The First Time (9 page)

I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating. I have to get out of here.

Think positive thoughts. Think about lying in your bed. No, that’s no good. When was the last time you felt safe and secure in bed? Not since I was a little girl, Mattie thought, immediately picturing herself as a
sober-faced child, lying under her blue-and-white quilt, her father sitting by her head, his backside propped against the headboard as he read to her from one of her favorite bedtime stories. “That’s all for tonight, Mattie,” she heard him say, kissing her forehead, the soft prickle of his mustache grazing her tender skin.

“Will you sit with me until I fall asleep?” she’d ask, the same question every night.

And every night he’d answer, “You’re a big girl now, you don’t need me to sit with you,” even as he was settling in at the foot of her bed, even when her mother was calling him, even when she was standing right outside the door, one impatient hand folded over the other, and still he’d sit at the foot of her bed until she fell asleep, no matter how long it took.

“Third set coming up now,” Noreen announced.

How much time had elapsed? Mattie wondered, about to ask the question out loud when the sound of fresh horses stopped her. That, and another sound. The sound of banging, as if someone were hammering on the top of the tunnel. How was she supposed to fall asleep if they kept up that loud banging?

The noise reminded her of when she renovated the kitchen, the workmen tearing out the existing cabinets, replacing them with newer designs, Jake refusing to let her exchange their old electric range for the gas oven she preferred, complaining about the mess, about not being able to find anything, about not being able to think with that incessant racket.

Oh, God—Jake. This morning in the courtroom. His summation. Her laughter, so unexpected, so inappropriate. The look on Jake’s face. The judge pounding
her gavel, the unpleasant sound foreshadowing the banging of the X ray machine. So loud. Did it have to be so loud? And that vibration in her ears, like a swarm of pesky bees, except this was worse because it felt as if the bees were inside her, that they were buzzing around frantically in her skull, desperate to find a way out.

“Is it almost over?” Mattie asked, as the horses retreated and the vibrations shuddered to a halt.

“Three down. Two to go. You’re doing great.”

Just a few more minutes, Mattie
, she heard her father say.
You’re doing great
.

When can I see it?
her child’s voice asked impatiently.

Right … now
. Her father backed away from his makeshift easel in the middle of the unfinished basement, standing back proudly as she rushed to his side.

Mattie stared long and hard at the portrait her father had been working on for weeks, desperate to keep the disappointment out of her face. The picture didn’t look anything like her at all.

What do you think?

I think you should stick to selling insurance
, her mother’s voice announced from out of nowhere. Mattie hadn’t even heard her come downstairs.

I think it’s beautiful
, Mattie said, immediately coming to her father’s defense.

Whatever happened to that picture? Mattie wondered now. Had her father taken it with him when he abruptly quit his job and left town? She almost cried out, stopping herself in time, before she ruined the X rays and they had to start over from the beginning. That’s what I’d like to do with my life, she thought.
Start over from the beginning. Do it right this time. Find a father who wouldn’t leave. Find a mother who preferred people to pets. Choose a husband who chose her over other women. Discover something about herself that someone else could love.

“Here we go. Number four.”

Almost over, Mattie told herself, as the increasingly invasive vibrations from the fourth series of X rays began. She felt as if she were holding her breath under water, as if her lungs were about to burst. She pictured herself hunched over the side of her backyard pool, waiting for her foot to stop tingling. What a strange day, she thought, recalling her spill on the carpet as her sleeping foot failed to find the floor. She’d started the day with thoughts of killing her husband and ended up almost killing herself. Not to mention that little courtroom episode in between.

Mattie wondered if Jake would be waiting for her when she was released, or if he’d already packed his bags and left. Like her father, who’d left for greener pastures. For parts unknown. For he’s a jolly good fellow. God help me. I have to get out of here, Mattie thought, before I completely lose my mind.

“Last one.”

Mattie took a deep breath, although her body remained rigid. Premature rigor mortis, she thought, perfectly suitable for being buried alive. She braced herself for the approach of the galloping herd, already anticipating the banging above and beside her head, dreading the coming vibrations. Was Jake here? she wondered. Had they been able to reach him? How had he reacted to the news of her accident? Did he care at
all? Was he relieved, or disappointed, when he found out she was still alive?

The vibrations filled her mouth, invading her teeth, like a dentist’s drill. Soon the drill would shatter her teeth and assault her roots, boring a hole through her gums directly into her brain. Talk about hidden hematomas. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to get out. She had to get out now. She didn’t care if the ordeal was almost over, that the X rays would be ruined. She had to get out of this damn machine. Get out now.

“That’s it. We’re done,” Noreen Aliwallia announced, as Mattie felt her body being spit out of the machine and the lid of the coffin lifted from her head. Mattie sucked at the air with the eagerness and ferocity of a newborn baby at her mother’s breast. “You were great,” Noreen Aliwallia said.

“So, tell me exactly what happened,” Lisa Katzman was saying, her voice deep and strong, in surprising contrast to her tiny, birdlike frame. Short brown hair hugged a narrow oval face dusted with freckles; her nose turned up sharply at its slender tip; her mouth curved down into a natural frown, so that only her eyes revealed when she was smiling. She sat perched at the side of Mattie’s hospital bed, wearing a white lab coat over black sweater and pants, the pants tucked inside ankle-length, black leather boots. She had on her best doctor’s face, but Mattie could see the worry staining her friend’s soft brown eyes.

“I wish I knew.” Mattie adjusted the meager pillow at her back, stared at the decorative floral print on the pale green wall behind Lisa’s head.

“You told the neurologist your foot fell asleep?”

“Yeah. It was the damnedest thing. I couldn’t feel the brake. I kept poking at where I knew it should be, but I couldn’t feel anything. It was creepy.”

“Has this happened before?”

“It happened earlier in the day. I couldn’t feel the floor, and I fell. Is Jake here?”

“He was. He had to get back to work.”

“How did he seem?”

“Jake? Fine. Concerned about you, of course.”

Of course, Mattie thought.

“So, this afternoon and this morning, those are the only times this sort of thing has happened?”

“Well, no. It’s happened before. You know how sometimes your foot falls asleep.” Mattie’s voice drifted to a stop. Why was Lisa asking her these questions? “What are you getting at?”

“How many times?” Lisa asked, ignoring Mattie’s question, lips twitching downward, eyes still smiling, trying to act as if these queries were strictly routine. “Once a week? Every day?”

“Maybe a few times a week.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know. A couple of months, maybe.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before?”

“I didn’t think there was anything to worry about. I can’t call you over every little thing.”

Lisa gave her a look that said, Since when?

“I don’t understand the problem,” Mattie continued. “Doesn’t everybody’s foot fall asleep occasionally?”

“Was today the first time you fell?”

Mattie nodded vigorously. She was becoming increasingly
uncomfortable with the conversation, had no interest in pursuing it further. Where was Lisa Katzman, her friend? Lisa Katzman, the doctor, was starting to get on her nerves. “Has anybody contacted Kim?”

“Jake called her. He’ll bring her by later to see you. He thinks she should stay at your mother’s until you come home.”

“My mother’s? Poor kid. She’ll never forgive me.”

“You won’t be here long enough for her to work up a serious hate. Jake told me that you laughed out loud in the middle of his address to the jury,” Lisa said, as if one thought naturally followed the other.

“He told you that? Oh God, was he very upset?”

“I thought you decided not to go to the courthouse.” The look on Lisa’s face said, Why do you ask my advice if you’re not going to take it?

I couldn’t help myself, Mattie answered with her eyes, the conversation continuing silently for several seconds, no need for words.

“Why did you laugh?” Lisa asked suddenly.

“I don’t know,” Mattie answered honestly. “It just kind of popped out.”

“Were you thinking of something funny?”

“Not that I remember.”

“You just started laughing?”

“Yes,” Mattie agreed. “Why? What has that got to do with anything?”

“Has that happened before?”

“Has
what
happened before?”

“Laughing for no reason. Or crying. Any reactions that are out of whack with the situation.”

“It’s happened a few times,” Mattie told her, thinking
of her tears on the steps of the Art Institute, feeling adrift and wobbly, like a balloon that was slowly losing air.

“In the last couple of months?”

“Yes.”

“What about your hands? Any tingling sensation there?”

“No.” She paused. “Well, sometimes I have trouble with my keys.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“They don’t always want to fit in the lock.”

Lisa looked alarmed, tried to disguise it by coughing into her hand. “Any problems swallowing?”

“No.”

“Is there anything you’re not telling me?”

“Like what?” Mattie asked. “You know I tell you everything.” She paused, brushed some imaginary hairs away from her forehead. She’d told Lisa all about Jake’s latest affair. “You think this could be stress related?”

“Could be.” Lisa leaned over, took Mattie’s hands in her own, tried to push her lips into a smile. “Let’s wait till we get the results of the MRI.”

“And then what?”

Lisa straightened her shoulders, assumed her most professional demeanor. “Let’s take this thing one day at a time, shall we?” But the smile in her eyes was gone, and only the frown remained.

T
wo days later Jake picked Mattie up at the hospital. She looked lost inside the jeans and sweatshirt she’d asked him to bring from home—so thin, so bruised, so delicate in her movements he worried she might collapse before he got her to the car. He realized that he was uncomfortable seeing her this way, not because he felt her pain—part of him was still so angry with her that he was glad she was in pain—but because such frailty was a form of dependence, and he didn’t want Mattie to be dependent. Not on him. Not anymore.

Jake flinched at the selfishness of his thoughts, waiting as the orderly assisted Mattie out of the wheelchair that hospital policy dictated be taken to the lobby. Mattie smiled, a tentative and token gesture that only emphasized her obvious discomfort, and shuffled slowly toward him, pale purple blotches staining her cheeks,
large yellow circles rimming her eyes, like old-fashioned monocles. Jake knew that he should be the one helping her, the one whispering words of reassurance in her ear, but all he could manage was a tired smile of his own and a few careless words about her looking pretty good for a woman whose car had collapsed around her like an accordion.

Jake dutifully took Mattie’s elbow, adjusting his gait to hers as he slowly led her out the front door of the hospital. Immediately, Mattie raised a trembling hand to her eyes, shielding them from the harsh light of the midday sun. “Wait here,” Jake told her at the top of the outside steps. “I’ll get the car.”

“I can come with you,” she offered, her voice weak.

“No. It’ll be faster this way. I’ll just be half a second. The car’s right there.” He pointed vaguely toward the parking lot. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked quickly to the lot, his head lowered against the cool autumn winds, and located his dark green BMW, climbing inside, money already in hand to pay the attendant. By the time he got back, two minutes at most, Mattie had made her way down the stairs and was waiting for him by the side of the road. She was asserting her independence, letting him know she could take care of herself. Good, he thought. That’s exactly what we want.

Why was it that he had an abundance of compassion for a killer like Douglas Bryant and, curiously, none at all for his wife? Couldn’t he get past his anger at her bizarre behavior and show some genuine concern for her welfare? She was obviously as puzzled by what had happened as he was, although they hadn’t actually
discussed it. Besides, what was the point in talking about it now? It was over and done with.

As their marriage would be by the end of the day.

He’d already taken most of his clothes over to Honey’s, transferred his toiletries to the bathroom downstairs. Kim was still staying with Mattie’s mother. By the time she returned home tomorrow, he’d be all but gone. Of course he’d wait a few days before actually leaving, until Mattie was stronger, until he was comfortable she could function on her own. He’d talk to Kim later, explain the reasons he was leaving, try to convince her of the merits of his case. Jake laughed, pulling the car to the curb in front of Mattie, running around to open her door. Kim would be much harder to win over than any jury. She was every inch her mother’s daughter. He doubted he stood a chance.

“Watch your head,” he advised, guiding Mattie inside the car.

“I’m fine,” she told him.

She was fine, Jake repeated with relief. There were no broken bones, no crippling injuries, no bruises that wouldn’t be gone by the end of next month. The MRI had showed no internal bleeding, no tumors, no abnormalities of any kind. “There’s nothing in my head at all,” Mattie had laughed over the telephone, with obvious relief, the sound of her laughter a bitter reminder of the scene she had caused.