Monday (and maybe Tuesday), too, but I knew I had to pay the hospital for the emergency room visit, and Carrie for treatment. I always cleaned for Carrie to pay her, but I didn’t want my debt to mount too high.
That Monday, it was much easier to clean for the clients who weren’t present when I got to work. Otherwise, they tried to send me home.
Bobo had come by the evening of the day I went home.
“How’d you find out?” I asked.
“That new guy said you might need some help.”
I was too exhausted to ask questions, and I was too depressed to care.
Bobo came every day after that, too. He brought in my mail and my paper, and made me sandwiches so thick they were almost impossible to chew. Carrie ran by one evening, but I felt guilty because she looked so tired. The hospital was still full.
“How many dead?” I asked, lying back in my recliner.
She was in the blue wing-back chair. “So far, five,” she said. “If it had gone off five minutes later, there would maybe have been no fatalities and few injuries. Five minutes earlier, and the death toll would have been very high.”
“Who died?” I asked.
Carrie fetched the local paper and read me the names. I hadn’t personally known any of them, and I was glad of that.
I asked about Claude, and she told me he was better. But she didn’t sound comfortable about his progress. “And I’m worried about him going home by himself, anyway. He lives upstairs.”
“Move all his stuff to the empty downstairs apartment,” I said wearily. “They’re just alike. Tell all the officers they have to show up and help. Don’t ask Claude if that’s what he wants. Just get it done.”
Carrie looked at me with some amazement. “All right,” she said slowly.
Carrie had suggested I use a cane for a few days until the swelling and pain in my leg subsided, and I was glad to have the one she loaned me. Marshall came the same evening after she’d left, and he was horrified to see me hobble. He brought three movies he’d taped off HBO for me to watch, and a takeout meal from a local restaurant. I was glad of both. Thinking and standing were not things I wanted to do. When Marshall left, I noticed that he walked next door to the apartments. I figured he was going to see Becca Whitley. I didn’t care.
To my amazement, Janet Shook dropped by about lunchtime on Sunday. I’d never seen Janet in a dress before, but she’d been to church and was all decked out in a deep blue dress that looked very nice. She had made me a pot of stew and a loaf of bread, and while she was there she helped me shave my legs and wash my hair properly, two problems that had been bothering me to the point of distraction.
When I went back to work Monday, I can’t say I did a good job, but I did my best: That would have to do. I would do extra things, I promised myself, to atone for leaving some chores not well accomplished this time.
I tried all day to save some energy, and at the end of it I drove to the hospital. I was really hurting by then, but I knew if I went home first and took a pain pill I wouldn’t persuade myself to go back out. I was looking forward to taking the strongest ones, the ones Carrie had said to take if I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
I had some flowers in a bud vase in my right hand, and my cane in my left, so I was glad the doors were automatic. I made my way to Claude’s room, resting here and there. I couldn’t knock with both hands occupied, so I called out through the partially open door, “Claude? Can I come in?”
“Lily? Sure.” At least he seemed to be hearing better.
I butted the door open with my head and hobbled in.
“Damn, girl, I better move over and let you in with me,” he said wearily.
I was shocked when I had a good look at Claude. His face was not its normal healthy color, and his hair was spiky. He was shaven, at least. His right leg and his right arm were engulfed in bandages and casts. He had visibly lost weight.
To my horror, I felt tears crawling down my cheeks.
“Didn’t know I looked that bad,” Claude murmured.
“I just thought… when I saw you that night… I thought you were gone.”
“I hear you did me a favor.”
“You’ve done plenty for me.”
“Let’s call us even, then. No more rescuing each other.”
“Sounds good.”
I sank into the chair by the bed. I felt like hell.
Carrie trotted in then, moving fast as always, her professional face on.
“Two-for-one visit,” she remarked. “I just came to check in on you, Claude, before I leave for the day.”
Claude smiled at her. Carrie suddenly looked more like a woman than a doctor. I felt extra.
“I ain’t feeling as bad as yesterday,” Claude rumbled. “You get on out of here and get some rest, or you’ll end up looking as ragged as Lily. And she hasn’t been at work all day.”
“Yes, I have.”
They both looked at me like I was the biggest fool they’d ever encountered. I could feel my face hardening defensively.
“Lily, you’ll end up back in bed if you don’t rest,” Carrie said, keeping her voice even though it obviously cost her a great deal of self-control.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, hauling myself up with an effort I didn’t want to show. I had counted on sitting longer before I walked back out to my car.
I hobbled out, trying not to limp, failing, getting angry and sad.
For the first time in years, as I stood at the front doors of the hospital and looked at how far away my car was parked, I wanted someone to make my life easier. I had even thought of calling my parents and asking for help, but I hadn’t asked them for anything for so long that I’d gotten out of the habit. They would have come, I knew. But they’d have had to book a room at the motel on the bypass, they’d have looked at everything in my house and gotten a close-up of my life. It seemed more trouble, finally, than the help was worth. And I knew from their letters that my sister Serena was heavily involved in engagement parties and showers; the wedding would be just after Christmas. Serena would resent me even more than she already did if I horned in on her spotlight.
Well, this was too close to wallowing in self-pity. I jerked my shoulders straight. I set my eyes on my car. I gripped the cane and started walking.
Two nights later I got an unexpected summons.
The phone rang when I’d finally gotten warm and comfortable, curled up in my double recliner watching TV, covered by an afghan my grandmother had crocheted for me. When the shrill of the bell jolted me into awareness, I realized I hadn’t registered anything I was supposed to be watching. I stretched out a hand to lift the receiver.
“Miss Bard?” An old voice, an empress’s voice.
“Yes.”
“This is Arnita Winthrop. I wonder if you could come by the house. I would surely like to talk to you.”
“When did you have in mind?”
“Well, young woman, would now be inconvenient for you? I know you’re a working woman, and I’m sure you’re mighty tired by the evening…”
I was still dressed. I hadn’t taken a pain pill. Tonight would be as good a time as any. Though I could tell my body was healing, since the night of the explosion I’d been gripped by an apathy that I could not shake. It seemed a great deal of trouble to get out again, but that was no good reason to refuse.
“I can come now. Could you tell me what this is about? Are you thinking of replacing your maid?”
“Oh, no. Our Callie is part of our family, Miss Bard. No, there’s something I need to give you.”
“All right. I’ll come.”
“Oh, wonderful! You know where we live? The white house on Partridge Road?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We’ll see you in a few minutes, then.”
I hung up. After powdering my nose I got my better coat from the closet, the one with no stains or holes, and buttons instead of a zipper. It was all I had left. I was tired, so I took the cane, though I’d managed that day without it.
