“Why? What happened?” Vivian’s fear came through like an electric current.
“We were bike riding and she crashed. She sprained her wrist and cut her forehead, and I had to bring her to the hospital…”
“The hospital?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let me finish, okay?” I drew a breath and launched into a description of what had happened. Surprising me, she didn’t interrupt, nor did she raise her voice. But her breathing was ragged and erratic, and when I was done, I could tell she’d begun to cry.
“And you’re sure she’s okay? You’re not just saying that?”
“I promise. Like I said, I’ll get you on the phone with her in just a minute. I stepped out of the room to call you.”
“Why didn’t you call me earlier?”
“I should have and I’m sorry. I was in such a panic that I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“No, I get it. I… um…” She hesitated. “Hold on a second, okay?”
It was more than a second; I was on hold for almost a minute before she finally came back on the line. “I’m heading to the airport now. I want to be with her tonight.”
I was about to tell her that there was no need for her to come, but if our positions were reversed, I know I would have moved mountains to reach London.
“Can I talk to her now?”
“Of course,” I said. I walked back down the hallway and entered London’s room. Handing over the phone, I watched London press the phone close to her ear, but I could still make out what Vivian was saying.
She never mentioned me; her focus was entirely on London. Toward the end, I heard Vivian ask to speak to me again. This time, I didn’t feel the need to leave the room.
“Hey there,” I said.
“She sounds good,” Vivian said with palpable relief. “Thanks for putting her on. I’m in the car now and should be there in less than a couple of hours.”
Thanks to Spannerman’s private jet, no doubt. Which was no doubt the reason she’d put me on hold earlier. So she could ask him.
“I’ll be here. Let me know when you land.”
“Will do.”
Vivian texted when she touched down. For a moment I wondered whether my family should stick around, but then I chided myself. London was in the hospital, and they would stay until visiting hours were over. Because that’s what family was supposed to do. End of subject.
However, I suspected that my family harbored a natural curiosity regarding Vivian. My parents hadn’t seen her for over a month—since the day London started school—and it had been even longer for Marge and Liz. I’m sure they were wondering whether the new Vivian differed from the one they’d known for years. And how, of course, we would all treat each other.
A nurse came in to check London’s vitals; the doctor followed and asked London questions again. Though my daughter’s voice was weak, she answered them correctly. He told us that he would continue to monitor her condition regularly for the next few hours. When he left, I found a channel on the TV that was showing Scooby-Doo. Though London was watching, she looked as though she might soon fall asleep.
Vivian arrived a few minutes later. In faded jeans that were torn at the knees, black sandals and a thin black sweater, she was her usual chic self, though she looked harried.
“Hey everyone,” she said, sounding out of breath and distracted. “I got here as fast as I could.”
“Mommy!”
She rushed to London, covering her with kisses. “Oh, sweetie… you were in an accident, huh?”
“I have a cut on my forehead.”
Vivian took a seat beside London, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “I know. Your dad told me. I’m glad you were wearing a helmet.”
“Me, too,” she said.
Vivian planted another kiss on the top of her head. “Let me say hi to everyone, okay? And then I want to sit with you for a while.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Rising from the bed, she approached my parents. Right away, she embraced them, as well as Marge and Liz. I realized later that I’d only ever seen her touch Marge and Liz a few times in my life. To my amazement, she wrapped me in a brief hug as well.
“Thank you all so much for coming,” she said. “I know it made London feel better to have you all here.”
“Of course,” my mom answered.
“She’s a tough little girl,” my dad pronounced.
“Visiting hours are almost over,” Marge said. “So Liz and I are going to take off. We’ll let the three of you visit for a while.”
“Us, too,” my dad nodded. “We’ll leave you alone.”
I watched as they gathered their things and then followed them into the hallway. Like Vivian, I hugged them all and thanked them for coming. In their eyes, I could see the questions they wanted to ask but didn’t. Even if they had asked, I doubt that I would have had any answers.
Returning to the room, I saw that Vivian was perched beside London on the bed. London was telling her about the car that backed out and how the sunscreen had made her handlebars slippery.
“It must have been scary.”
“It was very scary. But I don’t remember after that.”
“You were very brave.”
“Yeah, I am.” I had to smile at her matter-of-factness. Then: “I’m glad you’re here, Mommy.”
“I am too. I had to come because I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
Vivian lay down next to London on the bed and slipped her arm around her, both of them watching Scooby-Doo. I took a seat in the chair and watched them, relieved, somehow, that Vivian had come. Not simply for London’s sake, but because a part of me still wanted to believe in Vivian’s goodness, despite all she’d done to me.
Observing the two of them, I did believe in that goodness—and I also noted Vivian’s forlorn expression, recognizing how hard it was for her to be separated from London. I sensed her anguish at being so far away when the accident had happened, despite how quickly she’d been able to get here.
I could see London’s eyelids drooping, and rising from the chair, I crossed the room and turned out the light. Vivian offered me the slightest of smiles, and I was struck by the melancholy thought that the last time that the three of us had been alone together in a hospital room, London was not yet a day old. On that day, I would have sworn on my life that the three of us would always be united in the love we felt for each other. We were a family then, the three of us together. But it was different now and I sat in the darkness wondering if Vivian felt the loss as deeply as I did.
Midmorning the next day, London was discharged from the hospital. I’d already called the school and the piano teacher, explaining her absence and canceling her lessons for the week. I also let London’s teacher know that she shouldn’t be active at recess once she returned to school. Thankfully, the nurses had given me some disinfectant wipes to clean the backseat of the car, because I hadn’t wanted London to see the bloody mess.
As I signed the discharge papers, I glanced over at Vivian, noticing how tired she looked. Neither of us had slept much; throughout the night, the nurses and doctor had come into the room to check on London, waking all three of us in the process. London, I assumed, would sleep for most of the day.
“I was wondering,” Vivian said, sounding uncharacteristically tentative, “if I could come back to the house for a while. So I can spend some more time with London. Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I’m sure London would like that.”
“I’m probably going to need a nap and a shower, too.”
“That sounds fine,” I said. “When do you have to go back?”
“I’m flying out tonight. Walter and I have to be in DC tomorrow. More lobbying.”
“Always busy,” I remarked.
“Too busy, sometimes.”
I analyzed her comment on the drive home, wondering at the hint of weariness in her tone. Was she just tired, or was the jet-set lifestyle beginning to feel less exciting than it once had?