CHAPTER 28
“What time is it?” I asked.
“‘Bout thirty seconds past the last time ya’ asked me,” Ben replied. He didn’t look up from the folded magazine in his hands. He just kept intently scanning the column of text then said, “Hey, did’ju know Isaac Newton was obsessed with the occult? Bet he woulda just loved hangin’ out with you.”
“Seriously, Ben.”
“Yeah, seriously.”
“I mean seriously I was talking about the time.”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted. “So was I.”
“Ben…”
“Really, Row.” He glanced at his watch and then returned his attention to the magazine. “Now it’s been a whole minute. Why don’t we see if ya’ can make it five before ya’ ask again, okay?”
“Dammit…” I mumbled. “What’s taking so long?”
“Nothin’. You just think it is ‘cause you’re an impatient patient.” He chuckled to himself at the pun.
“Not really funny,” I said.
“‘Scuse me for tryin’ ta’ cheer you up a bit.”
I ignored him and bemoaned my original train of thought once again, “It’s definitely taking too long.”
“Will ya’ just try ta’ relax, white man.”
I pressed my head back into the pillow and puffed out my cheeks as I exhaled a long sigh. Directly in front of me, the curtain was open on the floor to ceiling windows that formed the wall, but there really wasn’t anything unique to see beyond the panes. I already knew the routine on the other side of the glass by heart because I had been watching the activity for the better part of the day. It was like an endless, boring television show marathon where all of the episodes were exactly the same. Doctors and nurses would come and go, and then they would come and go again, and again, and so on. Obviously, I couldn’t change the channel, but the anti-drama was interrupted here and there by random commercial breaks whenever I drifted off to sleep, as the occasional self- administered bolus of morphine would tend to push me over the precipice into fitful slumber.
I actually wasn’t all that excited about being drugged into a brain sucking stupor, so I would wait until I simply couldn’t take the pain any longer before finally mashing my thumb down on the button of the pump’s control pendant. Of course, whenever such a moment would come around, my body would wonder why I had waited so long. My mind, on the other hand, would curse me for being weak and giving in-right up until the moment when the opiate would make me forget why I even cared, which didn’t take very long at all.
Soon after that, darkness would seep in, and harsh nightmares were never far behind. Unfortunately, all of them seemed to feature a perplexing visit from Ariel Tanner and would end with me drowning. I still had no sense that anything had changed on an ethereal level. No voices, and no feelings from the other side. No indication that the door between the worlds had been reopened for me. Therefore, I was relatively certain the nightmares were simply that, nightmares. No hidden meanings, just my subconscious unloading on me at the behest of the drugs. Because of that, I was very quickly developing an intense hatred for the apparent side effects of morphine.
“What time is…” I began.
“Jeezus, Row,” Ben cut me off in a huff as he snapped the magazine against his knee. “It’s been less than a minute. You’re worse than a damn kid. I think maybe the drugs are screwin’ with your concept of time.”
“Maybe…but…I just need to see her, Ben…” I replied.
“I know ya’ do. I’m the one who argued your case with the fuckin’ doctor, remember?”
“Yeah…yeah, I know… I’m sorry… How did you manage to get him to agree anyway?”
“Less anyone knows, the better,” he grunted. “Trust me.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Let’s just say I happen ta’ know his teenager can’t afford any more tickets, and we’ll leave it at that.”
“Yeah…thought it might be something like that… Okay… Well, thanks.”
“Don’t sweat it. But I’m tellin’ ya’ man, you really just need ta’ relax. She’ll be here soon enough.”
“Soon enough has already come and gone,” I replied.
“Jeezus…” he mumbled and gave his head a shake.
I waited for what seemed like several minutes but in reality was probably once again only a handful of seconds. I lolled my head to the side, so I could see my friend and asked, “How was she when you saw her earlier?”
He sighed heavily, and the resigned look on his face told me he was finally giving up on finishing the article he’d been trying to read. He laid the magazine aside then shifted in his seat and shook his head at me. “Pretty much like I said, Row. She just stares off inta’ space. Kinda like she’s…” he stopped mid-sentence and then craned his neck to the side as he appeared to spot something out the window wall. With a quick nod he said, “Looks like ya’ can see for yourself. Here they come.”
I turned my head and out of reflex tried to push myself upward on my elbows, not that I had enough strength to get very far. It had only been a little over twenty-four hours since I’d been rushed into surgery, so my body was still rebelling against sudden movements. The pain in my gut immediately erupted from a smoldering ache to a violent conflagration of agony. I stifled a groan as I lay back then fumbled for the bed controls and used them to slowly raise myself farther into a sitting position.
Through the windows and to the side of the nurses’ station, I could see a uniformed police officer. Next to him was a wheelchair. Due to its position at the desk, I couldn’t actually see the occupant, but I knew who it was. On the opposite side of the chair, Ben’s sister, Helen Storm, was nodding and chatting with a nurse.
As my heart began to beat a little faster, the fresh twinge in my abdomen started settling toward a dull but very prominent ache. I could tell by the way it lingered I would be reaching for the morphine button in the not too distant future, no matter how much I hated the inevitable nightmare that would be sure to follow.
By the time I had adjusted myself into something resembling an upright position, the door was already open and Helen was maneuvering the wheelchair into the room. She bore the same angular Native American features as her younger brother, and looking at them side by side there was no denying their familial ties, even though she stood quite a number of inches shorter than he. While her face still retained a youthful look, her long hair had gone almost completely grey just in the years that I had known her.
Once she was through the opening, she finessed the chair around Ben, who was already looking for a place to stand where he would be out of the way. Almost immediately behind her was the nurse who had been assigned to me for the shift.
“How are you feeling, Mister Gant?” she asked while Helen pushed the wheelchair close to the side of the bed and parked it.
“I’m fine,” I told her in an absent tone. My attention was focused on the occupant of the rolling seat.
“The doctor says you have about ten minutes with your visitors,” she explained. “Okay?”
“Yeah…” I muttered, still not tearing my eyes from Felicity.
“I’ll come back when it’s time,” the nurse reminded us as she exited, carefully closing the door behind her.
My wife was arranged in the wheelchair with what had been obvious care, but even so, she was now slumped to one side like a crumpled rag doll. She was dressed in a hospital gown with a soft restraint loosely encircling her mid-section, apparently to hold her upright in the seat. A blanket was tucked in around the lower half of her body, covering her from the waist down, and her hands rested atop it in her lap, palms turned slightly upward and fingers curled in a relaxed posture. Her head was canted to the right, and Helen or someone had positioned a small pillow beneath it and against her shoulder for support.
I continued to stare at Felicity without saying a word. She was pale even beyond her usual ivory complexion but from what I could tell had not yet slipped into an obvious unhealthy pallor. Still, her face was slack, lips parted slightly, and her half-lidded eyes stared vacantly into space, just as Ben had described. Now and again she would slowly blink, and if one watched closely, there would be the barest hint of movement in her neck, and she would appear to swallow.
