Mary Ellen Courtney - Hannah Spring 02 - Spring Moon (21 page)

“Traumas take time to percolate. Can you remember what happened?”

“I remember what I remember. Is that what happened? I don’t know. I know I lived with geckos. I told the doctors that one licked my eyes. They must think I’m nuts.”

“Did it? Sounds like an affair.”

I laughed.

“No. It licked its own. I watched. Gecko porn.”

She was smiling.

“I don’t remember being terrified,” I said. “I should have been. I knew I might die. I knew I had to sit still. That was all I had to work with. My mind kinda checked out.”

“We’ll see what you remember over the next few days. I’m not going to make this mysterious for you. I’ll stop in tomorrow if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” I said. “What’s the thing here?”

“There could be post traumatic stress. I only mention it because somebody else might. Personally I think that’s kind of knee-jerk in these situations. Something tells me that’s not you. Most people don’t develop full-blown PTSD. It could come down the road. If so, we’ll be waiting for it. We need to talk about your finger. We’ll both know more in a few days. Hanging like a bat for four nights will take some time to sort out.”

“I was running away from Jon.”

“I talked to Jon. He blames himself. It will probably be a good idea to involve him in this at some point. It will be up to you.”

“I don’t want you to talk to Jon about me.”

“I talked to him briefly when you first came in. I promise you. I will never talk to anyone about you without you present. Get some rest. You should be out of this dungeon tomorrow.”

She turned back from the door.

“It’s going to be okay, Hannah.”

“That’s what Jon always says. So far I don’t see it. Did you tell him the sleeping and food thing?”

“No. We didn’t get past him blaming himself.”

Robert brushed by her in the door. She waved good-bye. I started to fall asleep while he took my vitals and tap tap tapped into the computer.

“Is that birds tapping?”

“No birds in here, Tita,” he said.

“Am I fierce?”

“You’re fierce,” he said. “Take a nap, they’re going to move you when you wake up.”

I woke up to Jon asleep with his cooler and diaper bag satchel. Fingerprinty glasses hung around his neck; he hadn’t needed those when we met. He must have been exhausted to sleep with the awful lights on. Robert glanced up from the nurses’ station. He watched me watch Jon. The overhead lights cast dark shadows under his eyes and nose, he looked ghoulish. He answered a phone.

It was 11:00 at night. My stomach hurt, I’d missed dinner. Jon should be at the restaurant, or home, not slumped under fluorescent lights.

My legs cramped. I stretched them and flexed my ankles and spread my toes, but they got tighter and tighter until my toes overlapped and locked at a strange angle. The fluorescent light buzzed, I had to squint. Drops of blood smeared the waffle blanket. Stiff stenciled sheets twisted under me, exposing the foam mattress topper.

It was still Monday. It was always Monday. The clock scratched out the talon seconds. The minute hand clicked with a jerk. It would be midnight again. No. I am not going to sit still.

Blood squished under the tape holding down the IV line on top of my hand, a black bruise spread dark on top of purple skin. The line ran to a bag on a hook over the bed. Wires snaked from under my nightgown. A rubber thimble kept track of oxygen, or so they said. My hand was hidden in the bandage. I knew the finger was gone. They didn’t want to tell me yet. Jon wouldn’t tell me. He never tells me. It didn’t seem like the time.

The blood pressure cuff inflated and trapped the blood in my other hand until I thought it wouldn’t stop. It felt like hanging in the car. Finally it released and blood coursed back to my body. They wanted to remind me what happens.

My legs jumped trying to walk. To be free. I needed air. I’d breathed the same air a thousand times. I needed to stop this. I just needed to help. I had things to do. Jon needed my help. The flowers at the restaurant would all be dead; I hate dead flowers. He needed gingerbread. Chance had forgotten me. He’d think his stepmother is me. I’d missed Meggie’s first dance. She’d never forget.

I peeled the sticky pads off my chest. My heart was fine. For some sick reason it had lived to be broken by this craziness. My breasts hung empty. They’d never be anything again. My babies were home alone. Anyone could take them. I wondered where Celeste was. How dare Jon sleep and leave them unprotected. The monitor beeped faster and faster. I wanted to scream. Stop it! Stop it! Faster beeps. Noisy. Jon’s eyes snapped open. He bolted up.

“What?” he asked.

I started screaming. My teeth ripped the tape off my arm and pulled out the needle. Clear liquid pulsed out the end of the tube. Bright blood streaked the top of my hand. The plastic connector snapped off. A grunting howl from deep space tore through my broken nose. I tried to climb out of bed but my bandaged hand slid uselessly off the metal tubing. The finger was gone. My arms tangled in tubes and wires, my foot twisted in the sling. I chewed the thimble off and spit it at Jon, hissing.

“You’re lying again. They cut it off. Always lying.”

He threw himself on top of me and crushed my broken nose in the pillow.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he kept saying. “It’s okay.”

I had the strength of three women. My pelvis screamed. My shoulder tried to pop out of the socket. I scrambled feet against soggy bed, the catheter slid out. I bucked side-to-side trying to get out from under him. Steve held me down. No traction this time. Jon locked a hand around my left wrist so hard I thought it would snap.

“Let me go. I can’t stand it,” I screamed. “Get off me! Get off of me! You can’t hold me down. You wanted me to leave. You didn’t stop me. You lied to me.”

“Please don’t fight me,” he said. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Just get it over with.”

He had me pinned to the bed. I felt a pinch in my thigh.

“Hold her there for a minute,” said Robert. “Keep her still.”

Jon was breathing hard, his heart raced against my back. He kissed my ear and stroked the side of my face while he said, “It’s okay, it’s okay, H. It’s okay.” I thought about my sister’s funeral. My mother clawed the earth. “Mom, Mom, Mom,” we said. Shushing babies.

“Shush, shush, shush,” said Jon in my ear.

“You sound like a seashell,” I said.

I peed in the bed.

Pink light in the sliver window. Silent dawn in the ICU. Dawns were full of life in the car. I was reattached. A screen testified to the rhythm of my body, a lazy pattern in day glow green. Left to right, wave after wave. Another scratched heartbeat lines, tiny earthquakes at regular intervals. If only waves and earthquakes were that predictable.

The IV line was double taped. A heavy ice pack was strapped across my pelvic area. It felt like my nose had a splint, but when I went to feel it my wrist jerked in a strap. My hands and feet were tied to the rails. Jon was asleep on a folding cot with his arm through the sidebars, his hand rested on my heart. Malina glanced up from the nurses’ station and smiled. She made a call, then came in and held a straw to my lips.

“So, Hannah. How you doing this morning?” she asked.

“What happened? I felt okay, and then everything just made me crazy. My legs started jumping around, they cramped up.”

“Fred is looking at it. It could have been a drug reaction. Maybe you got over stimulated. Just being in here can bring it on.”

“Can you untie me?”

“When he gets here. He’s on campus, he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

Jon sat up on his cot. He looked strained and tired.

“Jon, you hit that call button if she starts acting up,” she said, and left.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t get a hold of my mind.”

“Don’t apologize for going crazy in here,” said Jon.

“Will you untie me?”

“I can’t, H. He’ll be here soon. He’s letting you sit outside in the sun with your babies after lunch. You’re going to move to a room, have a shower and nap first.”

“It sounds like I’m two.”

“You kind of are for now.”

Fred came in a few minutes later and went over the program for the day. He’d switched me to a new pain medication. It had been four hours so he felt confident I was going to tolerate it. He untied my hands and feet and checked the band healing around my ankle.

“I was wearing an anklet. I bought it that night,” I said. “It had a peridot charm. The sun hit it one of the mornings and reminded me of Pele. It gave me strength.”

“It’s good you remember,” said Fred. “Lucky the chain broke, that would have been a serious problem for this foot.”

“Am I going to be okay, Fred?”

“You’re going to be fine.”

“I might lose a finger.”

He looked thoughtful.

“They’re optimistic,” he said.

They wheeled me into a private room with open windows that looked through palm trees to the ocean. A beefy male nurse from PT wrapped my bandaged hand in plastic and helped me onto a shower stool. Jon got in with me and washed me so gently, I felt like Maggie.

“Do you remember making love in the shower in Honolulu?” I asked.

“I remember every time.”

“You do not.”

“I bet I do.”

He got me back in bed and we both fell asleep with the soft breeze coming through the window.

Jon wheeled me outside and Arthur pointed Meggie in my direction. She pedaled a new tricycle like a demon. Pink and purple streamers flapped out of glitter handles. Jon put his foot on the back and hopped behind her to slow her down. She was wearing a lei of braided red and yellow Lihue flowers on her head. Penny had brushed her hair out to rippling gold. She climbed off her trike and approached me slowly as she checked out the wheelchair, my nose splint, shaved head, and purple and yellow face.

“Do I look scary?”

“Hi, Angel,” she said.

“Hi, Angel.”

She turned around to show me her lei, but looked back over her shoulder in case she needed to run.

“That’s beautiful,” I said. “Did you have fun?”

“Papa came.”

“He told me you were a wonderful dancer. Will you show me some?”

She gave me a quick version of jerky hips, then hopped back on her trike and rode toward the door to the hospital. People lined the walkway on benches and called hello to her as she went by. She took her hand off one handle and gave each a quick wave without slowing down. I was sure she’d lose control, but she managed to keep going straight.

Jon rested Chance in my arm. He looked at me with his big blue saucers and started to cry.

“He’s just hungry,” said Jon.

He handed me a bottle. Chance sucked so hard his mouth filled up, formula ran out the sides and he choked. Jon took him back. I couldn’t handle him with one arm.

“He doesn’t really have the hang of it yet,” said Jon.

“I missed her first dance, Jon. I wasn’t there.”

Jon looked away toward Meggie who was chatting up a couple. She’d climbed off her trike to show them her lei. The elderly Hawaiian woman touched her gold hair. 

“It was okay,” he said. “We all went. She had the biggest family group there.”

He looked at Chance.

“This is the most relaxed he’s been since you’ve been gone. He’s been pushing everyone away like Megs used to do.”

“Do you have any idea when I can go home?” I asked.

“Dad and Arthur are building a ramp up to the back door. They took the whole rise to run ratio to heart. It stretches halfway to the street with switchbacks. It would hold an elephant. The social worker is arranging for some equipment. It could be only a few days. We need someone to take care of your hand.”

“That’s a hassle for a few weeks. I can go to the rehab unit.”

“I want you home. Fred says it’s safer for you to be home with the germs you know.”

“Will we have help?”

“Kaia has a cousin lined-up. Your mom and Penny have been grilling her for days. To listen to those two, we’re a couple of teenagers.”

Jon went to get Meggie and then rolled me over to a picnic table. He set her up with a snack, and then laid Chance on top of our knees so I could touch him. He leaned over and kissed me. Meggie giggled and Jon tickled under her arm. She shifted her hips and folded almost in half to get away, but held tight to her string cheese.

Arthur picked up the kids and Jon got me back in bed.

“That was wonderful. Why don’t you go for a paddle, that would really make me happy.”

“I’ll be back with dinner.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’ll be back with dinner, we’ll eat together.”

I slept for hours. The lights were off, the room was soft with afternoon light. I sensed someone open the door a few times, but no one needed a crash cart and I didn’t need to be tied down. Fred came in reading my chart.                        

“It looks like you’ve had a much better day,” he said. “All your numbers are good, you haven’t tried to escape. They managing your pain?”

“I’ve had much less pain. Thanks for letting me see the babies, Chance looked a month older.”

“Two weeks is a long time for a two-month old,” he said. “We’re waiting for Jimmy now.”

A string bean of Chinese energy with close-cropped hair blew through the door so fast he reminded me of Meggie. He grabbed my chart from Fred, and pulled up my x-rays on the computer. Fred sat down, looking amused.

“So, Hannah,” said Jimmy. He pronounced it like the road to Hana, or I guess the Han Dynasty. “We fix you chop chop.”

He was scrolling through x-rays and speed-reading notes. He looked at my eyes and told me to stick out my tongue, and then he studied the fingernails on my right hand.

“Difficult to tell what color you are,” he said.

He’d dropped his shtick. His accent was definitely British.

“I was white when this all started.”

He smiled while he took my arms one at a time and felt along the inside of my wrist. He moved his fingers from place to place inside my forearm, pressing gently as he went. I started to say something.