And yet.
“I think you’d better go home, Eve,” he says.
“No. I’ll go with you to the hospital. Or I can stay here with Luke. I’d rather wait until I know Anna’s all right.”
“No.” Eric’s voice leaves no room for doubt. “You’re going home.”
Rosie lets go of Anna’s hand to grab some gauze, and immediately Anna’s hand drops back to her side. I pick it up again for her, start to tell her I’ll see her in the morning.
“No, you won’t, Eve.”
I glance at Eric. He watches me for a moment, then throws up his hands. “You can’t honestly think you still have a job here?”
I stare at him, not comprehending.
“Wow,” he says. “I’m sorry. But as of this moment, your employment is terminated.” Eric sounds mad and frustrated but also a little sad. This is how I know he means it. He walks over to Rosie’s side, and she starts giving him instructions about Anna’s cut—to keep the pressure on it, to keep it held up. It’s as if I’m not even there.
After a moment, I feel a little hand pump mine. “I think we should go, Mom.”
I blink at Clem. “Yes,” I say after a moment. “Yes. Okay.”
With a tug, Clem guides me out of the room. Andrea stands in the doorway, equal parts thrilled and perplexed. Her hands tremble, and suddenly I see her for exactly what she is. A frightened woman trying to take control wherever she can. Perhaps that’s what we all are?
As Clem and I slope out of there, something that had been sitting in my subconscious finally filters through. As they sat side by side on the bed, Luke was holding Anna’s (non-bleeding) hand.
46
Anna
Seven months ago …
“The patient has a displaced hip fracture and three cracked left-posterior ribs. No damage to the lungs. She has a broken clavicle, and she has sustained a mild concussion. The hip will make walking difficult, but her injuries are non-life-threatening. I understand she has dementia?”
“Younger-onset Alzheimer’s, Doctor.”
Silence. “And she was pregnant?”
“Eighteen weeks’ gestation. Fetal death in utero.”
More silence. Then a sigh. “Has the family been informed about the fetal death?”
The conversation lobs back and forth. I listen hard but I can’t make much sense of it. All I can figure is that someone has been hurt pretty badly. I hope they’re going to be okay. I also hope they’ll leave my room. I’m tired and I want to sleep.
“The patient’s brother has, Doctor. Unfortunately, the baby’s father also has dementia.”
“A blessing in disguise?” the man’s voice ponders. But no one answers.
*
Jack keeps telling me that I am at his house, but he’s lying. I know what his house looks like, and this isn’t it. For one thing, there are children everywhere. Not only that but it’s also full of small plastic things that children play with. Jack doesn’t really like kids, and he definitely wouldn’t encourage them to go near his stuff. Besides that, the place is huge and made of marble. We’re more likely to be in a shopping mall than we are at his house. I may have Alzheimer’s, but I’m not completely nuts.
“Say something, Anna,” he says.
I keep staring out the hole in the wall.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I never should have gone to speak to Eric. I never should have left you alone. This is all my fault.”
Jack is crying. I don’t understand what he’s talking about.
“Why would you do that? Nothing is ever so bad that you have to do that,” he says. “Promise me you’ll never do anything like that again?”
I don’t say anything and Jack doesn’t wait for me to.
“Now, on top of everything else, you can’t walk. I should have figured out what was going on earlier. I should have stopped this before it got to this point.”
I stare beyond Jack because he’s confusing me. But he doesn’t go away.
“Are you not feeling well? Can you not talk? Blink once for yes, and twice for no.”
I close my eyes and keep them closed. It’s a blessed relief.
*
“She hasn’t said a word since she arrived. It’s been over two weeks.”
No one other than Jack and I are in the room, so I can only assume Jack is on the phone. That, or I’m hallucinating. Which, I guess, is also possible.
“I have no idea.… Nope.… And she’s regressed with her … bathroom habits, too. Yep. I’ve put her in Depends, but … yeah … yeah. I don’t know what to do.”
He glances over at me. I look away.
It’s strange, having someone speak about you while you are there. It happens a lot these days. It would be nice, I realize, to overhear nice things.
“Not much. She’ll sit at the table during meals and pick at it, but … it’s the not talking that is worrying me. Yeah. Nothing at all. She just sits in her chair, staring at the door.”
And what do you think that means, Jack? I silently ask him. I want to go home.
“Before the accident, she talked. Not so much as she used to, but she talked. Coherently. Now … nothing.” There was a long silence. “Yes. Yes, okay. Tuesday at nine thirty? We’ll be there.”