Waking Up to Love (3 page)

He walked away.

Ramona started to walk back into room 418, but Scott stopped her. “Wait,” he said.

Ramona twisted out of his grip. His fingers were scratchy and calloused, as they had always been. Even when they were children, long before he started working with his hands, she'd thought his fingers were rough. That part about him hadn't changed. In so many little ways, he was the same Scott he always was.

She felt her pulse quicken at his touch. This was the child who'd played games with her, the boy who'd watched out for her, and the man who'd left her behind, all in the same frustrating package. She didn't want her heart to flutter. She didn't want the corners of her mouth to instinctively curl into a smile. Most of all, she didn't want his touch to feel so comfortable, so warm, so right.

“I need to ask you something,” he said. “Something very important.”

He leaned forward until they were the same height. His expression was dead serious, and whatever he was going to ask her, he meant it. For an extremely long second, Ramona thought he was leaning in to kiss her.

He didn't. Instead, he looked her straight in the eyes and asked, “Can you pretend to be your sister? At least for a few days?”

Ramona thought about it for ten seconds. Her heart beat. She blinked. Finally, after ten seconds of waiting and thinking, Ramona Scapizi had her answer: “Hell, no.”

Ramona needed to catch her breath. She needed some air. Unfortunately, she was in the middle of the fourth floor of Farber City Memorial Hospital. It wasn't like there was a park within walking distance. Mostly, though, she wanted to get away from Scott McInney and his begging eyes. She would not fake-marry him. She would not pretend to be her twin.

Before he could say anything else, she ran down the hall and straight into the nearest waiting room. Here, surrounded by so many strangers, Scott wouldn't dare make a spectacle of himself.

The waiting room smelled like used Band-Aids and window cleaner. Ramona was suddenly aware of her surroundings, and those surroundings were anything but pleasant. An old lady sat in a corner, nursing what looked like a broken arm. A Hispanic couple sat with their five-year-old son, rubbing his back as he coughed up a lung and a half. A skinny guy had a gash in his shoulder, a teen girl was half asleep against the wall, and a housewife had her husband holding an ice pack against her eye.

Scott rushed into the waiting room after her. He had that same pleading look on his face.

“Ramona,” he said, holding up an invisible ring, “will you please do me the honor of being my pretend wife?”

Ramona couldn't think straight. This was not the place for thinking. This was not the place for relaxing. This certainly wasn't the place for Scott to get down on one knee and fake-propose to her.

Apparently “hell no” wasn't a strong enough answer. She probably should've added a few more swear words, or a slap.

“Scott, please,” she whispered to him.

He remained on his knee. “Ramona Scapizi,” he said, louder than ever, “please say yes.”

Everyone in the waiting room turned their attention to her. The woman with the black eye even pulled away her ice pack so she could get a better look. The people in this waiting room were struggling with their own problems and sicknesses; watching a marriage proposal would help them forget about all that, if only for a few minutes.

Ramona felt her cheeks flush with warmth. She wanted to say no, she
needed
to say no for her own sanity. But all those eyes were staring at her, and Scott had a surprisingly genuine expression on his face.

“Say yes!” the Hispanic kid shouted. He stopped coughing.

The old lady with the broken arm was crying now. It was presumably because of her shattered ulna, but watching this grand gesture probably didn't help.

“I'm sorry, guys,” Ramona said to the crowd. “This isn't what it looks like. You did hear him say ‘pretend,' right?”

“Say yes,” the boy shouted again, and pretty soon he was joined by his parents. “Say yes! Say yes!”

Then the wife with the ice pack started shouting. Then her husband. “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” Before Ramona knew it, everyone in the waiting room, and a few of the nurses behind the counter, were all urging her to accept his proposal. It seemed like the only person opposed to this idea was Ramona herself.

She tried to argue with them. She shouted, “But he married my sister!” No one heard her, though. They just chanted louder.

“Say yes! Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!”

After two whole minutes of complete strangers chanting and shouting and laughing and coughing at her, Ramona finally threw her hands in the air. “Fine,” she mumbled. “I'll fake-marry you.”

Scott turned to the crowd. “She said yes!” he shouted.

The waiting room burst into applause.

Scott got to his feet and slipped his invisible wedding ring onto her finger.

She squinted and pretended to study the ring. She made a face, as if its diamond was much too small for her taste. She was about to say something snarky, but Scott grabbed her by the waist and dipped her backwards. He was going to kiss her.

When his face got dangerously close to hers, she muttered, “You kiss me, you die.”

He kissed her on the cheek. She slugged him in the arm. Hard.

• • •

Scott led his “wife” back into Room 418, or at least that was what he told himself. In actuality, she was a good three steps ahead of him, and she only paused so that he could open the door for her. Oh, Ramona; she hadn't changed since first grade. She was still as headstrong as ever. No imaginary jewelry, no matter how many imaginary karats it had, could change that.

“After you,” he said, making a big show out of his chivalry.

Jeffrey was sitting on his dad's lap again, suddenly awake, and Debra was sitting up straight, or at least as straight as she could. Her breathing was still raggedy.

“I see everyone's come back from their secret meeting,” Debra said as soon as Scott closed the door behind him. “I hope everyone's fine.”

Scott couldn't help but smile to himself. It had only been a couple of hours since she woke up, but his mom was already getting her fire back.

“We spoke with the doctor,” Rob explained, “and he said you're going to be just fine.”

“'Course he did,” Debra said. “That's the kind of news that a doctor would deliver in private.”

“Mom,” Rob said.

“Oh, pooh,” Debra answered. That was one of her stock expressions. She had been saying that since Scott was old enough to spill his soda or forget to use a coaster. “It doesn't matter what the doctor told you, because I feel great. Fantastic. Stupendous. In fact, I feel so good that I think we should have a party for me.”

“What?” Scott asked.

“A welcome back party,” she explained. “Or more of a ‘good morning' party. Don't you think that's appropriate?”

The room fell silent.

“After all,” she said, “I
did
miss my birthday, didn't I?”

“Yeah,” Scott said.

“So what do you say? A good morning party?”

Scott couldn't help but notice that she was looking directly at Ramona when she asked that. He didn't know why. Was his mother already seeing through the charade? He couldn't bear to have his mother find out he'd lied to her less than an hour after she woke up.

“I think that's very appropriate,” Rob chimed in from his corner of the room.

Debra pretended not to hear him. She had her eyes firmly set on Ramona, on her fake daughter-in-law. “Nessa?” she asked again.

“Sure,” Ramona muttered. “I think that's … a good idea.”

Scott knew that tone. He knew Ramona wasn't being completely truthful. Then again, he was the one who'd asked her to lie in the first place.

“Great,” Debra exclaimed. “Nessa and I will start planning the party tomorrow, as soon as my boys take me home.”

Scott breathed a sigh of relief. His mother didn't recognize Ramona after all. The relief was short-lived, though, because he quickly realized that his fake wife was going to be spending a lot more time at the McInney house. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

“Um, Mom,” Scott said, “I don't think—”

“I think it's a great idea!” Ramona chimed in.

Debra looked at her son. “See? Your wife agrees with me.”

As Ramona walked down the hospital hallway, she saw Dr. Nuygen talking with a trio of nurses. She didn't want him to see her, so she crept along the edge of the hallway until she reached the corner.

Don't see me,
she prayed.
Don't see me. Don't see me.

He didn't.

She needed to call her work and tell them that she couldn't make it tomorrow. She was going to use her cell phone, but she knew that would be a big hospital no-no. Surely the waiting room had a public phone she could use instead.

The one nurse on duty acknowledged her with a blank stare and a non-smile.

“Excuse me,” Ramona said.

No answer.

Ramona had never seen someone look more disinterested. It made sense. If you were constantly surrounded by emergencies and death, it stood to reason that anything non-life-threatening would feel unimportant.

“Ma'am?” Ramona tried again.

“Is there a problem?” the nurse asked.

“Yes … no. I was wondering if I could use your phone to call my work. I want to make sure—”

“Don't you have a cell phone?” the nurse asked. She shuffled through some papers that might have been a patient file, or they might have been randomly selected sheets of nothing to keep her hands occupied.

“Well,” Ramona said, “I thought I wasn't supposed to use a cell phone here. You know.”

“Why?” the nurse asked.

Ramona didn't know what to say. She'd never understood the rule anyway. “Uh, it interferes with equipment … and stuff. I don't know.”

“I believe you're thinking about planes,” the nurse said.

She couldn't tell whether that was a joke. “Okay, then. Well, I'll use my cell phone … in the waiting room. Great.”

Ramona waited for the nurse to give her approval. A nod. Anything. When she didn't, Ramona left.

Thankfully, most of the people who'd been in the waiting room earlier—those who'd witnessed the “proposal”—were gone now. Not so thankfully, the news had spread pretty quickly. One of the newbies shouted, “Hey! It's marriage girl!” and another one said, “Aww. That's great.”

With one hand, she covered her ear. With the other, she called the office.

Because it was now about three thirty in the morning, her call went straight to voicemail. “Nancy. Hey. It's Ramona. I know you won't get this till tomorrow morning, but I'm going to have to take a personal day. I have some … family matters to deal with.” She wondered if she needed to add anything else. A more thorough explanation, perhaps? “Um, I'll talk to you tomorrow, because I might be taking some time off for the next couple of days. I'll keep you informed about what my schedule will be. I just … it's family stuff.”

Click.

What was she doing? Was she really going to let this stupid fake marriage affect all other aspects of her life? Yeah, she was. And she might as well go all the way with it. She owed it to Debra.

“Hey.”

Ramona jumped a little.

Scott stood at the edge of the waiting room. “Calling work?” he asked.

“Yeah. I left a message for Nancy. We don't have any events booked for the next month, so I should be okay.” She quickly added, “For a little while, anyway.”

“Great.”

He smiled and she smiled and they would've kept smiling at each other if one of the nearby patients didn't shout out, “Congratulations, guys!”

Ramona instinctively stepped back a half step.

“You know,” Scott said, “you can go home if you want. You should probably rest up.”

She looked deep into his eyes, making sure he meant what he said. “Okay,” she decided.

But was it okay? If she was going to get involved in this, if she was going to commit to the charade, was it okay to just leave like that? “Um, I'll just say goodbye to Debra, 'kay?”

Scott nodded. She headed back down the hall, and he almost followed her, but one of the waiting room people shouted out, “Congrats, man!” And Scott, for whatever reason, went over to talk to the latest adoring fan.

When Ramona reentered Room 418, she was greeted by a cloud of laughter. Rob, Jeffrey, Debra—they were all laughing. Rob even snorted a little.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. “You guys didn't break into the medicine cabinet or anything?”

Jeffrey stood up. He was completely awake now. “Grandma was just telling us about the time Uncle Scott tried to rescue a cat that didn't need rescuing.”

And just like that, Ramona joined the conversation. She was a sucker for embarrassing stories from Scott's childhood, and she knew that this one was a doozy. Scott had thought the next-door neighbor's cat was stuck in a tree. Thanks to that cat—Jinx, if she wasn't mistaken—Scott still had a forearm scar.

“He was so surprised!” Rob said, laughing again.

“That's nothing,” Ramona said. “Remember the time—”

Without realizing it, she sat down on the only chair left in the room. She was still going to leave, but she could wait a few minutes.

More than a few minutes later, Scott returned with some more vending machine snacks. He looked around the room. At first, Ramona thought he was surprised that she was still there. She realized, though, that he was actually trying to figure out where he was supposed to sit. He was an adult, so he could've easily asked Jeffrey to move for him. Instead, he sat next to Ramona.

The chair was wide enough for them both, except his side pressed against hers. She had to angle herself toward him. The only way for her to be completely comfortable was if she crossed one of her legs over one of his.