Accidents of Marriage (18 page)

He caught up with a flunky from the big cheese’s office just in time. Dr. Flynn was full of himself and his white coat.

“How’s it looking?” Ben asked.

Flynn looked at his chart, as though he needed to consult the record about someone he’d examined three minutes ago. “Mmm. Hmm.”

Ben self-talked himself out of punching words from the doctor’s girlish pink lips.

“I don’t need a full medical lecture. Just tell me how she’s doing. Any changes? Where’s the hope level?”

Ben watched Flynn’s eyes for truth, more than he’d ever get from the guy’s words. Every bit of hope he’d had—fluttering eyelids, the fucking wonder of pain response—sunk as he watched the doctor’s eyes hesitate, saw him grasp for the right words.

“We never discourage anyone from hoping. The world is full of miracles.”

•  •  •

He pulled into the Boston Common Garage, sorry he’d let Vanessa pick up the kids to take them back-to-school shopping. Wanting to be at work had dissipated. Right at that moment he wanted to be with Emma, Gracie, and Caleb. He wanted to break up fights and pick out socks and dresses. Anything not to be hearing the word
miracle
looping through his mind.

He walked first to Elizabeth’s office, unready for his first full day back, but needing to catch up on everything she’d been taking care of for him.

“Hey,” Ben called as he entered. He sat in her guest chair and reached for the coffee she had waiting. He couldn’t have been more grateful if she’d handed him a hundred-dollar bill. The first sip, hot, black, and bitter, shot straight to his heart.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Least I can do.” Elizabeth tilted her head and gave a sad smile. “How are you?”

He shrugged and grunted. “Not great.”

She shook her head. “Poor Ben. How are the children?”

“Wretched.” He tipped his cup toward her as a mini toast. “Let’s talk about something else.” At least she hadn’t asked about his case.
He felt like a ten-year-old the way he’d left the legal decisions in his father’s and the lawyer’s hands. Was he being a fool? The lawyer side of him knew they couldn’t truly come up with a case against him. He hadn’t been drunk. All he’d done was move over to the right; the Ford had rammed into him.

But. There was always a but.

How about turning on the setting for competitive driving control? How smart was that?

They wouldn’t know. It reset back to the normal driving mode after stopping. And anyway, it wasn’t illegal.

Just stupid and wrong.

But he’d been driving recklessly. His wife was in a coma. They could find a way to charge him if they wanted. And Ben, as the Judge was fond of saying, wasn’t a popular guy in the DA’s office.

Stop. It will be fine.
Ben knocked twice on Elizabeth’s desk. “What do you have for me?”

She nodded as though husbands coping with wives in comas were part of her protocol. “The Barry Robinson case file is ready for you. Problem: B-bird’s mother keeps calling. She thinks there must be some way to lower the bail. What do you want me to tell her?”

“Why don’t you tell her the truth? That she should give up and let her kid do some time. Tell her that for once he shouldn’t get away with something.” Ben put his coffee down and rubbed his temples. Another monster headache was building to a crescendo. “B-bird needs more cooking. Tell mama to keep her son in the pan and turn him when he’s done.”

Elizabeth flinched. Still tender to the bone as she was, she hadn’t perfected the art of joking at a client’s expense. He missed Maddy. He could fucking die from missing her at this moment.

•  •  •

When his desk phone rang at five, Ben’s stomach cramped. He didn’t want to pick it up; he didn’t want to talk to B-bird’s mother or some piece-of-shit client or his piece-of-shit brother, Andrew, making one
of his twice-a-week duty calls. Too bad ignoring the phone was no longer one of Ben’s luxuries.

“Illica,” he said.

“Bennie?”

Since the accident, his mother-in-law had taken to calling him Bennie. As though he were a fucking dog.

It wasn’t that.

Maddy called him that once in a while. He didn’t want to hear it from Anne.

“Is everything okay? The kids?”

“Everything is okay.” They never used the word
fine
these days—things were never fine. “How about the kids sleep over at our house tonight? After shopping for school clothes all day with Vanessa, they’re ready for a home-cooked meal.”

“Are you sure? They’re not so easy at night. Caleb, um—”

“I know, I know. He’s wetting the bed. Big deal. A little pee. You think Maddy and Vanessa never peed?”

Ben avoided thinking about exactly how Maddy was peeing these days.

“If you’re sure,” he said.

“I’m sure, I’m sure. Jake and I need a little life in the house. Pick them up after work tomorrow. We’ll all have supper together.”

If by having “a little life in the house,” she meant Emma glaring, Caleb screeching, and Gracie worshipping Jesus, then he was happy to oblige by offering up his children.

Maddy and the kids stared from the picture on his desk. Her smile flew right at him—she’d directed love eyes to the camera as he snapped the shot of her building a snowman with the kids. The snow had been so high it covered the steps to the porch. They’d leapt straight into the pile of cold puffy flakes.

Her cheeks were bright red. He could imagine the taste of her cold lips.

So many times he hadn’t kissed her.

He didn’t know how to keep containing the pain. Missing her was
a rusty blade, but no matter how it sliced, he had to keep going. Somehow he had to contain the damn pain.

•  •  •

Ben and Elizabeth went out to dinner. Then back to her place.

She lived in the Fenway, smack in the middle of the student ghetto, but her building had been remodeled to appeal to young professionals. Her condo appeared as spare as Elizabeth. Pale walls, glossy oak floors, furnished with minimal pieces and maximum money. Certainly not paid for by her meager intern stipend. Those sleek ebony vases and lamps weren’t the T.J. Maxx variety Maddy brought home.

He should leave this shiny place right fucking now.

“Wine?” She held up a bottle of white. “Or an after-dinner drink?”

“Wine,” he said.

She filled an oversized goblet halfway and then settled next to him on the couch. “Thanks for dinner.” She leaned over and lifted a chrome fruit bowl—holding it toward him. Purple grapes and plums overflowed. “Dessert?”

He shook his head. “No, thanks.”

She bit into a plum and curled her legs underneath her. “Everything was wonderful.”

Really? What did she think was so much fun? That he’d had too much to drink and ranted about politics? She’d gazed at him with overserious eyes. “Glad you liked it.”

“I love the North End. Italian food’s my favorite.”

The first time he’d taken Maddy on a date they’d gone to the North End. How had he forgotten that?

What was wrong with him? How had he let his life end up like this?

He drank half the wine, letting the alcohol pile on top of the full-strength martinis he’d had at the restaurant.

Elizabeth slid closer. She brushed her fingertips over his cheek. “Heavy-bearded guy. Do you need to shave twice a day?”

“Need?” He shrugged. “I don’t.”

“Actually,” Elizabeth said, “it feels good.”

Ben finished his wine. Her skin, her skin was so damn clear and
perfect. She glowed. From what he could see, there wasn’t a trace of makeup, just her rich vanilla complexion. He reached out, put a hand around the back of her neck, and drew her close, tasting plums and wine and health. She wound herself around him, swung a leg over him, and pressed hard against him. Feeling the heat of her, he thought he might lose control. He laid her on the couch. She allowed him to put her flat, laying her arms to either side. Slowly, he unbuttoned her silky gray blouse.

Seventy percent. He didn’t want to join the seventy percent.

Maddy. Wild hair framing her grimace of joy when he touched her, the deep hollow of her lower back where his fingers met when she rode him.

Pale ashy legs covered by bleach-smelling sheets, tubing trailing from her as though she were a medical Medusa.

Elizabeth’s bra clasped in the front. The two cups fell away when he unfastened it. The first time with Maddy. Licking along the line where a thin locket chain traced her collarbone. His fingers finding home in every curve. He’d wanted to live his life breathing in Maddy.

Elizabeth drew up her skirt and tugged off his pants, and then urged him inside. He closed his eyes.

•  •  •

“Where are you going?” Elizabeth lifted herself on one elbow. Faint light slid through the blinds. It was four thirty.

Ben was dressed and ready to go.

“Home. It’s almost six in the morning.”

Elizabeth sat up, surprising him by not being a sheet clutcher. The thin cotton blanket puddled around her waist. Her bare breasts looked casual and ready.

“Are you coming back?”

Did she mean ever? Tonight? “I have to get home. Before the children wake.”

Weak lie.
Maddy’s voice.
However, of course, you’ve never been an especially good liar.

“Aren’t they with their grandmother?”

“Yes. With Maddy’s mother. But I need to get things ready before they come home.”

Ben considered going to church. Heading straight to confession.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been thirty years since my last confession. In that time, I took the Lord’s name in vain. I was arrogant and mean to my wife. I pulled my son in anger. I screamed at my daughters. I drove like a madman, causing my wife to fly from the car and strike her head. I put her in a coma. Then I slept with another woman. Am I evil, Father?

“Will you be back?” Elizabeth asked again.

Every night since the accident, he’d been at the hospital to kiss Maddy good night. Last night he’d missed it.

“I don’t know if I can,” he said, meaning
No. Not ever. Never.

•  •  •

“Look, Daddy!” Gracie grabbed his hand, pulling him toward an end table the moment he walked into his in-laws’ hallway. The smell of fresh-baked bread mingled with the aroma of simmering meat. Gracie held a small stained glass upright box edged with bright copper, a small slot on top. “Put in a dollar, Daddy.”

“Grandma and Grandpa charging admission these days?” he asked.

“Daddy, you need to. It’s important.”

“Okay, okay.” He stuffed two singles through the opening. “See? Now what is it?”

“It’s a seduction box.”

“A what?” Ben stepped back and looked askance at the box. His mother-in-law walked in laughing.

“It’s a
tsedakah
box, Gracie.” Anne knelt to Gracie’s level. “You pronounce it like this:
suh-dock-ah
.”

“Sah-dock-a,” Gracie repeated. “Sahdocka.”

“Close enough,” Anne said, and hugged her. “It’s a charity box, Ben. I took Gracie to Harvard Street today, to Kolbo, the Israeli art store, and bought this for her.”

Ben picked up the box, turned it over, and saw the price tag—sixty
dollars. “Couldn’t she have decorated a little milk carton? Given the sixty dollars to charity?”

“Was it wrong, Daddy?” Gracie got a quivery look. “Should we bring it back?”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart.” Anne caressed Gracie’s cheek. “We spent an hour picking out just the right box. This will last the rest of your life; it’s an investment.” She shot a look at Ben over Gracie’s head.

“I was joking, hon. Here, I’ll prove it.” Ben fed another dollar in the box. “And tell Grandpa I’ll match anything he puts in. Double it. What are you going to do with the money? Who gets it?”

“Emma said I should give it to a head injury place. We’re going to find one on the Internet.” Gracie’s face became serious. “And to the New England Little Wanderers. That’s a place for children without parents. Mommy worked there.”

“Volunteered, Gracie,” Anne said. “During high school. As a tutor.”

Gracie clutched the box as though it were a doll. “How old do you have to be for that?”

“Older than you, pumpkin,” Ben said. Between his mother, Maddy, and Anne, Gracie had a great future saving crippled orphans in a Christian leper colony.

“Did you stop at the hospital?” Anne asked.

Ben pulled Gracie to him. “Not today. I got really busy.”

“Too busy to visit your wife?” Anne asked.

Gracie stiffened under his hold.

“It’s the first time.”

“Lower your voice. I don’t want to upset Jake.”

“Listen, I haven’t neglected her at
all
. I resent—”

“She’s not
her
, she’s Maddy—your wife.”

“I know she’s my wife, damn it.”

Gracie wiggled from Ben’s hold. “Grandma said not to shout, Daddy.”

“Then treat her like your wife,” Anne said.

“Wait a minute—”

“No. I’m not waiting one second,” she interrupted. “You listen to me. Step up. Learn grace under pressure. What’s wrong with you?”

“What did I do?” he asked.

Anne pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes for a moment. “You should be at Maddy’s side every day, Ben. Every day. I shouldn’t have to tell you this. There’s no such thing as a busy day. Your priority is taking care of Maddy.”

What could he say that wouldn’t send him deeper into hell? Nothing came to mind. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then simply nodded.

“Gracie,” Anne said, “I’m sorry for yelling. Run to the kitchen and check that the brownies aren’t burning. Please.”

Ben nodded assent. Seeming both reluctant and relieved, Gracie ran out. Ben waited for the sound of Jake charging down the stairs. He looked up but saw only the familiar Oriental runner in shades of blue, bracketed by mahogany wood.

“I don’t know where you were last night. I called your house,” Anne said. “And you weren’t at the hospital. I called.” She pointed her finger at him like a gun. “I’m not asking anything—I’m assuming you were out having a drink. But don’t try to bully your way out of anything with me.”

“I love your daughter,” Ben said.