Visiting Hours

by Tagan Shepard

  The crowd around her peeled off with each parking deck they passed, and the young began to mix among the old guard. Students from the medical college were leaving classes, heading for the shuttles that would take them to classes or coffee shops on the other side of campus. Alison arrived at a shuttle stop just in time to hop on with them. She scanned the card identifying her as a professor and entitling her to a free ride back to her side of campus. If traffic was fair, she would make it back in time to teach her last class of the day, a graduate seminar that should provide the academic distraction she craved.

  VCU split its campus and its focus roughly evenly between medical education facilities downtown and the main campus a few miles west in The Fan and Museum Districts. Alison felt her comfort level rising with each block they traveled. As the shuttle left the medical college behind, it also left the world of wealth and privilege. The students on the medical side of campus tended to be clean-cut, exactly what you would expect from the next generation of doctors, dentists and nurses. The other side of Virginia Commonwealth was predominantly an arts college. Some of the arts were liberal, like the history classes she taught, but most were visual. The students there were more likely to have tattoos on their arms, piercings in their noses and paint stains on their jeans. Still, the campuses mixed freely, and she saw a good number of khakis mixed amongst the artfully ripped T-shirts as the bus slowed and dropped her off outside the Hibbs Building.

  At a fresh-looking thirty-five years of age, Alison was young to judge too harshly, but still she had to hold back from rolling her eyes at some of the scene around her. She had never been the type to live too wild a life. She’d grown up on the wealthy side of middle class, and her parents made sure she and her two sisters wanted for nothing. They’d all gone to the best schools and were given every opportunity to succeed. Inevitably, her oldest sister left home in rebellion and her middle sister also resented the perceived interference of their parents. Being the youngest, Alison had the perspective to see her parents’ generosity and felt bound to honor it. The upshot was that though she lived a full, happy life, she’d never had time for wild and crazy. These kids knew nothing else. Half of them still looked hungover as they headed to dinner.

  She pushed past a crowd of students leaving Hibbs and heading across the brick paved courtyard to the dining center directly opposite. This group was more her style. She recognized more than one student’s face and guessed they were, if not history majors, probably business or engineering. Something more intellectual and less dirty than artists. She may teach non-majors most of the time, but she was an academic and felt she fit the part. Her wardrobe was heavy on long, flowing skirts, tight-cabled sweaters and cotton blouses. When she branched out to wear slacks, she usually paired them with loafers. She made an effort to stay closer to the modern hippie look than, say, the uptight librarian, and succeeded more days than she failed.

  Alison pushed through the door to her classroom just as the first students were arriving. As she settled herself at the teacher’s desk, her phone buzzed. It was a text message from Beth.

  Stop worrying. Everything is going to be fine. Have a good class! See you tomorrow!

  At least Beth still had optimism. After living this same nightmare with her best friend so many times, Alison felt like her store was completely empty.

  Chapter Three

  Stepping into the hallway, Alison pulled the door to Beth’s room shut behind her, careful to hold the handle down until it eased into the frame, pleased to hear only the faintest click. Beth had dropped off to sleep while they were chatting, and Alison didn’t want to wake her. She’d gone through a long afternoon of tests and waiting on tenterhooks. Alison wanted to be sure that she got enough rest.

  “How’s our girl?”

  Dr. Baker stood at the nurses station, scribbling a note into a green binder.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Dr. Baker finished writing with a flourish and clicked her pen. She looked up with a warm smile. “Beth. How is she?”

  “Haven’t you seen her today?”

  She flipped the lid of the binder shut and dropped it onto the desk behind the counter. “Yes. I’m sure she told you everything went well in the OR this morning. I was with her until around noon when they moved her to the recovery room.”

  “So you know how she is.”

  She folded her arms and leaned against the counter. “There are things a patient will tell their family that she won’t tell her doctor.”

  “We aren’t family.”

  “That’s not how Beth and Stephen see it. Didn’t Stephen say that everything in their house goes through you?”

  “Stephen is very proud of his little joke.” Alison shifted her bag a little higher on her shoulder. “I’m surprised you remember.”

  “I’m a good listener.”

  “I’m sure.” She peered down the hall, which was empty and quiet despite all of the occupied rooms. “Beth’s fine.”

  “Glad to hear it. How are you?”

  “Me? Why do you ask?”

  “Because a high risk pregnancy is not an easy thing to deal with.” She pushed off the counter and stood straight as a rail. “It’s hard for mom and baby, but it’s just as hard for the family. It’s common to feel helpless and scared, but also like you’re not allowed to share it. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  It occurred to Alison that Dr. Baker had seen how upset she was yesterday and must now think she was fragile. Or too involved in her friend’s life. “I’m fine.”

  “You and Beth seem very close.”

  Too involved, then. “We’ve been friends a long time.”

  She was playing with the pen between her long fingers, clicking it open and shut. “It’s good that she has that kind of support. Beth is very special.”

  Emotion piled up in Alison’s throat, and she swallowed hard against it. “Yes she is.”

  “How did you meet?” She finally held the pen still. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

  She did mind. She did not want to talk to this woman. She wanted to be at home on her couch with a very large glass of wine and a very soft pair of pajamas, but she felt the need to advocate for Beth.

  “In Sunday school when we were too young to notice any differences between us. When we were old enough to notice, there weren’t any differences anymore.”

  “That’s a lovely way of putting it.” She clipped the pen on her breast pocket and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “So you’ve been friends ever since?”

  “Ever since.”

  “That’s rare. I don’t think I can even remember the names of anyone I met so young.”

  Alison checked the hall again, it was still empty. “Yes, well, Beth isn’t easy to forget.”

  “I can believe that.” Alison was raising her wrist to look at her watch, preparing her escape line, when Dr. Baker said suddenly, “What’s your number?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She pulled her phone from her lab coat, activating the screen as she spoke. “Your cell phone number. What is it? I have some links to some articles I want to send you.”

  Alison pulled her phone from her purse, confusion more than anything else forcing her to comply. She brought up her number from the menu and handed the phone to Dr. Baker.

  She handed it back almost immediately, typing furiously as she explained, “They’re just some websites that deal with Kell blood type and HDFN associated with it. I already gave them to Beth and Stephen. I thought you might want to check them out. You seem the sort who needs more information than I gave you yesterday. There’s not much medical jargon in them. I just thought it might help put your mind at ease to know more.”

  Alison’s phone buzzed as she dropped it back into her purse. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  She started down the hall, but stopped and turned. “It was kind of you to think of it.”

  “Of course.”

  Alison felt like there was mo
re to say, but couldn’t think what, so she continued down the hall and out of the hospital.

  Chapter Four

  The sun was setting over downtown by the time Alison made it to the hospital the next day. As the sliding glass doors ticked open she was able to see, over the heads of the considerable crowd, the blond monolith that was Stephen. He was on his cell phone, pacing back and forth behind a pair of chairs in the lobby. His usual lazy smile carved a series of radiating lines on his heavily tanned cheeks like ripples from a stone dropped in a pond. Everything about Stephen screamed of the outdoors, from the year-round tan to the aroma of cut grass and sunshine that was as much a permanent part of him as his skin.

  An older woman unwittingly stepped into the path of his pacing. She tottered for a moment from the collision, but he reached out and caught her elbow, sending her on her way with a smile to strengthen his silent apology. She smiled back, not the least upset by his carelessness. In fact, she moved with a lighter step than before. That had always been the greatest of Stephen’s gifts. He could charm anyone and everyone he met even for the briefest moment.

  Alison could still remember the night she and Beth met him. They had been in Boston for almost a year, but had been so busy with their studies that they rarely left their ice-cold basement apartment. When they both ended up with a Friday night off, they decided to celebrate at the bar on the corner. Its thumping music had been a siren song for weeks. The little place turned out to be everything they wanted it to be. Low lighting, polished wood, reasonable prices and a high bistro table in a corner perfect for people watching. Alison had just broken up with a sweet guy who kissed like a malfunctioning vacuum cleaner and she had no interest in replacing him any time soon. She focused entirely on finding someone for Beth, who had been single for far too long.

  Beth’s eyes scanned the crowd over her glass of chardonnay, and Alison noted that they kept going back to one particular table. So fixated on Beth was Stephen that he looked like he’d been punched in the face. Alison watched him for a good five minutes and swore he never blinked; he was staring at Beth so hard he didn’t notice his buddy elbowing him in the ribs.

  “Will you go talk to that guy before he passes out? He looks seven feet tall at least. He’ll break something when he falls down.”

  “What are you talking about? What guy?”

  “The one you can’t keep your eyes off of.” Alison waved at him and he finally seemed to notice her next to Beth. “He’s been drooling into his beer since we walked in.”

  He stood up.

  “Don’t wave at him! Why did you do that? Now he’s coming over here!”

  “Exactly! You’re welcome.”

  He didn’t even spare Alison a glance before introducing himself to Beth. Neither of them noticed when she wandered off to the bar a few minutes after he sat down.

  The next day when he called to ask Beth out to dinner she accepted, but almost immediately decided to cancel. She came up with a dozen excuses why she couldn’t go out with him and left Alison to say the real reason out loud.

  “You aren’t canceling because you don’t like him. You’re canceling because you’re afraid you do like him. You think you’re probably going to fall for this white guy.”

  Beth was less than willing to admit the truth, but Alison knew her too well to be fooled. She also knew better than to back down. So she pushed when Beth pulled and waited for her to accept the inevitable. When Beth grabbed the phone to actually cancel the date, Alison yanked the cord from the wall so hard that a little chunk of plaster came loose and rattled to the floor.

  “Damn it Beth! You are going to go on that date!”

  “Why do you care so much if I go out with this guy?”

  “Because he’s perfect for you!” She brandished the frayed end of the phone cord at Beth in a way that would have been funny if the moment hadn’t been so emotionally charged. “Because he’s perfect and you have terrible taste in men. Because it doesn’t matter that he’s white, it matters that he makes you smile. And since you aren’t likely to find another decent guy any time soon, you’re going to go out with this one. You’re going to let yourself fall in love. I wanna dance at your wedding, Beth.”

  That hadn’t ended the fight, but Alison had broken the phone so Beth couldn’t cancel the date. That one date was all it took. Alison danced at their wedding a few years later.

  Watching him now, still alight with happiness despite the fact that his wife was essentially chained to a hospital bed for the foreseeable future and the baby she was carrying needed constant monitoring, she wondered if she had judged him a little too kindly back then. Alison shook herself, aware that fear and annoyance were erasing her charity.

  Stephen turned again and this time he spotted Alison. He waved and ended the call.

  “Ali!”

  “Hello, Stephen. How’s Beth?”

  “Good. I was just heading out to pick Rachel up for dinner.”

  She knew from experience that he wasn’t likely to say more about Beth’s condition. He deferred to the doctors when it came to Beth’s health, and Alison had learned that pressing him was a waste of breath. She would have to get her information from the source. Right now, she had other concerns.

  “Stephen, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Uh-oh.” An exaggerated look of concern almost settled into place before his smile ruined it. “This sounds serious.”

  “It is. I want to know more about this blood thing that you have.”

  “The McLeod thing.” He waved his hand and the smile lines in his cheeks deepened. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “You know, that’s what Beth’s doctor said too. The more I hear it, the less I believe it.” He didn’t offer up any information, so she continued, “I’m not letting it go, Stephen. How dangerous is this?”

  “It’s not dangerous, Ali.” Staring into his eyes, she didn’t budge from where she stood. “Okay fine. If I tell you what I know will you let me go pick up my daughter?”

  “I’ll consider it.”

  “Fair enough,” he said with a deep chuckle. “So it’s a hereditary disorder called McLeod Syndrome. The same thing that gives me the Kell blood type causes it.”

  “What does that mean? Is it a mutation or something?”

  “I guess so.” He held up his hand at the look she gave him. “I’m not avoiding the question, I just don’t exactly understand. It’s sorta sciencey. There’s a specialist I’m going to see once life goes back to normal. All I really know is it can cause some issues later on.”

  “What kind of issues?”

  “Anemia, muscle pain, heart problems, and what one of the articles Jess gave me to read charmingly called ‘behavioral changes.’ Bottom line is my heart will give out at about the same time I go crazy.”

  “Stephen, that’s not funny.”

  “No it isn’t, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “Wait, you’re serious?”

  “Yep. I might have a mild version of it with no problems at all. I might have a severe case and die five years after I develop symptoms, there’s no way to tell.”

  “They can’t tell you how bad it is?”

  “Nope. I just have to wait and see. I can drink my milk and eat my spinach, and it’ll still happen. So I’m just not going to worry about it.”

  “Stephen…”

  “Ali, look…” He sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the sliding glass doors and the sidewalk beyond them. “The articles said symptoms will appear in my fifties. I have twenty years before I have to worry about this thing. I’m not going to drive myself crazy.”

  “Have you made an appointment with the specialist?”

  “I already have a nagging wife to hassle me about that.”

  “Have you made an appointment with the specialist?”

  He put a hand heavily on her shoulder. “I promised Beth I’ll make an appointment as soon as she’s out of here with our son.”

 
Alison bit back the words she wanted to fling at him about his optimism. “Fine. Just know there will be two of us holding you to that.”

  He laughed so loud a few people turned to look at him. Using the hand on her shoulder, he pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. The smell of grass and sunshine was there, but the antiseptic smells of the hospital nearly covered them. The mixture made Alison’s stomach turn. She wrapped her arms around his thick waist and held on tight. Part of her hoped that she could squeeze some of that positivity out for herself. But when she headed for the elevator, she didn’t feel any better.

  Chapter Five

  Alison sat in a university faculty meeting in rising impatience with her current lot in life. Most people were surprised to hear that the vast majority of a college professor’s working time was spent outside the classroom. Writing lesson plans, composing tests, grading and counseling students filled countless hours. Then there was the time she had to spend on her own research, writing and publications. When all of that was taken into account, class time, the fun part as Alison thought of it, represented just a small fraction of what she did. Everything else was the busy work of the academic and the most tedious of those time-consuming tasks, as far as Alison was concerned, were faculty meetings.

  Their ostensible purpose, she’d been told, was to keep all faculty abreast of each other’s work and the happenings of the college. In reality the meetings devolved into either an hour of bragging, like this one, or an hour and a half of complaining. Alison’s friends in the corporate world assured her this was not exclusive to academia. One in particular, who had spent nearly two decades in the banking industry, insisted that she had never once attended a meeting that could not just as easily have been an email. Of course, she generally said this after she’d had so many vodka and Red Bulls that she was grabbing the waiter’s butt every time he walked by, so Alison took her words with a grain of salt. Still, the reality of staff meetings as a waste of time seemed to be universally accepted by everyone except those who conducted them.