Becoming Ellen

by Shari Shattuck

  “We’ll be right back, Ellen. Maybe you can find something informative to read on the hospital website,” Temerity said. “You were just asking me about vitamin supplements, weren’t you?”

  Amanda turned back. “Wait, let me sign in for you.” She leaned across Ellen, who shrank away, and punched in a few numbers. “There, click on nutritional information, or . . . Ooh! There’s going to be a farmers’ market in the parking lot on Thursdays now. You can check that out.”

  Temerity took Amanda’s arm, and as they started away she fluttered her other hand behind her back, as though she were punching something with her fingers.

  As she watched them go, Ellen thought sadly, She wants me to hack into the patient register.

  Ellen’s lack of knowledge about how to use a computer was almost complete. Justice had tried to show her some basics, but it was all so overwhelming and just seemed so unnecessary. Especially since Ellen didn’t own a computer of her own, and didn’t want one. When Justice had tried to interest her in social networks, she had reminded him that she didn’t know anyone. So after explaining to her how to research a topic she might be interested in, he had let it go.

  Ellen looked at the screen in front of her. Up on the right was a little oblong space next to the word Search. She recognized that. Painstakingly, finding one letter at a time, Ellen typed in p-a-t-i-e-n-t l-i-s-t.

  To her absolute amazement, the screen changed. Now a little box asked her for a patient name.

  Ellen typed c-a-r-s-o-n.

  The machine flitted, and then offered her three choices. Armin A. Carson, Jeffery Clark Carson, and Madeline Carson. Ellen clicked on the last one and a file appeared.

  The first thing on the file was the name and a number. L-346. Ellen began to scan below it. There appeared to be lists of drugs, treatments, times and dates of personnel who had worked on this patient, and then Ellen saw a few sentences that didn’t seem to be in Arabic. It was a report written by a doctor.

  The patient was admitted with extreme spinal trauma with damage to the (a whole bunch of words that Ellen assumed described parts of Madeline Carson’s body or spine) she was unresponsive, but her vital signs were strong. She was sent to surgery where Smith and Valripieri performed a (more technical stuff) and was sent to the spinal wing to await recovery. As of 1-16 at 9:15 p.m. there has been very little discernable nerve response and the patient has not recovered full consciousness. Prognosis, partial paralysis of the (mumbo jumbo) and permanent nerve damage. Patient has no medical coverage. Recommendation, transfer to a state facility.

  Ellen sat back and stared at the evil words.

  Partial paralysis. Nerve damage. And worst of all, state facility.

  She hit the home button and was infinitely relieved to see the screen that Amanda had been looking at when they came in.

  She heard Temerity talking loudly in the hall, more loudly than was necessary. “So, in conclusion,” Temerity said as they came to a stop and she reached out to feel for the doorway, “I’m offering a swift kick in the butt, if you feel you require assistance.”

  Amanda laughed. “He worries about leaving you alone.”

  “Crazy, right? Who could be more capable than me? Why, just this morning I made a citizen’s arrest of a carjacker. Though in retrospect, it might have been her car, based on the fact that she had the keys and I heard the kid in the back call her Mommy. Let’s go, Ellen.”

  They said good-bye and started for the elevator banks. “Did you find it?” Temerity hissed.

  Ellen wanted to say no, to say that she hadn’t found anything. More than that, she wanted to have not found anything, but it was too late for that.

  “Yes. I found it.”

  “She’s here?”

  Ellen looked at Temerity’s happy face. She hated crushing that hope. But there was only one answer she could give. She exhaled forcibly and said, “Yes, she’s here.”

  “Great!”

  “But not for long.”

  “Great,” Temerity repeated. It sounded like a completely different word.

  6

  The “wing” turned out to be a detached building. Ellen and Temerity went up to the third floor and found a kind of covered walkway that took them right over the busy street below. There was no separate security for the spinal wing from this entry, the logic being, Ellen supposed, that you’d already passed muster if you made it this far.

  L-346 was on the same floor. They found the ward quickly and quietly because the halls were mostly deserted but well marked. There was no door that closed off the large ward from the hallway, only a wide opening. As they came to a stop in it, Ellen could feel her friend’s hand tighten on her shoulder in anticipation. “What do we have here?” Temerity asked in a low voice.

  “There are two rows of beds,” Ellen whispered. “Five on each side, and lots of . . . machinery.”

  Temerity blew air through her pursed lips, in an obvious effort at staying calm. “Life support. Some of them anyway, I’m guessing. Others may just be monitors. Is anyone else here?”

  “No hospital staff, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Okay, let’s go, bwana.”

  “Let’s go . . . what?” Ellen was confused. Temerity often used words she didn’t know, but she suspected that she’d made this one up.

  “Bwana. It means ‘boss,’ or something like that. I read it in a Tarzan book. In this case I’m using it because you’re the guide, like on safari.”

  That made Ellen think she should have some kind of rifle or at least a machete. They started down the right side. The beds were separated by curtains on tracks, pulled closed on the sides for privacy, but left open to the center of the ward. As they went along, Ellen read the names on the charts hung on the foot of each of the beds. She stopped at the fifth and final bed.

  “This is her,” she said, staring fixedly at the chart because she didn’t want to look up. The memory of the woman jammed between the seats on the bus had been hard enough to see. A second, unerasable imprint of the result of those injuries Ellen preferred to avoid, if at all possible.

  Temerity let go of Ellen and slipped in along the right side of the bed. She was able to avoid the machines that beeped and whirred by their sounds and a careful exploration with her hands. Ellen slid along the left side of the bed until she was partially concealed by the curtain, which was drawn to shade the bed from weak sunlight coming from the windowed wall next to it. Feeling somewhat safer, she finally raised her eyes to find that Temerity was holding the woman’s limp and bruised hand. Ellen waited to see what would happen, if the woman would wake up and say something. Or not.

  Speaking softly, Temerity said, “Hi, I’m not sure if you can hear me, but my name is Temerity and I’m here with my friend Ellen. She helped your little girl when the bus crashed. We wanted to come and see how you are doing.”

  The only response was the humming and clicking of machines. Ellen whispered, “I don’t think she can hear you.”

  Temerity sighed and said, “Maybe. We don’t know. How does she look?”

  Ellen scanned the bed, the monitors, the tubing that led into the Carson woman’s throat. Ellen didn’t know anything about all this equipment, but the rising and falling of the blue accordion-like shape in the clear-plastic cylinder matched the same motion in the woman’s breast.

  “Not good.”

  Temerity sighed again. She asked Ellen, “What’s her name?”

  “Madeline.”

  “Madeline,” Temerity repeated, first to herself and then to the inert form. “Madeline,” she called out softly. “No, you wouldn’t go by that would you? Maybe . . . Maddy. Hi, Maddy, nice to meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances.”

  To Ellen’s consternation, but not really surprise, Temerity groped around until she found the single visitor’s chair and pulled it up to the bed. “So, Maddy. We came because we
wanted to find out how you are doing, and we don’t think our answer is a very good one. So here’s the thing.”

  Ellen stood watching in awe as, even though her voice was clear and never wavered, a tear trailed down Temerity’s cheek. “We know that you’re worried about Lydia, and we want you to know she’s okay. She wasn’t hurt at all, and we think she went to stay with another family for a while until you get stronger.”

  For an instant, when Temerity said the name Lydia, Ellen thought she saw Maddy’s eyelids flutter, but it may have only been a trick of the blinking monitors.

  “As soon as we know more, we’re going to come back and tell you. We think you’ll feel better if you know what’s going on and that Lydia is okay.”

  There it was again, Ellen was more certain this time. Just a flicker of movement when Temerity said the name. Ellen was so startled that she actually said, “Did you see that?” to Temerity.

  Her friend’s response was a roll of her head in Ellen’s direction. “I’m sorry,” she said dryly. “Were you speaking to me? I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Temerity and I’m blind.”

  “No, I mean, I know, but she . . . that is, I think . . . Say the kid’s name again.”

  “Lydia? Oh!” Temerity exclaimed, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my goodness, I think her hand twitched. Maybe it was a muscle spasm.” Temerity stood up now and leaned closer over Maddy Carson’s chest, missing the head by a good bit, but who could fault her? “Maddy? I want you to know that we’re going to find out where Lydia is and make sure she’s okay. Do you understand?”

  But as hard as Ellen focused, and as tightly as Temerity held the hand, there didn’t seem to be any response. They were both so intent on the patient in the bed that they were completely startled when someone spoke sharply behind them. “Can I help you?”

  Ellen dropped, disappearing behind the curtain and bed. Temerity turned in her chair and let go of Maddy’s hand. From the doorway of the ward, a nurse was regarding her sternly.

  Temerity answered. “Oh, no, thank you. I just came to visit a friend.”

  “Did you sign in?” the nurse asked, and Ellen could hear her coming closer. Then there were two sets of footsteps. Someone was with her.

  “No, I didn’t see anyone.” Temerity pointed to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”

  Through a tiny slit between the curtains, Ellen watched the nurse—who was wearing scrubs in a shade of purple that could only be described as blatant—as she arrived at the bed. Behind the nurse was the social worker Ellen had seen with Lydia in the emergency room. Serena, she had said her name was.

  Serena stepped efficiently up to Temerity. “Ma’am, do you know this woman?”

  “You mean Maddy?” Temerity asked.

  The social worker squinted at Temerity. “So you do know her.”

  “We’ve just been introduced.” Temerity was looking amused. Ellen knew she was pleased she had guessed the nickname correctly.

  Suspicion deepened Serena’s permanent frown. “Then how do you know she’s called Maddy?”

  “Well, I assumed, actually. Madeline is kind of a mouthful. How do you know? Has she woken up?” Temerity asked so hopefully that Serena’s restrictive nature seemed temporarily disarmed and she actually answered.

  “No. Her daughter told me.”

  “I’m Temerity Bauer. My roommate, uh, knew her. Well, to be more accurate, she was on the bus with her when the accident occurred. She’s the one who helped her daughter, Lydia, and so, naturally, we were curious to know how her mom was doing. And you are?” Temerity leaned forward slightly and canted her head. “Sorry, but I’m not very good with faces.” Temerity’s mouth slanted to match her head, in a sarcastic line.

  “Serena Hoffman, I’m the social worker assigned to this case. I’m asking if you knew Ms. Carson because, as yet, we’ve been unable to locate any family members or close friends who might be willing to assume custody of her daughter.”

  Well, thought Ellen, at least she doesn’t beat around the bush.

  But why was it that efficient was so often synonymous with cold?

  Temerity answered, “I wish I could, but I can’t help you with that. How is Lydia? Where is she?”

  The suspicion slipped back in. “She’s fine. I’m sorry, but if you aren’t family I can’t discuss her case with you. I hope you understand.”

  Temerity straightened her head and nodded. “I think I do.”

  The nurse’s mouth was pursed tightly in disapproval as she watched this exchange. “Well,” she said perfunctorily, turning to Serena Hoffman. “If this young lady will kindly allow you to have her seat, I’ll close the curtains and you can have a minute to write your report.”

  Nurse Purple waited for Temerity to get up and unfold her stick. But instead of leaving immediately, Temerity paused. “Ms. Hoffman?”

  “Yes?”

  “Could you tell me, what is the process? I mean, if a person wanted to foster a child.”

  Through a tiny opening in the hospital curtain, Ellen saw humanity in the face of social services. It broke through, and for the briefest of moments, all the weight of the world swam in those brown eyes. And then it sank away, replaced by the thin metallic shield of efficiency. Cold, but Ellen understood more now. “I’m sorry, if you mean yourself, you wouldn’t qualify.”

  Temerity nodded sadly. “I didn’t really think I would. But maybe my family might, so . . .”

  The woman reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. “Here, the website is on there.” She touched Temerity’s hand with the card, and Temerity found and took it. “If someone is interested, all the basic information can be found there. Requirements, government subsidies, most things they would need to know.”

  “Thank you,” Temerity said. She turned and walked in the general direction of the doorway, though she was angling too far to the right. The nurse pointedly pulled the curtains all the way closed, sealing both herself and Serena inside with the patient.

  Trapped between the bed and the wall, Ellen moved carefully along the curtain to the end of the bed and was about to bolt, to intercept Temerity before she ran into one of the opposite beds, when two things happened. Temerity touched a leg of a bed with her stick, corrected herself, and walked confidently out of the ward, the sound of her clicking stick fading as she turned into the hallway, while at the same time, the nurse asked, “So where is the kid?”

  Hardly daring to breathe, Ellen stayed her forward rush. The social worker sighed and though now Ellen couldn’t see her, she could feel the hopeless detachment in her voice. That was something she understood.

  “I placed her with a family called the Rushes in Highland Park. First-time foster family, actually, an older couple with a kid in college. Empty-nest syndrome is my guess, but they do have a history of supporting social causes. And, for a change, they don’t look like they’re doing it for the monthly government check, like so many.” There was a brief pause, and then she added, “Too many.”

  There was a collective sigh of frustration. Then Serena Hoffman accelerated back to her professional speed by asking, “Do you know if there were any drugs or alcohol in her system when they brought her in? No? Okay, well, that would be a good sign as far as returning the kid to her eventually, but I don’t suppose it will make much difference here. When will the doctors make their rounds? I need to get one of them to sign off on this report. I’ve got six more visits before I can even get back to the office. Sometimes, I . . .” She trailed off, exhausted.

  The nurse’s sharp voice responded to the unfinished thought, though now there was a catch in it that betrayed a knick in the razor-edge. “I know,” she said. And Ellen could tell that she did.

  It was time for Ellen to go. Sidestepping until she was clear of the bed, she moved for the exit as quickly as she could. She tried to be as noiseless as possible, but in that constant
stream of humming, beeping, and whooshing, the sound of her rubber-soled boots on the linoleum was little more than passing insect wings.

  Ellen intercepted Temerity at the entrance to the glass bridge. Ellen could tell from her stiffness that she was barely containing her anger and sadness, and they hustled out of there.

  They didn’t speak until they were free of the antiseptic hospital smell and sucking in big breaths of fresh, misty air on the street.

  Revived to speech, Temerity said, “See? I told you it was Maddy.”

  7

  By the time they had returned to the loft, Ellen had told Temerity everything. Temerity was full of plans to find Lydia the next day, but tonight she had a concert, so she rushed to change into her long black velvet dress and grab her violin. Justice and Amanda were cooking dinner and invited Ellen to join them. She refused. She required time alone, and it was just too awkward, they were so . . . touchy, it made her feel electrocuted by low voltage every time they kissed.

  Though it was Ellen’s night off, she had never found it possible to change her sleeping schedule for a day, or rather, for a night. So after a bath and a chapter of her book, she got dressed in broken-in jeans, a sweet find at the thrift store, and a voluminous navy blue sweater. Recently, Ellen had expanded her color choices from black to include other night colors, deepest blues and grays, shades that suited her covert lifestyle.

  It was after nine thirty when Ellen snuck past Justice and Amanda, who were curled up together on the sofa, and slipped out the door. She went down the stairs and out into the liberating chill of the night. She turned right, then stopped.

  Slowly, Ellen turned and went to the grating just above the sidewalk. A faint glow was emanating from inside, the light not strong enough to cast even the feeblest shadow of the metal grate’s pattern onto the pale cement of the sidewalk.

  But looking straight at it, the grating itself was silhouetted from the inside. As carefully as only someone who has spent an invisible lifetime could, Ellen leaned down and peered in. At first she could see nothing, and then, a few yards away, she made out the source of the light.