Accidents of Marriage (21 page)

“Is she smiling? It looks like she’s smiling.”

The light went out. Blocked. Someone leaned over. Face almost kissing hers, smothering her.

Go away.

CHAPTER 19

Ben

Ben shuffled through the piles of papers on his desk, not caring about any of them. Add it to his list of fuckups: ignoring work.

A fuckup? Elizabeth is on your list of “fuckups”? Try sin, buddy boy.

He could list both his fuckups and his sins all too quickly. Ben Illica, master of sin. Venial. Mortal. Get ’em here.

Sin: Throwing a bottle of Tide against the wall. Watching the viscous fluid run down the gray basement wall. Maddy cowering. Why had he been so angry?

Sin: Refusing to accompany Maddy to her fifteenth high school reunion because she’d bought five-year-old Emma an expensive doll.

Sin: Grabbing Caleb and shaking him until Maddy tackled him from behind.

Sin: Driving like a fucking lunatic.

And now.

There wasn’t a help sheet in the world Maddy could give him now.

He’d broken their vows.

His membership in the thirty percent club was over.

On the computer screen, an endless email from Aaron Manning scrolled, looking for help with some of the trial work with which
Ben had stuck him. Aaron could plead out B-bird’s case, but B-bird’s mother insisted on a trial.
Could you talk to her?
Aaron wrote.

What Ben wanted to write was:
Dear Aaron: Who gives a fuck? Lock him up. Protect the city. Thanks! Good work, buddy.

But what he actually typed was:
Aaron, I am confident of your ability to handle the conversation. Too overloaded to speak to mother. Appreciate you handling this.
He pressed send. Being the boss made it easier not to give a damn.

According to the catechism drummed in and chanted back at Our Lady of Life Sucks, mortal sin
must be of a grave matter
. It must be committed with full knowledge that it is a mortal sin. It must be committed with full consent. Thus, sleeping with Elizabeth constituted a worse sin than almost killing Maddy.

No wonder he hated church.

He dug out a Maddy folder and opened it at random, praying that pretending it would all be okay would bring that miracle. Masses of information had been cited, categorized, and then underlined where Olivia thought he had the greatest chances of screwing up.

Stages of Recovery: Fatigue is a primary problem. Insight is v.v. poor. Maddy might deny there are problems and rebel against her need for rehabilitation. She may endanger others with her actions. You must be vigilant at all times and enlist “minders” when you’re not there.

Finding “minders” for Maddy would be Christmas compared to his nightly hospital visit. He skimmed paragraphs, stopping at
Amnesia
.

At the moment of injury, the brain stops storing memories. This is why it’s pointless for the patient to waste energy trying to remember the accident. You don’t need to worry about the accident’s emotional effects if she does not get this memory back. Things that happened immediately before and at the time of the impact did not have time to be changed into memories, so they can never be remembered.

Ben studied the words until a knock on his half-open door interrupted.

“What are you up to?” Elizabeth leaned against the doorjamb in a manner designed to seem casual. She twirled a strand of loose hair.

“Just clearing the decks before lunch,” Ben answered.

Elizabeth sat across from him. She reached over the desk and briefly touched the dark hair above his wrist. “Are we okay?”

Captured. He’d managed to avoid being alone with her during the ten days since they’d slept together.
Were they okay?
Sure. As long as she knew there was no “we.” Elizabeth looked at him with the soft melting eyes women had in the early throes of crushes—before rage and pain joined the party.

When he didn’t answer, she walked behind him and leaned ever so lightly against the back of his chair. Ben felt her long white fingers brush his neck, so swiftly he could have imagined it, smelled her understated perfume. Some combination of low-pressure flowers.

“Are we? Okay?” she asked. “Are you?”

“For Christ’s sake, Elizabeth.” He reached up and removed her hands from his shoulders. “The door is open.”

She walked over, shut it, and returned. She stared at him with all those questions in her eyes.

The first time he’d seen Maddy, she’d burned his eyes right out of his head. Orange stained glass windows made the sun flare outside the old courtroom where they met. Her skin, her eyes, her hair, all shades of drowning black and gold, outlined by light as though God had created her just for him. A month later, when Ben brought Maddy to his office Christmas party, she’d worn blackberry velvet, the soft fabric cut low in the back. As they danced, her bare flesh warmed his hand.

“Don’t,” he told Elizabeth, now in his guest chair.

“Don’t what?” Elizabeth twined her fingers into a tight ball.

“Don’t anything.” Ben held up his left hand, visible proof of why not. The nurses had removed Maddy’s rings. To avoid germs. And comas made fluid settle—Maddy’s fingers had swollen.

“It meant something to me. Our night together.”

Ben stifled a sigh. “I’m sorry about . . . about confusing you.”

“You felt something, right?” She leaned toward him. “It wasn’t just . . . a thing?”

Jesus, go away.
“You’re an incredible woman. But you know we can’t have anything.” What he wanted to say was
Pretend this never happened, rewind, erase, delete
.

Elizabeth squared her shoulders. “I just wonder if you care about me at all.”

Do I care about you?

I will go from here to visit my unconscious wife.

Do I care about you?

I want you to disappear.

•  •  •

An hour later Ben read a trial transcript as he ate lunch. He took another tired bite of the turkey sandwich Anne had made him. He turned a page by pushing it with his clean pinkie. One pile of paper had lowered by a few inches.

Ben startled at the ringing phone. He’d asked to have his calls held. “Illica,” he answered.

“Ben? It’s Nurse Bernadette. From the hospital.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s not wrong, it’s good.”

“What’s good?”

“We think she’s waking up, Ben.”

His chest pounded. “Did you call her parents?”

“Not yet. We were just about to.”

“Let me,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

•  •  •

“Maddy?” Ben ran a finger down her arm. He outlined the rough red skin around her mouth where they’d removed the tape when she began breathing on her own. That’s when they’d moved her from intensive care. Jake had insisted on a private room with a private nurse when they took the tube out.
The minute it’s out,
he’d demanded.
A private room with around-the-clock nursing. I don’t care what it costs.
He’d glared at Ben, his hands stiffening into fists, as though Ben would argue against his wife’s comfort.

“Maddy. Sweetheart. I’m here.” Ben pulled the chair closer to the bed. He’d sent the nurse out. He and Maddy were truly alone for the first time since the accident.

He put his mouth close to her ear. “Can you hear me, Mad?” He tried willing her awake, awkwardly following Bernadette’s instructions to envision Maddy opening her eyes and smiling. “Press my hand if you hear me.”

The clock on the wall ticked forward one more second. A truck beeped. Midday sun splattered patterns on the bright quilt folded on the chair. Anne put it across Maddy each time she came, despite knowing the nurses would remove it as soon as she left, concerned about temperature control—not believing that Anne’s mother’s instinct trumped their medical wisdom.

“Please wake up.” Ben put his head lightly on her breast, listening to her blood pulse, speaking straight into her heart. “I’m spinning out, baby.”

Anne rushed in. “Is she awake?”

Ben sat up, holding Maddy’s limp hand in his. “I haven’t seen anything.”

“Why didn’t they call me right away?”

“They phoned my office. I called you as soon as I got here.”

“So why didn’t you call me from the office?” Anne approached the bed, the lines on her face emphasized by harsh hospital light. “Maddy, sweetie, baby, I’m here.” Anne enunciated each word. “Daddy’s on his way. With Gracie and Caleb. Vanessa’s picking up Emma.”

She edged him away, stroking Maddy’s cheek as though she were a baby. “You had a car accident, darling.”

Ben looked for a reaction, a sign that Maddy heard. Anne lifted her eyebrows, commanding him to talk. He cleared his throat. “You’re going to be okay, honey. I promise.” His wife’s fingers felt papery, like onionskin.

“The children started school,” Anne said. “Guess what? I offered to make them all sorts of fancy things to take to school, but they chose peanut butter and jelly. Like Mommy makes, they said.”

“Guess what else,” Ben’s stomach cramped in fear. Where was she? “I’ve been taking sandwiches to work also. Your mother is spoiling me—you better get out of bed fast.”

Anne gave a theatrical chuckle. “He wants you to get up so you can work? You wake up, and I’ll take you to a spa like you wouldn’t believe.”

She inclined her head at Ben’s hand holding Maddy’s, where he caressed her knuckles—the part of her that seemed hardiest at the moment. “Move your fingers, Ben. You’ll wear away the skin going over and over the same spot. Right, sweetheart?” Anne lifted her voice on the last two words, including Maddy in the conversation as though some unseen expert whispered in Anne’s ears on how to handle the situation.

Ben heard running footsteps, then his father-in-law’s voice. “Slower, kids.
Stop!
You’ll break your neck!”

“Mommy?” Gracie’s anxious question preceded her entrance.

“Mommy, are you awake?” Caleb’s words exploded from him as he ran in. “Mommy!
You’re alive!
”

Ben caught Caleb before his son jumped onto the bed. “Calm down, cowboy.” Neither Gracie nor Caleb had seen Maddy since the accident. Maybe they hadn’t even believed she was alive.

“Where’s Emma?” Gracie asked.

“Aunt Vanessa’s bringing her, darling.” Jake pressed Gracie toward the bed. “Talk to Mommy, honey. Like we said in the car—to bring her back.”

“Maybe,” Ben emphasized. “Maybe to bring her back.”

Anne glared at him. She smoothed Maddy’s uneven hair, avoiding the shiny skin rising around the scar on her left temple.

Jake scowled. “Be positive. We’re bringing Maddy to the light on the surface.” Hearing Jake repeat Anne’s words felt like watching his father-in-law drape chiffon scarves around his razor-scraped neck.

“The kids shouldn’t think that they’re responsible for Maddy waking up,” Ben said.

“Oh, my God,” Anne whispered. “Were we making them think that?”

Gracie wrapped her arms around her grandmother. “Don’t worry, Grandma. Daddy’s not mad at you.”

Vanessa swept into the room, leaving Emma in her wake. “Why are you crying, Mom? What happened? Ben?”

“Daddy didn’t do anything,” Gracie said. “He just wants us to be careful.”

“Nobody’s blaming Daddy.” Jake smoothed the quilt Anne had placed over Maddy. “Why don’t I go get some soda for everyone? The kids must be hungry and thirsty after school.”

“No soda,” Vanessa said. “They’ll just get a sugar high. Look at Caleb.”

Caleb perched so precariously at the edge of Maddy’s bed he could barely stay on without falling.

“Be careful, don’t hurt Mommy,” Vanessa said.

“I’m not.” Caleb’s voice was muffled, his head buried in Maddy’s white hospital blanket. “She likes it. I can tell.”

“We have to be calm. And quiet,” Emma whispered. “Like it says in the book.”

Ben felt as though he’d lost his chance. He’d wanted to be alone with Maddy, to be the first one she saw.

“
Daddy, look!
” Gracie tugged his jacket sleeve.

Ben looked. Maddy’s thumb swept a slow arc through their son’s hair. Gracie and Emma came to him, one on each side. Holding hands, they walked to the side of the bed next to Caleb and stood.

CHAPTER 20

Maddy

“Want . . . home.” Words weighed so much.

Ben nodded. “I know, baby. I want you to come home, but first, you need the rehabilitation center. Remember?”

Maddy squeezed her eyes.

She tried to concentrate.

“Laigh ning?” she asked.

Everyone kept telling her she was . . . what? Lighting? Lighting up? Hit by lightning? She was lightening?

“Lightening, Maddy,” Ben said. “It’s what you’re going through . . . coming up a little at a time. It feels like coming up from underwater, right?”

She tried to repeat the word. “Laight. Nnnng.” Words, so clear in her head, slipped out soft and slurry. Mercury words.

“Do you remember, Maddy?” her father’s voice boomed.

DO YOU? DO YOU? DO YOU, MADDY?

“We just told you this five minutes ago, honey,” her father insisted. “Remember?”

REMEMBER? REMEMBER? REMEMBER?

“She needs to hear things repeatedly.” Ben put a whisper-soft hand on her knee. “Her memory is shaky.”

“I know, I know.” Maddy’s father paced back and forth at the end of her bed. “Where’s Annie, for God’s sake? How long could it take to drive over from Coolidge Corner?”

When she or Vanessa made their father mad, he’d huff and turn to their mother with bullet eyes.
Annie, take care of this.

This she remembered.

“She’ll be here soon,” Ben told her father.

“Why the hell is it taking so long?” Her father walked to the window.

Her eyes closed. She opened them again, trying to speak, wondering why her hands were fluttering in slow circles. “Mom? Loost?”

Her father went to the foot of her bed. “Of course she’s not lost, baby.” He grabbed her toes, holding a foot in each of his calloused hands.