by Bryan Healey
"Okay," I exhale, hands gripping the steering wheel furiously, feeling the tires begin to slip with each slight motion. "You were right."
"Of course I was," she laughs, smug.
I laugh, too, I think...
The remaining mile took nearly thirty minutes in the atrocious and surprise conditions, but we arrive at the little inn I had booked just as the wind began to swirl out of control. Stepping from the car, fighting the attack of winter, I race to the passenger side and help Jenny out and into the lobby as quickly as I can make her move.
"Hello!"
A portly, deeply graying man, eyes aflame with undeserved, unrelenting happiness, greets us as we emerge from the elements.
"Hello," I answer, decidedly less enthusiastic than he had offered. I can't even fake such spirit; I am freezing and wet.
"Are you the Aaron's?"
"We are," Jenny answers.
"Wonderful! Your room is all ready!"
And so I return to the elements, gather our bags, lock the car, and rush back to the lobby. By the time the warmth of the heated room strikes me, I am already coated in white and water.
"It's really coming down out there, isn't it?" The man asks, without a hint of disgust or dread.
"Like a woman scorned," with a smile.
"As it should be." He laughs.
And we make our way down the only hall to our tiny room. It is cute and atypical, devoid of the normal hotel amenities, a rustic appeal that we both appreciate. And, of course, it was comfortably within our budget; the most important reality.
I tip the man as much as I have, which is likely only five or ten dollars, and bound to the bed as soon as he closes the door.
"What do you think?"
"It's beautiful!" Jenny cries, scanning the room, opening and closing dresser drawers and looking out the windows, admiring the rapidly accumulating frozen puff that coats everything.
"Can I pick a quaint little mountain inn?"
"You sure can, sweetheart," she smiles, turning toward me with an inquisitive expression. "Think we'll be able to get to the mountain tomorrow?"
"I don't know," I consider.
"I hope we can..."
"If it's still snowing like this in the morning then I'm thinking probably not," I admit.
"It'd be nice to get in a few runs on this fresh powder before it gets groomed over, though."
"We'll see what we can do."
"Okay," she giggles
And I rise from the bed, wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to the bed. She screams, and again giggles as she falls to the comforter, throwing her arms around my neck, bringing me to her for a soft, supple kiss and cuddle.
"Thank you," she offers.
Puzzled, "for what?"
"For this-" and she quickly looks around the room again, using her eyes as pointing fingers. "For the weekend, this trip – I really needed it."
"Anything for you, sweetheart," and I cup her head into my hands and mash her into me with far less care than I should have taken. Without provocation, my hands began to wander, down her arm, down her hips, to her leg, and back up, under her shirt. I feel her skin recoil at my touch, but her grunting encourages me. When I reach her bra, she playfully slaps at my arm...
"Hello," and I am in the void again...
This is my night nurse; her name is Sarah.
She is a lovely young woman, and she really likes to talk to me. I think she may be a little lonely. She talks often about her brother, who doesn't live near enough to be of good company; she talks of her beautiful little dog, her work, her schooling, but never of a lover or of her friends or other family.
I feel sorry for her...
It is probably night, I assume.
"Your vitals look strong, Max," she offers.
That's good to know, as always.
"I have a feeling that you'll be with us for quite some time," and I hear her sit, as she always does. I am sure she has work that needs doing, but she always spends some time in my room each visit. I must have given her some kind of comfort, in an odd way.
I don't know why...
"So, Michael says he is coming to visit me this Saturday," she continues. Michael is her brother. She speaks of him at least once a week; they are very close, it seems. He is an engineer and works out of state, I believe for the government, but I am failing to remember accurately.
He is quite wealthy, she tells me.
"He said he has to tell me something."
Oh? I wonder what that could that be about.
"He didn't say what about, but I think he is finally going to propose to Jill."
Wonderful!
After so many years of fairly casual dating, it's probably about time he took that lovely young lady off the market, I muse to myself.
I'm embarrassingly old-fashioned...
"Or else he already did."
Maybe he is already married...
"I like her," and she chuckles softly. "Not that it would matter; I've never seen Michael as happy as he has been since he met her."
That's good!
"I don't think he'd care what I think."
You might be surprised...
"I'm glad he found someone."
Everyone deserves to find their other half...
"I just hope he doesn't forget about me," and a nervous, curt chuckle, feigning lighthearted silliness that was clearly masking real fear. "He's all I have, you know. I don't think I can handle losing him."
Don't think like that...
"I know that sounds stupid."
You shouldn't worry. He loves you.
"I know, it's silly."
It's okay - we're all the occasional fool...
"I guess it's obvious that I'm a little silly. After all, I spend my night's talking to a vegetable," and she heartily laughs. I'd frown if I were able.
I can hear you, you know...
And then the sudden, brief crumple of linens, followed by silence; I imagine that she threw her hands onto my bed with quenched belly laughter, but I have no way of knowing.
Maybe she's just doing her job.
An odd mind, I have...
"Listen to me," she breathes.
I enjoy her voice...
"I might see if he'll visit the hospital while he's here, if he has the time. Maybe."
Would he visit me?
I think I'd like that...
"I don't think he'd be allowed in any of the patient's rooms, but I'd at least like him to meet some of my co-workers and see where I work, see what I do. He's never been here in all the times he's visited me."
I wish I could hear his voice...
"Well, I suppose I should get going."
So soon?
Why so soon?
"It's been a crazy night. I'm so tired."
I'm sorry to hear that...
She usually sits and talks at me for much longer, even bordering on what I imagine to be hours when she was particularly upset or really bored. Maybe it is a busy night, or maybe she is growing tired of talking to a heap of meat. Either way, I am sad to hear her footsteps grow and dim, and disappear.
"Good night, Max."
And the door opens, closes, and silence.
Into the mind once again...
Now I am in another hospital, in another time, speaking with another doctor, a portly man with thick, wire frame glasses, who is informing us casually that Jenny is pregnant.
"Pregnant?" I exclaim.
"Indeed," he smiles.
"How far along?" Jenny asks.
"About six weeks," the doc
tor answers.
"Oh," she breaths at me. I only nod.
"Was this a planned pregnancy?"
"No," Jenny snaps. "Not at all."
"Well," the doctor continues, his hands now shuffling through mounds of paperwork. "Are you interested in continuing to see me at this office for the term of your pregnancy, or do you have another obstetrician that would you prefer I transfer your results to at this time?"
"You'll do fine," she gasps, clearly in shock and disbelief. I almost assuredly was the same, as I barely remember leaving his office and getting into our car and driving home. But we are home when she breaks down and cries, fitful sobbing into the edge of my shirt.
"It'll be okay," I mumble, my hand on the back of her head, gently stroking her hair, trying desperately to keep control of the situation; I don't know what that means, exactly, or how I plan to maintain this control, but it is what I am thinking...
"I know," she says.
"You know?" I ask.
"I'm not upset, Max."
"But you're crying?" Confused...
"I'm happy," and she pulls back from me - and there it is, joy in her eyes, a smile on her lips. She is brimming with it, even. It confuses me, as I was not expecting it. "I'm so happy!" And she laughs.
She was glowing!
"Oh," I manage. "Well-" and I rub her arms, up and down, up and down, trying to muster a convincing enough lie and smile. "I am happy, too," was the best I could come up with on such short notice and amidst such crushing shock. She didn't believe me, but she never admitted it...
"Hello, Max!"
I don't know this voice.
It was a woman, though, and her footsteps were marching towards me, louder, louder, tapping violently along the floor, and then a great rustle of fabric. Someone is grappling my sheets; I think she may be hugging me... Who would be hugging me?
Who is this?
"How is he doing?" She asks.
"The same as always." That was Jenny.
Who else is here?
"He looks good!"
Please, say a name!
"He does look good."
A name! I need a name!
"Good morning!" My doctor...
"Morning, Dr. Benson!" My wife...
"How's our patient doing?" My doctor...
"He has good color!" Mystery woman...
"And who are you?" My doctor...
Finally, a name to come...
"Dr. Benson, this is my sister, Mary."
Mary? That's Mary?
She sounds... so different...
"It's a pleasure to meet you!"
What is wrong with her voice?
"The pleasure is mine!"
It sounds... scratched. As though she has taken up smoking, and even devolved into several packs per day. But that is absurd; Mary never smoked, in fact was a rabid health aficionado, running several marathons in her college years and always being cautious with her diet. There is no way she would take up smoking...
"So, how are you, Jenny?" She asks.
Furthermore, why is Mary here now? I thought Jenny said she wouldn't be here for a week? Has it been a week already?
How did I miss an entire week?
"I'm doing okay. And yourself?" My doctor was closer to me now, writing furiously as always, likely again reviewing the machines around me.
"The same. Happy to see the sun, finally."
Could a week really have passed?
"The weather has been atrocious. We're finally supposed to have a good stretch of sunny weather. Or so I've heard, anyway."
And then a long silence.
I can't believe I lost a week...
Maybe she came early? But why would she come early; had something happened?
Footsteps, more rustling of fabric, the scraping of wood against linoleum; someone is moving a chair around the room.
No, nothing can be wrong- no one sounds at all upset or concerned. In fact, everyone seems happy, even pleasant. A week must have passed...
Where the hell was I for a week?
"So," Jenny pierces the silence. "How does he look today, doctor?"
"The same," Dr. Benson answers, dryly.
"I see," Jenny says softly.
"Don't be sad," Mary walks across the room, to near where Jenny must be. "I hate seeing you look sad, I need that beautiful Jen smile!"
"I'm not sad, Mary."
Does she look sad?
"You aren't smiling?"
I wish I could see her smile...
"I'm fine. I am what I am."
It is nice to hear her voice, though...
"He'll be back someday!"
Will I? I certainly hope so...
"No, he won't," and a soft sigh.
I won't? Did she say I won't?
"Don't say that, Jen."
My mind focuses; I'd never before heard Jenny surrender hope for me like that. I have no doubt that she has thought it before, and she may have even said it out of my presence, to friends and family. Maybe even to the doctor, or a lawyer. But she never said it in front of me. I had never heard those words before...
It makes me ache...
It makes me want to cry.
"Mary, stop."
She doesn't believe in me...
"Why?"
"I don't need your support, Mary. I've made my peace with this a long time ago."
A sigh, and a scuffling noise.
"Then why do you keep coming here?"
Suddenly I wait, anxiously, for an answer...
"Because," she starts, "because I have to, okay? Because I have to." And more shuffling noises, and an extended, horrifying silence. I cannot even hear the sounds of the machines. It is as though I cannot hear at all; why can't I hear? I haven't lost my hearing, have I?
I need my hearing! It's all I have!
I feel myself starting to panic...
What would I do without hearing?
I'd only have my mind, my thoughts...
I'd go mad, alone in my own head!
Please, for the sake of my sanity, speak!
"I love him," and she is immediately beside me. I feel myself instantly calm, at peace, knowing she is near, likely looking directly at me, possibly stroking my hair and touching my cheeks. Rationally, I know she could be doing anything else, even nothing, maybe just sitting there, staring into nothing, but I prefer to imagine her as I wish I could see her.
I love her so dearly...
"Come on," Mary said. "Let's go get some breakfast and go for a walk."
"Okay," and there is a series of steps and then only silence. I expect to hear the sound of my doctor shuffling about, but he is no where that I can detect in the room. Has he left? I figure I would have noticed that... But with further listening... He clearly isn't in the room. He had left. I hadn't heard him leave.
The panic softly returns.
"Oh, Jesus!" Jenny shouts, once again amid a white room surrounded by medical staff in a mammoth hospital, far from where I lay today. Sweat is pouring down her forehead in rivers, panting furiously like a dog wading the extremes of a vicious heat wave.
"It's okay, beautiful! Just breath!"
She screams, grits her teeth, and grunts as she pushes. A nurse is perched precariously at my wife's hips, staring adamantly into her nether region with an odd fervor. It's amazing what you will find acceptable given the proper circumstance...
"Here comes the head!" The nurse exclaims.
"Push, honey! Push!"
Jenny screams again.
She is squeezing my fingers like a vice grip,
her eyes locked on the far wall. She is wheezing now, her chest heaving. "I can't! I can't!" She shouts.
"You can, sweetheart!"
"No, I can't!"
"Honey-"
"Shut up!"
"One more push, and you'll be done!"
The nurse never breaks her gaze from my wife.
More screaming, she yanks at my fingers, trying to pull my arm into her body. Then silence, her teeth pressed together, her lips pealed. The silence is awkward, uncomfortable, thick with the anticipation of a forthcoming release of energy and pain.
"Here he comes!"
Then the release, Jenny shouts in agony, and then the nurse disappears, moving swiftly across the room with some mass cupped in her arms. I can't see him, but I know exactly what she holds...
"Hello," Sarah echoes.
She sounds sour, even miserable.
What's wrong, Sarah?
"You look good this evening," she mumbles.
Do I?
You flatter me...
Then horrible silence, punctuated occasionally only by the soft sound of sheets being moved. It is gentle, not a hint of speed to the task, as though she wished to stay in the room, but wished not to speak. Time was taken in work, slowly keeping the meeting without finding anything to exchange.
Then deeper silence.
Am I alone?
Did she leave?
I did not hear footsteps; she must still be here...
"You look good," she repeats.
I appreciate the compliment...
"So, Michael came down yesterday."
Oh, wonderful! How is he!
"He gave me his news," she squeaks.
Did he propose? Is he married?
And sighs, coughs.
Silence...
Is everything okay?
"He..." She starts and stops.
He what?
She coughs again.
"He has cancer."
He- he has...
"That's what he had to tell me. He has cancer,"
Oh, no!
"It's pancreatic cancer."
Oh, no!
"Late stage. His doctor says that he's certainly terminal, maybe a month at the most."
Jesus!
"He came to basically say goodbye, to stay with me until the end. He's sleeping on my couch,"
Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry!
"Jill left him."