“So am I,” he shouted after her, and waved.
She found Allyson in the usual state, and everything status quo. She sat with her for an hour, and told her Grandma had come for a visit with Aunt Alexis. She told her all the latest things Andy had said, and reminded her again and again how much they loved her. She told her anything and everything that she could think of except that her marriage was falling apart, and Brad had a girlfriend.
Page kissed her gently on the forehead when she left, and stood back to look at the bandages for a long time. Brad was right, she just didn't see it anymore. But it was very upsetting.
She felt subdued on the drive home, and exhausted when she opened the door. She could hear her mother's voice, and Alexis was on the phone to David in New York, complaining about the service on the airplane. Not a word about Allyson, and only Andy asked her how she was as she started to make dinner.
“Are you sure she's gonna be okay?” he asked worriedly, pressing her today of all days, but he looked anxious.
Page stopped to look at him, and pulled him closer to her so she could hug him. “No …I'm not sure … I hope she will be. But we don't know yet. She might …” She couldn't bring herself to say the words to him, but she knew she had to. “She could still die … but she might not. She might be okay, or she might be like Bjorn when she wakes up. We just don't know yet.”
“Like Bjorn?” He looked startled, he had never fully understood that.
“More or less.” Or she might not be able to walk …she could be blind … or not like Bjorn at all. She could be totally retarded.
“What are you two talking about?” her mother asked, interrupting them as she wandered into the kitchen.
“We were talking about Allyson.”
“I was just telling Andrew she was going to be fine.” She smiled at both of them and Page wanted to kill her. It was not fair to do that to him, and she wouldn't let her.
“We hope she will, Mother,” Page said firmly, “but we don't know that for sure. It all depends on when, and if, she comes out of the coma.”
“That's like sleeping, except you don't wake up, you just stay asleep,” he explained to his grandmother, as Brad joined them. Page saw that he was wearing a suit, and she struggled not to comment on it as she saw him.
“I'll be back later,” he said quietly to Page, as she raised an eyebrow in question.
“Will you? I won't hold my breath.”
“Thanks,” he said, and ruffled Andy's hair as he left. “Good night, Maribelle,” he called over his shoulder.
“Good night, dear.” And then, after he was gone, “He's a good-looking man,” she said to Page, “you're a lucky girl.” She wanted to tell her that she used to think so too, but she no longer did. But she went back to cooking dinner and said nothing.
Predictably, dinner was a painful meal. Alexis chased a tiny piece of meat and some salad around her plate and basically ate nothing. She said as little as she ate, and her mother dominated most of the conversation, talking about her friends, her apartment in New York, and Alexis's fabulous garden in East Hampton. She had three Japanese gardeners, and did none of it herself, and she seemed a lot less excited about it than their mother. She wasn't excited about anything, except Chanel. And none of them had mentioned Allyson even once by the end of the evening.
They both went to bed when Andy did, explaining that they were still on New York time, and it irked Page terribly to hear sounds coming from Allyson's room. She closed her own bedroom door so she couldn't hear it. It seemed a sacrilege, and a terrible intrusion.
She lay on her bed quietly for a long time, thinking about them, and how unhappy her life had been with them. They had made it a living hell for her until she left. Seeing them always brought the memories back again. Tears squeezed slowly out of her eyes as she thought of it. And then she forced her mind back to the present.
It was after midnight when Brad came in. She was still awake, but the lights were off and she was in bed. She turned over in the dark and looked at him, and he looked tired and unhappy. She was surprised to see him.
“Did you have a nice time?” she asked. They both knew where he had been. It was a lot to absorb, and she was struggling with it. But from the look on his face, so was he. He stood looking at her for a long time before he answered. He was trapped between two worlds, and both were causing him pain at the moment.
“Not really. This isn't the peachy keen situation you think it is.”
“I guess not … for either of us.”