text for your girlfriend to your mother.” Lauren’s breath escaped in a groan. “What you’re talking about is impossible.”

  She was exaggerating. She had to be. He could make this work.

  “My daughter and my dog like you,” Eli ventured, remembering that kiss.

  “My parents hate you. I think on some levels my sister may too.”

  “You and my brother like the same music.”

  “You and my family have a painful history. There’s no way they’d understand a truce, let alone . . .” Lauren’s smile disappeared. “I love them. They’re my priority.”

  “But . . .” Hope was slipping through Eli’s fingers like sand. “I’ve been thinking about this, about you, for a year.”

  “You should probably stop.”

  - + -

  “Please,” Gayle pleaded into the phone, “don’t call here anymore.” She peered across the breakfast bar to where Leo lay half-asleep in the recliner in front of the TV. Her pulse began to hammer her temples. “My husband’s not well. You’ll disturb him. I’ve told you that I’ll be making up those payments soon . . . as soon as I can. I’m working extra hours, but if I lose the car, I can’t get there. Certainly you can understand that.”

  “Better check the bus schedules, Gayle. If we don’t get—”

  She jabbed the disconnect button and sagged back against the kitchen counter. The man was relentless. He’d actually called the hospital today, told the clerk he was her brother and there was a family emergency. And he wasn’t the only creditor who’d been hounding her. It was turning into a nightmare.

  She picked up the knife she’d left on the cutting board, a utility blade from the expensive German set Leo had given her for Valentine’s Day—probably part of the overdue balance on their Visa card. She stared at the knife, the earlier anger receding into an empty sadness that came too often lately. When had roses, jewelry, chocolates, even simple kindness given way to kitchen tools? Somehow they’d lost all of that. And now . . . I’m losing everything.

  “God, please,” she breathed aloud, surprising herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even come close to a prayer. At this point, after all her mistakes, God would be as eager to hear from her as she was to see that collections thug on her front porch. There didn’t seem to be any way out of this mess. But at least she’d solved one problem, even if temporarily.

  Gayle glanced at the amber medication bottles, a narcotic and muscle relaxers. Those pills, with a beer chaser, were the only reason her husband wasn’t in here right now complaining and criticizing or—

  “Whatcha doing there?” Leo blurted, his sudden appearance causing Gayle to cringe.

  “Cleaning up, that’s all.” She made herself smile. “I made some dinners for the rest of the week, so you’ll have—”

  “You look tired,” he said, stepping forward and searching her face. “A lot lately. And you’re too thin, babe. Bony even. Aren’t you eating?”

  “It’s the extra shifts, I guess. And problems at work.” Gayle thought of her confrontation with Jessica and felt a stab of guilt. She’d done what she had to. “I’m dealing with it.” Tears rose unexpectedly.

  “Hey . . . c’mere.” Leo opened his arms, waited until she moved into them. “Shh,” he murmured into her hair. “It’s okay.”

  “Oh, Leo . . .” She closed her eyes, pretending it really was okay, that this out-of-the-blue moment could last. Continue beyond the effects of the beer and the medications she’d done the unthinkable to obtain. His embrace tightened, defensive-guard muscles gone soft with age and repeated injury but still strong—a touch that could inflict pain as easily as comfort. Still, in Gayle’s whole life, this had been the safest place she’d known. If only there was a chance . . .

  “I’m sorry you have to work so hard,” Leo said. “I’m going to make it up to you. I’m going to make it right.” />
  “I know.” She inhaled to dispel a wave of dizziness, trying not to imagine how her husband would react if the car were repossessed. It could happen. But this brief reprieve in their ugly, ongoing scrimmage was something to be grateful for. Right now, she’d settle for that.

  HER PLANTS WERE DYING.

  Lauren gave the peace lily a ginger touch and watched a leaf fall onto the tabletop. So much for a top-ten-easy houseplant. She’d moved a trio of potted plants from Houston to Austin and then back again. Three homes in less than a year, and all of them were having problems adjusting. She frowned, realizing that the same thing could be said about her. Except that for Lauren, it would be four homes, now that she was sleeping at her parents’ place. She’d only recently finished unpacking here.

  She glanced around the one-bedroom apartment she’d chosen because she could afford it. The one she’d really wanted was in a gleaming high-rise with a view of Buffalo Bayou. Not on a nurse’s salary. Still, this space was modern and light-filled, with a garden tub, maple floors, and a small tiled balcony. The balcony had made the decision easier. A room with a view. Lauren could stand—on her tiptoes, craning her neck—and catch a minuscule glimpse of Hermann Park. The park where Fletcher rescued Darcee Grafton from her painful dance. Considering where the girl was now, perhaps leaving her there would have been a better thing. In the end, saving her might prove fatal.

  Her gaze moved to her laptop sitting beside the potted plant, at the page pulled up on the screen: a page discussing bipolar disorder, complete with graphics of the comedy and tragedy masks, van Gogh’s Starry Night, and a vividly colored snapshot of a brain MRI. There was also a wrenching black-and-white photo of a woman curled up in the corner of a room. Lauren tried to tell herself it was Darcee Grafton who’d prompted this Internet search. But it wasn’t the first time Lauren had held her breath while reading lists of manic symptoms: decreased need for sleep, pressured speech, racing thoughts, impaired judgment . . . irritability and hypersexuality. And the less dramatic symptoms of hypomania, often difficult to diagnose, since they could “masquerade as mere happiness.”