by Robbi McCoy
“I see,” he said. “You were crying over someone else, someone you lost.”
“No, no, not exactly.” He must think I’m an idiot, Lauren thought. “It was Cassie. Seeing her there reminded me of how I felt the other time. My partner Faith died two years ago. She had cancer and we spent a lot of time in the hospital over the last year of her life.”
“I’m sorry,” he said gently.
“But even though this reminded me of that, it wasn’t about Faith. I mean, I really do care about Cassie.”
Eric sat watching her, his eyes calm. He reminded her so much of Cassie, making her feel like she could trust him and he could understand her.
“I love her,” Lauren added.
Before he could respond, they heard a commotion outside the room and saw a nurse running past, following by an orderly. They hurried into the hallway to see them both disappear into Cassie’s room. Eric bounded down the hall. Lauren approached more slowly, hearing raised, argumentative voices from inside. Then the orderly shoved Eric out of the room and slammed the door against him.
He turned and looked at Lauren, fear contorting his face. “Seizure,” he said breathlessly.
She leaned against a wall for support. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Only a half hour after she had realized how much she loved her, Cassie could be dying. She slumped onto a bench while Eric paced outside the room. What she’d told him, or tried to tell him, had been true. Seeing Cassie in a hospital bed, unconscious, had brought up feelings in her that forced her to face the fact that she felt as deep a love for Cassie as she had for Faith. She felt the same connection and the same concern for her well being. She felt like she was lying there with her, broken and struggling to remain alive. And she felt like she would die too if Cassie did. If there was any difference between these feelings and the ones she’d had two years ago with Faith, it was too subtle to register.
If Cassie died, not only would Lauren lose another woman she loved, but she would never have a chance to tell her. Cassie would never know that Lauren had been mistaken about what she wanted, that she’d been driven by fear to deny her feelings. At least there had been time to make sure, with Faith, that she knew how much she was loved.
The door to Cassie’s room finally opened. Lauren jumped up to join Eric in greeting the nurse.
“She’s calm now,” the nurse said. “I’ll call her doctor.”
“What does it mean?” Eric asked.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to talk to the doctor about that. I don’t know if he’ll be in tonight or not.”
“When you call him,” Eric said authoritatively, “you tell him to call me.” He handed the nurse his business card. “I’m her son.”
“Yes, sir,” said the nurse before walking off.
Lauren stepped toward the door to Cassie’s room.
Eric grabbed her arm and held her back. “Are you sure you want to go in there?”
“I’m fine now. Really. I won’t fall apart again, I promise.”
He looked concerned, but released his hold and followed her into the room. She found Cassie looking the same as before, peacefully absent from their world. There was no evidence of the violence that had struck her a few moments earlier. Eric stood behind her as the two of them watched, wordlessly.
“Do you want to go to the house?” he asked at last. “Maybe get some dinner?”
She nodded. He stepped out of the room. Lauren moved closer to Cassie, looking at her face with a new sense of wonder. She kissed her pale cheek, then stroked it gently. “I love you, Cassie,” she said quietly next to her ear.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Eric and Lauren settled into the beach house together as they maintained their vigil over Cassie. For lunch the next day Eric made a beautiful, garlicky Greek salad with heirloom tomatoes, kalamata olives and feta cheese.
“Considering how small this place is,” he said, tossing the salad, “they’ve got a thriving Farmer’s Market. I picked up a huge bunch of basil this morning. I couldn’t resist it.”
Lauren held out her bowl as he served the salad. “I smelled it when I came in. Lovely stuff.”
“I can make pesto,” he said. “It won’t take but five minutes in the food processor. Then I can freeze it. Leave it there for later, for some rainy winter day when Mom wants the taste of summer.”
He had gone to the market after visiting the hospital. There was no change, he reported, when he got back. The doctor had come by, ordered another brain scan. He said that if the swelling didn’t go down soon, they might have to operate, cut into Cassie’s skull to relieve the pressure. Somehow the basil and the tomatoes had made Eric more lighthearted, even after that news.
“I get the feeling you know my mother very well,” he said as they ate, “despite the ten-year break.”
“I feel like I do, but I may be wrong. I’ve always felt that way about her, from the day we met. So I guess it can’t be true.”
“Actually, it could be true.” He took a swallow from his water glass. “Sometimes you can know someone in a different way, like you’re on the same wavelength, don’t you think?”
“Yes. That’s what it is, I suppose.”
“I don’t feel like I know her much at all.” He shook his head, a dark shock of hair falling over his forehead. “I never lived with her for more than two weeks at a time. There wasn’t anything routine about that. It was like a holiday. She took me places, like the zoo, and gave me gifts. It was like Christmas whenever I was there. I never really thought of her as my mother. She was more like a family friend or maybe an aunt.”
“I know what you mean. My parents were divorced too. I lived with my mother. So my father became this larger than life character. Not a father, not in the everyday sense as someone who punishes you and sets your limits. When I saw him, which was rare, it was like you’re saying, not regular life. He was always happy, funny and attentive. I thought he was the most wonderful man. When I was a child, I never thought about how that wasn’t how he always was.”
“My mother was like that too. Always cheerful, always fun. I don’t think I ever even saw her cry. Not once.”
Lauren smiled to herself, then said, “But she did cry. She had some bad times. She saw you so seldom, she put on a happy face for you whatever else was going on.”
He shrugged and took another forkful of salad.
“Your mother suffered too,” Lauren said, impulsively.
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“I don’t think you’ve been fair with her. You should take some time to really get to know her and make up your own mind. I mean, it was understandable that you felt this way as a twelve year old, but you’re well into adulthood now. I think you owe her an attempt at least at understanding. You give that much to all these strangers you work with. Why not your own mother?”
Oh, shit, she thought, I’ve crossed the line for sure now.
Eric regarded her calmly with his mother’s brown eyes. “Did you talk about me to her?” he asked.
She nodded, feeling guilty for butting into their family relationships. But she’d started now. “You’ve only heard one side of the story.”
“She could have told me her side at any time,” he pointed out.
“I know. I think you’re both responsible for this situation. She has a lot of pain and guilt she prefers to keep to herself. Maybe she feels she deserves the anger and hatred you have for her.”
“I don’t hate her,” he said flatly.
“Part of you does. The shy little boy with no friends and no siblings. You obviously blame her for that. You don’t allow for the fact that she’s just as flawed as anyone else and has made mistakes. Which she acknowledges.”
Eric regarded her calmly. “She’s never admitted any mistakes to me.”
“That’s because you’ve never discussed these things.”
He stared momentarily, then stood, collecting the salad bowls. “Maybe you’re right. We never really talk about what
matters. It’s all very superficial. Always has been. It’s easier that way, I guess. I think of myself as a pretty good listener. I listen to people talk about their problems a lot, actually. But my mother’s never been talkative that way, at least not to me. What did she tell you? I mean, what is her side of the story?”
“You should ask her that. I don’t think I should be the one to tell you.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess so. I hope she has the chance to tell me herself.”
Lauren, hearing the emotion in his voice, said nothing. Then he sat down again and looked at her, his eyes sad.
“The weird thing is,” he said, running his hand through his thick hair, “I didn’t expect to feel the way I’ve been feeling the last couple days. When I got the call from the hospital, I remember feeling nothing at all, except pissed off that I had to be the one to come up here and deal with this. As Adele reminded me, I’m the only family she has. Like I said, though, I don’t really feel like we’re family. But now that I’m here, I’m having all these feelings, worrying she’s going to die, feeling afraid and sad and lonely. I wouldn’t have thought it would hit me like this.” He laughed lightly. “It seems like you and I are having the same surprise experience.”
Lauren regarded him sympathetically, impressed by his ability to open up to her, something he hadn’t been able to do with his mother. It was the same for Cassie. She seemed to have no trouble talking to Lauren.
“Maybe it’s because of all your unresolved conflict,” she suggested. “Sometimes I think the people who have the hardest time when someone dies are those who appear the most removed. It’s because they’ve carried a hurt around deep inside their whole lives. And then it’s too late to do anything about it. They’re stuck with it. Even people who seem not to care. When it comes right down to it, everybody does care if their mother or father or son loves them, knows them...forgives them.”
Eric bit his lower lip in a gesture Lauren recognized as an attempt to control his emotions.
“That happened with Faith’s sister Charity,” she continued. “She and Faith never got along. The only way they could tolerate one another was to stay far apart. Different states. Though they were sisters, they just never liked each other, you know? But after Faith died, Charity went into a surprising period of mourning. She called me all the time and we talked for hours about their childhood. I’ve gotten to know her well in the last two years, but in all the years before that, I only even saw her a few times. I went to visit her last month, to take her some trinkets, some family mementos. She spoke so affectionately about Faith. I think she’s forgotten that they basically couldn’t stand each other.”
“That’s weird,” Eric said.
“Oh, not so weird. Their younger sister died when they were kids. Their parents are both dead. Charity is the only one left now. I think it’s natural for her to feel a powerful sense of loss. Because it’s not my Faith she’s missing. It’s her Faith, her little sister from a long time ago.”
Eric nodded. “Did she see Faith before she died?”
“She came out a few months before. Even then, it was all either of them could do to remain civil. Despite how Charity feels right now, there never was much chance they could have any kind of congenial relationship as adults.”
Eric nodded thoughtfully as Lauren got up and put the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher.
“What do you want to do this afternoon?” he asked.
“I think I’d like to go to the hospital. I can take my laptop and work on my article.”
“Okay. I think I’ll fix the gate. The bottom hinge has pulled loose. I can tinker around here. Call me if there’s any change.”
“I will.”
She hoped Eric would have his opportunity to talk to his mother, just as Lauren was hoping to be able to talk to her again herself. It seemed there was a line forming of people with serious messages for Cassie when she woke up.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lauren managed to make a comfortable workspace in the hospital room, moving the visitor’s chair closer to the window and using the window sill as a shelf for her soda can and notepad. Nurses and nurse’s aides came and went through the afternoon, taking Cassie’s blood pressure and temperature, replacing the saline solution, emptying the catheter bag. Lauren worked on her article, taking breaks when her eyes or back got tired. A break involved walking around the hospital, going to the restroom, getting a drink of water. Sometimes she took breaks in place and just stared out the window at a cloudy sky. She was not getting much work done. Her mind kept drifting.
Being there still felt familiar to her like the many days she had spent beside Faith’s hospital bed, but she was no longer upset by it. Cassie was an entirely different person and this was an entirely different situation. During these private hours, she had plenty of time to think about her own feelings, how she had suppressed them, denied them and run from them. She had time, too, to think about what it meant to acknowledge her feelings for Cassie. But it was hard to think very far ahead under the circumstances. Although she was hopeful Cassie would recover, she knew how untrustworthy hope could be.
At six o’ clock, Lauren gathered her things and prepared to leave, stopping beside the bed. Cassie looked so much like she was merely sleeping, as if she would wake up if she were jostled. Or kissed by some handsome prince...or princess.
Lauren kissed her cheek. “I love you, Cassie,” she said again, then left.
They repeated this routine the following day. Eric went over in the morning, then came home with his report.
“No more seizures,” he said. “Things are looking better. The swelling is down. At the moment, it looks like they won’t have to operate.”
“That’s wonderful news!”
Lauren went over for the afternoon with her laptop and sat as before by the window while Eric stayed at the house painting the fence and gate he’d repaired. At five o’ clock, an aide brought in a dinner tray and set it on the bed stand.
“She’s not eating. She’s unconscious,” Lauren said.
“I know, but it’s on the orders. The doctor must have thought she might wake up today. So we have to bring it. You can have it if you want.”
The aide left. Lauren went to inspect the tray, though she knew she wasn’t going to choose hospital food over whatever Eric had planned for dinner. She lifted the pink plastic lid to reveal a plate of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy and waffled carrot coins. She put the lid back. There was a brownie in a tiny plate covered with plastic wrap. She unwrapped it and took a bite. Not bad, she thought. Her diet here reminded her of her college days—soda and dessert.
She nearly choked on her second bite as she heard a gurgle from the bed. Cassie’s eyes were open! She was staring right at Lauren in a strangely vacant way, as if she didn’t see her, like a blind woman. Oh, God, Lauren thought, don’t let her be brain damaged!
Then Cassie blinked and her eyes seemed to gradually focus, but her expression remained blank. It was a haunting look that left Lauren terrified.
“Cassie,” Lauren said, drawing near and taking hold of her right hand. “Can you hear me?”
Her eyes moved to meet Lauren’s, then her fingers pressed lightly into Lauren’s palm. Her mouth moved and she made a guttural sound, a short stutter that sounded nothing like words.
“Oh, Cassie, can’t you talk? Do you recognize me?”
She turned her head slowly, looking at the tray of food. She pulled her hand from Lauren’s and pointed at the tray, making a noise that sounded like “were.”
“Water?”
She nodded weakly.
Lauren poured a cup of water and held it to her lips as she took tiny sips. “Please forgive me,” Lauren said, trying to stop her hand from shaking. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you alone. God, what a fool I’ve been! Now you can’t talk and maybe can’t walk and who knows what else is wrong with you. Can you move your toes? You don’t know who I am, do you? Do you know w
ho you are?”
When she seemed to have finished drinking, Lauren took the cup away. Cassie licked her lips very deliberately.
“What do you want?” Lauren asked. “Are you in pain?”
“Lauren—” she pronounced clearly.
Lauren grabbed her hand again, elated. “Yes! You recognize me.”
“I recognize you’re a blithering idiot,” she said calmly. “My mouth was like cotton. Couldn’t move my tongue. Better now. Thanks.” Cassie winced. “Oh, shit, my head hurts.”
By the following day, Cassie was able to converse normally and appeared to be thinking clearly. Lauren brought her some magazines, slippers, bath robe and loaned her an MP3 player.
“Thank you,” Cassie said, thumbing through the music menu. “This will be a good alternative to the TV. It will help block out all the noise too.”
Lauren sat back in the visitor’s chair, watching Cassie contentedly as she taught herself to work the music player. Lovely, precious face, Lauren thought, even with that scowl of concentration. The scowl gave way shortly to a satisfied smile.
“What are you listening to?” Lauren asked.
“I’m in your oldies folder. Bananarama.”
Lauren chuckled. Cassie removed the ear buds and set the device on her bed stand.
“What happened?” Lauren asked. “Why did you fall? Do you remember?”
“It was stupid.” Cassie waved her good arm dismissively. “I was walking the bluff trail, as usual. I heard a sea lion barking. Down below. He was making a racket like he was in trouble or angry or something. So I moved closer to the edge to look over.”
“And the ground gave way?”
“Right. I knew better. Like I said, it was stupid. The last thing I remember was sliding, trying to grab something, and then that barking. That sea lion was probably just bragging about a fish.”
Although Lauren had never seriously considered that Cassie had jumped, she was relieved to have that belief corroborated.