And while Ellen tended to be quiet and reserved in social situations, with him she was vocal and exuberant. Their time together was punctuated with jokes and teasing. He’d never known there could be so much to laugh at in the world.
The hour on the bus from the city each week was spent in rapt conversation. Over the months, John poured out his whole life story to Ellen. Somehow, her compassion soothed the pain of his past.
She in turn opened up her life to him. Together they mulled over problems they encountered with their students; they analyzed the world and everything in it; and one day, somewhere along Eden’s Expressway, John knew he was in love with her.
They got married on a hot August evening. Illinois was parched and dusty in the midst of a drought that had brought creases of worry to Howard Randolph’s forehead. But John saw the worry change to pride as the older man brought his daughter to meet John at the altar of the little country church.
It was a brief ceremony, beautiful in its simplicity. Ellen looked trustingly into John’s eyes as he spoke to her the vows that a myriad of couples down through the centuries had spoken.
“I, John, take thee, Ellen, to be my lawful wedded wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, and to thee only will I cleave, as long as we both shall live.”
And Ellen, lovely in her grandmother’s gown, ivory with age, echoed the troth in a voice strong and full of confidence.
Ellen’s parents gave the newlyweds money for a motel in Springfield and loaned them their car for the trip. They drove away from the church, replete with promise for the life they would live together. Over and over they exclaimed to each other, “Can you believe it? We’re really married!” They manufactured excuses to say “my husband” and “my wife.”
It was after midnight when they finally found the motel. It was on the edge of town and had seen better days. The paint was peeling inside and out, and the curtains and bedspread were straight out of the thirties. “The dirty thirties,” John had joked.
But the yearning and passion and pure love that burned in their hearts that night as they became one in body and spirit belied the humble room they shared.
John raked his hands through his hair and forced his thoughts back to the present. Would he and Ellen ever share that sweet, simple love again? Just months ago, they’d been eagerly looking toward this golden time in their lives. A time when they finally had the house to themselves, and time to enjoy some of the things they’d put off while they raised their family.
How had life suddenly become so complicated and confusing—and frightening?
Chapter Five
John sat in his office on a Monday morning reviewing a budget proposal. School was out for spring break, so no one else was in the office, but he was swamped with paperwork and had decided to play catch-up. Ellen had gone shopping and wouldn’t be home till after lunch.
The telephone broke the silence in the empty office. He wasn’t accustomed to answering his own phone, and it rang four or five times before he remembered that his secretary wasn’t there to field his calls.
He picked up the receiver. “This is John Brighton.”
“John…” It was Ellen and she was crying.
“Ellen. What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“I’m at the mall.” Her voice quavered. “I think my car’s been stolen.”
“What?”
“I’ve looked all over the parking lot, and it’s not there.”
“Where were you parked?”
“I—I’m not sure. I think I was in front of Nordstrom, but the car’s not…” She was sobbing now. “John, could you just come and help me find it?”
How could she not remember where she had parked? “Where are you now, Ellen?” He was trying to be patient and not upset her any more than she already was.
“I…I think I’m on the south side of the mall. You know—where the parking garage is. Isn’t that south?”
“Yes, that’s south. Are you inside?”
“Uh-huh. By the pay phones.”
“Okay. Stay right where you are, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. But it’ll take me at least twenty minutes to get there if I leave right now. Okay?”
Silence.
“El? Are you there?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Just…please hurry.”
“Okay. It’ll be all right. Just stay there, Ellen, okay? I love you.”
She started to cry again. “I love you, too,” she sobbed.
John locked up the office and hurried to his car. Something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t like Ellen to fall apart in a situation like this. And how could she be sure the car had been stolen if she couldn’t even remember where she’d parked? Her memory had been terrible lately, but good grief, people didn’t just completely forget where they were parked at the mall!
He broke every speed limit, and fifteen minutes later parked illegally near the south entrance. He ran inside and stopped short just inside the door. Ellen sat on the tiled floor beside a pay phone, her hair disheveled, mascara streaking her cheeks, a couple of shopping bags crumpled beside her. She looked like a derelict. It was a wonder someone hadn’t reported her. He was almost embarrassed to claim her. Shame washed over him for feeling that way about the woman he loved.
He went to her and reached out his hand.
Her eyes widened as if she’d just recognized him. “Oh! John. You’re here.”
“What happened?” He helped her to her feet.
She collapsed against him with relief, and he was surprised at how fragile she felt. She’d always been thin, but he wondered now if she’d lost weight and he hadn’t noticed.
He ushered her out to his car.
As soon as they were both sitting inside, Ellen poured out her story. “I…I shopped all morning and then decided to get some lunch. But when I came out to the parking lot, the car was just…gone.” She glanced up at him, then quickly turned her eyes back to her lap. “At first I thought maybe I’d gone out the wrong entrance, so I went back in and went around to the other side, but it wasn’t there either. I…I don’t know what happened to it. I can’t remember for sure where I parked. I…I’m sorry.” She started to cry again, silently this time, her shoulders shaking.
“Well, don’t cry,” he said, putting a hand briefly on her shoulder. He didn’t know what to think. This was so unlike Ellen. “We’ll find the car. Let’s drive around and see if we can see it. Now, where do you think you parked?”
“Right in front of Nordstrom…I thought. But I’m so upset now, I don’t know if that’s right.”
John cruised slowly up and down the rows of parked vehicles in front of the Nordstrom store. As he maneuvered a corner, he did a double take. In the third row, in plain sight of the entrance, sat Ellen’s car.
“Ellen. There it is.”
“Where?”
“Right there,” he pointed.
“Where? I don’t see it.”
He drove over to the car and stopped directly behind it.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean? There’s the car, right in front of you. Don’t you see it?” His voice rose, and he bit his lip to keep from shouting at her. Again, he felt guilty for feeling so frustrated with her. But she was acting like a child. “I’ll follow you home if you want me to. Are you done shopping?”
“I want to go home.” She didn’t make a move to get out of the car. “Please…just take me home. I’m so mixed up.”
“Ellen? What is the matter with you? You’re going to have to drive the car home.”
“I don’t know where it is,” she wailed.
Now alarm rose in him. She was totally disoriented. This couldn’t have upset her so much. Something else was wrong.
He reached for her across the car’s console and held her until her sobs subsided. His thoughts were as jumbled
as hers seemed when he finally let go. He reached down beside the seat for her seat belt, buckled her in as he would a child, then turned the car toward home. They could come back for her car tonight.
Ellen was silent all the way home. She walked into the house and collapsed on the couch.
John went to her and sat beside her for a long time, stroking her forehead. “Honey, what is wrong? I’ve never seen you this upset over such a little thing.”
“John, I’m so mixed up. I don’t understand it. One minute I’m happily shopping away, and the next minute I can’t even find my own car.”
“Well, I’m worried about you. I think you ought to call Jerry and make an appointment. This kind of stuff has been happening too much lately. I don’t like it.”
“John, I just had a checkup five or six months ago. I’m in perfect health. Jerry will think I’m crazy.”
“Well, I’m beginning to wonder….” He grinned at her, trying to lighten the moment, but he was only half teasing.
And Ellen was not having any of it.
He was afraid to leave her alone. He worked at his desk in the den the rest of the afternoon. She puttered around the house, doing laundry, straightening her desk. By evening she seemed to be feeling better. She was cheerful, though obviously a little embarrassed over what had happened.
After supper they went back for the car, and she followed him home without incident.
That night Ellen slept soundly, curled against John in their big bed. But he woke several times during the night, a sick feeling in his gut. His mind took him to dark places as he finally admitted that he hadn’t wanted to explore the reasons why his wife could no longer balance the checkbook without his help; why she asked him the same question three times in one evening; or why Ellen, usually so decisive, now sometimes struggled to make the simplest of decisions.
When he’d dared to contemplate these questions for more than a fleeting minute, it had been easy to rationalize: Maybe this empty-nest business was having more of an effect on her than either of them had bargained for. Maybe Jerry was right, and the hormonal changes of menopause were to blame. Maybe Ellen just had a lot on her mind. The way he did.
But he couldn’t rationalize her behavior away any longer. He had to do something.
After a fitful sleep, John crept silently from bed early the next morning, taking care not to wake Ellen. He went into the den and dialed Jerry Morton.
“Jerry? John Brighton here. Sorry to bother you at home.”
“John, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I’m not sure. I know Ellen was in to see you a few months ago, and she said everything was fine, but something happened yesterday that has me worried.” He told Dr. Morton the whole story, remembering the mail in the refrigerator and the 1:00 a.m. showers as he spoke. Jerry listened intently, and John wasn’t comforted by their friend’s response. Jerry sounded genuinely concerned.
“I think you’d better get her in here as soon as possible, John. It sounds like there’s definitely something going on. I’ve got a pretty heavy schedule this morning, but bring her in around ten and I’ll work her in. I think this is important. If for no other reason than to ease her mind—and yours.”
“Thanks, Jerry. I’m really sorry to have bothered you like this, but frankly, I’m worried.”
“Don’t think a thing of it. You did the right thing to call me. I’ll see you at ten.”
Later, when John woke Ellen to get ready for the appointment, her clenched jaw and quiet compliance told him she was angry he’d called Jerry without consulting her. But she showered and dressed for the appointment without arguing.
John was surprised when Dr. Morton led them to his private office rather than to an examination room. After reviewing Ellen’s charts, Jerry asked each of them a barrage of questions, and the answers brought to light just how erratic Ellen’s actions had been over the past months.
“Ellen, I’m just a family practice doctor, so I don’t feel qualified to make anything more than an educated guess here, but I definitely think there are some things going on here that need to be looked into. I want to refer you to a specialist I know in Chicago—a neurologist. We’ll get his evaluation, and then we can go from there. If you’d like me to, I can call him and set up an appointment for you. His name is Dr. Patrick Muñoz.”
Before John and Ellen left Jerry’s office that morning, they had an appointment to see Dr. Muñoz the following Wednesday morning.
They spent the next days in a stupor—going through the motions at work and walking on eggshells at home. Ellen was sensitive and emotional. John felt irritable and impatient with her, then angry with himself for not being the shoulder Ellen needed to lean on.
On Wednesday morning they got up at six o’clock, drove into the city, and ordered breakfast at a café near the medical center. They sat across from each other in a large booth, the distance widened further by their silence. They picked at their eggs and let their coffee grow cold. Finally John went to the counter to pay their bill, and they walked out to the parking lot and got in the car.
They arrived at Dr. Muñoz’s office almost thirty minutes early and sat nervously in the waiting room, leafing blindly through ancient magazines.
Dr. Muñoz looked carefully over the charts Jerry had sent, asked a few terse questions of his own, and before they knew what had hit them, Ellen was checked into Northwestern Memorial for what would stretch into three days of testing.
They had not come prepared to stay, so John helped Ellen get settled before driving back to Calypso to pack a few of her things. He’d expected Ellen to be upset about the unplanned hospitalization, but she took the news well. In fact, he thought she seemed relieved to finally be on the brink of some answers.
John stayed at a hotel near the hospital on Wednesday night. He looked in on Ellen at seven o’clock the following morning, then drove back to Calypso to be at work by nine.
He came home from the office exhausted. With two important appointments scheduled at the schools the next morning, he wasn’t crazy about making the drive back into the city.
When he called Ellen, he found her in good spirits. They chatted about their separate days for several minutes.
He launched into a story about a meeting at work, then stopped abruptly. “Well, I’ll tell you about it when I see you later. Can I bring you anything?”
“Listen, honey, you don’t need to make the trip back to the hospital tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. There’s no reason for you to come. I’m fine. Besides, with any luck, you can come Saturday and take me home.”
John didn’t argue with her.
But the evening dragged endlessly. He fixed a turkey sandwich and ate alone at the kitchen table. By nine o’clock, he was bored and restless, and wandered aimlessly through the big house. He watched the first twenty minutes of the local news and decided to turn in early.
Their big bed, usually so welcoming and warm, was cold and empty without Ellen. The darkness brought out fears he hadn’t yet let himself examine, and he lay awake into the early hours of the morning making deals with God.
Chapter Six
Ellen came home from the hospital with more questions than answers. The tests had shown “nothing conclusive” and the hospital had scheduled an appointment the following week with a Dr. Gallia in Chicago, warning her to expect further testing. Jerry claimed the man was the best neurologist in the country, and told them most people had to wait months to get an appointment. Ellen did not find that information comforting.
As she counted down the days until the appointment, her mind insisted on carrying her to the past, to the earliest days of her marriage. It was a mixed blessing that her thoughts compelled her also to the greatest sorrow of their lives, for in this crease of her brain, at least, her thinking was utterly lucid.
When they’d come back from their honeymoon to the teaching jobs awaiting them in North Lawndale, she and John had made lofty plans. Sta
rry-eyed and ignorant, they lay awake under the rafters of their cozy apartment dreaming and scheming late into the nights, timing the events of their young lives to perfection.
But Providence paid no attention to their plans. Just after Christmas, completely contrary to the schedule they’d made, Ellen began to suspect she might be pregnant. She was only a few days late, but her body had taken on a new fullness, and the queasiness in her stomach on the bus each morning became more and more difficult to ignore. She and John had talked often about the children they would have someday, but both had agreed that they wanted to have more than the tiny apartment and teachers’ salaries to offer their babies. They hadn’t even felt they could afford a car yet, though Oscar was generous in lending them his.
Ellen was afraid to tell John her suspicions. He was so careful with their money and had such a precise plan set out: teach another year, buy a car then go back to school for his master’s degree so he could find a job that would allow Ellen to quit teaching and have their babies. It was a good plan—a reasonable plan. But as the signs became ever more evident that Ellen was indeed pregnant, her joy grew proportionately. She thought of nothing else. She decorated nurseries in her dreams and even bought a book of baby names, which she hid under her side of the bed. She looked at it furtively—and guiltily—while John was in the shower or out playing tennis. She started to feel dishonest keeping this momentous news from the one who had helped make it so but, after all, it had not yet been confirmed by a doctor.
Three weeks passed and still her period had not come, and the morning nausea was getting worse. She would have to tell John sooner or later. Would he blame her—or worse, would he grow to resent the baby for making such a drastic revision to their well-planned blueprint?
Ellen made an appointment at the county health clinic to have a pregnancy test. As she sat in the reception room waiting for the results, she realized that even greater than her fear of what John would say if she was pregnant, was the fear that the test would show she wasn’t pregnant. She desperately wanted the little life she was certain grew inside her.
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