“I know that,” she said, and left the room. He kissed Andy good-bye before he left, and left the name and number of his hotel on the pad in the kitchen. He was going for three days and she didn't really mind it. In some ways, his being gone would ease the tension between them.
“I'll be back on Wednesday,” he said just before he left, and he said nothing more to her. Not “I love you.” Not “good-bye.” He just closed the door, and drove down the driveway. He had just enough time to pick Stephanie up on the way to the airport.
“Are you mad at him?” Andy asked nervously. He had heard their tone of voice when they talked, and he hated it. He had put his pillow over his ears so he didn't have to hear them in case they started yelling.
“No, I'm not mad at him,” she confirmed, but her face said something different.
She read for a while after he left, trying not to think of all the things that had changed. There were too many to think of. She turned off the light and went to bed, after calling the hospital to check on Allie.
And the next morning, after dropping Andy off at school, she went to see her, and settled in for the day in ICU. Frances, the head nurse, knew her so well, she let her spend hours at Allie's bedside. It was becoming routine now. She had no other life, no other job, no other work, except ricocheting between Andy's needs, and her vigil at the hospital, and her fights with Brad whenever she saw him. It was incredibly claustrophobic.
She felt almost numb as she sat there, watching the machine breathe for Allie. They had taken the bandages off her eyes by then. And for an instant, she had thought she saw an eyelid move, but after watching intently for a long time, she realized that she had dreamed it. One saw things sometimes because one wanted to, but they weren't really there, they were illusions.
She sat back in her uncomfortable chair for a moment and closed her eyes, when Frances came to get her. She was waiting for the physical therapist to come so she could help move Allie's arms and legs. It was important to keep doing that so her muscles wouldn't atrophy, or her joints become too stiff to move. There was a lot to do, even with a patient in a coma.
“Mrs. Clarke?” Page jumped at the voice, startled.
“Yes?”
“There's a phone call for you. You can take it at the desk.”
“Thank you.” It was probably Brad, checking on Allyson from Chicago. He was the only person who knew where to find her, except Jane, and there was no reason for her to call. Andy was in school. But it turned out to be Ross Grammar School. They explained that they were sorry to disturb her, but it was an emergency, her son had just been injured.
“My son?” she said blankly, as though she didn't have one. Her whole body felt as though it were going into shock. “What do you mean?” Her whole being seemed to fill with panic.
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Clarke.” It was the school secretary and Page scarcely knew her. “There's been an accident … he fell off the jungle gym …” Oh God, he was dead … he had broken his back … he had a head injury too …she started to cry. She couldn't go through this again. Didn't they understand that?
“What happened?” Her voice was barely audible, and one of the nurses was watching her face and saw her turn gray at what she was hearing.
“We think he may have broken his shoulder. He's on his way to Marin General now. If you go down to the emergency room, you'll be there to meet him.”
“Fine.” She hung up the phone without saying good-bye and looked around her in panic. “My little boy …my son …he's had an accident …”
“Calm down …he's probably fine.” Frances took charge instantly and led Page to a chair and got her a drink of water. “Take it easy, Page. He's going to be fine. Where is he?”
“He's on his way here, to the emergency room.”
“I'll take you down there,” the head nurse said calmly. She arranged to leave the floor and escorted Page to the emergency room. She looked terrible, and she was shaking visibly when they got there. But Andy hadn't come in yet.
Frances left Page in the care of the emergency room staff, and a moment later, Page disappeared and went to a pay phone. It was stupid of her, she knew, but for once in her life, she couldn't manage alone. She had to call him.
He answered on the second ring, and he sounded distracted. He was probably writing. She knew he had an article due for The New Republic.“Hello?” It was Trygve.
“I'm sorry … I had to call …there's been an accident at school …” For a moment, he didn't recognize her and he thought someone was calling about Bjorn, and then he realized who it was.
“Page? Are you all right? What happened?” She sounded awful.
“I don't know,” she was crying into the phone, and making very little sense as he listened. “It's Andy …the school just called …he's hurt …he fell off the jungle gym …”She began to sob, imagining the worst again, and Trygve stood up as he listened.