Chapter Ten
My cell phone was in my hand and in action the moment I sat down on the bus. I started calling the list of clients we were handling at the time and gently explained that Max had an accident and would be out of commission for a little while.
By the time I’d been in the office for five minutes I was pulling out lists of other lawyers we’d been in contact with over the years and started calling, offering perspective clients.
Both client and fellow attorneys wanted to know exactly what happened to Max. I became remarkably good at telling them very few details that included a stay in the hospital and then brushed onto the next topic.
I didn’t want to talk about Max. At least not until one minute after twelve. By then I’d found solid replacements for two of our clients and got a delay in one of the trials.
The moment the clock ticked past twelve, I snatched up the phone and dialed the number. The answer on the other line was, “Hello, this is the front desk of New York Community Hospital. How may I direct your call?” I slammed the phone down. My hand clenched around the phone for a minute, then I let go and went in search of a phone book. Max was at St. Luke’s Hospital Center. I’d dialed my mother’s hospital out of habit.
“Hello,” I said when the correct receptionist answered. “I’m checking in on Max…I mean, Peter Maxwell. He came in yesterday after a car accident.”
The previous day I’d been numb to the core. Now I found myself trying to achieve that numbness again. Anything to block out the stinging sensation certain words like “accident” caused.
I was transferred several times until I heard a voice say, “Who am I speaking too?”
“Madeline McKenzie. I’m calling to check on Peter Maxwell.” My breath outright evacuated in suspense.
“Oh, yes. I see you here on the list. Mr. Maxwell has been transferred to a room on the fourth floor.”
“That’s good, right?” I asked.
“Well, yes. He is out of ICU, but we’re keeping him sedated for the moment.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “Did they find anything conclusive on his CAT scan?”
“Yes.”
My heart squeezed so hard I gasped.
“There was some swelling on his brain,” she continued as if this wasn’t someone I was emotionally attached to. “But that has gone down considerably. We tested him again this morning.”
I choked in a breath. Swelling in the brain sounded really bad, but the fact that it was going down sounded good. “So, where does that leave him?”
“Sedated, at least until tomorrow.”
I forced in another breath. “Can I see him?”
“Well…in this stage we usually only let family—”
“I’m all he has. I explained that to the doctor last night and he said it was okay.”
“He won’t be responsive to you in any way.”
“I don’t care. I just want to see him.”
I could sense her nodding. “All right. You can come down anytime between now and eight. Just check in with me first.” She told me where I could find her and I was out the door a minute later. Georgia called me as I was riding over to the hospital. I explained everything in as few words as I could and then turned my phone off. She understood, even if she was worried about the prospect of me in a hospital.
Walking into that hospital was like walking into a time warp. It might not have been the same one my mother had spent most of the last two years of her life in, but it felt the same. Same sour smells, same cold air, same white walls and speckled linoleum floors. My breathing started to become irregular. I’d tried to visit one of my friends in the hospital a few years back and couldn’t make it past the entrance way. But I was determined not to fail this time. I had to get to Max.
Ten minutes later I was standing right beside him, trying my best not to break out crying. I wasn’t even sure it was him at first. He was so pale, almost clear. Buried beneath oxygen tubes, heart monitors, and a bandage across half his head, it was hard to tell if the mass beneath those sheets was human, but I forced myself closer and I saw his features.
I’d seen Max sleep before. I would walk into his office with a message and find him sprawled out on his sofa with a file spilled on top of him. Sometimes I’d wake him up and sometimes I’d let him sleep. If I let him sleep he’d complain about it later and then I’d threaten to make him go home early and he’d say no more. But he’d always smile and roll his eyes.
The person lying in that hospital bed did resemble the Max I’d worked with for ten years, but there was something missing. Life.
I collapsed into the chair next to his bed, folded my arms on top of his sheets, and tried to think of a reason to keep the tears in.
“Max…” I said, but I couldn’t say any more. I wanted to say more. I wanted to hope if he heard my voice he’d wake up and everything would be okay, but I just couldn’t get anything else out of my throat.
My eyes trailed down to his hands. One arm was completely incased in a cast. The other was free. On impulse I reached over and wove my fingers into his then tried to will the numbness back.
I don’t know what bothered me more, the fact that Max was in this state or that I couldn’t bring myself to pray that he would be healed. I’d say “God…” and then choke up and falter.
Prayer hadn’t worked for my mother, but that’s not what bothered me. I knew it gave my mother comfort to pray and hear me pray and so I willing did. For some reason, I’d never begrudged God taking both of my parents from me so young. Maybe it was because they were so sure they were going to a better place. It made me feel warm whenever I thought of them.
What was between me and God…I couldn’t say. We’d just drifted apart over the years and now that I found myself really needing something on the Divine level all I felt was guilt.
So I just sat there until eight o’clock at night when the nurse came in and gently told me visiting hours were over. I had to unwind my fingers from his and leave. The hole-like feeling inside of me came back.
I returned the next day as early as possible. He wasn’t awake. In fact, they still had him under the power of heavy medication. I could tell he was a little closer to the realm of consciousness. He stirred every once in a while, but nothing more.
I sat down and once again said, “Max…” and once again nothing more would come out. I’d try to say something every few hours, but could never get past his name. Finally, I just clung to his hand, put my head down on the sheets, and sobbed my heart out. I’m sure the nurses heard me, but they were gracious enough to let me alone until I could dry my eyes enough to assume a stance of dignity.
The next day I went to work in jeans, a sweatshirt, and sneakers. Max wouldn’t have approved, but I couldn’t see wearing the suit when the only interacting I was going to have was over the phone. All I needed to do was go through his appointments and cancel them.
After seeing Max in the state he was, I’d gotten more serious about clearing his schedule long term. He wasn’t going to be able to do anything for quite some time. If I knew Max he would be trying to go back to work the minute he was mildly conscious, but I wasn’t going to let him.
At ten I called the hospital to see if it was all right to come down and once again take up vigil at the side of his bed. Georgia was threatening to make me stay fewer hours, but I knew her threats weren’t quite serious yet.
“Wait until noon,” the nurse on the other end of the line said.
“Why?” My heart rate started to rise. I was sure they were going to start listing off tests or procedures they suddenly decided he needed.
“We’ve been pulling him off the sedatives since early this morning. He’ll probably be totally awake by noon. Maybe even able to talk to you.”
My blood pressure shot up so fast my head started pound. “O-okay,” I stammered. “I’ll be there at n
oon.”
I was trembling by the time the phone was back on the base. How they expected me to wait two hours I’m not sure, but I got up that minute and ran down to the bus stop. I was standing in front of the hospital by ten thirty and then I just paced back and forth in front of the entrance.
I didn’t want to upset the staff or make them think I was going to be a problem, so I stayed outside. Surprisingly the time rushed by, probably because a considerable amount of time was spent trying to avoid the people walking in and out of the hospital as I continued to pace. At eleven forty-five I figured it was okay to start in.
I walked up to the glass doors and caught site of myself in the reflection. My shoulders fell. Here I was, going to see Max for the first time since he regained consciousness and I was in a sweatshirt and jeans. That just looked bad. There wasn’t any other way of putting it. I didn’t think Max even owned a sweatshirt.
With a deep breath, I walked into the entrance, determined to move on. I wasn’t going to go back to my apartment just to put on something more professional. Besides, he might not be able to see me all that well anyway.
His glasses had been obliterated in the accident. I’d left one of his spare pairs with the nurses the previous night, just in case he woke up, but I wasn’t sure I’d given them the most recently updated pair.
I made it up to the desk on the floor and got a hold of the nurse I usually talked to.
“Is he awake?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, he’s up. Even had something to eat. But I’m glad you’re here. He’s a little confused about where he is and what happened. I figured you might be able to explain it to him a bit better. He’s probably going to be more comfortable with you anyway.”
I nodded quickly and she shoved me in the direction of his room. I didn’t think much on the way down there, just moved as quickly as I possibly could without knocking anyone down.
My sneakers squeaked a bit as I came to quick halt in front of the door. It was open. After another deep breath, I walked in.
The Moment Max Forgot Me Page 9
