by Nancy Thayer
“I don’t know,” the nurse said. “I don’t know. But we’ve got a good heartbeat.”
“He’s so young,” Nell cried.
“That’s good,” the nurse said, her voice soothing. “That’s good. That helps. Little kids survive better than old folks. Their heartbeat and temperature go down fast, and that maintains life better. Remember that kid who was under water for half an hour last year? Half an hour, and he lived. It was on TV. They’ll warm your son up—what’s his name?”
“Jeremy,” Nell said.
“They’ll warm Jeremy up. Things will start functioning. They’re giving him an electrolyte solution because of the sodium in his system from the ocean, they’re doing what they can. He’s young. That’s a big help.”
“Could you please go see?” Nell asked. “Could you please go check to see how he is?”
“Sure,” the nurse said, and left Nell’s side. She came back and said, “They’re working on him. They’ve got a heartbeat. He’s not dead.”
“But is he alive?” Nell asked.
“He’s critical,” the nurse said. “I’m telling you the truth. He’s still critical. But we’ve got a heartbeat.”
Clary and Hannah came up to Nell, accompanied by a strange woman. They were all in their swimsuits and looked out of place in the technological formality of the hospital.
“How is he?” Clary asked.
“We don’t know,” Nell replied, “Oh God, Clary.”
“I don’t want Jeremy to die,” Hannah wailed.
Nell looked at her daughter, whose face had collapsed in grief. “Oh, Hannah honey,” she said. “I don’t want him to die either.” She reached out and pulled her daughter to her, pulled her onto her lap. Hannah wrapped her arms around her mother and cried into her chest. Nell bent her head and sobbed into her daughter’s wet hair.
“Well, shit,” Clary said. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
“They’re doing all they can,” the nurse said. “Drowning’s not easy.”
“I’ll pray for him,” the strange woman said, and sat down in a chair across from Nell and bent her head.
“You pray too, Hannah,” Nell said.
“I am, Mommy,” Hannah replied.
Nell leaned her head onto her daughter’s and prayed. Her praying was more a form of memory, a holding in her mind of the liveliness of her son. She saw him in his blue blazer, dressed for the school concert, somberly holding his violin to his chin; she saw him sprawled on the floor of his room in jeans and T-shirt, playing a fantasy game with plastic characters and bits of wire and plastic; she saw him asleep in bed, the way he liked to sleep, with the blanket not tucked in at the bottom of the bed but rather wrapped around his feet and legs, cocoon-style, dumb Ginger the dog stretched out blissfully at his side. “Good night, guys,” Nell would say. Once Jeremy had described to Nell an ache in his throat and chest which, after they discussed it for a while, turned out not to be a physical ailment, but rather to be a kind of melancholy, a wistful longing for things he had had as a child and longed to have as an adult.
Let him live, God, Nell prayed. You have got to let him live. Just let him live. You know I’ll give up anything, I’ll trade anything—excepting Hannah—for his life. I’ll give up Andy, I’ll give up love, I’ll give up anything. Just let him live.
The nurse stood by them, then went away. She came back and said, “They’re working on him.” Then she stayed by their side silently, respecting their silence.
“We’ve been waiting for thirty minutes!” Clary suddenly yelled.
“They’re doing what they can. It takes time,” the nurse said. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Coffee,” Clary said. “Christ.” She looked away, annoyed.
The nurse left them. She was gone for what seemed a very long time, longer than she had stayed away before. Nell felt panic rise inside her.
“He’s alive,” the nurse said when she returned. “He is alive. Things are going well. Things are still critical, but they’re going well.”
“Can we see him?” Nell asked.
“Not yet,” the nurse answered. “They’re still working on him.”
“I don’t understand,” Clary said. “Either he’s alive or he’s not.”
“Well, it’s not that simple,” the nurse said calmly. “He’s got a lot of salt in his system. Salt upsets the electrolytes. And water in his system. It’s a major trauma to the body. His fluid and electrolytes are out of whack. But he’s got a good strong heartbeat now.” She turned to Nell. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she asked. “You must be cold.”
“No,” Nell said. “Thank you.”
“Is Jeremy going to live?” Hannah asked Nell.
“I think so,” Nell said. “I think so. You heard what the nurse said.”
“They’ve pulled him out, I think,” the nurse said, looking at Hannah. “Your brother has a steady heartbeat now. He’s responding. Honey, would you like some hot chocolate?”
“Yes,” Hannah said, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, Momma, but I’m cold.”
“Have some hot chocolate, sweetie,” Nell said. “It’s all right.”
The nurse went away, came back, handed Hannah a plastic cup of hot chocolate.
“Are you vacationing here?” she asked Nell.
“Working here this summer,” Nell replied. Feeling was beginning to return. “I run Elizabeth’s. A boutique on Orange Street. I’m sorry—I can’t talk about this until I know he’s okay.” Tears flooded her eyes.
“He’s going to be okay,” the nurse said. “The doctor’s really good, and he’s got a strong heartbeat now. Listen, do you want to call your husband?”
“I’m divorced,” Nell said. “Jeremy’s father is in the Midwest now. I wouldn’t know how to reach him. I don’t need to reach him now—unless—”
“No,” the nurse said. “He’s not going to die. We’ve got him out.”
“Please,” Nell said. “Could you please ask if I could see him?”
“Okay,” the nurse said.
As she turned back to the room, another nurse came out. She was smiling. “He’s awake,” she said. “Conscious, and he wants his mommy.”
“Oh, thank God,” Nell said, and nearly threw Hannah off her lap in her efforts to get up from the chair and into the room. She found Jeremy lying flat on his back on the table, covered with a blanket, his body stabbed with IVs and strapped with monitoring equipment. Blood dripped down his arms at various spots. His skin was pale but no longer blue, and his eyes were open, and he was alive, awake, and all there.
“Mommy,” he said, and tears rolled down his face. He was trembling.
“Oh God, Jeremy,” Nell said, and bent over to hug him. “God, you’re alive.”
“He’s a good strong boy,” the doctor behind her said. “He’s got a powerful heart. He’s as healthy as a horse.”
Nell half lay on the table, enveloping as much of her son’s body in her arms as she could. “Oh, Jeremy,” she said, sobbing.
“Mommy,” Jeremy replied. After a moment he said, “I’m scared.”
Nell pulled back so he could see her face, but still kept her arms around him. “You’re okay,” she said. “You’re okay now. You had a close call, but you’re all right. I promise.”
“You’ve got a good heart,” the doctor said from behind Nell. “You’ve got a good heart, son. You’re going to be fine.”
“I almost drowned,” Jeremy said. “It was awful, Mommy. I couldn’t do anything. I fought to get up to the air, but I couldn’t.”
“It was the undertow,” Nell said. She could feel Jeremy trembling harder now. “Sssh, it’s okay,” she said. “You’re all right. You almost drowned, but the lifeguards rescued you, and the doctors saved you; you’re okay.”
Then Hannah and Clary were at her side. Hannah burst into tears at the sight of Jeremy tied and bloody. “Oh, Jeremy, I didn’t want you to die!” she wailed, and grabbed one of his hands in hers and kissed it.
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“Oh, duh,” Jeremy said, embarrassed, but he did not pull his hand away.
“Well, you made two lifeguards proud of themselves,” Clary said, taking Jeremy’s other hand.
“Two lifeguards?” Jeremy asked.
“Yeah,” Clary said. “It was really neat. You were the star of the show today for sure, Jeremy. Everyone on the beach was watching.”
The star of the show, Nell thought, looking across the table in wonder at Clary. Jeremy had almost died—how could she talk about it so lightly? But looking back at Jeremy, she saw that his face was relaxing, and she could feel with her hands and arms how he was taking deeper breaths now, how the fear was fading.
“Two lifeguards,” Jeremy said, almost smiling.
“Yeah, and you should have seen yourself when they brought you in,” Hannah said. “Ugh, you looked so gross. Like an old fish!”
“Hannah!” Nell said, but Jeremy was smiling, obviously thrilled now to know what he had caused to happen in the world. He wanted to hear everything. Now that he was safe, his drowning was being turned into a drama—a good story to tell everyone.
Nell moved back from the table a little and let Hannah and Clary gleefully describe the entire event to Jeremy in colorful detail. The doctor came up to Nell and told her that in most cases they sent patients over to the Hyannis hospital, but because Jeremy’s heartbeat was so good and he was so alert, they could keep him here for the night.
“But I thought you said he was okay!” Nell said. “Look at him—”
“It’s necessary to keep him at least overnight,” the doctor said. “He’s got lots of water in him, high sodium in his system. We need to keep an eye on him, be sure he’s oxygenated sufficiently before we send him home. He’s okay, but we don’t want to take any chances. You can stay with him. We’ll set up a cot for you in Intensive Care.”
“Intensive Care,” Nell said.
“It’s only for the best precaution,” the doctor said. “Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.”
“Oh thank you,” Nell said. “I haven’t thanked you. How can I thank you?”
The doctor smiled. “Well, you know,” he said, “it’s a pretty nice feeling when you pull them through.”
Then he turned away and gruffly began to give orders. They wheeled Jeremy into the elevator and up to the Intensive Care Unit. The nurse led Nell to a chair and asked her to fill out some forms. This turn toward financial and administrative details gave Nell a sense of certainty that Jeremy was all right. She looked down at the clipboard and began to shake. She was suddenly exhausted. She did not have the energy to write her name. And she was cold—she was still wearing her swimsuit. She felt foolish now, barefoot and half-naked in front of all these people, although it wouldn’t have mattered if she had been totally naked this past hour—nothing had mattered but that Jeremy live. And he was alive, and now she was cold and tired, and she shook so hard her teeth chattered.
The nurse who had stayed with them came up to Nell and put a sweater on her, lifting her arms to put them in the sweater as easily as if Nell were a child.
“Drink this,” she said to Nell, handing her a cup of coffee. “You’ll be okay,” she said. “It’s delayed reaction. Nerves and fear and relief. You’re getting it all at once. You’ll calm down in a minute. Don’t worry. You guys have good luck. You’ve got a good strong boy.”
The nurse went on talking, and Nell, trying to fight off a whirling sense of dizziness, stared at the woman’s name tag. She had seen it before, all the time she had been in the hospital, but only now could she read it. CHERYL CABOT, R.N. was inscribed into the ivory scrimshaw pin. The letters grew darker, then lighter, as Nell watched, and for a few moments the best Nell could do was to keep the letters in focus and hold on to the sound of the nurse’s soothing voice. Finally the dark whirling receded, and Nell’s eyesight and hand steadied. She took deep breaths. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m okay now.” She turned to the hospital forms.
The rest of the day moved in fits and starts. The woman who had driven Clary and Hannah to the hospital drove them to the cottage to get their clothes. Clary drove Nell’s car back and brought her warm clothing. Nell stayed with Jeremy, talking to him, listening to him, until evening came. At last she was so calm and assured of his aliveness that she admitted to herself that she was getting restless. The subject of his accident and rescue was not a source of entertainment to her as it was to Jeremy. She was glad when Clary and Hannah came back to visit Jeremy; she let them indulge in repeating the gory details of the day. She went out into the hall.
It was six o’clock in the evening. They had gone to Surfside at ten, had been there for about two hours before Jeremy’s accident. It had been a long day. Nell was tired, and she leaned against the wall and wondered about calling Andy. She hadn’t called him right away because she simply hadn’t thought of it, and later, when the crisis passed, she hadn’t called because she felt irrationally angry at Andy, because she had been alone to hope for her son’s life. Not completely alone—Hannah and Clary and the doctors and nurses who had really saved his life had been there, but there had been no other parent to hope for him in the way a parent hopes. Now she felt the loneliness of her life, and a mean anger at Andy because of it, and a perverse desire not to let him know what had happened. After all, what would he care? For it was true that he was so strangely unlike other people where the matter of children was concerned. He had never been much interested in his own daughter, and although he was polite to Jeremy and Hannah, after all this time he had not become fond of them. Then, too, Nell was aware of how overdramatic she often appeared emotionally, compared to Andy, and what could be more dramatic than a near-fatal drowning? She could almost predict how he would grow cool and aloof in proportion to her need for warmth and affection.
But finally she called him and explained what had happened. He expressed shock and said he wanted to come to the hospital to see her and Jeremy. When he arrived, he looked genuinely affected, his dark eyes serious, and he embraced Nell tightly, pulling her against him with a strong, real tenderness. Nell’s defenses broke and she felt washed through with love and need.
The nurses had Hannah and Clary leave Jeremy’s side so that Nell and Andy could go in. Jeremy was propped against pillows now, wearing a hospital gown; his color was healthy, his mood ebullient.
“Hi, Andy!” he said when Nell and Andy walked in. “Guess what! I drowned. I almost died. I was blue. Hannah said I looked like an old fish. It took two lifeguards to get me out. And Mom rode here with me in an ambulance and I didn’t even know it. I was unconscious.”
“But you’re okay now,” Andy said. He lounged up against Jeremy’s bed and leaned against it, but he did not touch the boy.
“I’m fine. I’m great. But I get to stay here overnight so they can be sure I’m okay. I’ve got too much salt in my system.”
“Well, look,” Andy said. “I’m glad you’re okay. It must have been pretty scary. Uh—here. This is for you.”
Andy reached into his pocket and took out a fifty-dollar bill and stuck it in Jeremy’s hand.
Jeremy, ungraciously, looked puzzled to the point of skepticism.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s, uh, money,” Andy replied.
“I know. It’s a lot of money,” Jeremy said. “But why are you giving it to me?”
“Well, because you had an accident,” Andy said, and now he looked as puzzled as Jeremy. “I mean, people give people presents in the hospital. And I couldn’t think what you would want, so—” He stopped and shrugged his shoulders.
“Mom?” Jeremy asked, looking at Nell.
“Of course you can take the present,” Nell said, trying to turn Andy’s awkward gesture into the kindness he meant it to be. Tears had come to her eyes: it was a stupid and clumsy way to show affection, and yet it was something, it was more than she had hoped for. “Thank you, Andy,” she said. “It’s not necessary, you know, but it’s awfully nice of you.”
They stood there a while longer talking to Jeremy, or rather listening to Jeremy describe the accident in complete detail. Andy listened, nodding his head and saying, “Wow” at the appropriate moments. Nell just stood like a cow with sun on its back, watching her son breathe, listening to him talk, knowing he was all right, and soaking in the extra warmth of the knowledge of Andy’s endearingly well-meant gift.
Finally everyone but Nell had to leave. Clary promised to take care of Hannah overnight and to call the steamship authority to change their boat reservation. Nell slept all night on a cot near her son, awakening each time a nurse came in to check Jeremy. Early in the morning, another nurse came in to draw blood from Jeremy’s arm, and soon after that breakfast was served to both Jeremy and Nell. By then Nell was so tired she was grumpy, and she drank her coffee slowly, trying to plan the next few days.
The doctor kept Jeremy in the hospital for another day, although he put him on the medical-surgical floor. The pediatric ward had only three beds and no other children, and when Nell came back in the afternoon after changing clothes at the cottage, she found Jeremy boldly cruising the halls in a wheelchair while Hannah trailed at his side begging for a turn. Clary, who had come to watch Jeremy while Nell went home for a while, was lounging on Jeremy’s bed, reading Glamour. Nell stood watching it all, marveling at the fact that only twenty-four hours before, her son and this hospital had been fighting for his life. Yesterday had been one of those days when time stopped for a while, and, as if time and light were the same thing, illuminated life with a vivid motionless clarity. Now time was going on again, reckless and meaningless, and Jeremy was alive and Nell’s life was organized once more in its meaning and in its order. Her children raced up to her, giggling. Hannah was now seated precariously on Jeremy’s lap in one wheelchair.
“Settle down, you two!” Nell reminded them. “This is a hospital.”
They wheeled away from her, whispering now, leaving her to watch them in their exuberance. Nell leaned against the wall and thought that she had learned something this summer, had remembered something—that we all need to be admired, we all need to be loved, we need to eat and drink and be warm and laugh and achieve, but what we need most in the world, above all our other needs, is for our children to live.