Accident (16 page)

“She said she never heard from him. I'm sorry, Page.” He took her hand in his, and knew then that what he had suspected was probably right. Brad Clarke probably was having an affair, or maybe he was just getting drunk, to take the strain off. And his timing was certainly lousy. Trygve felt sorry for Page, who seemed to be carrying this responsibility all alone. But nothing surprised him anymore. He had seen and lived it all with Dana. “Don't worry about it,” he reassured her, as they waited for the doctors to evaluate Al-lie. “He'll turn up. And there's nothing he can do here anyway. None of us can.” But he could have been there, as she was, and Trygve was for Chloe. “Not everyone can handle this, you know. I used to get sick at the thought of hospitals.”

“So what changed?”

“My kids. I had to do it for them, because Dana never did. Brad has you, so he knows Allie's in good hands.” He smiled gently at her, making excuses for Brad that he didn't deserve, and Page knew it. And who was there for her? If Trygve hadn't stuck around, she would have been alone. She assumed that Brad was probably with his girlfriend. But she still didn't know where to find him.

The doctors came back and talked to them again eventually. Allyson had stabilized somewhat again, but she was still clearly in danger. The swelling of her brain was not a good sign, and could have been a sign of further injury, or a result of the surgery on Sunday. It was difficult to tell, but they didn't want to raise false hopes. They felt there was a good chance now that Allyson might not make it.

“You mean now?” Page said, looking terrified. “Tonight?” Was that what they meant? That she was about to die …oh God no …please …when they allowed her to, she hurried in to see her, and sat silently next to the bed, as tears poured down her face, and she held the girl's hand, as though by keeping a firm grip on her she might keep her from drifting off, or finally leaving them after all she'd been through.

They let Page sit with her that night, and she never moved, she just sat there holding her hand, watching her face, and praying.

“I love you,” she whispered from time to time. “I love you,” as though she were determined for Allie to hear her. And when the sun came up, the swelling of her brain had gotten no worse, and her breathing continued mechanically on the respirator. She hadn't improved, but she was still with them. Everything could change again in a matter of moments, and they suggested that Page stay in close touch if she went home, but they assured her that they felt that for the moment, Allyson was out of immediate danger, and she was heavily sedated to combat the effects of the operation.

It was six-thirty in the morning when Page left ICU, after gently kissing her child, and as she walked out into the hall, every inch of her body was stiff and aching. And she was amazed when she saw Trygve waiting for her there. He was asleep in a chair, but he hadn't moved in hours. He had wanted to be there with her in case Allyson died, and Brad had never called. He was a damn fool, Trygve thought, but he would never have said it to Page. He was just grateful, with her, that Allie had made it through the night, and survived yet another disaster.

“Come on, I'll take you home. You can leave your car here. I'll bring you back later.”

“I can take a cab if I have to,” she said appreciatively. She was too tired to walk, let alone drive, and she followed him out to his car in the parking lot, relieved that Allyson had survived another night. If only she would live, Page thought to herself as she slipped into the front seat of his car. If only they could will her to make it.

“You were very brave,” Trygve said softly as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. He gave her shoulders a squeeze and patted her hand, and then started the car.

“I was so scared, Trygve … I wanted to run and hide,” she confessed. It was all so much worse than anything she had ever dreamed, worse than anyone's worst nightmare.

“But you didn't. And she made it. Just take it step by step,” he said wisely, as he drove her home. When they got there, he glanced over at her, and saw that she was sound asleep, and he hated to wake her. He shook her gently, and she stirred, and then looked at him with a slow smile.

“Thank you …for being such a good friend.”

“I wish we had become good friends some other way,” he said ruefully, “like the swim team, or your mural.” And then he remembered. “You still want to go to Phillip's funeral today?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. She was sure by then that Brad would not go with her.

“I'll pick you up at two-fifteen. Try and get some sleep between now and then. You really need it.”

“Pll do my best.” She touched his hand, and got out, and he watched her let herself into the house with her key. There was no one there, and it was seven o'clock in the morning.

Trygve waved and drove away, as Page gently closed the door, wondering what she would say to Brad when she saw him. There seemed to be nothing left to say, except good-bye. Or had they already said it?

CHAPTER 7

I
t was seven o'clock in the morning as Page stood in her living room, trying to decide whether to go to bed, or go next door to pick up Andy at Jane Gilson's. She was bone tired, and desperately in need of sleep, but she knew that Andy needed her too, so she washed her face and combed her hair, and then listened to her messages on the phone machine in the kitchen. There were none from Brad, which suddenly made her furious. How could he do this now, with Allyson barely clinging to life? And what was wrong with Stephanie that she would let him?

Page went next door to pick Andy up then, and found him eating breakfast with Jane. The television was on, and Jane was making him fresh waffles, and singing.

“Lucky you!” Page said tiredly as she kissed the top of his head and smiled at Jane. Her friend saw then that the dark circles under her eyes had deepened.

“How's Allie?” Andy asked immediately, and Page hesitated for a moment. She had to fight back tears before she answered. Suddenly, she couldn't say the words. She had almost died that night, but thank God she hadn't. Jane saw her choke on her words and touched her shoulder as she went to get her a cup of coffee.

“She's okay,” she told Andy, and then turned to Jane and spoke softly while Andy helped himself to more waffles. “Things got kind of rough last night. Her brain swelled after the surgery, and she had a lot of trouble breathing.”

“Is she gonna
die?”
Andy's eyes looked huge as he listened, and Page shook her head. At least she hadn't died, and they were still praying she wasn't going to.

“I hope not.”

He was silent for a moment as he absorbed what she had said, and then he asked her another difficult question. “Where's Daddy? He never came for me last night.”

“I think he got tied up at the office, and you were sound asleep when he got home. He didn't want to wake you.”

“Oh.” Andy looked relieved. He had sensed their fighting the night before, and he didn't like it. Allie's accident had changed everything. Suddenly nothing seemed secure to him, and the people he loved were all frightened and upset and angry. “Can I see Allie today?”

“Not yet, sweetheart.” There was no way Page would let him see her. With no hair, her head and eyes wrapped in bandages, tubes and machines everywhere, and the smell of death and fear heavy around her. It was a terrifying sight for anyone, especially a child of seven. “When she's better. When she wakes up …” she said, fighting tears again. She had to turn away this time, so he wouldn't see, and Jane put an arm around her shoulders.

“You need sleep more than anything. Why don't you go to bed, and I'll take Andy to school today.” But Andy looked crestfallen at the suggestion. He had no idea how tired she was, or how frightening things were at the hospital. And he wanted his mother near him.

“I'm okay.” Page took a deep breath, and then a long sip of her coffee. “I'll be back in a few minutes, and I can go to bed then.” Page had already promised herself that she was going to go to bed until Trygve picked her up for the funeral. The hospital knew where to reach her if there was a problem. And she needed sleep desperately, she felt as though she couldn't walk another step. She had to fight to stay awake all the way to Ross Grammar School, and she drove home by inches. The moment she got back, she checked the phone machine again. Still no call from Brad. And it was too early to call him at the office.

It was hard to believe that he had dared to stay out all night, without even calling. But what would he have said? Sorry, I'm spending the night with my girlfriend. But it amazed her that things had gone so far in just a few days. Their whole married life, and their relationship, seemed to have crumbled.

Page was in bed by eight-fifteen, and although she tossed and turned in the daylight at first, thinking about Allyson and the terrors of the night before, by eight-thirty her body had overwhelmed her brain, and she was sound asleep in her bed with all her clothes on. She lay in a deep sleep until just past noon, when she was awakened by the persistent ringing of the phone. She leapt out of bed once she realized what it was, terrified that it was the hospital calling about Al-lie.

“Yes?” Her voice was barely a croak, but it wasn't the hospital. It was her mother.

“Good Lord, what's wrong with you? Are you sick?”

“No, Mother … I … I was sleeping.” There was so much to explain, and it would be so difficult to get it across to her mother.

“At noon? That's unusual. Are you pregnant?”

“No, I'm not. I was up late …” with your granddaughter, who almost died…. Suddenly, Page felt guilty for not calling her sooner.

“You never called me back over the weekend. You said you would.” She loved to complain, she relished the role of the injured party. She always claimed that Page neglected her, but the truth was she was much closer to Page's sister, Alexis. Page's older sister lived in New York, and spent a lot of time with their mother.

“I've been busy, Mom.” How did you even begin to say the words? She closed her eyes as she struggled with her own emotions. “Allyson had an accident Saturday night.”

“Is she all right?” Her mother sounded stunned. Even she couldn't hide from those words, or the force they carried with them. She was a basically intelligent woman who hid that fact from everyone, and lived in a dream world.

“No, she's not. She's in a coma. She had brain surgery on Sunday. We don't know what's going to happen. I'm sorry I didn't call you, Mom. I just didn't know what to say, and I wanted to wait until things were a little better.”

“How's Brad?” Page thought it was a strange question.

“Brad? He's fine, he wasn't in the accident. She was with a bunch of kids.”

“This must be very hard on him.” It was so typical of her mother, to focus on him, not on her daughter, or whether or not Allie would survive, but on Brad. If she didn't know her so well, she would have thought she hadn't heard her correctly.

“It's hard for all of us. Brad, me, Andy …Allie …”

“Will she be all right?”

“We don't know yet.”

“I'm sure she will. These things look terrible at first, but people survive accidents all the time.” Oh God. How typical. Always escaping reality, at any price. Things hadn't changed. But maybe, without seeing her, it was hard to understand Allyson's condition. “I've read some extraordinary stories of head injuries, and people in comas, and they just walk away from it. She's young. She'll be fine.” Her mother sounded so certain. Page only wished she could believe her.

“I hope so,” Page said wanly, staring at the floor, wondering how anyone could communicate with her mother. Nothing had changed since she was fourteen. Her mother still heard and believed only what she wanted to, and not another thing, no matter what you told her. “I'll keep you posted.”

“Tell her I love her,” Maribelle Addison said firmly. “They say people in comas hear everything. Do you talk to her, Page?”

Page nodded, as tears started to roll down her cheeks. Of course she talked to her …she told her how much she loved her …she begged her not to die and leave them …”Yes,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Good. Well, tell her that her Grandma and her aunt Alexis love her.” And then, almost as an afterthought, “Do you want us to come out?” They did almost everything together. But Page answered in a single breath. That was all she needed.

“No! …I'll call if I need you.”

“You do that, dear, I'll call you tomorrow.” It sounded like a date for a bridge game. It was amazing, she was totally positive, completely confident that Allyson would be fine, and not frightened of the possibilities for a single moment. As usual, she offered no comfort, no solace, no support for her youngest daughter.

“Thanks, Mom. I'll call if anything happens.”

“You do that, dear. Alexis and I are going shopping tomorrow. I'll call you when I get home. Give my love to Brad, and Andy.”

“I will.” They hung up then, and Page sat staring at the floor for a long time, trying not to remember what it had been like to live with her …with them … all the lies and the misery …and the endless hiding from reality. Alexis was perfect for it. She played the same games their mother did. Everything was lovely all the time, no one ever did anything wrong, and if they did, it was never mentioned. The waters were always calm, their voices were never raised, and inside they were all drowning. Page had almost drowned. She couldn't wait to leave home. She had moved out as soon as she had started art school. They hadn't wanted her to, and refused to pay for it, but she had done free-lance work, and worked as a waitress in a restaurant at night just so she could afford it. She would have done anything to get out. Her survival depended on it, and she knew it.