After just under an hour of house chores, I stopped, wondering if meeting Ronnie for lunch was any sort of option to take seriously. I saw the raindrops on the windows, zigzagging down. The house is crying, I thought. It’s upset with how I think of it now. I started to smile at the idea when I heard my mobile phone ringing. I went out to the kitchen, opened my purse and answered it. I knew it couldn’t be Ronnie. He would have called on our landline first.
‘Sorry about leaving you like that this morning,’ Lancaster said. ‘I can’t concentrate on anything but you.’
‘Is it guilt or desire?’
‘After you see the result, you tell me,’ he replied.
I smiled. It felt as if the smile radiated throughout my body. The heavy depression and sense of rage dissipated. The energy that replaced it was the energy of youth, fresh, full and driven by the kind of excitement that turned your nerves into electric probes searching for pleasure. You wanted speed and movement, you wanted laughter, and you wanted to feel more alive, a feeling you could reach only by courting danger. I was Hemingway’s bullfighter in Death in the Afternoon, never feeling more alive than when he was looking into the eyes of the charging bull.
All the morality and sin, the condemnation and criticism were wrapped up in my charging bull. I would snap my red cape and send it in another direction, and the applause I would hear would carry me off on the shoulders of my own selfish pleasure. It didn’t matter. There was no regret, not now, maybe not ever.
‘I’m on my way,’ I said. ‘Despite my shower, your kisses still linger on my breasts. They tingle.’
‘When I’m with you, I feel like we’re writing poetry together,’ Lancaster said
‘Let me count the ways,’ I said. ‘My private Casanova.’ I hung up and hurried to change. It was almost like the first time. I was in my car and backing out of the garage, with everything I had done to prepare a vague memory, an uncertainty. Had I done any of it? I shot out of the driveway like an ambulance chaser. NPR was suddenly not good enough. I wanted Kelly’s music. I wanted the car to vibrate with the rhythm. I wanted to sing along.
‘I’m coming, my love,’ I said. ‘I’m coming,’ I screamed and laughed. ‘I’ve made up my mind. I cannot tolerate what my life has become any longer. We’re going to plan this change, this escape for me together. I’m going off with you. I don’t care about the end game. I want to travel, to see the world the way you see it, to feel the way you feel about anything and everything. I want to take the risk. I’m a kite whose string has broken. Let the wind carry me. I won’t even ask where. I’ll never complain.’
How easy this is going to be, I thought. Why did it take me so long to realize it? I had cut that string long ago. My husband and my daughter lived in their own worlds and really didn’t want me intruding in them. Ronnie and I had a paint-by-numbers marriage now, and I had a paint-by-numbers relationship with my daughter. We moved from one thing to another like the hands of a clock, ticking to do this, ticking to do that, all of it programed and expected. If I threatened or even thought to make any changes, it set off alarms. What would happen to our family clock? It would stop. Could you live with that?
You can’t live here and be anything more than an obedient wife and a reliable mother. Oh, pardon me if I don’t break down feeling so sorry for you. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ I heard Ronnie and Kelly ask simultaneously. ‘How could you want to be an individual now? How could you be so selfish as to challenge our selfishness?’
I heard laughing and realized it was my laughter, which only brought on more. That was all the answer I needed to give them.
I made a turn and accelerated toward the highway that would take me out to our motel. I was thinking of it as our motel now, our rendezvous, a room with a rose on a pillow and with the windows and doors shut to keep out the rest of the world. Nothing or no one could stop us from reaching the ecstasy we were meant to enjoy. It was easy. Pay the ferryman to cross us from one world to another.
How delicious was my anticipation. I could hear his voice, feel his breath on my cheek. Yes, the sex was wonderful, but it wasn’t only the sex. I liked being with him. I liked the way he challenged almost every thought, every idea and every hesitation I expressed. He enjoyed me as much if not more than I enjoyed him. He made me feel like the woman I wanted to be again. He was restoring me. How could I ever turn away from that? How could I lose him?
Lose him? What if he wasn’t there? What if my behavior this morning was too much? What if, since he called me, he had rethought it all? He could have second, even third thoughts. Maybe I had become too much baggage. If he left, how would I know? Where could I find him? What would I return to?
Panic seized me. I sped up. The rain was falling faster, heavier. He was calling to me. I heard my name. The anticipation was getting intense. I felt my breathing quicken and then become even more difficult. My heart was pounding to the same rhythm of the windshield wipers. The drops were getting through and becoming tears on my cheeks.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of the horn, a desperate cry like the shrill, desperate cry of a horse, and then I heard the screech of tires and the explosion of metal and glass. I was in slow motion, turning and turning until the darkness came crashing down over me like a heavy iron lid. I heard it slam shut against my own desperate cry, a ‘NOOOOO’ that echoed and echoed until it died away.
I felt nothing, no pain. I floated in the darkness. I had no idea how long. Light returned first as a very thin silvery sliver and then widened and widened until I could see the white ceiling. Sounds were muffled. They began like a recording being played too slowly and gradually started to speed up until I heard someone say, ‘Mrs Howard?’
I turned toward the voice and looked at a nurse smiling down at me. She had short, dark brown hair and a face that looked chiseled out of greyish white granite with brown spots along her temple that looked tapped on with a small felt pen. Her eyes were like polished pecans. My first thought was How did she get into my dream?
She took my left hand. I looked at it in hers and then up at her.
She spoke slowly, calmly.
‘I know you’re confused,’ she began. ‘You’re in the intensive care unit of the hospital. You were in a car accident, an accident with a dump truck,’ she added, smiling as though that was one big joke. ‘You have a stable fracture of your tibia in your right leg, three cracked ribs and some neck and facial trauma. You had internal bleeding, but that’s stopped.’
‘I don’t remember being in an accident,’ I said. I wanted to get out of this dream as quickly as possible, but instinctively I knew she could keep me here.
My jaw ached and I raised my right arm to feel it.
‘You have a slight fracture in your jaw bone, but it’s not serious. We’ll keep you on soft foods for a while, however.’
‘I don’t remember any accident,’ I repeated with more emphasis.
The bed sheets felt real now and the machinery around me looked authentic. I realized this wasn’t a dream. Nevertheless, I thought I should protest that I didn’t belong here. This was all some terrible mistake. Hospitals were infamous for making mistakes, weren’t they? People had the wrong leg or arm amputated, and people too often were given the wrong medication. I watched 60 Minutes. I knew all the deeply held secrets.
‘You’ve been in a coma for nearly five days. You had some swelling of your brain. I’ll get the doctor who will explain it all to you, and we’ll inform your husband that you’ve regained consciousness. He’s been here on and off the whole time with your daughter. They left just a little more than a half-hour ago, in fact,’ she said, ‘to get some dinner in the cafeteria.’
‘Five days?’
She smiled. ‘Under the circumstances, you did well. If you saw your car, you’d agree that you’re very lucky,’ she added, making it sound like a personal achievement, something I could have controlled and did so well.
‘Has anyone else come to see me?’
‘Your father and your i
n-laws were here yesterday while I was on duty.’
‘Anyone else call?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll check at the desk. Just relax. The doctor will be here right away and give you more information.’
She raised me up a bit by pressing a button on the bed.
‘That OK?’
I could see more of the room now and through the window I could see that there was no longer any possible doubt. I really was in a hospital intensive care unit. There was a lot of activity going on, but I didn’t see any windows to the outside. I couldn’t tell if it was day or night. Had I become my mother as I had feared? Was I on my death bed? Was this the journey from one world to another?
‘Mrs Howard?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m OK,’ I said, even though I felt a little dizzy. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s nearly six p.m.’
‘My throat feels like sandpaper.’
‘I’ll get you something to drink,’ she said. And then to really add some humor this time, she added, ‘Don’t go away.’
I closed my eyes. There was pain, but it was dull and almost felt as if it was outside my body, but those parts of my body that had no injury weren’t behaving any better. The feelings emanating from them were odd. It was as if a crust had formed over all of me. There were tingles and itches, stinging and aching, along with some numbness. I wanted to squirm and work my way out of my own body, the way a snake might slide out of its old skin. That’s what I would do, I thought. I would get into a new body and leave this shell on the bed, still hooked up to the machinery and IV bags. My new body would have no broken bones, no fractures and no traumas. I would be fresh and vibrant again.
And Lancaster would be waiting for me right outside.
‘What took you so long?’ he would ask with that wry smile.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I would say. ‘Just get me out of here, quickly.’
But nothing like that happened, of course. When I opened my eyes, I was still here, still a prisoner of pain, a wounded warrior of highway wars. Yes, I was in an automobile accident. I would get a Purple Heart from the Department of Motor Vehicles.
How did this happen? How did I get into an accident? I struggled to remember. Images were jumbled and distorted. I moaned with frustration. I had been on my way somewhere, but where? And when exactly was it? Trying to remember was actually painful. I closed my eyes.
‘Mrs Howard?’ I heard and opened my eyes again. ‘I’m Doctor Temple,’ he said. He looked like a man in his late twenties or early thirties with prematurely graying hair because his face was so soft, so wrinkle-free, and he had youthful ice-blue eyes that twinkled with amusement. The nurse who had spoken to me came up beside him and fiddled with a glass of water that had a cover and a straw protruding. She held it close enough to my lips for me to begin to sip.
‘Mrs Dennis told me how much she has told you. It’s protocol to explain as much as possible as quickly as possible to a patient who regains consciousness as fully as you’ve regained it after being in a coma for days. Nevertheless, I’m sure it’s still all quite shocking for you.’
I stopped sucking on the straw. The water felt as if it was burning a little anyway.
‘Was it deliberate?’ I asked.
The idea was just bubbling up in my troubled brain.
‘Deliberate?’ Dr Temple asked. He looked at the nurse, Mrs Dennis, who shook her head slightly.
‘The truck driver,’ I said. ‘Did he deliberately crash into me to stop me?’
‘Stop you from what?’ Dr Temple asked. He looked more confused than I felt.
How would he know anything anyway? I thought.
‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘Why did I go into a coma for days?’
‘You suffered a concussion and a contusion. You had some brain swelling, but, thankfully, almost immediately we saw signs of reduction, so we were confident you’d regain consciousness. The neurologist, Doctor Fernhoff, will be here to see you either later today or tomorrow morning and explain it all in more detail. While you were unconscious, we put you through all the scans and got started on mending all your injuries. You’ll be uncomfortable for a while, but you won’t be in any great pain. Now that you’ve regained consciousness, we’ll look into getting you into your own room.’
‘How long will I be in the hospital?’
‘Oh, it will be a while,’ Dr Temple said, smiling as if I had asked the dumbest question of all. ‘Just concentrate on getting well again and don’t fight the process that will help you to do so,’ he added. Now I thought he sounded as if he was threatening me. Don’t resist or else.
Ronnie and Kelly stepped through the doorway and stood just behind the doctor. He turned to them.
‘Not too long,’ he said.
They both looked so terrified that I nearly laughed. When the doctor stepped back, they inched their way toward me. Ronnie leaned over to kiss my forehead. Kelly stood back, studying me as if she suspected an alien might have entered my body during all this.
‘I guess I look awful,’ I said. Ronnie started to shake his head, but Kelly said, ‘Yes.’
Dr Temple started out and Mrs Dennis followed him. Ronnie watched them leaving and then turned back to me.
‘You went through a red light,’ he said, his voice heavy with criticism. ‘You were going pretty fast, too. Do you remember anything?’
‘I don’t remember any light, red or otherwise.’
‘The truck driver had only minor injuries, but I’m sure some lawyer will get him complaining about pains and aches and work up a fat settlement. Don’t worry. The insurance agency will take it out of our hide.’
If he was hoping to hear me apologize, he was in for a long wait. Anyway, it was unfair to blame me. I couldn’t remember so I couldn’t defend myself.
‘Maybe he was the one who went through the red light,’ I suggested.
‘I wish,’ he said, ‘but there were witnesses.’
‘How do you feel?’ Kelly asked. ‘Does your leg or your head hurt?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I feel some stinging on my side and on my face. My jaw aches a little, but I don’t feel anything up here,’ I said, raising my right hand to touch my head and realizing it was bandaged. Of course it would be.
‘Do you remember where you were going?’ Ronnie asked. His eyelids were nearly closed. I knew that face too well. He was asking for a reason, out of a suspicion.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t remember anything about it.’
‘Because I had called you that morning to invite you to lunch. Does that help your memory?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘Why would you go out in the rain? You said you had housework you had to get done.’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘What could have been so important?’
Mrs Dennis had not really left us, apparently. She had lingered behind and came up very quickly.
‘You don’t want to pressure her about anything, Mr Howard,’ she said softly. ‘It’s too early.’
Ronnie nodded and backed away from the bed, as if how close he was to me mattered, too.
‘I’ve got everything under control at the house,’ he said. ‘You don’t worry about anything. Just work on getting better. I’ll call your father as soon as I leave you and give him an update.’
‘How is he? He didn’t miss his golf game, did he?’ I asked.
Kelly actually smiled. ‘She’s feeling just fine,’ she told Ronnie and finally stepped up close enough to lean over and kiss my cheek. ‘I’m glad you’re going to be OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll come to see you after school tomorrow. Oh. All your friends have been calling.’
‘Who?’ I asked quickly. Ronnie’s eyebrows rose. I caught his new interest.
Kelly rattled off the names of my girlfriends and then added that Carlton Saunders had called.
‘Maybe he thinks you’ll need a lawyer,’ Ronnie said. His comment was full of implications. Even in my semi-dizzy state, I picked that up.
‘I’ll be here in the morning,’ he said. ‘Before I go to work. Have a good night.’
‘Maybe I’ll go dancing,’ I said. Suddenly, I felt so overwhelmingly tired that I couldn’t keep my eyes from slamming shut. Their voices drifted away as they spoke to the nurse and then I was asleep again.
I don’t know how long I actually slept, but I remembered another doctor, the neurologist, coming to see me. He was much older than Dr Temple. He said a lot, but all I recalled was his saying I had only a hairline fracture of my skull and there was nothing to do about that but let it heal. Fortunately, I had no need for any surgery.
His face drifted in and out of my memory as I slept and woke up, slept and woke up, greeted new nurses and watched all the action around my bed. I really did feel like an observer and not the actual patient. And then, when there was a lull and the entire place seemed to go into a semi-conscious state, he walked in and touched my hand. When I opened my eyes, he leaned down to kiss me, not on the cheek but on the lips. Why hadn’t Ronnie done that?
‘I was worried about you,’ I said.
‘You were worrying about me? That’s a switch. I’ve been by a number of times over the past few days,’ he said. ‘I just learned you regained consciousness.’ He looked back and then turned back to me and said, ‘Don’t worry. No one knows I’ve been here or knows I’m here now.’
‘I know. You’re good at slipping in and out of people’s lives,’ I said, and he laughed.
‘Have no fear. I’m not slipping out of yours,’ he said.
I smiled. My eyelids were heavy again. I fought hard to keep them from closing, but they wouldn’t be denied.
‘Don’t worry,’ I heard him whisper. ‘I won’t slip away from you.’
FOURTEEN
Lost in His Eyes Page 20