He had grabbed her hand, pulling her into the midst of the dancing throng and starting to patiently teach her the basics. Not so bad, she thought. The beat quickened, gradually at first, then sped up dramatically, and with it the pace of the steps. There were whoops and shrieks of delight as the crowd around her became a blur of spins and fast-moving feet. She frantically tried to keep up with John’s footwork, but she was lagging behind and falling out of step. She found her feeble attempts comical and had no problem laughing at herself. She became hopelessly out of rhythm, and the more she tried, the more she found her efforts hysterically amusing.
Others had always found her laugh contagious, and John was certainly not immune. After a few more minutes, he led her back to their booth. She remembered his broad grin subsiding as her eyes fixed upon his. The intense excitement she had felt as his eyes locked with hers. They had said nothing. It was a moment that needed no words. A defining moment that took their relationship to a new level.
The spell had been shattered by Jim Donovan unexpectedly approaching their booth and crouching by the table. Red-faced and with beads of sweat glistening on his balding scalp, he had quietly asked them to leave. He had spotted what he was pretty sure was an undercover cop in the pub, checking IDs to find any underage drinkers. Jennifer was ready to leave, but John was more reluctant to do so. He suggested Jim take it easy at first, but Jim still seemed very serious and intent on their leaving, so they quickened their exit.
The prospect of sharing a cab was now very appealing, as was taking shelter from the pouring rain together under a canopy while they waited . . .
“Jennifer? Can you hear me?”
The words crashed through the dream, ending it.
Jennifer slowly opened her eyes, but it remained unnervingly dark in the ward. She heard a mixture of voices around her: one of them reflected her own feeling of rising panic––it was, of course, her mother’s; another, calmer, belonged to her father; and there was also a third, a calm female voice she didn’t recognize.
“I’ll get her doctor,” she heard the female stranger’s voice say urgently, and guessed it belonged to a nurse. She was in the hospital, that much she now knew. “What happened?” she mouthed, but no sound came out. She felt the tension in her body escalate––she couldn’t see, and she couldn’t talk––and her hands clenched into fists, grasping folds of bedsheet as she did so.
“Just take it easy,” a male voice soothed in an Italian-accented, rich baritone. The speaker was obviously from his home country, and not New York Italian. “Jennifer, I’m Doctor di Luca. Just nod if you understand me.”
She felt him sit on the edge of her bed and place his hand on one of her balled fists, smothering it with warmth. Grateful that not all her senses had left her, she nodded, the tension within her slightly subsiding, her fingers relaxing.
“You’ve been through a terrible experience, and the fact that you can’t see or speak is temporary. It’s due to the effects of extreme shock.” The voice continued, softer now. “I will ask you a few questions, and I want you to write the answers, if you can.”
Jennifer felt her right hand being gently opened, her fingers being molded around the warm metal body of a recently used pen. Instinctively, she grasped it, and felt paper on a firm surface being inserted beneath her hand.
Jennifer scribbled awkwardly, conveying her foremost concern in a single word that was barely legible: J-O-H-N
It was meant as a question and she started nervously tapping the pen on the paper, frustrated at the lack of response.
There was a pause before Di Luca’s hand returned to her own, steadying and calming it. “I was attending him when you both came in. He’s stable, but his injuries were severe.” Di Luca paused for a moment as he heard Jennifer gasp in shock at this news. Then she tapped her pen impatiently for him to continue.
“In cases such as John’s, the body protects itself by going into a coma. It channels all its energy into repairing itself. I am sorry, but it’s too early to say how long recovery will take.”
Jennifer’s eyes widened and her body tensed as she tried to scream out, “No!” but couldn’t. She started to tremble, and her eyes welled.
“I’m just going to give you a mild sedative to calm your nerves and then we’ll let you sleep so you can regain your strength,” he assured her. As Jennifer felt the hot prick of a needle into her upper forearm and cool liquid entering her veins, she heard the doctor advise her parents to go home and sleep in their own beds, as she would now be out until the morning.
Jennifer’s body may have returned to rest, but her mind was still working hard, assembling memories from earlier that evening. Its relentless toil was bringing her ever closer to reliving the fateful moment of the attack.
She remembered standing on her toes, stretching upward, her lips less than an inch from John’s left ear. Their first date was drawing to a close, and any remaining doubts that she had about him possibly being nothing more than a ‘player’ were collapsing under the pressure of her increasing desire to kiss him. She wobbled, grasping his jacket for support with one hand and pushing against his chest with the other. She felt the inviting warmth and scent of his body and luxuriated in it, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
A canopy over one of the etched glass windows at the front of O’Donnell’s provided them with shelter and a patch
