Brain damage, p.21
Brain Damage, page 21
part #2 of Prescription: Murder Series
“And you’d still keep seeing Haley?” I ask in a small voice.
Please say no.
“I’m in love with Haley,” he says like I’m stupid for suggesting otherwise. “The arrangement between you and me would be strictly platonic.”
“So if I wanted to be with another man…?”
Clark laughs. “Are you serious?”
My cheeks start to feel hot. “What does that mean?”
“Charlotte,” he says, shaking his head. “I know you don’t have a lot of insight into your situation. I mean, that’s what the therapists say. But I think it’s better for you to realize that you’re not in any position to be in a relationship with a man. I mean, I’m not sure if you’re aware of how you look right now. But… it’s just not going to happen. Ever. I think it would be cruel for me to act like it’s some sort of realistic possibility.”
“Why not?” I ask, then instantly wish I hadn’t said anything. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer to that question.
“Why not?” Clark repeats. “Charlotte, I don’t even know where to begin. Half your skull is missing. You’re wearing a diaper. You can’t even sit up without practically falling over to the left side. I really don’t foresee any man jumping on that, you know?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. I wish Clark would leave. I wish we didn’t have training right now.
“You’re really lucky that you have me,” he adds. “Because if you didn’t, you would have no one for the rest of your life. No man, anyway. So you should be really grateful to me.”
I look down at my sheets. I can’t look at Clark right now. I’m worried he’s going to make me tell him how grateful I am to him.
“So we have a deal?” Clark asks me.
I have this feeling that the old Charlotte never would’ve agreed to this. But then again, maybe she would have. After all, she was the one who married this guy.
“Okay,” I hear myself saying.
Chapter 49
Five Months After
The next morning, Clark comes in early again to train with Valerie. He does more of the work in helping me get dressed. (Correction: dressing me.) It still feels weird that Clark is dressing me. I mean, this is the man that I married, that I used to make love to, and now he’s basically my nurse. But I guess it’s something I’ll get used to.
After Valerie leaves, Clark stands over me. He never sits down to talk to me, the way my mother does.
“Listen,” he says to me. “I was just thinking about the living arrangement after you get out of here…”
“Oh,” I say.
I don’t know what he’s getting at. I’m going to be living in my old apartment, right? Isn’t that the whole point?
“The thing is,” Clark says, “Natalie says that you should have a hospital bed at home. So I was thinking maybe we could put the hospital bed in our spare bedroom and you would sleep in there.”
“And where would you sleep?” I ask.
“Well, in the master bedroom,” Clark says.
Excuse me? That apartment is mine. I owned it before Clark came along. If anyone should get the master bedroom, it should be me.
“I might need more room for my equipment,” I say carefully. I don’t want to let on how incredibly angry I am.
“There’s plenty of room for that in the spare bedroom,” Clark says. “And I’m going to need more room because both Haley and I will be staying there.”
What?
I manage to say, “What?”
“Charlotte,” Clark says, shaking his head. “You said you were okay with me continuing my relationship with Haley. That’s part of our arrangement.”
“I didn’t know she was going to be living with us…”
Clark shrugs. “What’s the difference to you? We’ll tell people she’s your nurse. Actually, she could really help out with things. Your care is a lot of work.”
No. No. I don’t want this. I don’t want my husband’s girlfriend having any part in my care. And I certainly don’t want her sleeping in my bedroom.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say.
“Be reasonable, Charlotte,” Clark says with a frown. When he looks at me like that, his cheeks seem really hollow and his Pacific blue eyes seem almost evil. I can’t believe I ever thought he was attractive. “Look how much I’m doing for you. Would you really be so bothered by Haley staying with us? You probably won’t even notice.”
I feel tears pricking at my eyes. I’m afraid to say anything else because I don’t want him to see me cry.
Maybe Clark notices that I’m really upset, because he says, “We’ll talk about it later.”
We’ll talk about it later. That’s exactly what my mother used to tell me when I was a teenager and she knew that I wasn’t going to get my way.
It’s obvious that I don’t have any choice about this woman living in my home. What can I do about it? Nothing. I’m just going to have to learn to deal with it. Like every other goddamn thing.
It’s time for my Walking Group, so Clark takes me there. He doesn’t speak to me as he pushes me down the hallway. When we get to the group, he positions me next to Angela, then after a moment of hesitation, he pats me on the shoulder and waves goodbye.
Naturally, Angela notices that our goodbye was less than passionate. “Well,” she says. “He may be hot, but he’s a real cold fish.”
I turn away, not really wanting to get into a discussion about it.
“Doesn’t he ever kiss you?” she asks with a wink.
I feel my face getting hot. I’m embarrassed to tell anyone what Clark said to me yesterday, but at the same time, I feel like I have to talk to somebody. I can’t exactly tell my mother. And Angela is probably my best female friend here.
I lower my voice. “It’s not like that between us. Not anymore.”
Angela frowns. “Like what?”
“Like, he’s not interested in having that kind of relationship with me anymore.”
Angela’s mouth falls open slightly to reveal her cigarettes-stained bottom teeth. “Did he say that?”
I nod.
Angela punches the armrest of her chair. “Are you serious? That asshole really said that to you?”
She’s talking too loudly. I look around self-consciously. I see Jamie sitting about four feet away, but he’s looking in a different direction. I don’t think he’s listening. Good.
“It’s not that surprising, is it?” I mumble. “I mean, he’s helping me with all this gross, personal stuff. And it’s not like I look so great right now. It’s not like any man would want to… you know…”
“Did he say that to you?” Angela is practically screaming now. Her brown eyes are huge.
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss at her. “He didn’t say it to be mean. He’s right.”
“He’s not right,” Angela retorts. “Charly, you’re gorgeous. Any man in his right mind would think so.”
“Please keep your voice down,” I say again. “I know you’re being nice, but it’s not true. It’s better to be realistic.”
“I’ll prove it to you,” Angela says.
I watch as Angela starts studying the male occupants of the room. Oh God, what is she going to do? I really wish I hadn’t said anything to her.
Finally, Angela’s eyes rest on an elderly man sitting across from us. He is possibly the skinniest man I’ve ever seen in my life. His wrist and forearms are all bones. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in years.
“Henry!” Angela barks at the man.
“Eh?” Henry replies. He’s probably as deaf as he is skinny.
“Charly over here,” she says loudly, jerking her thumb at me. I want to crawl behind my wheelchair and hide. “Do you think she’s pretty?”
“Eh?” Henry says again. “Speak up, young lady!”
Angela is practically shouting now: “DO YOU THINK CHARLY IS PRETTY?”
Henry looks me over carefully. He’s so old, I’m not convinced he isn’t blind. Finally, he nods his approval.
“She’s real nice looking,” he says. “But she’d be prettier without wearing a helmet. I don’t know what it is with you young people and your fashion statements.”
“Thank you,” Angela says to Henry. She smiles at me triumphantly. “See? Men still think you’re pretty.”
“I don’t think that counts,” I say, rolling my eyes. “He’s about a hundred years old. He probably thinks anyone under the age of seventy is a catch.”
Angela nods thoughtfully. “Oh, I see! So you’re looking for the opinion of a man your age. Is that right?”
I have a bad feeling I know where this is going. “I’m not looking for an opinion. Really, Angela.”
But Angela isn’t about to let this go. She jerks her head to the right and her eyes rest on Jamie. He’s staring straight ahead, but his ears are really red. I’m starting to suspect he’s been listening to our conversation all along.
“Mr. Knox,” Angela says. She’s smiling really wide right now. “May I obtain your opinion on something?”
Jamie shakes his head. “What is it, Angie?”
Angela looks back at me, “Now here we have a man who appears to be… I’d say, mid-thirties. Jamie, how old are you?”
“Thirty-six,” he mumbles. He looks like he wishes he were somewhere else as much as I do right now.
“There you go,” Angela says.
“Angela, don’t…” I try to say, but Angela holds up her hand.
“Now we have a very important question for you, Jamie,” she says. “We were hoping you could help us out.”
Jamie shakes his head again, staring down at his lap. “Do I have to?”
“You do,” Angela confirms. “I just need you to tell us whether you think our friend Charly here is pretty or not?”
Jamie is quiet for a minute before he lifts his eyes to meet mine. The flush in his ears enters his cheeks. “She’s beautiful,” he says.
“Well, there you have it,” Angela says, nodding in satisfaction. “Not only have we gotten a younger man to confirm that you are attractive, but we’ve managed to make both of you blush adorably.”
I don’t know why Angela went through that stupid exercise or what it proved. Obviously, Jamie only told me I was beautiful because what else could he say. He couldn’t be honest. He’s too nice for that.
Chapter 50
Five Months After
“Who is that handsome man I saw you with in the hallway this morning?” Helga asks me while we’re waiting for our Thinking Skills Group to start.
“That’s my husband,” I tell her.
Dr. Vincent, who seems to have grown even older in the last few weeks, adjusts his Yankees cap and raises his bushy eyebrows. “I thought your husband was the one who tried to kill you.”
“No, dummkopf,” Helga says. “It was a burglar!”
I don’t bother to correct either one of them.
Angela shakes her head in disgust. “I’m still not entirely sure that the husband is innocent.”
Helga thankfully ignores Angela’s comment. “He is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” she gushes. “I think he is even more handsome than the one with the shaky hands.” She smiles at me. “I’m sure you agree, Charly.”
Do I? Actually, I’ve grown very fond of the one with the shaky hands, even if his hands aren’t so shaky anymore. Jamie may not be as classically handsome as Clark, but he’s boyish and sweet looking. Every time he smiles, I feel good. Clark doesn’t make me feel good. Not anymore.
“And this must be the ring!” Helga says, snatching up what I vaguely recognize to be my left hand from across the table.
Helga gazes down at the diamond thoughtfully. Valerie recently had my mother bring in my engagement ring because she thought it might help bring attention to my left hand. So far, it hasn’t worked.
“That’s a big diamond,” Dr. Vincent comments. “Eh, Helga?”
Helga drops my hand down on the table, a troubled look on her face. “Yes…”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Helga sighs loudly. “You know I used to be a jeweler, and I am sorry to say this to you, Charly, but this is not a diamond at all. It is what they call cubic zirconium. Fake diamond.”
Angela gives me a pointed look. “Charly, did you know it was a fake?”
I remember how impressed I was when Clark presented that diamond ring to me. It was before I knew he was out of a job. After I found out the truth, it never occurred to me that Clark shouldn’t have been able to afford a big diamond. “It doesn’t matter,” I murmur.
Amy comes into the room, holding the box for Taboo again. I’ve gotten a little bit better at the game, but it’s still hard for me. I’ve had a total of twelve years of higher education, but here I am, struggling to play a party game. It’s sort of depressing.
“Why don’t you go first, Charly?” Amy suggests.
Do I have a choice? I select a card from the bunch. I stare at the word at the top, which I have to get everyone else to guess:
AND
That doesn’t sound right. How am I supposed to get everyone to guess a conjunction? I stare at the card, trying to figure out what clue I could give. This game is really hard.
“Are you ready?” Amy asked me.
“Not yet,” I mumble.
What clue could I possibly give for the word “and”? And the taboo words that I’m not supposed to say don’t make sense either.
“I don’t think I can do this one,” I tell Amy.
She frowns. “Why not?”
“It’s not even a real word,” I say. Technically, “and” is a real word. But most of the clues are nouns. This isn’t fair.
Amy looks over at my card. “‘Husband’ isn’t a real word?”
Oh. I guess I missed the left side of the word.
“She’s too slow,” Dr. Vincent complains. “Maybe I’ll go first.”
Dr. Vincent pulls off his Yankees cap. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him without the baseball hat on his head, and my eyes are immediately drawn to a lesion on his scalp. He has a firm, red-colored, crusty nodule protruding from his skin that is at least a centimeter in diameter.
“You have skin cancer,” I hear myself say.
All four set of eyes in the room turn to stare at me. “What did you say?” Amy asks.
“Dr. Vincent,” I say, my eyes still pinned on his scalp. “You have skin cancer on your scalp. You need to have somebody do a biopsy, but my guess is a squamous cell carcinoma from the appearance. It’s a slow-growing cancer, but it does have potential to spread to lymph nodes and other organs. So the sooner you can get it removed, the safer you’ll be.”
Dr. Vincent reaches up with the shaky hand and gingerly touches the nodule. “Really?”
“You should listen to her,” Angela speaks up. “She’s a skin doctor.”
“Thanks, Dr. McKenna,” Dr. Vincent says, smiling at me.
And I remember how satisfying it used to be, making those diagnoses. I miss it sometimes. So much.
Amy squints at the lesion herself. “Dr. Vincent, we can make you an appointment with a local dermatologist if you’d like.”
He nods. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
There’s a long, tense silence in the room. Finally, Amy shakes her head at me. “I don’t get it, Charly. You can diagnose skin cancer, but you can’t get through one stinking round of Taboo?” She cocks her head to the side. “I think you’re holding back on me.”
If only that were true.
_____
I have that dream again.
I don’t know why. Barry is in jail. He can’t hurt me anymore.
The dream starts with my looking into Barry dark eyes. Hi, Dr. McKenna. Remember me? He raises the gun and points it at my face.
And that’s when the left side of my world disappears. I lie on my back, listening to the footsteps on my left side. I keep straining to see if Barry is still there, if he’s left me to die.
And then I hear his words whispered in my ear:
“You deserve this.”
I wake up shaking for the first time since Kyle Barry went to jail.
Chapter 51
Five and a Half Months After
Ever since Clark entered the picture, Jamie has stopped having meals with me in the hallway. The truth is, he’s nearly stopped talking to me entirely. When we sit together in Walking Group, he barely looks at me. I don’t know what I did or said to upset him so much, but sadly, it feels like our friendship is over.
The next morning, in Walking Group, I end up sitting next to Jamie. It wasn’t my choice. The nurse who brought me to the group put me there. And I felt like it would’ve been rude to ask her to put me somewhere else.
So now I have to endure the fact that Jamie basically isn’t speaking to me.
Unlike me, Jamie is now sitting in a regular chair, because his balance has improved to the point where he walked to the group instead of being pushed here in a wheelchair. So he could theoretically relocate to another chair. But he doesn’t. Maybe he’s also afraid of being rude.
“I saw Sam yesterday,” I say to him, recalling how I watched Karen bringing Sam into the hospital yesterday evening.
Jamie looks at me in surprise, as if he didn’t expect me to talk to him. He nods a bit warily. “Yeah,” he says. “He came to visit me.”
“He recognized me,” I say. I still feel pleased about that.
“Of course he did,” Jamie says. “He really likes you.”
That makes me smile. “He does? Really?”
“Yeah.” Jamie grins and rolls his eyes. “He thinks you’re cool. Cooler than me.”
I laugh. “I saw that Karen was with him. So, um, I guess that’s working out, huh?”
I watch Jamie’s face, holding my breath slightly.
“Yeah,” Jamie mutters. “More or less. It’s not ideal, but it is what it is.”
“So are you getting back together with her then?” I ask.
Jamie narrows his eyes. “What’s the difference to you?”
