Damage Undone

Chapter 4. Second Chances





Romano stopped by Elizabeth’s office with a stack of papers, minutes before she’d been about to escape.

“Present for you,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

The papers thumped on the top of her desk, disarranging a couple of other piles that had already been there. Elizabeth glared. “What are these?”

“Peter, patients, reports, state medical board, any of this ring a bell?” he said. “I must say, single living is doing wonders for your short-term memory.”

Her jaw dropped. Who the hell did he think he was? “I haven’t noticed that it does wonders for a person’s height, either,” she answered frostily.

He cocked his head, a smile glimmering a little behind his eyes. “Just get these done.”

“I don’t really see how these are my problem,” she said a bit fretfully. He probably just wanted to see how well she moved when he jerked the strings.

“You’re associate chief. Everything that should be my problem that doesn’t interest me becomes your problem. And, I like watching you suffer.”

She gave him a sugary, poisoned smile. “That was your primary reason for giving me this position, I suppose.”

Instantly she realized that she’d sounded too serious. Romano seemed taken aback. “Well, no, obviously. That was a joke, Li—Doct—uh—Elizabeth.” Another strange look, and then he said, “Oookay. I’ll just make him come here. But if things get ugly and Benton’s fat lip gets split, he has you to blame.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will be Peter with the split lip,” Elizabeth agreed dryly.

At that, Romano rolled his tongue inside his own lip – and let the remark pass as he took the stack of papers back and backed out the door.

Thinking the conversation over, Elizabeth picked up the photo of Mark from her desk. Today she’d been about to consider relenting, after he’d seemed so eager to have her back, until he missed Ella’s appointment without a single good excuse to cover himself. It was no use, she realized now, he’d always be like this.

She touched her fingertip to the placid smile on his face. Suddenly the door swung back open, and Romano’s voice said peremptorily, “Lizzie.”

“What is it, Robert?” she said, allowing her weariness to show in her voice as she hastily put down the photograph.

“I’m not much of an administrator, but I’m not stupid enough to promote people for the wrong reasons.”

Her breath caught. He continued, “You’d been wronged, and you deserved better.”

Slowly Elizabeth looked up at him. His tight, grave nod was almost imperceptible.

“All right. All right,” she sighed. “Give me those reports, I’ll get them to Benton.”

“Whatever you say,” he said with a smirk, and she couldn’t tell anymore whether this was an intricate little mind-game or whether he’d really been serious just now. But she would rather like an excuse to see Peter, who’d been remiss about keeping in touch. There weren’t many other people she could call friends at the moment.

“And, Elizabeth?” Romano said just before he stepped out the door.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Tomorrow. Or else.”

“I know,” she snapped.

He smirked again. “Good.”

*

Susan looked down at her lap. After long minutes of brooding silence, Mark had fallen asleep.

The house was cold, the big front room too airy. She thought about pulling the blanket up over her shoulders, but with his head still heavy in her lap that wasn’t going to work. Easing his weight off her legs, she gingerly stood up, blood tingling as it returned to circulation in her legs.

She didn’t know where his bedroom was, but she headed upstairs, noting with some envy the comfortable beauty that subtly announced a certain amount of wealth. Must’ve been Elizabeth’s wealth, though, if Mark’s salary was anything like Susan’s.

The first door she tried contained a twin bed floating in the sea of dirty clothes on the floor. She went down the hall a little and found what must be Mark’s room. The place was big and cold and tastefully decorated, not exactly the kind of room she’d like to return to at nights. He hadn’t been cleaning up very well, either – the bed wasn’t even made.

Susan flipped on the light, telling herself she’d only look in his bureau for the sweatshirt she’d been searching for, then get the hell out. His clothes drawers were incredibly disorganized and after rooting around through every drawer, Susan eventually found a gray sweatshirt that she’d seen Mark wearing a few times, back before she left for Arizona.

As she closed the drawer and straightened, she came face to face with Elizabeth.

She was wearing a beautiful dress, a dark grayish color, and looked ready to go into labor at any moment. Mark was smiling, but his eyes weren’t on the camera – they were on Elizabeth, whose smile lit up the photograph and attracted Susan’s fascinated attention.

So they had been in love once. This must have been their wedding day – the one Susan avoided, because it happened at the moment her new life was crumbling to pieces around her, and she didn’t want to indulge herself in might-have-beens. She still remembered that invitation, coming out of the blue after years of no contact. And her brief telephone call, congratulating Mark with a lump in her throat.

Susan looked away, focused again on the more immediate problem of the goosebumps covering her arms.

When she pulled the sweatshirt over her head it had the limp, comforting feeling of well-loved clothing. It hung several inches lower than her hips, reminding her just how tall Mark was.

She ran one hand unthinkingly up and down the opposite sleeve of his sweatshirt as she walked back downstairs. Mark was lying on his back, looking around groggily, when she entered the room.

“Thought you left,” he said, his voice slurred.

“I was cold,” she said softly, not sure if he was really awake yet. “I hope you don’t mind I borrowed your sweatshirt.”

“Looks better on you anyway,” he said, smiling.

She walked over to him and perched on the arm of the couch, touching his forehead, partially to check for fever. His skin was slightly warm, but only from sleep, she thought. “Are you ready to go upstairs? You had a nice long nap down here, and I’d kind of like one, too.”

He looked up at her, moving only his eyes. “Yeah. You need your sleep.”

“So do you.” She ran her fingers again over the rough edges of his scar. “I’ll help you up. You can do it.”

“You sure about that?” he grunted as he shifted himself with immense effort, preparing to stand.

She put her hand under his arm and lifted unceremoniously. He put an arm around her shoulders, leaning comfortably on her.

“Please tell me you’re not working tomorrow,” she said as they took the first steps up and the weight on her shoulders increased.

“I am.”

“Mark!”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you, you get allotted sick days for this exact reason?”

They were up the stairs. He took his arm away, walking on his own, one hand pressed to his stomach.

“Do you feel sick?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said again, blithely.

They stopped outside his bedroom door, sharing a quiet little silence. Mark was pale, but he didn’t seem as sick as he had at the hospital. “Need a toothbrush?” he asked.

“That’d be good,” she said. “Do I—?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Your breath is fine,” he said with a smile, trudging over to the bed. “I just assumed you’d want one. There’s a few spares in the cabinet in my bathroom.”

As Mark wearily climbed into his own bed, Susan stood in his bathroom, brushing her teeth.

“You can go now, if you want,” he called. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“I’m inviting myself over to your couch for the night,” she answered through a mouthful of toothpaste. “You know you shouldn’t be alone.”

He paused. “I know.”

She rinsed her mouth out and emerged from the bathroom. “When Elizabeth comes back, you’re going to have to tell her about this.”

“She’s not coming back, Susan,” Mark said, his voice sleepy and vulnerable. “She told me today she didn’t know when she’d be back. That means never.”

“Not necessarily,” she said.

“I messed up again,” he said. “I missed Ella’s appointment. It’s like betraying them all over again.”

“I don’t think you have to give up on this, Mark. Sometimes people get a surprise second chance.”

She’d been thinking, vaguely, of their old friends Doug and Carol, who’d been given second, third, fourth chances. Mark’s drowsy, instinctive answer took every breath from her body.

“You and I didn’t,” he said.

At first Susan panicked, wondering how to answer that, how to understand it even. Finally she said, her voice strained, “What?”

He didn’t answer. Susan minced closer and realized he’d gone to sleep, the blankets still flung to one side of the bed. He’d taken his shirt off, flung it on the floor, and sprawled on the unmade bed.

She put the shirt in the hamper in his closet. Then she stood over Mark, pulling the blankets onto him. Her eyes stung; she’d somehow hoped that it was all a false alarm, until this morning. Yielding to a brief temptation, she bent down to kiss his cheek, but stopped herself before her lips touched his skin and fled the room.

*

Romano didn’t go straight home that night. Instead, he found himself steering down a route he traveled often on his way home.

He couldn’t have said exactly why tonight of all nights he felt the need to do this. After all, he’d just gone two days ago.

Inside the sterilized building, whose antiseptic atmosphere felt like home to him after so many years working and breathing County General air, he took the elevator to the fourth floor Special Care Unit.

His mother was lying upright in bed, staring at nothing, her body sagging backwards to take the shape of the bed. It was when he saw her like this – deeply, permanently alone – that he almost regretted conceding to her plea to stay here. But Alzheimer’s created loneliness wherever its victims went, and she’d been desperately afraid of being dependent on him of all people. Robert sympathized with that – there was too much bad blood between them, and he had no small understanding of her fierce, debilitating pride himself. Besides, prolonged guilt trips didn’t interest him.

“Hey, Ma,” he said from the doorway, reverting half-consciously to the name he’d used when he was younger, in private.

When he approached her, he could only tell she’d noticed him by a slight movement of her gnarled hands above the bedcovers. It was all the recognition he got from her on her good days.

“It’s a nice night,” he said. “Pretty cool out, but spring’s coming. … Did you go outside today?”

“No.” Her voice was scratchy, perhaps from lack of practice.

Again with the guilt! Wasn’t he just a regular old Catholic today. He could blame his mother for those propensities, at least. She’d been pious in her own private, crotchety way. One of the many things they’d fought about.

A nurse’s steps slowed down near the doorway, and Romano turned to see a young guy with a red chubby face poking his head in. “Visiting hours—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Over in ten minutes. I know.”

The nurse left with a shrug. Damned officious nurses, got on his nerves. The only nurse he’d ever been able to stand was Shirley, and even she had her moments of stupidity.

“Mom?” he said when they were alone again. “You ready to go to sleep now?”

“Robert,” she said. “Is that you?”

It had been years since she last knew him for who he was. Even in rare instances of lucidity, she didn’t usually know him. “Yeah,” he said with forced calm, knowing she was about to slip back into her own private world.

She turned her head to look at the window. Romano considered leaving now – she was drifting away again – but instead he asked, “Do you want to look outside?”

When she didn’t answer, it occurred to him that if she were his patient he would have written her off as a gork and given up on communication.

So much for detachment.

“Come on.” He put one hand under her armpit, almost afraid that she’d snap in his hands. Careful maneuvering got her to her feet, and they took baby steps over to the wheelchair waiting by the window.

When the aide came back to bug Romano again, he left his mother sitting by the window and took off. It took only minutes for him to get home, but the answering machine was already blinking. He listened to the one brief message, threw on the coat he’d just taken off and within minutes was speeding back towards County.





Chapter 5: Wake-Up Calls