by Annie Jocoby
I felt a little bemused, then recovered. “Sure, of course. You have to get your sleep. I’ll be back later, for visiting hours, ok?”
“Ok,” he said, without enthusiasm. “But maybe you should stay home this evening. Dalilah needs you, and I’m not much company.”
“I want to come back.”
“I know, but I sleep a lot. I don’t want to be rude.”
I felt tears threatening, but I just nodded my head. “Then I’ll be back tomorrow morning for visiting hours at nine.”
“Sure,” he said, again without enthusiasm. Then he wrapped his arms tighter around the Pooh Bear, and looked up at me. He looked just like a little boy at that moment. “Bye, Iris. I love you.”
I smiled, but inwardly cringed at the use of my given name. “I love you too.”
He was acting so strangely.
I shook my head as I left the room. I was feeling concerned, but it was such a vague feeling. I had no idea what I was supposed to be concerned about.
Chapter Nine
I arrived at Nick’s house, feeling forlorn and confused. Ryan seemed like a different guy just now in his bed. What was up with all that talk about how worthless he was, and how he feared being like his father?
When I walked through Nick’s door, I saw Nick and Dalilah sitting at his grand piano. Nick had concert-level piano skills, to my surprise. I mean, I knew that he was a good piano player, because he played the piano at my own house while he stayed with Dalilah and me. But he was so much more highly skilled than I had anticipated. He was playing a complicated piece that sounded like Rachmaninoff, one my own favorite composers, closing his eyes and swaying his head.
Dalilah was sitting beside him, in a specially made seat, quietly studying him. And when I say that she was studying him, that’s what I mean – she wasn’t like most infants, who would be busy with toys or something else to distract them. No, she was watching him intently, studying his hands, which were flying across the keys rapidly, as the music was hitting a crescendo. Her gaze never left Nick’s hands. Her little eight-month-old head was going back and forth, following Nick’s movements precisely.
Needless to say, neither of them even noticed me standing there in the foyer.
I stood there watching the two of them for a little while, fascinated. Fascinated by how talented and passionate Nick was at the piano, and by how entranced my little daughter was by it all. I wondered if she would be like Sarah, playing the piano at age 3. And it struck me that Nick had a sensitivity to the music, and it’s nuances and phrasing. Sensitivity that always seemed to be lacking in his everyday interactions with people.
Nick was finally done with his piece, and Dalilah clapped her little hands appreciatively. “Bravo,” she said, giggling.
Bravo? How does she know that word? I mean, I’m sure that she heard it somewhere, but it boggled my mind that she was able to use it in context the way that she just did.
Just then, Dalilah finally noticed me. “Mama!” she shouted to me, reaching for me out of her specially made seat. “Come here, mama, come here!”
I rushed over to her, and picked her up. She clung to me tightly. “Uncle Nick play the piano!” she said excitedly. “He’s really good!”
I laughed a little, and looked at Nick, who was sitting at the piano bench. He looked like he just had a workout, as a little bit of sweat beaded his forehead and he was breathing slightly heavily. I supposed that playing the piano, with as much force and passion as he was playing it, could take something out of a person.
Nick smiled. “Hey, good to see you home. How’s my boy?”
I shook my head, and motioned to Dalilah. I knew that she could understand my words, so I didn’t want to say too much in front of her.
Nick understood. I mouthed the words “we’ll talk later,” and he nodded his head.
“How’s daddy?” Dalilah asked me, her little hands clutching my hair and examining it.
“Daddy’s fine,” I said. “He loves you and misses you.”
“Daddy hurt?”
“Yes, baby, but he’ll be home before you know it.”
“I miss daddy,” she said, her face looking crestfallen as she continued to playing with locks of my hair.
“So do I, baby. So do I.”
∞
That night, after dinner, I tried to call Ryan. His phone rang and rang, and the attendant came back on the phone to tell me that he was resting comfortably.
Then I put Dalilah to bed, and Nick and I shared some Scotch and had our talk.
“I’m worried about him, Nick. I mean, I know that he went through major trauma, so he isn’t 100%. But he’s talking more negatively than I have ever heard him.”
“What’s he saying?”
“He keeps trying to convince me that he’s not like his father. That he’s a good guy. But he also said that he wasn’t good enough for me, and that he was, quote, damaged goods.”
Nick shook his head. “I was afraid of this happening.”
“What?”
“He’s apparently taking stock of his life. As people tend to do when they’ve come out of a life or death situation. His is one life that should never be examined.”
“What do you mean?”
“He had to work through a lot of shame. Shame about what happened to him as a kid, but also shame about how he acted when he was an adult. How wasted he was. I suppose he never told you about how he almost killed me.”
“Almost killed you?” I was extremely startled by this revelation.
“Yeah. In a fight. I was in critical condition.”
“He told me that he sent you to the hospital with bruised kidneys, a ruptured spleen, cracked ribs and a concussion. I didn’t know you were in critical condition.”
Then Nick proceeded to tell me the story.
“Fuck,” I said. “That doesn’t sound like him at all.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah. And he was a man whore. Never when he was in a relationship with Alexis, though. But when they were broken up….” Nick shook his head. “Geezus christ, that man could get the women. He would just walk into a bar, and they would be dripping off of him five seconds later. He’d have all these one-night stands, and the women would get obsessed with him. It got to the point where he could never bring a woman home, because she would stalk him for months afterwards. They would key his car, put sugar in his gas tank, bash in the windows of the house. They did everything but boil a bunny, but if we had a bunny, that probably would’ve happened too.”
“So, he stopped having one-night stands?”
“Nope. He just took them to a hotel or went to their place. Gave them fake phone numbers to call him. That stopped the fatal attraction chicks, except for the most enterprising ones who still managed to find his address and would come by. That didn’t go over well when Ryan and Alexis got back together and these random women would just show up, let me tell you.”
“I see. So why are you telling me all this?”
“Because that’s a part of his issues now. He treated those women extremely carelessly. He knew that they always got attached to them, yet he played them like this grand piano here. That’s a part of this shame.”
“But he had a rotation of women going right before he met me.”
“That was a bit different. He dated those women. He didn’t just fuck them. In college, he was a user of women. He was pretty flagrant about it, too.”
“And what does all of this have to do with what he’s going through right now?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him yet. But I would suspect that he’s taking stock of his life, and not liking what he’s seeing about himself. About how he was.”
“Was is the operative word, here. Was. Not is. Was.”
“Yes, but do your actions ever really leave you? Or do they become ingrained, a part of your identity? Think about it.”
I knew he was right. I still looked upon some of my actions with a great deal of shame, even though those actions were also long in the past.
“Hello?” I said, not recognizing the number, but feeling apprehensive because the call came so late at night. I tried to shut off the fear that the voice on the other end of the line would tell me that my husband threw a clot and was dead.
“Mrs. Gallagher?” a female voice said inquiringly.
My blood ran icy cold, and I started breathing heavily. “Yes?”
“This is Joelle Krueger, the head nurse at the hospital.”
Now I was hyperventilating, and feeling like I was going to pass out. Trying hard to conceal my panic I just said “yes?”
“It’s your husband. You need to come down here right away.”
Breathe, Iris, breathe. My head starting swimming. “Why? Why? He isn’t..”
“No, he’s alive.”
“Why, what happened?”
“You need to come down here.”
“No, tell me now. I want to know right now. Right now.”
A long pause. Then - “Mr. Gallagher attempted suicide.”
Chapter Ten
Attempted suicide? My mind wasn’t comprehending her words. How was that even possible in the ICU?
“I’m sorry, Ms. Krueger, I guess I don’t understand. My husband is in the ICU. I know that people watch him around the clock there. How is it possible that he attempted suicide?”
“Mr. Gallagher was transferred to a regular room about three hours ago. I’m very sorry. I thought that somebody would’ve contacted you by now about that.”
“No, nobody contacted me,” I said, feeling irrational anger building up. “Why can’t you people get your shit together?”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Gallagher. I’ll find the person who was responsible for contacting you about transferring Mr. Gallagher to a regular room, and that person will be reprimanded.”
“Whatever. That’s not important. I’m sorry for snapping at you. Now, please, tell me what happened?”
“Mr. Gallagher broke a mirror in his private bathroom, and used the jagged edge of the mirror to slash his wrists.”
My hyperventilating started anew. Breathe, Iris, breathe. But don’t hyperventilate. I started taking deep breaths in through my nose, expelling the air through my mouth. I felt hot tears flowing down my cheeks.
“Ok, um, ok.” That was all I could think to say at that point. “How did he get to his bathroom?” I knew that Ryan wasn’t able to walk, so I didn’t know how he could do that.
“Mr. Gallagher is regaining use of his lower extremities. He can walk now. Is that what you were asking?”
“Yes, that’s what I was asking,” I said. I was stalling, trying to calm down before getting behind the wheel to see Ryan. I considered calling Daniel to drive me. I even considered getting Nick to drive me. But I wanted to see if I could drive myself first.
“Are those all the questions you have, Mrs. Gallagher?”
“Um, yes. Yes. I, I will be down there in about a half hour.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Gallagher. We were going to wait until later this morning to call you, but felt that this was an emergency.”
“No, I’m glad you called.”
At that, I hung up the phone, and sat on the edge of the bed. I was getting the familiar feeling that everything was surreal, like a Dali painting, and I had a difficult time discerning if any of this was reality. Was I dreaming? Did I dream up everything, including dreaming up Ryan himself? I had been through so much in these past few years that nothing seemed real to me anymore.
I guess that was my mind’s way of coping with all the trauma.
I went down the hall and knocked on Nick’s door. To my surprise, a drop-dead gorgeous woman in a baby-doll nightgown answered his door. The woman was around 5’8”, slender with enormous natural breasts, with luxurious chestnut hair that curled down her back. Through full lips, she asked me what I needed.
“Uh, I’m so sorry. I need to talk to Nick.”
Nick appeared directly behind her, wrapped only in a towel. His body rivaled Ryan’s, as it was just as sinewy, muscular and lean. I felt immediately uncomfortable seeing him like this. Stop, Iris, this is Ryan’s best friend. Yeah, Nick was man-candy, but he was like a Jaguar car – if you don’t own it, you can look, but never touch. Besides, if Nick was a Jaguar, Ryan was a Lamborghini. Both of them beautiful, sleek and top-of-the-line, but one of them was the absolute cream of the crop, and that was Ryan.
“Yeah, Iris, what do you need?”
I looked at the girl, then to him, wondering if he would introduce me. But Nick made no move to do so.
He still stared at me expectantly.
I took a deep breath. “Uh, I need to talk to you. Privately.”
Rack girl just gave me a disgusted look, then made her way back into the bedroom. Through the crack I could see that the bed was outfitted with handcuffs on the bedposts, and there was a riding crop in the corner.
I wondered who used that riding crop on whom.
“Just a sec, Iris. I need to put on some clothes.” At that, he went back into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. He emerged a few minutes later in shorts and t-shirt.
“Now, what’s up?”
“I need to go to the hospital.”
Nick looked alarmed. “What? Why?”
“Ryan, he…”
“What? Ryan what?”
“He tried to kill himself.”
At that, Nick’s eyes got huge and he started shaking. “Oh, shit, shit, shit. I was afraid of this.”
“So, could you care for Dalilah while I’m gone?”
“Yes, yes, yes, of course, of course.” Then he shook his head ruefully. “I need to get rid of Tessa in there. Can’t be too distracted when you have an infant in the house.”
“May I bring you the baby monitor?”
“Sure, please do. Remind me to buy one for my room as well. Just in case I need it.”
“Sheila’s around, right?”
“Well, yeah, she lives here. She helps with Dalilah while I’m around, but I don’t expect her to get up in the middle of the night to help.”
“You don’t have to get rid of your guest. I could always take Dalilah down to the hospital with me.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I’ll get rid of Tessa. She’s kinda a rando anyhow.”
I inwardly smiled, remembering how Nick was talking about Ryan being a man whore earlier. Nick still held the title of the biggest man whore around, especially since he didn’t limit himself to just one sex.
“Thanks Nick,” I said, suddenly feeling irritated, “but Dalilah doesn’t need to be exposed to your randos.” At that, I went to Dalilah’s room to wake her up, Nick right behind me. I turned to Nick and said “besides, seeing Dalilah might be just the thing to bring Ryan out of his depression.”
As I started to open up Dalilah’s door, Nick slammed it shut. “Listen to me. An attempted suicide is not simply depression. You can’t take this lightly, like you seem to have done with everything else. There’s no going to a drug house or to San Francisco to try to avoid this. You have to be his rock. Be his rock or get out of his life.”
I looked at him like what the fuck? I didn’t have time to think about how Nick was absolutely right about me and my avoidance and running tendencies. I also didn’t have the patience for the lecture. I needed to get to the hospital, and quick.
“Are you going to let me get Dalilah, or aren’t you?”
“I’m not. The hospital is not a place for an eight-month-old, and you can’t drag her out in the middle of the night.”
“Listen, I don’t have time to argue with your ass. I need to get to the hospital, and you appear to be busy, so I need to get my daughter and get the hell out of here pronto. Capiche?”
He stood there, in front of Dalilah’s door, his arms crossed. “Iris, you make really poor decisions. Really poor ones. Sometimes I think that you don’t have a brain in your head,
and this is one of those times. You’re leaving her here, and that’s that. End of discussion.”
I felt like hauling off and hitting him, or howling like a beagle. How dare he make decisions for me like that?
God, he was such a controlling silverback.
I half expected him to start beating his chest and roaring.
I found myself glad that I was married to such a sweet guy. I wouldn’t last two seconds with a guy like Nick ordering me around.
What could I do? Nick obviously wasn’t going to let me take her, and the bimbo in the bedroom had yet to emerge out of Nick’s bedroom and into her car. Sheila was asleep in the guest cottage out back, which is where she lived. I didn’t trust Nick with my daughter, not with rack rando girl in there. It seemed that she was getting ready to handcuff him and whip him. What would he do if Dalilah needed him and he couldn’t get to her because he was literally tied up?
Catch more bees with honey than vinegar. I had to try a different tact. “Nick, please. I think that Ryan needs to see his daughter. I think he’s spiraling into depression because he feels that he doesn’t have much to live for, and taking Dalilah over there will remind him that he does.”
“Iris. It’s 3:30 in the fucking morning. You’re a moron. That’s all.”
At that, rando girl finally peeked her head out the door. “Are you coming back, or aren’t you?”
I shot her a look, as did Nick. “Tessa, I’m sorry. I think it’s best that you leave. I have to care for my friend Ryan’s daughter while her mother goes to the hospital.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “Fine. You won’t see me again. Asshole.”
At that, Nick turned back to me and said “leave her here. Now get the fuck out. Now!”
I wanted to see Tessaa leaving with my own eyes. But I didn’t have time. I had to get out of there to see my husband.
So I left, without another word.
Chapter Eleven
I felt irrational hatred for Nick as I made my way to the hospital. My nerves were raw, absolutely raw, and he was getting on my last one. I was shaking, and the road was almost a blur in front of me. I prayed that a cop wouldn’t pull me over. It was too much, all too much. I didn’t know how much more I could take.
