Husbands and Other Sharp Objects: A Novel

by Marilyn Simon Rothstein

  “I haven’t seen him,” I said. “He was in ICU when I left the hospital.”

  “You left him in ICU?” he said accusingly.

  “Feldman, Harvey and I are separated.”

  “Still . . .”

  “Where were you when your wife had Claire?” Claire was Feldman’s eldest daughter. She was planning to work with him when she finished business school.

  “At the office.”

  “Case closed, Feldman. Case closed.”

  Chapter 30

  I consider myself an artisan at holding a grudge. Still, I couldn’t stop worrying about Harvey.

  Unfortunately, I had scads of hospital experience. I knew that whenever a member of my family called from a hospital to let me know how our loved one was doing, I imagined the worst scenario. My cousin Leona could say her mom was doing fine. In fact she had just eaten her gluten-free meal and had sex with two orderlies. Still, I would imagine my elderly aunt on a feeding tube, her hollowed eyes rolled back in her shriveled head. I had to see for myself how Harvey was doing. I had to see right away.

  Harvey’s concierge-level room faced the exquisite park opposite the hospital. His bed was centered on the far side, near the expansive windows, which were open. I could hear birds tweeting. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Children were playing in the park, and I could hear their voices rising. An old ice cream truck blared a repetitive tune.

  At the entrance to the room, there was a small sitting area with two leather recliners. If it weren’t for the hospital bed and the medical equipment, it could have been someone’s living room.

  Harvey was doing fine, or so I thought, until the future in-laws suddenly walked in with big hellos.

  “We had to see how you were,” Mrs. Berger said. “Even though Jake told us not to come.”

  “Who listens to Jake?” Bernie said.

  Harvey smiled stiffly and politely. He raised his head to get a good look at Mrs. Berger. Was he looking for more stolen jewelry?

  “You’re bulging,” he said to her.

  “Excuse me?” she said, lifting her eyebrows at him.

  “Your breasts are bulging.” He pointed with his index finger, moving it back and forth in a horizontal line.

  The man is at death’s door, and he is still talking breasts.

  “It’s the morphine,” I said, not knowing the name of any other potent drug that would make a man tell a woman she was bulging.

  Mug raised her eyebrow again. Then she raised her bra straps.

  Harvey was fixed on her. He probably wished he could hop out of bed and show her exactly what to do to look better.

  “Lift and separate,” he advised.

  Mortified, I slunk behind the visitors and into one of the reclining chairs.

  Harvey blinked away sleep. “Here’s the thing. You’re a D cup. Not a C.”

  I guess when a man mentions that your boobs are a mess, it’s time to go, because they left.

  Light filled Harvey’s room, but it might as well have been dark, because he was bleak and upset. He said he felt terrible that he had ruined the wedding, that he didn’t want the kids to get married in his room. What kind of wedding was that?

  “Does the hospital have a chapel?” I asked him.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t get off the operating table to go and look for one.”

  I buzzed the nurse and asked over the speaker.

  “You want something for chapped skin?” she replied.

  “No, is there a chapel?”

  “A beautiful one. Praise the Lord. He is surely there.”

  “Praise the Lord,” I replied.

  I told Harvey I would check it out. I took the elevator to the first floor. Near the entrance to the hospital, I followed the arrows to the chapel. I opened the double faux-mahogany doors, doors so different from the rest of the hospital they seemed to be a mistake. The chapel was paneled in handsome dark wood. There were four rows of seats separated by an aisle. An aisle, I thought. This chapel has an aisle. Amanda could still walk down an aisle. I had saved the ship.

  I rushed back to Harvey’s room with the news. He brightened. But then suddenly and smartly, I wondered if I should have checked with Amanda before speaking up. She might have wanted to get married on a cattle ranch, but maybe a chapel was too old-fashioned.

  A nurse came in, so I excused myself. I went to the cafeteria for coffee. I made some calls to the wedding vendors. I spoke to the florist, who had delivered the flowers to the hotel. I asked him to pick up the flowers and deliver them to hospitals in the area. He agreed. Next, I called the seven-piece band. I thought they would require a hefty last-minute cancellation fee, but they wanted full payment. I told the booking agent that my husband had had a heart attack. He said, “Sure he did.” I said it was true. He asked if the dog ate my homework. I returned to Harvey’s room.

  Amanda was there.

  “Mom, the chapel is wonderful,” she said.

  “You have already seen it?”

  “Yes, Dad told me about it, and I went to the first floor.”

  “Great!” I said, beaming.

  “But there’s a problem,” Harvey said.

  “What now?” How many more problems could there be? Hadn’t we had enough problems in the last couple of days? What were we, a problem factory?

  “My doctor won’t let me go to the chapel until I have a bowel movement.”

  Amanda shook her head, then looked at me as though she had given up.

  “I can’t leave the room until I take a crap,” Harvey explained as though I hadn’t understood the term “bowel movement.”

  “So, you will take a crap,” I said. “I’ve known you a long time, Harvey, and you have never had a problem with that.”

  “But we don’t know when,” Amanda said.

  “We’ll wait. We’ll just wait until your father goes to the toilet. The only thing that stands between this family and a nice wedding in the chapel is feces.”

  “Let’s just do my ceremony in the room,” Amanda said. “I don’t want Dad to be under any undue pressure.”

  “My daughter is not getting married in this room,” Harvey announced. And then, like he had used too much energy, he fell asleep.

  Amanda started to cry. “This room is fine. All I want to do is get married. I don’t give a hoot about any of the accoutrements.”

  “Give Dad a chance,” I said.

  Later, I called Harvey from my hotel room.

  “Anything?”

  “Not so much as a fart.”

  “Can they give you something?”

  “It has to be natural.”

  “This is not how I imagined this. I will check back later.”

  In the afternoon, I went back to the hospital. Elisabeth, Ben, and Jordan were in Harvey’s room.

  “Anything?” I said.

  They shook their heads.

  “As long as you are here, we’re going to go sit at the beach,” Ben said.

  “Call if anything . . . you know,” Jordan said.

  I sat on the edge of Harvey’s bed. I really felt bad for him.

  “A lot of pressure,” I said.

  Harvey smiled and straightened himself up. Then he became serious. “Marcy, I could have died.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Please forgive me,” he said and reached for my hand.

  “I do forgive you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t forgive you.”

  “Do you want me to call Albee and tell him to hold your room for the two weeks?”

  “What?”

  “You’ll need a place to stay while I am recovering. I can’t fly for two weeks.”

  I was aghast, unable to understand how he could misinterpret our situation. It was a heart attack, not a brain attack. I had read online that people with heart problems often suffered from depression and memory loss. Was it necessary to remind him that we were through, and that Amanda’s wedding and her happiness were the only reasons we were pulling toget
her? Did he actually think I would come back to him because he needed a nurse?

  “Harvey, I am leaving the morning after the wedding.”

  “Oh, stop kidding around.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  He looked at me as though I had burned down the bra warehouse. “I need you to take care of me.”

  “I’m done taking care of you,” I said. “What I need now is to take care of me.”

  “But look how well we have gotten along.”

  Suddenly, a nasty odor, pungent as a pigsty, poisoned the air. The stink was intense and nauseating, worse than anything I had ever smelled before, like a thousand constipated horses finally taking a shit. I covered my nose with both hands.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Harvey shrieked. “Grab that bedpan, Marcy. And hurry.”

  The wedding was on.

  Chapter 31

  The next morning, I knocked on Amanda’s door. She opened it a peep, then wider to let me in. Her hair was done in a sleek and sophisticated twist, and her makeup was on too.

  “Where’s Jake?” I asked.

  “Salvaging a tradition. We’re not seeing each other until the wedding. He’s changing in one of the usher’s rooms.”

  “Are you going to wear your wedding gown?” I asked hesitantly, not certain whether my question would set her off.

  “I’m wearing this brand-new white party dress that I bought in Connecticut. I don’t see sweeping into a hospital in a wedding gown.”

  Amanda seemed to have everything in hand, but I worried. She was way too calm for someone who had just given up a wedding reception she had planned for months.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked, but she didn’t respond.

  “So the dress is something new,” she said. “And I have something old.” She showed me a stunning gold brooch inset with an ivory cameo of a woman’s face. It was the pin my mother had worn on her wedding day. Mom had presented the brooch to Amanda years before she’d passed away. “What am I holding on to it for?” she had said. “Am I going to a dance?”

  “I can hear Grandma. I hear her all the time,” I said.

  “What is she saying?” Amanda asked.

  “She’s saying, ‘Amanda, he’s a nice boy. Does he have a brother for your sister?’”

  “I wish Grandma was here.”

  “So do I,” I said. “So do I.”

  “Mom, will you hug me?”

  I hugged her, and I could feel tears drop on my bare shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” I said.

  “I wanted this wedding to be perfect, and somehow, I lost all perspective. I was afraid to share details, because I didn’t want to hear any commentary. I was afraid you would take over, turn it into your wedding. It seems that everyone has an opinion when it comes to a wedding. I worried that Jake and I wouldn’t have the ceremony and reception we wanted. That interference would kill the romance. Want to know something? I wouldn’t allow Dad to come to the tasting. He wanted to help us decide on the meal. We butted heads for two weeks. I actually told him he didn’t know anything about food.”

  “I’ll bet he took that hard,” I said.

  “Soon I felt like I was protecting myself from my own family—and Jake’s mother. She wanted a DJ instead of a band.”

  “Dad would never have agreed to that.”

  “I know. He wanted a ten-piece band.”

  “Isn’t that an orchestra?”

  “Would you ride to the wedding with me in the limo?” she said.

  “Limo?”

  “Jake ordered a stretch. He didn’t think his bride should call Uber.”

  “So he’s okay with all of this.”

  “I wouldn’t marry a man who wasn’t.”

  I smiled as I thought how much she had grown up so suddenly.

  “I’d be honored to ride in your limousine,” I said. “By the way, I want you to know that I was ringing the salon at the Ritz when I got the call about Dad.”

  “Oh, Mom, it doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

  She leaned forward, toward me. “I’ve made a decision.”

  “Let me guess. You’re not taking the position at Retail Rebellion.”

  “True.”

  “You want to work at Bountiful.”

  “Well, we knew it would happen one day. And Dad will require help. Not only does he have to heal, but he is planning the new division.”

  “Bountiful Boxers—for the bountiful man.”

  She removed her robe, and I helped her slip on her lovely dress. She added strappy white stilettos, then stepped to the mirror.

  I stood behind her.

  “You look exquisite,” I said.

  “I’m happy, Mom. I am marrying the man I love.”

  In the mirror, I could see her eyes filling with tears.

  When Amanda and I arrived at the hospital, we went to the comfortable family room on Harvey’s floor and waited.

  Soon, Elisabeth and Ben were in the lounge with the bride. They had brought an abundant bouquet of lily of the valley, sweet William, myrtle, and hyacinth.

  “So, this is it. The end,” Ben joked as he bowed in his poplin suit and handed the bouquet to the bride.

  “I love you like a sister,” Elisabeth said to Amanda.

  “You’re wearing my dress,” Amanda said.

  “I didn’t like what I had in my closet, so I went to your room and raided yours.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t take the bridal gown.” Amanda was sniffing back tears. “My makeup is the only thing that has gone as planned, and I am not going to cry and ruin it.”

  “Dad invited all the bra manufacturers to the hospital for the ceremony,” Ben said, joking.

  “Okay, I’m crying.”

  “Group hug, anyone?” Elisabeth said.

  We gathered around Amanda and enclosed her.

  “I think I’ll go get Dad and a nurse and wheel him to the chapel.” Elisabeth turned and hugged Amanda again. “Not everyone would have done this.”

  “Not everyone has Dad for a dad.”

  I put my hands together over my mouth. I could feel tears coming on.

  I stood alone with Amanda as she held the bouquet in both hands and gazed down into the flowers as though she could see between the petals.

  “Are you anxious?” I said.

  “You mean because I can’t stop tapping my foot and my hands are shaking so much the bouquet looks like it’s dancing?”

  I nodded.

  “This is it, Mom. I will be married forever.”

  I remembered the day I married Harvey. I had thought the same thing. I hoped so much she was right—that today would be the start of forever. After all, what was marriage but a roll of the dice, a naive leap of faith? Something people believed in, even though there was so much evidence to the contrary, evidence that it would not work, but we hoped it would work, because we wanted all the love and comfort of living life with another person. My daughter wanted that. And I knew from my best days with Harvey that it was worth the attempt.

  Minutes later, my cell buzzed.

  “It’s time,” I said to Amanda. “Do you want me to walk in first?”

  “No, Mom, I want you to walk in with me. I want you to walk me down the aisle.”

  “Ready?” I said.

  We headed to the hospital chapel. When Amanda and I were halfway down the corridor, we heard singing. It was the Beatles song “Love Me Do.” I recognized Ben’s voice, but there were other voices as well. We stood at the entrance to the chapel. When we appeared, Ben and Jordan and Dr. Genesis changed tunes quickly to “Here Comes the Bride.”

  Elisabeth and Ben, maid of honor and best man, were standing beside Jake. Harvey was in a wheelchair with a pole and a nurse, who wore white scrubs to the wedding. Jordan, Feldman, Dana, and Candy were in the second row, behind Jake’s parents.

  Amanda took the first step as she squeezed my
hand. Everyone stood as we entered the chapel. We waited a moment, then started down the short aisle. It was all so breathtaking that it hardly seemed real. As if it were something that could happen only in the clouds, in the sky. Sometimes your entire life is punctuated by one magical, amazing, wonderful moment, and you know without a doubt that whatever you did in life, it was the right thing.

  I sat down next to Harvey. I was in a chapel in a hospital in Florida, but I might as well have been anywhere in the universe. All I could see was Amanda standing next to Jake. They were hand in hand, their shoulders touching. I was so high in the air I had no idea where the earth was.

  Jake nodded to Dr. Genesis. Although he was holding a small book, he referred instead to a slip of paper. He began the short English service by reading a one-sentence blessing in Hebrew, Amanda’s homage to her parents.

  “Blessed art thou, O Lord, our God, King of the Universe, for allowing us to reach this day.”

  Chapter 32

  The day of my departure, my kids were in the lobby, convening on a vast sectional, facing a white stone fireplace that rose to the ceiling. I needed a fireplace in Florida like I needed to plan another wedding.

  “Mom, can I get you a cup of coffee?” Ben asked. I said yes, and he went off.

  “Anyone left besides the holdouts in the lobby?” I asked.

  “You just missed Dana,” Elisabeth said. “She wanted to see you, but she was running late. Jake gave Max and his two girlfriends a ride to the airport. He’s on his way back here to take his parents next.”

  “Jake’s mom is hyperventilating about traveling,” Amanda said. “She said if they frisk her at security, she’s going to slap the agent’s hand.”

  “Well, that should get her on the plane really fast,” Elisabeth said.

  “The woman is a bit of a nut,” Amanda commented.

  “A bit?” Elisabeth said.

  “A complete basket case. Let’s face it. I’m lucky she doesn’t like to fly.”

  “And as I recall,” I said, “Mug doesn’t like Connecticut.”

  “She doesn’t?” Jordan said.

  “She expected more dressage in Stamford,” Amanda said.

  My motherhood kicked in, and I became serious. “We shouldn’t be laughing.”