When I Was Jane

by Theresa Mieczkowski

  “I have no idea how things were,” I say, cutting a grapefruit in half. “How could I go back to them? And my snuggly time with Dr. Charles is not at all what you think it is. I just needed someone to hold on to me. The nightmares have been terrible.”

  She clicks her tongue at me. “I’d be more than happy to hold on to you. And you should see the look on your face right now. It says, ‘Oh, no…I want a handsome man to hold me, the one with the piercing blue eyes.’ Humph. You already got yourself a handsome man to hold on to you, so don’t go thinkin’ about anything else.”

  I laugh. “You’re literally having a conversation with yourself right now and just doing my parts. I never said anything like that.”

  “You listen to me when I tell you to get back to the way things were.” She waves her fork at me. “No good’s gonna come from you tryin’ to get closer to Dr. Charles.”

  “What makes you think—”

  “Because I know you now. I know you’re lookin’ for answers, and I know that Dr. Gilbert isn’t givin’ them to you. I know Dr. Charles is practically made of mush on the inside. He’s such a softie, especially when it comes to you, so you’re tryin’ to cozy up to him to see what’s what. But you don’t even realize you’re gonna to end up with feelings for him if you don’t stop that.”

  “I didn’t keep him here all night to use him for information. But speaking of that, what have you found out?”

  “Well, it is bizarre,” she says shaking her head. “They say it’s Dr. Gilbert who won’t let you join their groups. They told Florence from the E.R. that you were invited to be in a book club with a few of the ladies, and after you went one time, he didn’t want you goin’ back. He didn’t like you out at night drinkin’ and gossiping, and that’s what they do at those book meetings. They even have a name for themselves…the ‘Carpe Tinis.’ Why would anyone wanna name a book club after a fish?”

  I have to put a hand over my mouth to keep myself from spitting out my coffee. “Carp-ay,” I say once I’ve recovered. “Carpe Tini…like ‘Carpe Diem’, but instead of ‘seize the day’ they switched it to seize the martini. Clever. Too bad I don’t know them; they sound pretty cool.”

  “Humph.” Dottie rolls her eyes. “I’d like to seize me a martini. Anyway, here’s the strange part. I heard from Angie…” She stops buttering her toast and points her knife at me. “You remember Angie—the one who brought you your tray in the mornings? Well, she said that when some of them book club ladies were volunteering in the kitchen, they were sayin’ Dr. Gilbert told you not to get on any of those committees to plan the hospital fundraisers because he liked to keep his work life and his home life separate and he didn’t want to mix it all up.”

  She stops talking to take a much needed breath. One of these days she’s going to talk until she turns blue. “But that doesn’t make any damn sense,” she says, “so I think whoever started that rumor got to everyone with the same stupid story.”

  “Oh, it makes plenty of sense.” I sip my coffee and try to imagine Jason telling Audrey not to be friends with the other doctors’ wives. “I think Jason didn’t want Audrey to know what he was doing behind her back, and with those women always hanging around the hospital, they were bound to hear rumors. He was probably afraid that if Audrey became friends with them, they’d tell her what they were hearing.”

  Dottie opens her mouth but doesn’t say anything for a moment. “What in the name of holy hippos leads you to believe he was foolin’ ’round on you and that the other ladies knew it?”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “Are you going to sit here and tell me that you haven’t heard a single thing about Jason and Leslie?”

  “I heard that trashy little thing threw herself at him, but to no use. And I heard he turned her bony little ass down flat.”

  I look at her warily. “We’ll see.”

  “We’ll see nothin’. That Leslie is a sly little nobody. If Dr. Gilbert paid her any attention, any real genuine attention that meant anything, she’d be on top of the building crowin’ about it for the whole world to hear. It isn’t enough that he’s a good lookin’ doctor. Think about it. Think about his family. Leslie would want everyone to know that she snared herself a Gilbert. There’d be no hidin’ it. He was raised with people tryin’ to get close to him because of who his daddy is, and that’s the reason he’d never go for her. I’m tellin’ you, you’re wrong.”

  I nod my head begrudgingly; she has a point. After meeting the senator and his wife and seeing their interactions with Jason, it would be hard to believe he’d jeopardize the family name by having a fling with a nurse. Then again, I don’t really know him. Maybe he couldn’t help himself.

  “There’s something I need you to do for me, Dottie. I need you to call the hospital upstate and ask them about the night of my accident.”

  “No.” She drops a sugar cube into her coffee. “No way, no how.”

  “Please. I need to know if he was there.”

  “Why? What difference does it make?”

  “If they tell you he was there, I’ll have no reason to be suspicious. I’ll try to get back to normal life.”

  She folds her arms across her chest. “And what am I supposed to say?”

  “Tell them you’re in the medical records department and calling to check because of insurance paperwork or something. Say that the wrong hospital got billed. I don’t know. Just verify that he was there.”

  She snorts. “This is a fool’s errand, that’s what this is.”

  “But what if I’m right? I should know if something was going on behind Audrey’s back. There could be so much more I haven’t even considered yet.”

  Dottie shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re gettin’ me into this, but fine. Now you got me wonderin’.” She pushes back her chair and helps me into my walker.

  I smile at her, grateful that my condition still requires a nurse. It seems that for now, at least, my injuries are working for me. Once they’re gone, Dottie goes with them. And then I’m completely on my own.

  ~13~

  Dottie and I search online and come up with a contact in the medical billing department of Davenport Hospital, where Jason claimed to be the night of my accident. She also jots down the cardiac unit number to double check in case he never officially signed in as a visiting surgeon. “Darn doctors don’t even bother with formalities these days,” she says as she reaches for her phone.

  I chew the side of my thumbnail, unable to stand the suspense.

  “Yes, hello. This is uh…Charlotte Baker.” She covers the mouthpiece and whispers to me. “I use my cousin’s name for everything. Even my passwords.”

  I poke her in the arm. “Keep going!”

  “Yes, I’m with Stateline Insurance,” she says. “I need to check on a treatment date we were billed for that belongs to your hospital. But, uh…the bill went to another hospital by mistake. Yes, mm hmm.”

  She’s such a hideous liar. I should have called myself.

  “The patient’s name? Well…I don’t have that information here. We’re just tryin’ to see if a Dr. Jason Gilbert was documented in any of the charts for the night of June fourth. Possibly in emergency or in the cardiac unit.”

  She covers the mouthpiece again. “She’s checking in the personnel office to see when he was on duty,” she whispers before bringing the phone back to her ear.

  She sings along with the music while she’s on hold. “Raspberry Beret. Mmmm…I love me some Prince. Brings me right back to summers on the Jersey Shore. Don’t you just love when you hear a song and—” She stops herself, probably realizing that for me, songs mean nothing. Even the ones I remember the words to.

  “Yes, I’m still here,” she says into the phone. “What? Are you sure about that? Maybe you should call up to the unit and speak to the…no, I understand. Of course.” She gives me a panicked look. “What department am I in? Uh…”

  I quickly grab the phone and disconnect the call. “What did they say?”
/>   “Well…they said that Dr. Gilbert hasn’t attended to a patient in their hospital since February.”

  “Ha! I knew it.”

  “But she also seemed pretty confused why I’d have the doctor’s name and not the patient’s name if I was callin’ from an insurance company.” She wrings her hands. “I’m gonna be in for it now. What if they traced the call?”

  “Dottie, it was medical billing you were speaking to, not the FBI. I’ll call in a while, tell them who I am, and warn them that reporters may be calling local hospitals to drum up more dirt on my accident. Then they’ll just think you were a reporter.”

  Dottie narrows her eyes. “For somebody with brain damage, you sure think quick on your feet.”

  I shrug. “Probably because I don’t have anything in there slowing me down.”

  She softens with a laugh. “So Dr. Gilbert wasn’t at the hospital upstate the night of your accident. Now what?”

  I hand her the phone. “I need you to make another call.”

  “Oh, no.” She backs away with her hands up.

  “Just call anyone you trust in the hospital and have them check if Leslie was on duty the day I was brought in. If she wasn’t there, we’ll know they were together.”

  “That’s a big jump to conclusions, missy. But fine, I’ll do it.” She takes the phone into her bedroom. “Nope,” she says when she comes back. “You’re wrong. She was on a double shift that day. Seven a.m. to eleven p.m.”

  “Unless someone else punched her in,” I say.

  “Not only was she punched in, she was given a citation that night by the floor supervisor and had to report it to HR. It’s all documented in her file.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. She’s already gotten two for talkin’ back to patients. Smart ass, that one.” Dottie falls back onto the sofa and sighs. “But now you know wherever he was, they weren’t together.”

  “Damn. But I should still warn the hospital upstate about the reporters.”

  “What reporters?” Jason’s voice startles me.

  “Jason…you’re home.” I limp over to my bed trying to buy time. “There was a phone call earlier—someone asking questions about the night of my accident. I mentioned that you were working in another hospital. I figured I should call Davenport to warn them not to speak to anyone in case they tried to check that story.”

  “Why would you tell anyone anything? I told you that reporters are always trying to dig up dirt on my family.” He walks outside and paces around the patio, yelling and gesturing into his phone. When he hangs up, he gives me a weary look and slides the glass door open.

  “Davenport got a call from someone claiming to be from an insurance company. Must have been right after you did. They won’t be taking any more calls about us.” He sits down on the bed and runs his hand through his hair. “You can’t speak to anyone about that night, understand? People think I faked a blood test for you, and that could ruin my career and my father’s in one swoop. I know you don’t remember being in this family, but you have to help us protect ourselves by being smarter than that.”

  I look away from him. “I’m sorry.”

  Dottie jumps up from the couch, runs into her bedroom, and slams the door. If I know her, she’s on her knees praying to Jesus that the Gilberts won’t fire her when they find out she helped me do something this stupid.

  “What’s with Dottie?” Jason asks.

  “She told me not to take the call and I didn’t listen.”

  “It’s good to know we can trust her,” Jason says, “but I don’t like this. People shouldn’t be calling here asking questions while you’re trying to recover.” He walks to the glass window and looks outside. “I won’t be taking any more long rotations for a while. I need to be here with you. Thomas told me about the nightmares.”

  I should probably be worried that they’re sharing information, but I can’t imagine Thomas telling Jason that he spent two nights lying next to me until dawn. He would have spared Jason’s feelings, which are already confused when it comes to me.

  “I’m fine. It was just a bad dream or two,” I say.

  “That’s not what Thomas said. Patel’s coming later to see if you need a breathing tube.”

  “Jason, no. I’ll do the lung exercises every hour, I promise. No more poking and prodding.”

  “Will you tell me about the dreams you’re having?” he asks.

  “I’m in a bathroom and the floor is covered in blood and there’s a woman screaming and then I realize it’s me and I wake up.” I rattle it off casually without going into detail. “Sounds stupid, I know.”

  “It isn’t stupid. I’m glad you weren’t alone, but I’d rather be the one to comfort you. Do you think if I were here you’d have let me?”

  “It’s hard for me when I know you’re deliberately withholding—” I grasp the bedrail and wince in pain. I lean back into the bed and hold my breath until the clenching in my chest subsides.

  Jason grabs a stethoscope from the drawer and listens to my chest. “Look at you…this is why we can’t talk about certain things. It’s too much for you. I need to have you admitted; your lung doesn’t sound good.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to touch me.”

  Jason lowers his eyes. “Believe me, I know. I’m sorry to be the bad guy here, but you have no choice. You’re going.”

  I glare at him, hoping he feels how much I dislike him.

  “If it makes you feel any better about me, just know that Thomas would intubate you himself right here and now if he decided you needed it. He wouldn’t be worrying about what you wanted.”

  I suddenly realize how selfish I’m being. I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t like this any more than I do. And he clearly thinks I see Thomas as a playmate and him as my warden. “Fine,” I say quietly. “I’ll do what you want. But in exchange I need you to answer a few questions.”

  He nods in defeat.

  “I know you can’t share sensitive information with me because you think I can’t handle it, but your lies are just as bad. I’m trying to figure out what kind of a person you are. Was there something going on before the accident that was affecting your marriage to Audrey?”

  He puts head in his hands. “Not this again.”

  “Jason, answer me. My intuition tells me something isn’t right. Were there problems in your marriage?”

  He sets his jaw and barely moves his lips as he answers. “Yes.”

  “Are these problems ongoing?”

  “No. Are we done here?”

  “Was it the nurse from the other night?” I ask.

  “No. For the last time—”

  “Then explain to me why she acted the way she did. Say something, anything so I can have faith in what you tell me. I don’t even care; I wouldn’t blame you. Please just give me some shred of honesty so I can see how it feels to get it from you.”

  Jason lowers his head. “OK. Audrey and I went through something last year; we were working some things out. Leslie was constantly coming on to me. She throws herself at a lot of doctors, but especially me. I usually ignore her. The week before the accident, I was pulling longer shifts than usual. I was dead on my feet, and Audrey was acting distant. I was in the break room trying to sleep off an eighteen-hour day, and Leslie came in offering to rub my shoulders, trying to comfort me. I kind of broke down.”

  “Broke down as in slept with her?”

  “No, jeez. I mean broke down emotionally. I was overwhelmed. She kissed me and I didn’t stop her. And then I kissed her back. Longer than I should have.”

  I almost laugh. “That’s it?”

  Jason scowls. “Some people would consider that an indiscretion, Jane.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can see how it could happen.” Having my feelings and memories severed from him makes it easy to be objective. “So you didn’t have an affair with her?”

  “No. I loved Audrey too much to do anything,”

  “I’m not su
re that has much to do with it. It isn’t hard to understand, really. You can love someone and still—”

  “What’s the matter with you?” He hurls his words indignantly, but then softens a bit. Perhaps once he’s remembered it isn’t his actual wife he’s talking to. “Yeah, I guess I know what you mean. I was lonely. And confused. And liked the attention. I may have wanted to for a moment, but I eventually pushed her off me and left. After that, I couldn’t shake her loose. She followed me everywhere, left notes on my car. On the night of your accident, she followed me all over the building trying to console me, saying that she would take care of me if anything happened to you. I finally had to report her. There was too much going on that night already, and I just had to keep her away from me.”

  So that explains why Leslie was written up the night of my accident. At least some of what he says seems to follow actual events.

  “And there’s one more thing I should tell you,” he says, his leg bouncing up and down. “I think Leslie called in the anonymous tip about me faking your results to get back at me for rejecting her.”

  “Were you afraid to tell me that?”

  “I guess so. And also ashamed that it got my father involved. I was raised to know better than to give some woman a reason to blackmail me.”

  “She wanted me to think you were involved with her. When she brought you your phone that night in the hospital, she made it seem like you two had been alone together.”

  Jason nods. “She stopped me while I was on the way back up with Thomas. She said she was sorry for the way she acted and asked if we could be friends. Then she hugged me. I think she did it to take my phone just to confuse you.”

  “Why would she want to confuse me? I have brain damage for God’s sake.”

  “Because if you and I don’t find a way to mend our relationship, or if she can drive a wedge between us, then she believes she’d have a chance with me,” he says.

  “I guess you know more about women than you think.”

  He shakes his head. “Not really. Thomas explained it to me the other day.”