“You promise?” Lincoln said.
“Yes, I promise.”
“Can I call your phone whenever I want?” That was his usual refrain—he needed to know he could reach her at all times.
“Yes, of course.”
“We’re leaving now, ma’am,” the officer called toward her. She looked out. Joel was in the back seat of the police car, which seemed oddly appropriate. He should be carted away for his actions.
She turned back toward Lincoln. “You can call my phone anytime, I’ll have it with me. But you be the big brother, okay? Can you take care of Rid?”
Lincoln nodded solemnly.
“Ma’am?” the officer called. Now Joel was leaning his head against the police car window. Really? Did he have to be so dramatic? Wasn’t it her life that had just been twisted and mangled? He was the one at the hotel with Tara and the rose petals while she had been here with the kids and Joel’s father.
“Coming,” she said.
She felt like she should be able to sit in the front seat. Joel was the criminal, after all—sick or not—but the officer held the back door open for her, and she got in. Joel moaned slightly, and she wondered if he was going to be sick again. He moved toward her, like he was going to lean on her, and she moved away, as close to the door as she could. The car lurched forward, and she wondered where they were going. She could see the front door of her house was still wide open, and somehow she didn’t care.
They were quiet on the short drive to the hospital, the same one where Richard had been taken right after his stroke. Of course, when they’d been here, she hadn’t realized yet that that was going to be it for him, that he would never go home again. She glanced at Joel, whose eyes were closed. She hated how things could change in an instant. She reached out her hand and grabbed his. It took a second, but then he clung on with so much strength it almost hurt.
“Can you walk in?” The officer had Joel’s door open, and he was looking at them. Under different circumstances she would have thought it was funny to be in the back of a police car with Joel—memorable at least. She might have even Snapchatted it to Kim. But there was so much that wasn’t funny about tonight.
Joel opened his eyes. They were still holding hands, but she pulled hers away now.
“I think so,” he said.
The officer seemed to be waiting for Hannah to step up and help. She got out on her own side, not even looking before she opened the door, and a car honked and moved away from her as it sped down Spruce Street. She walked over to the sidewalk and reluctantly reached in toward Joel. Again, he grabbed on to her with such force it surprised her, and she helped ease him out. He was okay; he could walk, which she was glad about. It would suck if he were really sick now and she had to be the grown-up. She didn’t want to be the grown-up.
Her phone rang. It was Monica.
“Monica, hi,” she said, trying to hold her phone and support Joel at the same time.
“Mommy?”
“Hi, Lincoln,” she said. “I’m here.”
“Okay, just checking,” he said. In the last few weeks, or really since he’d turned eight, he had sounded older, and it still surprised her.
The automatic door opened in front of them. She realized she was alone now with Joel; the police were no longer helping them. One had walked in, she noticed, maybe to announce their arrival or maybe just to use the bathroom; who knew? But now they were alone. Hannah could run. She could just leave Joel here, and nobody would know, at least not for a while.
“Mommy?” Lincoln said again, and she imagined the kids finding out that she had abandoned their father at the emergency room. She held on to Joel’s elbow a little tighter.
“I’m here, sweetie,” she said. “I’m just helping Daddy. Can you call me back in ten minutes?”
“Ten?” he asked.
“Yes, ten,” she said. This was often the only way to get him to hang up—to set the next time they would talk, the next time he could reach out to her to make sure she was there.
“Okay, Mommy.”
She waited and heard the call end. She slipped her phone into her pocket and used both hands to support Joel, even though it was really the last thing she wanted to do. What she wanted to do was spit in his ear and call him names like cheater and loser.
The waiting room was fairly crowded, but they took them back right away. The officer had, in fact, gone in ahead and explained what was going on. Joel was eased onto a gurney, and a rather serious-looking mask was put over his mouth and nose. Once that was done, they got to work on his arm, finding a vein, taking some blood, and getting him set up with an IV bag. It was the first time Hannah felt alarmed.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Oxygen,” a nurse said. “To help get the carbon monoxide out of his system.”
“And the IV?”
“That will help flush his system, too, and we added an antinausea medication.”
“I really don’t think—” she said, but nobody was listening.
She watched as the nurse labeled the tubes containing his blood. Then they were left alone. Joel’s eyes were closed. Hannah could literally hear the seconds tick by. Her phone rang.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said.
“Hi, Mommy.”
“Can you call back in ten more minutes?” Hannah asked. “I’m waiting to talk to the doctor.”
“Okay, Mommy,” Lincoln said.
Finally, the nurse came back in.
“He’s okay,” she said. “He has trace levels of carbon monoxide but not enough to make him this sick. It must just be a bug or something. Possibly food poisoning.”
Or marriage poisoning, Hannah thought as the nurse eased the big mask off his face and replaced it with a smaller plastic tube that fit into his nostrils. He didn’t even stir. She wanted to talk more about the type of poisoning it might be. A poisoning of their trust. A poisoning of everything they had built over the last fifteen years. A poisoning of love. That was enough to make anyone sick. But she didn’t. She didn’t think it was medical enough for the nurse to care.
Her phone rang again. She looked at the time—exactly ten minutes.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said. “Daddy’s okay. We’ll be back before you know it.”
“When exactly?” he asked. He sounded like a businessman negotiating a deal.
“Well, they basically said he’s fine,” she said. “But I guess since we came, they have to do something official to let us go. And they might have to do one more test, I don’t know. Maybe an hour?”
“An hour?” he said, like she’d just said she would see him next week.
“Maybe sooner,” Hannah said, looking around and thinking it might actually be much longer. The IV was still very much connected to him, and it was dripping. More than that, though, he was completely out. She pushed his side gently now, just to see, and he didn’t react at all. She pushed a little harder, then even harder. She glanced at the door to see if anyone was looking.
“Mommy? Are you there?”
Hannah took a step back, away from the gurney. “Yes, sweetie, still here.”
“Can I call back in ten minutes?”
“Yes, ten minutes sounds good.”
“Okay,” he said and ended the call. She realized she hadn’t asked where they were now or how Ridley was holding up, but she knew he would call back soon, so she would ask then—first thing. She poked Joel a little more, and he still didn’t react at all. She thought about how she could hurt him if she wanted. She could do all the things she’d contemplated on their way over here—spit at him, kick him, punch him, even yank his IV out of his vein. No, she thought to herself, this could be the last time. The last time she might be this close to him. And as long as he wasn’t conscious, she figured, so he wouldn’t even know and interpret it as acceptance or forgiveness—neither of which this would be—she might as well take advantage of the opportunity. She shoved him over a little and climbed into bed with him.
“Can I get
you anything, Mrs. Bent?” the nurse asked as she checked the IV by the side of the bed. She must have taken more blood, because she had a small full vial in her hand.
Hannah was startled and took a second to remember what had happened and why she was here. She pushed back the covers roughly, getting her hand caught in the tube that was still delivering fluids to Joel. She yanked and made it worse, and she told herself to calm down, or she would wake him, and he would know she’d slept next to him. She eased her wrist out of the twisted mess with the nurse’s help and stood up. She felt so woozy she grabbed the bar of the chair next to her to steady herself.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Bent?” the nurse asked with a completely straight face, even though Hannah was sure the whole scene must have looked quite comical to her. “Maybe you’re coming down with whatever Mr. Bent had.”
“No, no,” she said, wanting again to say that he didn’t actually have anything. He had humiliation and regret. Well, at least that was what she imagined he had. It occurred to her then that he could be sad about the end of the affair. He could have a touch of heartbreak. God, she hoped not.
“I’m okay,” she said quickly because the nurse was waiting for her to respond, even though she was pretty sure she was anything but.
She lifted her phone off the maroon vinyl chair so she wouldn’t sit on it and saw the notification of nineteen missed calls from the same number—Monica’s number. She shook her head as she called back. She had been sleeping for more than four hours. She realized, with some relief, that it was officially morning.
“Hello?” It was Monica, sounding groggy. She had expected Lincoln to answer, but this was better.
“Oh my God, I fell asleep, which seems impossible, but I was so sure I would hear the phone ring. Maybe the air is drugged here. How are you? I see all the calls from Lincoln.”
“We’re okay,” she said nicely, more nicely than she had to, since Hannah knew Lincoln had probably been a terrible handful when he couldn’t reach her—nineteen times!
“Where are you guys?” she asked.
“We’re still at Simon’s. I didn’t know where else to go, and he gave us sleeping bags and pillows. I made sure your door was closed, but I had to go back twice to let them in to check the carbon monoxide levels. It was fine the last time they checked. Now Simon is making pancakes for us.”
“Did they say what caused all the alarms and the smoke?”
“Oh yeah,” Monica said. “Old wires were burning under the street or the sidewalk or something.”
“Huh. Well, you’ve done so much more than you signed up for when you agreed to babysit yesterday,” Hannah said. “We’ll pay you overtime, double from when it all went crazy.”
“No, Hannah, you don’t have to do that,” Monica said. “It was an emergency. I’m happy to be able to help.”
“Well, I’ll think of some way to repay you,” Hannah said. “So how’s Linc?”
She held her breath. She deserved anything she got.
“He’s okay,” Monica said. “He was a little sad, but I told him that sometimes the phones don’t work at a hospital because there are so many machines that are there helping people. He told me that you would have told him that, which I thought was true, but I told him you might not have known the extent of it before you got there. He wanted to keep trying every ten minutes until he fell asleep—and I let him. He literally fell asleep with the phone in his hand, ringing. Also . . .” She trailed off.
“Also what?”
“He’s been asking for Dune.”
“Oh,” Hannah said, appreciating that Monica understood the magnitude of that request. “Is he still sleeping?” She felt the burn behind her eyes but tried to keep her voice steady. How could she have doubted Monica yesterday when she’d seemed unsure about whom to call when the alarm went off? She should be nicer—and less judgmental—to everyone, except for Joel.
“No, we’re all up,” Monica said.
“We should be home soon,” Hannah said quickly. “I never thought we’d be here this long.”
“Okay,” Monica said. “Should we stay here or head back to the house?”
“I guess either is fine,” she said. Presumably the alarms would go off again if there was any more trouble. “Make sure the alarms are in place, though, and working.”
“Okay,” Monica said.
“Does Lincoln want to talk to me?”
She heard muffled sounds.
“No,” Monica said.
Hannah took a deep breath. She would be paying for this for days.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll call you soon. Oh, and Dune is in Lincoln’s closet under his shoes if he asks again.”
“Thanks,” Monica said.
When Hannah glanced up, Joel was looking at her. She sat up straight and instinctually moved closer to him, then remembered and sat back. This really sucked.
“Hey,” he said.
It was hard to not speak to him in this tiny room while he was hooked up to an IV and getting oxygen. She closed her eyes and pictured the texts. She shook her head.
“I know, I know,” he said like he was reading her mind. “Can we just get out of here, and then we can talk about it or somehow come up with a way to deal with it or something?” He sounded croaky and sad. “How am I, by the way?”
She turned back toward him and stood. Usually that sort of remark would make her laugh. She noticed his hair was matted on his forehead, and she gave in to the urge to brush it back. He grabbed her hand.
“You’re fine,” she said. “I don’t even know why we’re here.”
“I feel fine,” he said, pushing up a bit and looking around. “But I’m so thirsty. Can I have something to drink? Water maybe?”
“I don’t know,” she said, not making any move to find out. He still had her hand.
“Can you ask?” he said. “Or I guess I can push the button for the nurse.”
“Ugh, fine, I’ll ask,” she said, moving toward the curtained doorway. There was nobody in sight.
“I don’t know,” she said again when she came back in. He shook his head.
“Look,” he said. “Nothing has changed. I’m still me, and you’re still you. We are still the same. What happened in Minnesota . . . it was nothing.”
“Literally nothing?” she asked. Had she misunderstood?
“Well, no, I mean, it was something there, in the moment, but in the greater scheme of things, it was nothing. It was so, so stupid. It was . . . the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
“I’ll give you that because we have a big problem. We have two kids—one who is very anxious—we have your father in the nursing home, we have our house, and we’re stretched thin with the mortgage and the tax increase. So now we have to figure out a way to take care of everyone and pay for a second place for you to live. And who knows? If your father isn’t my father-in-law anymore, maybe I won’t go see him like I do. I see him more than you do! You’ll have to step up.”
While she said all these things, she didn’t look at him, but now she did. He had his head deep against the pillow, and all the color that had come back was drained from his face. Honestly, he looked as sick as he had last night.
“We can talk about this later,” she said, sorry she’d started it. At this rate they would never be able to leave. “We have to get back to the kids.”
He didn’t say anything. A nurse she hadn’t seen before came in.
“I’m Mandy,” she said. “But you almost don’t even need to know that! You’re being discharged. You can go home!”
Castle Avenue looked a bit worse for wear, with a dug-up sidewalk and flimsy barriers blocking a big hole. Mud covered much of the pavement, and a gas truck idled near Broad Street. Hannah knew she should help Joel get out of the car—he had needed help getting in—but she just didn’t have it in her.
“Thank you,” she said as the driver stopped in front of their house. She got out, closed the door, and didn’t look back. She waited, but there was no
movement behind her. Was she really going to have to go back and help? Not only did she have a cheating husband, she had an invalid husband, which she had absolutely no patience for. She hesitated on the porch while she fished around in her purse for her keys, and just as she found them, she could see the driver’s door open. She went inside, leaving the door open, but stood just to the side of the big front window to watch the driver go around to Joel and help ease him out. He let Joel lean on him as they walked up the steps slowly.
“Thanks,” Joel said weakly as he crossed over the threshold.
Hannah moved toward them, the words He cheated on me by way of an explanation on her lips, but then Lincoln appeared. She turned away from the driver. He didn’t need an explanation. She would add a big tip when she gave her extra-high rating for the ride.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said, leaning over to hug him. He smelled warm and cozy and looked like he might have grown overnight. He held Dune by the back leg, so the bear was upside down. Monica must have dug him out of the closet. “I’m so, so sorry I missed your calls.”
“It was bad,” he said seriously. “It’s a miracle I got any sleep at all.”
His newly acquired old-man way of talking was something she and Joel would usually catch eyes over, but this time she didn’t even look his way.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” she said. “Really glad. And we’re home now, so you don’t have to worry anymore.”
“Are you sure you’re home for good?” he asked. “You won’t have to go back?”
She glanced at Joel, who was standing unsteadily by the front door. He had gone rapidly downhill since he’d been discharged, and he looked awful.
“I’m sure,” she said, even though she really wasn’t sure. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out. It was the nursing home.
“Great, now you look at your phone,” Lincoln said sarcastically.
Why did the nursing home always call her and not Joel?
“Hello?” she said.
“Mrs. Bent?”
Beside Herself Page 3
