This Could Hurt

by Jillian Medoff

  She heard Leo talking out in the hall. He was supposed to be at Starbucks. Instead he was chatting with a woman Rosa couldn’t see, though it sounded like Lucy.

  Annoyed, she called out, “I thought you were getting coffee.”

  “I am,” he called back. “Rosa’s head is bothering her,” she heard him tell Lucy. “She asked for Tylenol, but maybe she should get something stronger.”

  Why was he telling Lucy about her head? “Leo, please tell Lucy to come in, and bring Katherine with her. I’m retiring in December; we have lots to cover before then!”

  “Katie isn’t here,” Leo told her, still out in the hall. “She’ll stop by this afternoon.”

  “Oh, that’s right—Katherine is at the dentist.” Rosa had no idea where the girl was, but didn’t want to admit this to Leo. And why did he still call her Katie, after so long?

  It was getting hard to keep things straight, probably because she’d been so tired. She never slept anymore, but she didn’t want to admit this either. After work, she went home, ate dinner, watched TV, read a book, called Leo to say good night, and then lay in bed, wide-eyed, until daybreak. Same thing had happened when she went through menopause. She’d stay up, drenched in sweat, seized with terror and then sorrow, begging for sleep. Every night she was haunted; and every morning, she’d go to the office and try to function. Now she was haunted by the smell in her walls—that crazy smell was ruining her life!

  “Her head is bothering her,” she heard Leo repeat. She wished he’d stop. No one cared!

  An older woman stepped into her office. She had hair like steel wool and arms that swung like scissors. “How are you feeling today?” the woman asked.

  Rosa didn’t like the way this stranger waltzed in without knocking. When Rosa fired Peter, she’d also fired Spring Cleaners. Kenny hired this new service, but clearly he forgot to explain how things worked around here; or, if he did, no one took note.

  “I heard your head hurt,” the cleaning woman said.

  Again, with the head? “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.” But Rosa was starting to panic. Something wasn’t right. She looked around. Wait, wait, wait. Wait just one minute.

  Leo rushed in. “Rosa! Why are you shouting? She’s only taking your pulse.”

  “Just your pulse, dear,” Steel Wool said, with false cheer.

  “Oh, I know that, Leo,” Rosa replied, keeping her mind clear and her face blank. “Of course I know.”

  STARTLED, ROSA WOKE up. She looked around, hazy and disjointed. Next to her bed, Leo was sitting in a chair, working on his laptop. He didn’t realize she was awake, so she closed her eyes, pretending to doze. She’d been in the hospital four days, though it felt more like five minutes, probably because they were giving her Ambien, and she was finally sleeping. Also, the place smelled of piss and bleach, which made her gag but didn’t keep her up during the night. The sleep had been refreshing, but she felt like a prisoner, and she wanted to go home. Apparently, she was in good shape. Her only external injuries were a sprained shoulder and a tender spine; and her scans showed superficial bruising, along with a minor hematoma. Her doctors said they just wanted to “observe” her, but no matter how often she asked, or how politely, no one would give her a release date; they wouldn’t even offer a timeline.

  According to Leo, she fell during her town hall presentation and was brought here in a—what’s the word? In a something. Rosa was surprised when he said this. No, surprised wasn’t right. She was astounded. That really happened? To her? She remembered giving her speech, but after that, there was dark space, as if someone had taken a marker to her niece’s art collage and blacked out the pictures. She wore her tomato-red St. John, brand-new from Bloomingdale’s, and her patent leather Ferragamos, which Katherine had warned were too slippery. Rosa loved them and refused to budge, but in the end, the kid was right. Leo said she tripped on those godforsaken shoes and toppled off the stage. Rosa was so humiliated she wanted to die; she’d made a fool of herself in front of the whole company. “You brought down the house,” he kept saying, as if that mattered. Why would she care about her fucking speech when people saw her flailing around like a demented old lady? Rosa couldn’t bear to look at him, at any of them, that’s how mortified she was. And in the past few days, everyone from Ellery had called and her favorites had stopped by, so she was forced to make polite chatter, knowing what they were thinking: Thank God she’s retiring. Rosa Guerrero can’t even make it through a ten-minute town hall. Good riddance to that dried-up bag of bones. Well, no more! Yesterday, when the staff neurologist Dr. Somebody stopped by at the crack of dawn, she had demanded her release. The doctor had hedged. “Rosa, while you certainly could leave—”

  “My name is Rosalita Luz Esperanza Guerrero,” she said proudly. “I don’t call you Mike or Paul or Gregory, and you shouldn’t call me Rosa.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Guerrero, of course.” He buried his nose in her chart. “We recommend that you stay. The hematoma is resolving quite nicely, but we want to monitor you for another twenty-four hours, at a minimum. So let’s see how today goes and talk again tomorrow.”

  His tone had infuriated her. She was a grown woman who ran her own department in a multimillion-dollar research conglomerate, yet he was talking to her like she was a fucking fourth-grader. “That sounds ridiculous,” she’d snapped, which she regretted. “You’re a patronizing jerk,” she added, another regret. But rage sat like sour milk in her mouth, and she had to spit it out. Even so, a foolish move. She’d gone through this before, first with the TIA and then the stroke; to win her freedom, she had to play along. Her own neurologist agreed. Dr. Brady had moved downtown but called Dr. Somebody later that morning. In her medical opinion, she said, Rosa should not be treated as an inpatient; an extended hospital stay could impede her recovery, possibly even make her worse. “One more day,” she promised Rosa. “Sit tight.” Well, one more day was one more day, and Rosa wasn’t going to spend it lying down. So she had Leo go to her house and pick up her clothes and makeup kit, shoes, jewelry, and hair products. Then she got out of bed, got dressed, and sat upright in a chair like a goddamn executive VP and chief of HR.

  “Oh,” Leo said. “You’re up.”

  “I’ve been up.” Speaking of Leo, why was he always hovering? He kept eyeing her like a security guard. She hadn’t even showered yet! “You spend too much time here,” she snapped.

  “I’m worried about you, Rosa, that’s all.” He looked wounded.

  “I’m a grown woman, and you’re a grown man. You should be with your boyfriend, not watching me rot in this jail cell.”

  “Stop bringing up Thomas, Rosa. I told you: he’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Did you have a fight?”

  “No, Rosa. We didn’t have a fight.”

  “So why aren’t you with him? I never see you texting him anymore.”

  “I only met him a month ago. It’s too soon to spend every waking moment together. Besides, I don’t know if I even want a relationship right now.” Grabbing his bag, he stood up. “I’ll call you later.”

  Rosa didn’t like his answers. He wasn’t telling the truth about his boyfriend, and she didn’t know why. He looks like a husk of a person, she thought. Like a scarecrow missing its stuffing. “You’re too skinny,” she shouted, but he was already out the door, so she called and left a message on his voice mail. “I’m sorry, Leo. Please forgive me; I’m just so frustrated.” She gulped down tears. “You’re like a son to me. How can I repay you for all you do? Thank God you’re in my life, kiddo.” She hung up before she could tease the devil again.

  Finally, Rosa took her shower and started her morning, even though it was eleven o’clock and the day was half over. This, she thought with dread, is what retirement will be like. I’ll be a throwaway person with a throwaway life, sleeping till lunch and then lazing till dinner. No way, José. Instead, she styled her hair, applied her makeup, and sat upright wearing her new lemon St. John and diamond-stud earrings. She looked d
ynamite.

  Standing at the door, Howard chuckled. “You stuck again, Rosie?”

  “Nothing I can’t fix,” she told him.

  She called Katherine to request her Day-Timer and files, and before the girl could ask if working was allowed, Rosa told her she was going home the next day. “So I really need to know what’s going on in the office.” To Rosa’s delight, Katherine showed up a half hour later, holding a bouquet of flowers. Such a nice kid! What a superb hire! “Hello! Come in, please.” Sitting in her chair, Rosa beamed. Katherine beamed back. “I’m so happy to see you, Rosa!”

  Now Rosa’s day could really start.

  Katherine stayed a long time. They reviewed all Rosa’s projects, which made her feel good, like she was up and running again, and when the kid had to go, Rosa tried not to act glum. “I’ll be here when you’re discharged,” Katherine promised. “I’ll help get you home.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Rosa replied, but inside she was thrilled. She loved when the kid came over and they ate snacks and talked about life. “Even so, if you insist, I won’t say no.”

  A few hours later, Rosa was still upright in her chair, despite her throbbing back. Shifting her weight the slightest inch made her gasp in pain. But anyone who saw her would immediately know she was a fully functioning adult who had her faculties intact and wouldn’t fall off a stage during a presentation—if indeed that’s what happened. Given all she knew about her staff’s tendency to skirt the truth, Rosa had her doubts. What if they’d only told her she fell so they could lock her up in here? For what reason, she couldn’t fathom, but maybe it had to do with Lucy not wanting to wait four months to be chief. Lucy was a conniver, anyone could see that. But why would Leo agree to go along with it? This was the puzzle piece Rosa couldn’t find.

  “Don’t you look nice, dear.” Another nurse walked in—again, without knocking. This one was round, dark, and sweet-natured, but also an imbecile. “Oh! Such pretty lipstick. But it’s smeared on your cheek. Should I find you a mirror?”

  Rosa pretended not to hear. She could fix her own fucking face, thank you. Her phone rang. It was Leo. “Where are you?” she asked.

  “On my way. I’ll be there by six so we can eat dinner together. How are you?”

  “Much better, Leo, so call your boyfriend and have dinner with him. You don’t have to spend all your time together, but at least give him a chance. Life is too short. Trust me, kiddo.”

  Leo didn’t say anything.

  “Leo?” His silence sounded mad. “You’ve been here every single day. I want you to have fun. I don’t mind eating alone tonight.”

  “I’ll be there at six.” Leo clicked off, leaving Rosa bewildered. Did he think she didn’t know about the boyfriend? What was his name? Thomas? Of course she knew. She had eyes and ears everywhere. And FYI: she’d only gone up to Leo’s hideaway on eleven because she was curious. Call it a gut instinct, which turned out to be right because that’s where she found the charts. At first she wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but when she realized, she was shocked. It was her schedule! Not just her work schedule, her personal appointments too, hanging on the wall for the whole world to see. There was also a binder, with her name on it: ROSA SCHEDULES, 2010, which she knew Katherine had made.

  That was the moment she knew she had to go.

  “I’d rather be a throwaway person than a burden,” she’d told Rutherford. “Are you aware they have a top-secret office where they plan out my days?” The CEO had looked at her for a long time and then paused, as if he was about to say something important, but in the end he played dumb. What do you mean, a top-secret office? he asked. In this building?

  Rosa didn’t believe him. They all lied, every single one of them. Even Peter.

  “How dare you!” is what she should’ve said to her staff when she found the charts.

  Oh, oh, oh, she was churning now, kicking herself for all the things she didn’t say, all the ways she’d gotten it wrong. She never used to be this way. In the past, she decided, acted, and moved on—that’s what it takes to be chief. A chief can’t afford to dwell on her mistakes. Some refused to admit they made mistakes, and Rosa considered them inferior. If you didn’t make mistakes, how did you learn? Most were white men, which was racist and sexist, but go ahead, sue her; it happened to be true.

  Staying in this hospital was rough, but Rosa was also worried about going back home. What if she continued to have smells in her walls? How would she sleep? In the beginning, the smells were foods from her childhood—spicy noodle soup, sizzling peppers and onions, hot beans and rice. They were delicious, but so strong they filled up her nose and dripped down her throat. Soon, they were less like food and more like animal. When she told Leo about the smells, she wanted him to imagine a small and tame creature, a mouse or a cat; she couldn’t admit that they were, in all likelihood, horse. Imagine what he’d say! “This is a luxury building, Rosa! You can’t have a horse in your walls. Maybe a mink or a fox, something to make into a coat, but not a wild stallion.” Leo would laugh her right out of town. In his defense, he did come by to check, except Marcy and Nando were visiting that day, discussing her will. She didn’t want to tell Nando about the smell, but once Leo brought it up, Nando wouldn’t let go. “Could be a problem in the air conditioning,” Nando, the know-it-all, had said. “When did you last have the ducts cleaned?”

  “Ducks?”

  “Ducts.”

  “What a strange word. Are you sure that’s right?” Rosa had picked up the phone.

  Nando got suspicious. “Who are you calling, Rosalita?”

  Rosa loved her little brother, but bitchiness was in his nature, and that’s all she had to say on that subject, now and forever. “I’m calling my friend Lucy. She knows words.”

  “Hang up. I’ll call the exterminator.” So he called the exterminator, who found nothing. “No smell,” Nando gloated when the guy left. “No smell; it’s all in your head, maybe?”

  Rosa wanted to remind him that she distinctly told him not to call the exterminator, first because she’d already done so, and second because the smell only came at night. Instead, she kept her lips zipped. Nando liked to tell her what to do, and occasionally she complied, but mostly she said okay and then did as she pleased. Still, three facts: she had a smell; it kept her up at night; and she had no one to tell except Peter. Well, four facts: Peter, her best friend, was gone.

  She should’ve said, “I won’t say anything about the money, Peter. I will zip my lip and spare us both. Just tell me the reason, and I’ll make it go away.”

  She should’ve said, “I love you, Peter Dreyfus, and I believe you love me too.”

  24

  The next day Rosa was awake at five thirty. Up and at ’em, her mother used to say. She showered and dressed, put on her face, styled her hair, packed her bag, and sat in her chair, ready to go. But then the goddamn doctors came by and said another goddamn day. She was crushed. All she wanted to know was why. “What’s the point?” she asked Dr. Somebody.

  “We’d like to see the bruising disappear.” One more day, they promised, which Rosa told Marcy when she stopped by at ten. Nando didn’t come, which made the visit better; on her own, her sister was a lovely person. “When you get out,” Marcy said, “I’m gonna help you. I promise you, Rosalita. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. It won’t be like last time.”

  This delighted Rosa. “I know you’re busy, so I appreciate that. You’re my sister, and sisters are forever. I’d like to say brothers are forever, but I don’t like how Nando behaves with Leo. Leo is my friend and a coworker. Nando is disrespectful.”

  “Nando is a fool. Remember when he drove Mr. Sousa’s car? He confused the gas and the brake? He drove too far into the garage and smacked the wall!” Marcy’s laughter rang out.

  Rosa shrieked. “They had to call an engineer!”

  “He tilted the whole house!”

  Soon they were laughing so hard they were weeping, and when Marcy
left, they hugged and kissed good-bye with love. At noon, Lucy and Katherine stopped by. Rosa wanted to ask about Leo’s mood—if he seemed mad at her, for instance—but got distracted when Lucy mentioned they were having problems with employee self-service. “Oh!” Rosa loved a challenge. “This same thing happened at Sony. Let’s conference in Kenny.”

  Lucy glanced at Katherine but then said okay and punched in Kenny’s number. “We’ll make this quick. You’re supposed to be resting.”

  “I rest all goddamn day, Lucy,” Rosa told her.

  Lucy looked smart in a crisp white blouse and brown slacks, which she said were Theory, a brand Rosa didn’t know. She wore a long silver necklace and matching hoop earrings, and after Rosa noted how pretty they were, Lucy tried to give her the set as a gift, which of course Rosa wouldn’t accept. Then, when Katherine offered to get everyone Starbucks, Lucy handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change. These small, spontaneous gestures demonstrated to Rosa that Lucy had it in her to be a superb chief. It’s also why, when Kenny sheepishly admitted he’d underestimated the number of vendor interfaces, Rosa felt it was okay to step in on his behalf.

  “Kenny!” Lucy snapped. “You have to think everything through! Now we have to backtrack, which will throw off our timeline. What am I supposed to tell Rutherford?”

  “Don’t let her get away with that,” Rosa chimed in. “Remember, you went to Wharton; she only went to Cornell.” Though she pretended to joke, she was deadly serious. She wanted Kenny to understand that, one, he was just as smart as Lucy; two, he shouldn’t let her steamroll him or take a tone during a meeting; three, if he wanted to parade his bona fides, it was better to do so with humor; and four, just because Rosalita Guererro fell off a stage and hit her head didn’t mean she couldn’t remember where her staff went to college.