When I Was Jane

by Theresa Mieczkowski

  I limp out to the hallway and start down the stairs. “I need to get out of here,” I say, turning to look at Dottie over my shoulder. My foot misses the step in front of me, and I try to grab for the railing but bang my mouth on it instead and tumble down to the landing below. I land face down on the bottom step, not wanting to get up ever again. I scream in pain and frustration, raging against the body I’m trapped in. I want to scream until my voice goes out. I want to punch something. I want to know why that happy girl in the picture did this to me.

  Dottie hurries down behind me and helps me sit up. “Oh, Lord. We gotta get you downstairs, Mrs. Gilbert; this wasn’t a good idea.”

  There’s blood trickling down my thigh, and a thumping numbness spreads around my knee. The pain is making me sick to my stomach, and I cry into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this.”

  Dottie sits behind me and positions my body between her knees, helping me go down each step on my bottom, keeping my leg straight out in front of me balanced on one of her own. Once we’re in the solarium, she drags me to the bed and elevates my leg beneath a stack of pillows.

  “I’m the one who should be sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “I have a job to do, which is takin’ care of you. But instead I’m paradin’ ’round here like we’re two girls at a slumber party.” She secures the sheet over the rails of my bed to block my view of her examination. “Damn, lost a stitch. Looks like you twisted your knee, too.”

  I bury my face into the pillow and hear a wheeze in my chest. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

  “Well, you gotta take it a little longer. And you better stay put in this bed. I’m callin’ the hospital.”

  Moments later she returns wearing an uncomfortable smile. I imagine she’s hoping to erect a proper boundary between us now that she needs to reclaim her role as my husband’s employee. I’m sure she’d like to forget the fact that we just ransacked his private office together.

  “Dr. Gilbert’s in surgery,” she says. “He’s gonna be backed up there for a while. Dr. Charles is on his way over. Said he can take a day or two and then go back as he’s needed.”

  I lie in bed crying, furious at myself for trying to take matters into my own hands and frustrated with the body that won’t let me. My knee is throbbing and feels like it has swollen up a few sizes.

  “Dottie?” I say weakly, watching her break up an ice pack for my knee.

  “Mm hmm?”

  “Maybe you should get all of that Luminol out of the kitchen before Thomas gets here.”

  Her feet barely touch the stairs on her way up.

  ~18~

  “What are we gonna do with you?” Thomas asks as he straightens my leg and then gently bends it back. The pain is excruciating.

  “Poor thing,” Dottie says, smoothing my hair. “It’s just a setback, that’s all.”

  “The stitches she lost are no big deal,” he says, cleaning the blood from my wound. He looks at me, puzzled. “Can I ask why you weren’t wearing your temporary cast?”

  I wipe away my tears. “It was a stupid mistake, I guess.”

  He carefully bandages my thigh in layers of gauze. “Well it’s a pretty good sprain, but we won’t have to amputate. I’m going to wrap the knee, too, to keep the swelling down.”

  He hands a small packet to Dottie. “I brought a few muscle relaxers so we’ll need to cut back on one of the pain meds tonight. Audrey isn’t comfortable with the effects of narcotics, so I’ll be staying with her.”

  She hurries over to the bar and returns with a tray of ginger ale and crackers for me to take with the pills.

  Thomas turns to me. “So, what the heck were you doing all the way upstairs?”

  “I was exploring. It is my house.”

  He listens to my lungs with his stethoscope. “But aren’t you supposed to be staying off the leg for now?”

  “I took a bath. Jason said I could practice using the stairs.”

  “Yeah, with help,” he says angrily. “What’d you do, drug our good nurse here and go exploring while she was out cold?”

  “She was taking a shower and I was bored,” I say. When he looks away, I wink at Dottie to let her know I won’t say anything about our misadventures that might incriminate her.

  “And you couldn’t have waited?” he says, clearly annoyed.

  “Because if I’d waited, you’d still be at the hospital? You didn’t have to come here, Thomas. And for the record, I’m in too much pain to do anything else, so you don’t have to stay and babysit.”

  “Calm down,” he says, his tone softening. “I didn’t say that. I’m glad to see you. It’s been a few days.”

  It’s been much more than a few days, and he knows it.

  Behind us, Dottie clears her throat. “Can I help with anything else, Dr. Charles?”

  “No, that’s all for now. Jason said to give you the night off.” Thomas takes a bill from his wallet and hands it to her. “Treat yourself to dinner and a movie.”

  “Thank you, Doctor, but—”

  “You deserve a break,” he says. “It won’t be long before this patient of yours gets more energy and tries to walk the roofline or something. Might as well relax when you can.”

  “You ain’t kiddin’.” Dottie laughs and turns to me. “Try to get some rest, Mrs. Gilbert. And no more explorin’.”

  Once she’s gone, I look at Thomas. “Did Jason really tell you to send her away for the night?”

  “No.” He walks over to the bar and surveys the selection of beer in the fridge.

  I grab my compact to check my reflection, and it’s as bad as I expected. I quickly smooth my hair down. “How are things at the hospital?”

  “Total chaos, just the way we like it.” He flops down on the couch and takes a long sip of his beer. “But tragic as hell. A lot of casualties. Jason’s dad came around to shake hands and console the families. Tough week to be a doctor.”

  “Tough week to have been on a bus trip.”

  He looks at me and smiles. “Now there’s the old Audrey I know and love. Not going to let me take myself too seriously, are you? Can’t complain without you reminding me it’s even worse in someone else’s shoes.”

  “How bad was it?”

  “There were some kids. That’s the thing I hate to see the most. Minivan full of kids coming home from an amusement park and they get trapped in a highway pileup. The mother is still in surgery with Jason. She’s gonna wake up and find out that two of her children…” He sighs and rubs his hand across his stubbly beard.

  My stomach tightens. Here I am feeling sorry for myself, and my husband is trying to save the life of a woman who doesn’t even know yet that part of her life has ended.

  “Sorry,” Thomas says. “I know how much you hate to hear these stories.” He goes to the fridge and returns with two more beers. He holds one up and tilts it towards me as if we’re toasting something. “Gotta take the edge off somehow.” He quickly drains the bottle and opens the second one.

  “You drink a lot.”

  He shrugs and sits down my bed. “Sometimes I have to. So how are you doing?”

  I can’t tell him I’ve just been snooping through my house only to find a bathroom ripped straight from my own nightmares and personal journals with pages missing. “I wish I could take the edge off, too, I guess.”

  “Care to be specific?”

  “Well…Daisy told me that Audrey used to cry a lot and that Jason was very angry with her before the accident.”

  Thomas groans and hangs his head. “Damn, Audrey. You can’t get your information from a five-year-old.”

  “But is it true? Was Audrey sad a lot?”

  He looks at me disapprovingly. “That’s not a fair question.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it isn’t my marriage.”

  I fold my arms across my chest. “Come on, Thomas.”

  “Alright. You were sad a lot. You had some things to be sad about last year. Talk to
Jason.” He looks at his watch and points to the little cup of muscle relaxers by my bed. “Gotta take one soon. And eat something—you’re a known puker.”

  I reluctantly take them with a mouthful of ginger ale and eat one of the crackers.

  “You’re going to feel kind of funky,” he says with a grin. “I’m just warning you.”

  “Good. I could use a little funky at this point. Do you want to talk about what happened at the hospital tonight?”

  He pauses for a moment. “I had to be the one to tell the dad. It’s always frickin’ me who has to do it. And I can never make it through without losing my shit.”

  I reach for his hand. “The dad from the minivan?”

  “Yeah. I had to tell him that he lost two of his kids and that his wife is having a cardiac massage to save her life.”

  “I’m so sorry, Thomas.” I open my arms for him.

  Thomas folds his arms around my waist. “How can someone ever be OK again after that?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t imagine how you deal with that every day.”

  “You have to see it as a job. But sometimes it hits too close to home. Nothing was as bad as the night they brought you in.” He tightens his grip on me.

  I listen to his breathing and feel his chest rising and falling against mine as I run my hand through the back of his hair. My leg doesn’t hurt at all anymore. In fact, nothing hurts. I feel light and warm, like somebody pumped me full of helium. Like I could float away.

  “Thomas,” I whisper, giggling into his chest. “I think I understand what you mean about feeling funky now. And I know it’s a terrible time to point this out, because I want to hear about your awful day, but I do feel very fuzzy.”

  He pulls me away and looks at my face, trying not to laugh. “Fuzzy?”

  “I said finky.” I grab hold of my tongue to keep it still. It feels like it’s sizzling. “Funky,” I say, closing one of my eyes to try to focus on him.

  “Oh my God, you lightweight.” Thomas stands up and hands me the stack of crackers. “Please tell me you ate something today.”

  “Nope.” I try to put a cracker to my mouth but miss and poke myself in the cheek instead. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you know what Looominal is?”

  “Luminol? You mean the stuff they use at crime scenes?”

  I nod and put a finger to the tip of my nose.

  “What about it?” he asks.

  “I bought it. On Dottie’s Amazon account. Isn’t that terrible? I figured out her password and went online and bought a whole kit.” I stretch my arms out to show him how much I bought, like a fisherman exaggerating a giant catch. I can’t stop giggling.

  Thomas looks at the little cup next to my bed. “Aw hell. You took all three of them?”

  I nod. “You said—”

  “I said to take one, Audrey. One. The others were for later.” He smiles and puts his head in his hands. “No wonder you’re acting like such a crackpot.”

  The way he says crackpot makes me laugh so hard I spit a mouthful of dry crackers all over the front of his shirt.

  He smirks at me. “Charming, Audrey. Really.”

  “Can’t you please, please just call me Jane?”

  “No.”

  I push his arm in protest. “Why not?”

  “I’ll tell you some other time.”

  “Fine. Be that way.” I put my finger to my chin. “What were we saying?”

  “Luminol.”

  “Oh, yes. I bought it. And I sprayed it all over that great big bathroom up there. You know the one with the stained glass daisy? That’s the bathroom from my dream, you know.” I realize I’m babbling but I can’t stop myself. “You know the nightmare I have and I wake up screaming? I know you know because you came and stayed with me after that and it was so nice.” I grab his hand and hold it to my cheek. “I’d like to do that again, I think.”

  “You covered the bathroom in Luminol? But that stuff has to be mixed and—”

  “One part Luminol to two parts peroxide.” I smile and pat his cheek. “Don’t look at me like that. I had safety goggles and rubber gloves and everything.”

  He sits back and stares at me. “Let me get this straight. You were mixing chemicals with a deflated lung, reading how to mix them with a serious concussion, and charging the package to the nurse who was here to care for you?”

  I bend over laughing. “I think I may be a bit of a badass, Thomas.”

  “Holy shit,” he says under his breath. “But why? Because you saw blood in a dream?” His face becomes serious and he takes hold of my wrists. “Audrey, whatever you saw, you need to know—”

  “It was everywhere.” I widen my eyes. “I think he tried to do her in. Maybe he smashed her over the head and put her in her car and pushed it over a hill. Maybe that’s way you couldn’t find him to tell him she’d been flown in. Because he was cleaning up the crime scene.”

  Thomas rubs his temples. “You didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “You threw chemicals around your bathroom because you think Jason tried to kill you?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “No. I’d ask someone before making that leap.” He finishes his beer and returns to the fridge to get another.

  My entire body feels light and tingly, and I love it. Nothing hurts or bothers me, and I don’t care about the words that come out of my mouth. “You drink waaaaay too much.”

  “Yeah, I know. You tell me all the time.” Thomas sits on the bed and cups my face in his hands. “Listen to me, ding-a-ling. You’ve got this very, very wrong. There’s nothing you can say to get me to believe that Jason tried to kill you. You’re his whole life, you gotta believe me. He’s one of the good guys.”

  “What about you?”

  “You mean am I one of the good guys?”

  “No. I mean how do you feel about me? Because I’m not buying the ‘just friends’ thing.”

  “I don’t think this conversation is a good idea,” he says softly.

  “Can I just see something?” I move my face close to his. “I just want to figure it out for myself,” I whisper, my lips an inch from his.

  He holds his breath and doesn’t move at first. “Wait—”

  I stop him by covering his mouth with mine and kissing him softly. His beard tickles my chin. I part my lips and put them to his again, feeling him respond. He grasps the back of my neck as we kiss, sending a charge to my very core.

  He groans and pulls away. “Jesus, Audrey. I can’t do this.”

  I slowly open my eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that if you didn’t want me to.” Truthfully, I’m not the least bit sorry.

  “Not wanting you to isn’t why I can’t do that.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  Thomas hesitates. “You’re my best friend’s wife, Audrey.”

  “I’m not her,” I whisper. “Don’t you see it? Don’t you feel that I’m different from her?”

  “Of course I do. I saw it the first minute I spent with you in the hospital. And that’s why I can’t call you Jane or any other name you invent for yourself. I have to remind myself that somewhere in there is Audrey, wife of the man I consider my brother. Audrey, my friend. For you this is a fleeting nothing, but for me this would be tragic.”

  I entwine my fingers with his and try to stop my eyes from drooping. “A fleeting nothing?”

  “You have amnesia; you don’t remember who you are. You don’t remember that Jason Gilbert is the absolute love of your life and that your sun rises and sets to his existence. You don’t remember that I’m just a friend to you.”

  “Just a friend to her.”

  “For you this is all new. You’re trying to figure things out for yourself, but believe me when I tell you you’re jumping to all the wrong conclusions. You think Jason is the bad guy, and I’m the one you want to be with.” He laughs to himself. “But the only reason you’re attracted to m
e is because you have a severe head injury.”

  “No. It had to be here before.”

  He shakes his head. “Jason’s the good guy. He’s the one you belong with. I’m not the kind of guy a girl can just kiss if she’s feeling romantic and fuzzy or whatever. That’s Jason. I’m not the kind of guy who’s going to stop at kissing. I’m the one who’s going to carry her into the nearest bedroom and then move on to someone else. I’m what they call a player.

  “You used to try to help me figure it all out. You said you could see what was holding me back even though I couldn’t see it myself. And I think I finally understand what you meant because now I feel the same way about you. I can see the big picture and you can’t,” he says.

  I lie back on my pillows. “Is this supposed to make sense to me?”

  Thomas gets up and begins to pace. “It used to drive you crazy that I’d sleep with a different woman every night and never call her again. You wanted me to settle down and marry. But the point is, you saw what it was about and I didn’t. That’s how I feel about you now. I see your blind spot, Audrey. It’s Jason. Believe me, he’s the one for you.”

  “Why do you sleep with a different woman every night?”

  He laughs as though it should be obvious. “Because I can.”

  I roll my eyes in disgust and grab another cracker. “I mean why did Audrey think you were doing it?”

  “I was a foster child. I bounced around to any families who’d have me for a year or two each until I went to college. I saw a lot of bad marriages. According to you, I was never able to feel secure anywhere. You said that’s why I love ‘em and leave ‘em—because it would be too painful for me to latch on to anyone. You recognized what I was doing with those women before I did.”

  I sit straight up in my bed. “So that’s the thing with you guys. I get it now.”

  “What’s the thing?”

  “They’re your substitute family. You play house with Audrey and act like you have a wife when you want one. You plant things and spend time together, but you still get to sleep with all sorts of women. You get to experience intimacy without any fear because it isn’t your family to lose. It’s Jason’s.”