from the rehab facility, the first thing she told me was the meaning behind every piece in the room. The single bed with the wooden frame was her marriage bed. Her husband had slept in an identical bed to her right. The classics on the bookshelf had been her father’s. The huge ashtray on the coffee table shaped like a golf course with a golfer poised on the edge with his club raised had belonged to her husband. The pictures on the walls were of her children. The half-knitted blanket on the couch was something she had been working on for her first great-grandchild.
WHILE SHE SLEEPS, I read the newspaper, or look at the photographs on the walls. I try to entertain her various guests until she wakes. After years in the hospital with erratic shifts and unpredictable days, this is the easiest and best-paid job I’ve ever had. If I hadn’t stopped believing in God after Eddie’s accident, I would have sworn this had fallen straight from heaven. Instead, I add this job to my running list of things that have happened over the last nine months that I think must have been organized by Eddie. For instance, the gutters on the roof somehow remain clear of leaves, the contractor shows up at my door at the perfect moment and offers a low estimate to repaint the house, the lawn stays neat in spite of the fact that I never once cut it, and Eddie’s old white car never breaks down.
I used to be a very committed Catholic, and for me giving thanks to God is the hardest habit to shake. Now I get around that by thanking my husband when good things fall into my lap. It is a way for me to feel close to Eddie, and to feel that our lives are still intertwined. And it is easy for me to believe that Eddie sent Louis to offer me this job. The timing of his offer was perfect, since I needed the extra money and the regular hours. Eddie Jr. really wants to go to baseball camp for the month of August, and now I will be able to send him. Jessie, as always, wants everything she lays her eyes on: dolls, clothes, a brand-new bicycle, a computer. I am thinking of giving in about the computer, as both kids could use it for school.
When I first ran into Louis Leary in the hospital, it was a shock. I had not thought of Louis since the funeral, although Eddie had spoken of him all the time. Eddie had thought very highly of his boss, and hoped to perhaps partner with him someday. The few times I’d met Louis I had been uncomfortable with him. He was so big physically that I felt towered over, even though I am also quite tall. And I could never figure out what was appropriate conversation to make with my husband’s employer. But then at the funeral, having not shed a single tear since the accident, I had for some reason fallen apart at the sight of Louis. To my great embarrassment, I had sobbed all over his nice shirt, drenching the sleeve. I hadn’t been able to stop crying, even after his wife led him away.
When I saw Louis at the hospital, I remembered the sensation at the funeral when something inside me cracked and broke loose. I had wanted to walk away from him then; I had wanted my shift to be over. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to hug my kids. I wanted to cry with all my might, but those feelings quickly passed. I was almost used to them sweeping over me. Regularly, whenever I think I am getting better, stronger, missing Eddie will kick me in the gut. When the sensation is gone I am left worn and emptied out.
I arrived at this job and into this room with Mrs. McLaughlin, exhausted but grateful. I watch her sound sleep with jealousy. I watch her chest rise and fall and hope that this job is a gift from my husband. I hope he is still watching out for me and trying to meet my needs. I sit by her bedside until the feeling deepens into a kind of prayer.
When her family visits and she’s awake, I try to disappear into the background, but as Mrs. McLaughlin lives in a small room, that is sometimes difficult. The most frequent visitor is poor Gracie. I know she’s in