Not enough to keep her away from my husband, Elinor thinks. “What was Ted doing at the mall?” she asks.
Roger looks incredulous. “You know more than I do! He just showed up. First this Shane dude blows out of nowhere on crutches, then Dr. Mackey is in the middle of everything, trying to keep him away from Gina.”
“Great. Ted’s her knight in shining armor.”
“Whatever,” Roger says, irritated, rubbing the lump on his elbow. This calamity may have cured him of his crush on Elinor.
Elinor peers down the hallway. This hospital is unfamiliar to her. She wishes they were at Stage Mill General, where Ted performs his surgeries. Everyone there knows Ted.
Finally, a nurse emerges from the ER to tell Elinor that Ted has been admitted and she can go up to his room. The neurologist will visit them there before too long. Roger lingers behind to make a phone call.
Elinor doesn’t want to wait for the elevator, so she runs up three flights of stairs to Ted’s room. He’s going to be fine, she tells herself as she takes the stairs two at a time. He would be in the ICU if he were in real trouble. But when she gets to Ted’s room, she freezes in the doorway. She expected to find him awake, but his eyes are closed and he’s completely still. His complexion is gray, as though he’s not getting enough oxygen. In fact, she can’t even tell if he’s breathing. She steadies herself on the threshold, not wanting him to sense her fear when he opens his eyes.
Elinor has never seen Ted as a patient before. He’s the doctor. She’s the patient. People with toe infections are the patients. What’s wrong with him? She clutches the doorjamb and presses her lips between her teeth so she can’t scream these words. She lost the baby and now she is losing Ted. Again! How can you lose a person so many times? Over and over, like a beating. Suddenly, she’s glad that she was the one who underwent the in-vitro treatments. Before, she’d resented Ted for not having to endure any of the physical pain. But she wouldn’t have been able to bear seeing him in pre-op and post-op and all the hellish scenarios in between.
“He’s sedated, so he won’t move too much,” a nurse says, pushing past Elinor into the room.
“Oh,” a voice says from within the room. Gina.
Elinor peers around the corner and sees that Gina is sitting in a chair beside Ted’s bed. How did she get in here so fast? Did she go with Ted to the MRI? The fact that Elinor is the last one to arrive at the hospital seems to confirm how little influence she has over the events in her life.
“Oh!” Gina repeats, standing when she sees Elinor step into the room. She’s wearing one of those itty-bitty sweat suits that nobody ever seems to sweat in. It’s warm in the room and she’s taken off the jacket and wrapped it around her waist. Her tank top shows off small, firm breasts.
“You’re here?” Elinor says.
“The police detective asked me to wait. He wants to interview each of us individually.” Gina crosses her arms around her waist and backs toward the door.
The nurse examines Ted’s IV bag, then begins taking his blood pressure.
“Where is the police detective?” Elinor asks Gina.
“He’s with . . . he’s with the perpetrator . . .” She steps sideways around Elinor. “I’ll be in the hall.”
“No, wait,” Elinor says. “I want to hear what happened.” She is torn between getting the story from Gina, from someone, and grabbing ahold of Ted.
She moves to the side of Ted’s bed and strokes the inside of his arm, alarmed by the fact that he doesn’t stir. Usually when he sleeps, his lips move or his eyelids flutter. She takes his hand in hers, smoothing it over and over as though petting an animal. She realizes that all her anxiety and dread may be flowing from her body into his. She places his hand at his side and kisses his forehead, which is warm and moist. His face is expressionless, his breathing shallow. She has the urge to tuck in the loose sheets around him—to tuck him in. She clings to the metal railing of the hospital bed, feeling like a toddler with a toy. Mine.
Gina hovers by the door.
Her long hair is pretty, but it’s too thin. You could call it stringy. Elinor’s husband is lying in a hospital bed, barely conscious, and she is focusing on his lover’s hair. Ex-lover. Elinor wishes she were the one who was unconscious.
“So?” she says to Gina.
“I was interviewing a prospective tutor for my son at the shopping center, and my ex-boyfriend, Shane, who I’ve filed a restraining order against, showed up and started hassling us, and then suddenly Ted was there and Shane, who’d been drinking, started to swing at Roger, then at Ted, and somehow he stabbed Ted and Ted fell.”
“What was Ted doing there?”
“I don’t know.” Gina’s pretty eyebrows are raised. She takes another step toward the door.
“Great. Even your stalkers have stalkers.” No wonder Gina fell for Ted. If a homicidal maniac is her alternative.
The nurse takes Ted’s pulse, scowling as she concentrates.
Elinor looks away at the panel of mysterious gadgets above Ted’s bed. “First you ruin my marriage,” she tells Gina, “then you nearly get my husband killed.”
Gina opens her mouth to speak, then closes it. She narrows her eyes, lowers her voice, and says, “I didn’t ruin your marriage. I just walked through the rubble. It was a terrible mistake. Don’t think I don’t realize that.”
“Marriage isn’t that easy, just so you know.” Elinor squeezes the metal railing on the bed. It was cold at first, but now it’s warm and damp in her hands. “I notice you’re not married.”
“That’s not the point.” Gina pushes her hair off her shoulders—a gesture that looks like she’s rolling up her sleeves, ready for action.
“What is the point, Gina?”
“The point is”—the nurse cuts into their conversation—“this gentleman has incurred a stab wound and a potentially dangerous head injury and you ladies need to take Days of Our Lives out to the waiting area or I’m going to call security.” The nurse is a solid barrel of a woman with a large bosom and tight ponytail revealing streaks of white scalp beneath her dark hair. She moves to Elinor’s side of the bed, pushing Elinor away. As she starts a new IV bag, she clucks her tongue, as if to say, The rubbish I have to deal with here. “The patient can hear you, you know,” she adds. “And I doubt you’re making him feel better.”
“This is my husband.” Elinor still has one finger looped firmly around the bed’s metal railing.
The nurse squints at Elinor.
Suddenly Ted turns his head away from Elinor and the nurse toward the door. His eyes flutter and open. His gaze seems to fall on Gina, who has spun around to leave the room again. While she isn’t even looking at Ted, Gina seems to sense that his eyes have opened. She turns to him. Her mouth falls open.
“Oh,” she says.
Elinor has never heard one syllable filled with so much tenderness and despair.
Ted’s face breaks into a grin. “Hi, angel,” he says. He is not speaking to Elinor or the nurse. He is speaking to Gina.
Gina’s eyes well with tears. “I have to go.” She steps toward the door.
Elinor clears her throat. Ted looks to her. “Oh!” He sounds surprised and relieved, as though she were the one who got stabbed and fell. “Hi!” he says.
“Hi. You’re okay.” Elinor squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back weakly.
Gina disappears out the door.
“I think so.” His speech is slurred. He doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that he just joyfully greeted his mistress in front of Elinor. That he just confirmed that he is in love with Gina. It could be his head injury or the meds, but Elinor doesn’t think so. She is both astonished and hurt by how happy Ted was as soon as he laid eyes on Gina. And she is surprised to find that she is not struck with anger, but instead crushed by sadness, by the truth.
The nurse leaves the room, shaking her head.
“You’re okay,” Elinor repeats. She might lose Ted to another woman, but not to death. Not today.
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Suddenly Toby bursts into the room, dragging his mother back in with him. In the hallway behind them, Elinor sees a teenager pocketing money from Gina and giving a quick report on homework and Otter Pops. Gina thanks the girl and tries to drag Toby into the hall, but he rushes to Ted’s bedside, bursting into tears when he sees the IV and the bluish circles under Ted’s eyes.
“Hey, buddy,” Ted says sweetly, straining to lift his head off the pillow. “I’m okay. But I couldn’t find Stan.” Whatever drugs they’ve got Ted on seem to make him believe that he can have a relaxed chat with both Elinor and Gina in the room, as though they’re all just friends at a cocktail party.
“Who is Stan?” Gina grasps her son by the shoulders and turns him to face her.
“There is no Stan,” Toby admits, kicking the hospital room floor and lowering his head to hide beneath his curls.
“No wonder I couldn’t find him.” Ted giggles.
“Toby!” Gina scolds. “You sent Dr. Mackey to the mall looking for some nonexistent person? What on earth?” She obviously has no control over the boy. Elinor has to admit, she probably wouldn’t, either.
Toby’s face reddens and his voice grows louder. “I wanted him to see you there! Dr. Mackey doesn’t go to the gym anymore so you can’t ever meet each other . . .”
So! Both Elinor and Toby were trying to be matchmakers.
“Dr. Mackey is seriously hurt now.” Gina stares into her son’s eyes.
“Yeah, thanks to your jackass boyfriend.”
“He is not my—Toby! Tell Mrs. Mackey you are very, very sorry.” Gina shifts her macramé purse to the other arm and turns Toby toward Elinor.
“I’m sorry.” Toby looks at Elinor with genuine disappointment. His plan backfired. Elinor can’t decide how she feels about this kid. He’s manipulative, that’s for sure. But his haplessness pulls at her heart. That hair, like bad shag carpet. And his unyielding affection for Ted. All Elinor wanted was for Roger to slip into Ted’s place. But it seems that Toby and Gina don’t want just some guy in their lives. They want Ted. It’s not something you ever think you’re going to have to worry about—a party of two falling in love with your husband. She looks at Ted, who has drifted back to sleep. He’s starting to get the teeniest bit of a double chin—filling out and settling back into middle age since he moved back into their house.
Elinor nods at Toby. She can’t say It’s all right, because it isn’t all right. Certainly not until she speaks to the neurologist.
“Toby, we’re going to the waiting area until the police get here,” Gina says, turning Toby toward the door. She looks back at Elinor. “We’ll be out there.”
Roger sidles into the room, nodding hello to Gina. “Hey.” He waves to Elinor. “Dr. Mackey doing any better?”
“Hopefully,” Elinor says. “We still don’t have much information.”
“My car’s at the mall.”
“I can give you a ride later,” Elinor tells him.
“Cool,” Roger says.
Gina stops just outside the room. “Wait. You two know each other?” She points to Roger, then Elinor.
“I work for the Mackeys,” Roger says. “I clean their house. Mrs. Mackey thought I could tutor Toby.”
Gina puts her hands on her hips, trying to comprehend this information. “Why?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” Elinor says. “Maybe to help you find a math tutor other than my husband? Maybe so your son would stop calling my house?”
“Toby, did you call—”
“See, it wasn’t all my fault,” Toby protests, untangling himself from his mother’s arms.
“You’re not off the hook, buddy,” Gina says, pushing him out of sight down the hall.
“I’ll be out there, too, I guess,” Roger grumbles, following them.
Elinor sits in the chair beside Ted’s bed, a whoosh of air shooting up around her. Although this may be the oddest day of her life, she doesn’t believe anything will ever really surprise her again after her miscarriage. The first miscarriage she could comprehend—it had been quite early in the pregnancy. But the second one, after they’d seen the heartbeat, twice, and graduated from the IVF clinic.
Ted shifts and smiles up at her.
“Do you remember what happened?” Elinor asks him. “At the mall?”
“Unfortunately. Gina’s insane boyfriend stabbed me and I fell and hit my head.” He licks his lips, swallows. His voice is hoarse. “I’m sorry.”
Elinor shakes her head. “The main thing is that you’re okay.” Ted doesn’t owe her any more apologies. She sent Roger to meet Gina, and Toby sent Ted after them. Elinor reaches for a pink plastic cup with a straw in it, and holds it to Ted’s mouth so he can drink. He sips water, closing his eyes and swallowing, his face relaxing with gratitude.
“You cause quite a reaction in people,” she tells Ted. “A ten-year-old is in love with you, and Kid Rock is insane with the idea of your touching his woman.”
“Oh, God.” Ted closes his eyes.
“The neurologist should be here,” Elinor adds. She doesn’t tell Ted about the ER doctor’s words: a blow to the head of some concern. “And a detective is coming to interview you.”
“Oh.” Ted sounds disappointed. “I was hoping it was all over with. Can’t I go soon? How long have I been sleeping?”
“Maybe an hour,” Elinor says. “Do you remember the MRI?”
“I hate that blasted thing. It’s like being in your coffin.” He motions for more water, and she helps him drink. “I was dreaming,” he tells her. “I was dreaming that you and I were driving—on some kind of road trip—and we couldn’t find our exit.”
Elinor thinks, We took the wrong exit months ago.
Finally the neurologist arrives. Elinor watches as the doctor bends over the bed and peers into Ted’s pupils with a pencil-thin light. Once again, she’s astonished by the youthfulness of physicians these days. She tries to do the math in her head to figure out how many years of experience this guy could possibly have.
“You’re lucky,” the doctor reports. He’s tall and athletic looking, with cropped hair and large hands.
“I guess so,” Ted replies tentatively. He’s sitting up now, and his speech is clear.
“Excuse me,” the doctor says to Elinor, smiling mildly. She realizes she’s hovering too close and steps away. Ted follows the neurologist’s finger back and forth, then up and down. Next, he answers a series of questions about the date and time and where he is and who is president.
And do you remember that you’re in love with Gina? Elinor thinks. And do you still love your wife? You do, don’t you? But not in the same way?
“Good.” The doctor pulls a stool on wheels up to the side of Ted’s bed and motions for Elinor to have a seat. “We were concerned,” he says, looking from Elinor to Ted, “because of your loss of consciousness, followed by your brief state of confusion. However, the MRI doesn’t look too bad. You have a small hematoma, but beyond that goose egg, I don’t see any significant swelling of the brain. Still, with a trauma like this, coupled with the stab wound, we’ll keep you overnight. I’ve got you on some medication that will prevent you from having a seizure, which is a remote possibility.”
“You’re okay,” Elinor says to Ted. This is meant to be a statement, but it comes out with the uncertainty of a question. She wants confirmation from Ted that this is essentially what the doctor just said. Everything is going to be all right. Medically, at least. She touches Ted’s shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin hospital gown.
Ted raises his eyebrows and nods timidly, as though he doesn’t feel entirely okay just yet.
Elinor straightens his covers. She feels the need to be touching the bed at all times.
“He passed the who-what-where-when test just fine,” the doctor confirms. “His post-traumatic amnesia lasted less than an hour, which is a good sign.”
“Thank you,” she says to the doctor, feeling her voice crack with gratefulness.
“I didn’t actually do anything.” The neurologist smiles. “But you’re welcome.”
“A swollen head.” Ted laughs weakly, reaching up to touch the protruding egg shape just above his right temple.
But it isn’t true. While he’s an excellent doctor, a good athlete, and a handsome man, he isn’t arrogant. This is one thing Elinor has always appreciated about her husband.
A new nurse comes on duty—a younger, less terse woman with a long black braid down her back. Elinor convinces the nurse to let her stay overnight in Ted’s room on the foldout chair. Soon the police detective shows up and asks Elinor to step out of the room so he can speak with Ted privately.
The hallway waiting area is decorated like a living room, with couches, chairs, and softly lit lamps. Care has been taken to transform the hospital milieu. Still, under the pretty Oriental carpet, the hospital floor gleams, glossy and institutional. Elinor takes a seat two rows of chairs behind Gina and Toby. Roger slouches in an opposite corner, reading a well-worn paperback. They are all sitting as far away from each other as possible, without actually leaving the seating area, which looks to Elinor like a set for a play or TV show. She’d like to call Kat, but a nearby sign picturing a cell phone with a slash through it glares down at her.
“Hey! I have the list of the things I want,” Elinor hears Toby tell his mother. “The one you told me to make,” he adds accusingly. He reaches to pull a notebook from the backpack leaning against the side of his chair.
“Not right now, sweetheart.” Gina tips back her head, her hair tumbling over the edge of the chair, and massages her temples. “We’ll talk later.”
“Okay, I’ll just tell you the number one thing.” Toby rips out the page. “I want Dr. Mackey to go with us to New York City.”
“New York City?” Elinor blurts, giving up on pretending to read a tattered issue of Family Circle.
Gina sits up straighter in her chair and looks to her son. “Toby, remember when we talked about how you can’t have everything you want? People aren’t things that you can have.”
Elinor looks back to an article on one-bowl cupcakes. In a picture, the cupcakes are cleverly decorated for Halloween with orange icing, candy corn, and black plastic spiders.