Honor Thyself (11 page)

The others were in much better spirits that night, and at Carole's urging, they had dinner downstairs at the Espadon, the hotel's main restaurant. It was bright and cheerful and busy, and the food was fabulous. Stevie didn't join them. She had a massage, ordered soup from room service, and went to bed. They all thanked her for the activities she'd planned for them that day. They felt almost human again. In a burst of nervous energy, Chloe had bought six pairs of shoes and a dress at Saint Laurent. Jason couldn't believe it, but he'd bought two pairs of John Lobbs at Hermès while he waited for her, and although Anthony hated shopping, he bought four shirts. Both men had bought some extra clothes, mostly sweaters and jeans to wear at the hospital, since they had brought so little with them. They felt refreshed after swimming and massages. And Jason had beat his son at squash, a rare occurrence, and major victory for him. In spite of the horrifying circumstances that had brought them to Paris, they had had a decent day, thanks to Stevie, and her positive outlook about everything. She was wiped out herself when she went to bed, and was sound asleep at nine o'clock.

The hospital called at six o'clock the next morning. Stevie's heart sank when she heard the phone ring. It was Jason. They had called him first. A call at that hour could mean only one thing. He was crying when Stevie answered.

“Oh my God …,” Stevie said, still groggy, but she was instantly alert.

“She's awake,” he said, sobbing. “She opened her eyes. She's not speaking, but her eyes are open and she nodded at the doctor.”

“Oh my God … oh my
God…
” It was all Stevie could say. She had thought she was dead.

“I'm going over. Do you want to come? I thought I'd let the kids sleep. I don't want to get their hopes up, till we see how she is.”

“I'm coming. I'll be dressed in five minutes.” And then she laughed through her own tears. “She must have heard me.” She knew her eight-hour monologue wasn't what had done it. God and time had finally done their work. But maybe her words hadn't hurt.

“What did you say to her?” he asked, wiping the tears of relief off his face. He had lost hope at the doctor's conference the day before. But now, she was awake. It was an answer to their prayers.

“I told her that we were sick of this shit, and to get off her dead ass and get back to work. Something like that.”

“Good job,” he said, laughing. “We should have tried that before. You must have made her feel guilty.”

“I hope so.” This was going to be one incredible Thanksgiving gift for all of them.

“I'll knock on your door in five minutes,” Jason said, and hung up. When he did, she was wearing jeans and a sweater, and carrying the heavy coat she had brought. She was wearing the cowboy boots she often wore to work. She had found them in a thrift shop and loved them. She said they were her lucky boots. They sure were now. She had been wearing them the day before too.

They chatted excitedly on their way back to the hospital, and passed all the landmarks that were all too familiar to them now. They could hardly wait to see her, and Jason reminded Stevie that the doctor said she wasn't talking yet. That might take a while. But she was awake. Everything had turned around overnight. In the silent hospital, they raced to her room, where the security guard stood outside. He nodded to them both as they went in, and assumed their early-morning arrival wasn't a good sign. It was a cold sunny morning, and the most beautiful day of Stevie's entire life, and for Jason it was second only to the birth of his children. This time Carole had been born again. She was awake!

Carole was lying on the bed with her eyes open when they walked in, with the doctor in charge of her case standing at her side. She had just arrived. They had called her first, and she came right in. She smiled at Stevie and Jason, and then down at her patient. Carole met the doctor's eyes as she spoke to her in heavily accented English, but didn't respond. She made no sound, and didn't smile. She just watched, but when told to, she squeezed the doctor's hand. The pressure was slight, and she shifted her eyes to her two visitors when she heard them, but didn't smile at them either. Her face was expressionless, like a mask. Stevie spoke to her as though she were the same person she always had been, and Jason leaned down to kiss her cheek. Carole didn't react to that either. And eventually, she closed her eyes and went back to sleep again. The doctor, Jason, and Stevie left the room to talk outside.

“She's not responsive,” Jason commented, looking worried. Stevie was thrilled, determined not to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was a start, and a hell of a lot better than where she'd been.

“This is only the beginning,” the doctor said to Jason. “She may not recognize you yet. She may have lost a great deal of memory. Her cerebral cortex and hippocampus were affected, both of which store memories. We can't be sure what's left, or how easy it will be for her to access them again. With luck, her memory and normal brain function will come back to her. But it will take time. She has to remember everything now. How to move, how to speak, how to walk. Her brain had a tremendous shock. But we have a chance now. Now we begin.” She looked greatly encouraged. They had almost given up on her ever gaining consciousness again. This proved to all of them that miracles really did happen, when you least expected them. She smiled at Stevie then. “The nurses tell me that you spoke to her all day yesterday. You never know what they hear, or what makes a difference.”

“I think it was just time,” Stevie said modestly. Long overdue in fact, from their perspective. It had been a nightmarish three weeks for Carole, and an agonizing week for them. But at least she'd been unaware of what was going on. They had had to face the terror of losing her, fully conscious. They had been the worst days of Stevie's life. It put a whole new spin on the meaning of life.

“We want to do some more CT scans and MRIs today, and I'll send a speech therapist in to see how she responds. It's possible that she just can't remember the words yet. We'll give her a little push to get her started. I want to find someone who speaks English,” the doctor said. Stevie had told them she spoke French, but they wanted to re-educate her in her own language. Doing it in French would have been much harder.

“I can work with her if someone shows me how,” Stevie volunteered, and the doctor smiled at her again. This was an enormous victory for her.

“I think you did fine work with her yesterday.” The doctor was generous with her praise. Who knew what had awakened her?

Jason and Stevie went back to the hotel then to tell Anthony and Chloe. Their father woke them both, and they had the same reaction Stevie had when he called her. Raw terror was on their faces and in their eyes the moment they woke up.

“Mom?” Anthony said, looking panicked. He was twenty-six years old, and a man, but she was still his mommy.

“She's awake,” Jason said, crying again. “She can't talk yet, but she saw us. She's going to be okay, son.” Anthony burst into sobs. None of them knew how okay yet, but she was alive, and no longer in a coma. It was definitely a start, and a huge relief for them.

Chloe threw her arms around her father's neck and laughed and cried all at once, like a child, and then she jumped out of bed and did a little dance. And then ran over to give Stevie a hug.

They were all laughing and talking at breakfast, and at ten o'clock they went back to see her. She was awake again by then, and looked at them with interest as they walked into the room.

“Hi, Mom,” Chloe said easily as she walked over to the bed and took her hand, and then bent to kiss her mother's cheek. There was no visible response from Carole. If anything, she looked surprised. But even her facial expressions were limited now. The bandage had been off her cheek for several days, but the gash she'd gotten had left a nasty scar, which was the least of her problems. They were all used to it by now, although Stevie knew Carole would be upset when she saw it, but that wouldn't be for a while. And as Jason had said, a good plastic surgeon could deal with it when they got home.

Carole lay on her bed, watching them, and turned her head several times to follow them with her eyes. Anthony kissed her too, and her eyes were filled with questions, and then Jason came to stand beside her and held her hand. Stevie stood back against the wall, smiling at her, but Carole didn't seem to notice her. It was possible that she couldn't focus yet from a distance.

“You've made us very happy today,” Jason said to his ex-wife with a loving smile, as he kept her hand in his own. She looked at him blankly. It took her a long time but she finally formed a single word and said it to him.

“Tii… rr … ed … tired.”

“I know you're tired, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You've been asleep for a long time.”

“I love you, Mom,” Chloe added, and Anthony echoed her words. Carole stared at them as though she didn't know what that meant, and then spoke again.

“Waa … ter.” She pointed to the glass with a weak hand, and the nurse held it to her lips. It reminded Stevie suddenly of Anne Bancroft in
The Miracle Worker.
They were starting way back at the beginning. But at least they were headed in the right direction now. Carole said nothing directly to any of them, and said none of their names. She just watched them. They stayed with her till noon, and then they left her. Carole looked exhausted, and her voice, the two times she spoke, didn't sound like her own. Stevie suspected she was still hoarse from the respirator, which had been removed not long before. Her throat sounded sore, and her eyes looked huge in her face. She had lost a lot of weight, and had been thin before. But she was still beautiful, even now. More so than ever, however wan. She looked as though she could have been playing Mimi in
La Bohème.
She seemed like a tragic heroine as she lay there, but hopefully for all of them, the tragedy was over.

Jason met with the doctor again late that afternoon. Chloe had decided to go shopping again, this time to celebrate. Retail therapy, as Stevie called it. And Anthony was at the gym, working out. They felt a lot better, and less guilty about returning to normal activities and life. They had even eaten a huge lunch at Le Voltaire, which was Carole's favorite restaurant in Paris, as they knew well. Jason said it was a celebration lunch for her.

The doctor in charge said that Carole's MRI and CT scans looked good, as they had for a while. There was no visible damage to her brain, which seemed remarkable. The initial small tears in the nerves had already healed. But there was also no way to assess how much memory loss she'd sustained, or to predict how many of her normal brain functions would return. Only time would tell. She was still acknowledging people when they spoke to her, and had said a few more words that afternoon, most of which related to her physical state and nothing else. She had said “cold” when the nurse opened the window, and “ow” when they took blood from her arm, and again when they readjusted her IV. She was responsive to pain and sensation, but she looked blank when the doctor asked her questions that went beyond yes and no. When they asked her her name, she shook her head. They told her it was Carole, and she shrugged. It was of no apparent interest to her. And the nurse said that when they called her by name, she didn't respond. And since she didn't know her own name, it was unlikely that she remembered theirs. More important, the doctor was fairly certain that for the moment Carole had no recollection of who they were.

Jason refused to be discouraged by it, and when he reported it to Stevie later on, he said it was just a matter of time. He had a firm grip on hope again. Maybe too firm, Stevie thought. She had already acknowledged to herself the possibility that Carole might never be the same again. She was awake, but there was a long way to go before Carole would be herself, if she ever would be again. It was still a question with no answer.

There was a leak to the press at the hospital again that day, and the next morning, the press reported that Carole Barber was out of her coma. She had already been off the critical list for several days. She still remained a hot news item. And it was obvious to Stevie that someone at the hospital was getting paid for news about Carole. It wouldn't have been unusual, even in the States, but it seemed disgusting to her anyway. It came with the territory of being a star, but seemed like a high price to pay. There were allusions in the article to the fact that she might be permanently brain-damaged. But the photograph they ran with the story was gorgeous. It had been taken ten years before, in her prime, although she still looked damn good now, before the bombing anyway. And all things considered, she looked pretty good for a woman with a brain injury and who had survived a bomb at close range.

The police came to visit her, once they knew that she was awake. The doctor let them speak to her briefly but within minutes, it was evident to them that she had no memory of the bombing or anything else. They left with no further information from her.

Jason and the children continued to visit Carole, as did Stevie, and she continued to add words to her repertoire.
Book. Blanket. Thirsty. No!
She was very emphatic on that one, particularly when they came to take blood, and she pulled her arm away the last time and glared at the nurse and called her “bad,” which made them all smile. They took her blood anyway, she burst into tears, looked surprised, and said “cry.” Stevie talked to her as though she were normal, and sometimes Carole just sat and stared at her for hours, saying nothing. She could sit up now, but she still couldn't put words into a sentence, or say their names. It was clear by the day before Thanksgiving, three days after she'd awakened, that she had no idea whatsoever who they were. She recognized no one, not even her children. They were all upset by it, but Chloe was the most distressed.

“She doesn't even know me!” Chloe said with tears in her eyes when she left the hospital with her father to go back to the hotel.

“She will, sweetheart. Give her time.”

“What if she stays like that?” She voiced their worst fear. No one else had dared to say it.