Pieces of Hate (10 page)

“What?”

“My age . . . how old would you guess I am? And please, be honest.”

“Soon as you walked in the door, I figured you were about my age. I was happy to see you, too. You have no idea how many pasty-faced, aging housewives we get in here, trying to dress younger than they — ”

“How old are you?”

“I’ll be thirty next month.”

Resisting the urge to hug the young woman, Margaret tried on more dresses, finally settling for a tight red-velvet strapless sheath that stopped two inches above her knees.

When she returned to the hospital, Margaret found her sister sitting up in a chair by the window, watching the television intently as she methodically popped one M&M after another into her mouth. She was no longer wearing a bandanna on her head, and her hair, while very short, actually looked thicker than when Margaret had seen it the night before. Lynda smiled when Margaret walked in with her package.

“Can you believe this?” Lynda asked snidely, nodding toward the television. “To keep her marriage together, this idiot woman on Geraldo finds other women for her husband to have sex with, because he says she’s too fat. She even lets him sleep with her own sister! And I’m the one in the hospital? Even Geraldo couldn’t afford to provide her with the amount of therapy she needs. So, what did you find?”

“Oh, a nice red dress.”

“Not too nice, I hope. I intended for you to find something provocative, something a little naughty.”

“Well, maybe it is.”

“Put it on, put it on! I insist!”

“I left it hanging in the car. You’ll see it tomorrow, before I go to the reunion.”

“You’re no fun.”

“You’re stuck in a hospital and you say I’m no fun?” She sat in what she’d come to think of as “her chair” and reached over the side rail, which had been lowered, and patted the mattress with her palm. “Now, why don’t you come over here and lie down, and we’ll — ”

Lynda rolled her eyes as she interrupted, “Don’t tell me we’re holding hands again? Margaret, my fingers are stiff from holding hands. And my curiosity is up because you keep insisting.” She rose from her chair and got onto the bed, facing Margaret as she propped herself up on one elbow.

As Lynda looked at her very seriously, with just a hint of wrinkles in her forehead, Margaret was pleased to see how very good her face looked, how vibrant her eyes, how colored and healthy her skin.

“There’s something weird about this, Margaret,” Lynda said in a near-whisper. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot today.”

“What are you talking about?” Margaret asked, smiling, as that giddy feeling rose in her chest again.

“I’m talking about the fact that, before you got here, I didn’t have very long to live at all. I knew it, my doctor knew it and everybody who got one look at me knew it. I was nothing more than a corpse that hadn’t stopped talking yet. Now . . . after you’ve been here a few days . . . after you’ve insisted that we hold hands . . . my hair’s growing back . . . my pain is gone . . . I can sleep without all those horrible nightmares from the chemo . . . and I can eat like a horse without puking my guts up. And my doctor looks at me like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a semi. What’s going on? What have you done? How have you done it?”

Margaret leaned back away from Lynda with a sigh, thinking. She couldn’t tell her everything, not yet. If she did, Lynda might think she was having some kind of breakdown and she might not want her around.

Finally, after a long, silent period of thought, Margaret smiled and said, “Look, if my coming here has helped you to recover — and Dr. Plummer says that’s very possible — then I can’t tell you how glad I am that I came. If . . . well, if the idea of being close, holding hands, bothers you . . . I mean, sometimes that’s the best medicine in the world, you know? Being with a loved one? And we haven’t seen each other in about twenty years, so maybe . . . I don’t know, Lynda, I just wanted to touch you, that’s all. Twenty years is a lot of lost time to make up. If you don’t like it, then — ”

“Oh, Margaret, I’ll hold hands!” Lynda said suddenly, her words spoken in a gaspy breath. Unspilled tears glistened in her eyes. “I don’t mind at all. I just couldn’t understand why I would suddenly improve and . . . get better so fast and . . .”

“Who cares why?” Margaret asked, taking Lynda’s hand.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Lynda said with a stuttering laugh as she dabbed her eyes with a knuckle. “Who cares why? And Margaret . . . what you just said . . .” Her voice lowered to a quivering whisper. “. . . I can’t tell you how much that means to me. I could never tell you how much.”

They both smiled and squeezed one another’s hand.

I’ll tell her the whole story once they’re convinced she’s completely cured and they let her out of this hospital, Margaret thought. I’ll hold her hand today until I leave, then I’ll do it again tomorrow, and for however long it takes, until she gets out of the hospital I’ll tell her everything then . . .

17

Margaret awoke in her motel room early the next morning feeling chipper and alert. That alone was enough to startle her, but to add to it, she found herself getting out of bed immediately without even reaching for the snooze button and walking into the bathroom as if she’d been awake for an hour or more.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she said to her reflection with a grin.

She showered, shaved her legs and underarms, humming the whole time. Though she tried to tell herself otherwise, she was nervous. In twelve hours, give or take, she would be confronting the very people who had made her youth — those years that adults are always saying are the best years of your life — such a nightmare. As she went about her business in the motel room, she thought many times that perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to go after all. Even though she looked like a million bucks and would no doubt turn a lot of heads, how could she possibly have a good time with all those ugly black memories swirling around her like menacing ghosts. But she’d promised Lynda.

She put her new dress into a garment bag, picked out some jewelry and makeup and put them in her vanity case, and took it all with her to the hospital . . .

18

When Margaret arrived, Lynda’s I.V. pole was gone and she was sitting up in a chair eating a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, home-fried potatoes, half a grapefruit, coffee and a tall glass of orange juice. She ate as voraciously as a trucker in a roadside diner who was three hours behind schedule, and when she talked, it was usually while she was chewing food.

It was a wonderful sight, and this time, Margaret did not hold back; she let her laughter flow freely. She hung her garment bag in the closet and put her vanity case in the bathroom.

They spent the morning talking about the upcoming reunion, and Lynda gave her specific instructions.

“Whenever you sit down, make sure they can see your legs,” she said. “And when you dance — are they having a dance? They are? Okay, then make sure you dance nice and close to all those gone-to-seed quarterbacks and basketball players while their wives are watching. You might not get to see the results, but I guarantee you those pot-bellied has-beens will when they leave. They’ll hear about it all the way home and long into the night.”

Then Lynda laughed so loudly and raucously that Mary stepped into the room and said, “This is still a hospital, y’know, lass. You might be wantin’ to show a little consideration for those patients who aren’t medical miracles.” Mary winked before disappearing out the door again. “I don’t know,” Margaret said quietly. “I think I’ll just show up, have a couple drinks, say hi to people, make small talk, have dinner and go.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. As Oscar Wilde said, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold.’ Or was that Captain Kirk?”

“No, it wasn’t Kirk. I think it was Ricardo Montalban in Star Trek.”

“Whoever. Walk softly and carry a great bod.”

Margaret had not been able to continue her conversation with Dr. Plummer, although the doctor had paid a late visit to Lynda the night before. When Lynda requested a walk outside. Dr. Plummer had approved enthusiastically, with the stipulations that a nurse would have to accompany her with a wheelchair in case she needed it, and as long as Lynda stayed out of the hot Arizona sun.

So, before lunch, Lynda and Margaret went into the courtyard outside the hospital, holding hands.

It was a spacious diamond-shaped area of concrete and fine gravel, bordered by shrubbery and colorful violas. In the center and around the edges were several wooden benches flanked by large concrete ashtrays and garbage receptacles. Mary followed behind slowly with a wheelchair.

The instant she stepped into the sun, Lynda moaned with almost sexual pleasure, closed her eyes and turned her smiling face up toward the sky.

“Oh, that feels so good, so good!” she said, squeezing Margaret’s hand so hard that it hurt. Behind them, Mary said, “It won’t be feelin’ so good when you pass out and crack your skull on that concrete, now, will it? Doctor said you weren’t to be in the sun.”

“But Mary, it’s so warm and — ”

“Stick to the shade or I’ll be kickin’ your miracle ass up around your miracle shoulders!”

Laughing, Lynda did as she was told. They stayed in the shade, walking slowly around the edges of the courtyard.

“Lynda, why am I the only visitor you’ve had since I got here?” Margaret asked.

“You’re the only visitor I’ve had since I got here.”

“Well, maybe the family’s gone, but surely you’ve got friends.”

“Not really. Being married . . . well, it was one of those marriages where his friends were my friends, and my friends were neglected. He didn’t like them.”

“None of them?”

“He was very jealous. He didn’t want me hanging around with anyone with whom I had a history. So I neglected my friendships, alienated my friends, and before I knew it, the only friends I had were his.”

“Okay, so where are they? I mean, maybe he’s enough of a prick not to come see you, but what about the friends you made through him?”

Lynda chuckled coolly. “When we divorced, I got the house and one of the cars. He got all the friends. I would’ve gotten the dog, too, but he died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My old friends have good reason to stay away because I treated them like shit to please my asshole husband. As for my asshole husband’s friends . . . they’re assholes, too, so where’s the loss in that? In fact, I’d pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was going to slip away without any visitors, which was fine with me, because I didn’t want anyone to see me looking like a corpse. But that was before you came.”

They walked slowly around the courtyard and finally sat on a bench for a while, still in the shade, talking and laughing as Mary waited with the wheelchair, looking more and more impatient. Finally the nurse said, “Contrary to what you might be thinkin’, I’ve got a whole job to be doin’ four floors up on the inside of this buildin’.”

“Oh, Mary, you’re such a grouch,” Lynda said with a grin.

They went back to Lynda’s room, but she did not get into bed. She paced the room for a few minutes, then, at Margaret’s urging, sat in a chair beside Margaret and held her hand.

Lynda’s lunch was unidentifiable at first, but turned out to be quiche.

“I hate quiche!” Lynda called as Mary left the room after delivering the tray.

Mary spun around. “What’re you wantin’ me to do about it? Call out for a pizza for all I care! Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you shouldn’t even be on this unit! They oughta send y’home or give you a job! God knows you’re a pain in the ass as a patient!” Then she hurried away.

“That’s not a bad idea!” Lynda said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Grab the phonebook in that drawer! We’re gonna have a pizza with the works.”

By the time the pimply-faced delivery boy got to Lynda’s room with the large pizza, he’d gone through several nurses, including Mary, who had apparently given him quite a hard time. The boy looked terrified. He was even cautious about taking Margaret’s check. Lynda gave him a ten dollar tip for his trouble, but he didn’t even look pleased; he simply looked relieved that he could go. Once he was outside the door of the room, his sneakered footsteps broke into a quickly pattering jog.

As they ate their pizza, which had everything on it, including anchovies, heads continued to pop in the door curiously, following the smell.

They laughed and talked as they ate, and watched the shopping channel. They behaved as if they were at a party to which all the other guests had forgotten to come.

And, of course, they held hands . . .

19

Around five o’clock, Lynda joined Margaret in the bathroom, insisting that she help her get ready for the reunion. Like two little girls playing dress-up at their mother’s vanity, they giggled and fussed and agreed and disagreed about the fine points of hairstyle and makeup. Before she was dressed, though, Margaret insisted that Lynda leave. She wanted to present herself to Lynda fully dressed, give her the full effect and get her honest reaction.

Margaret finally walked out of the bathroom in her red velvet sheath, with smooth bare legs, two-inch black suede heels and a short strand of real pearls around her neck. In her right hand, she held a black velvet clutch purse.