University Research Hospital.
“They’re the best for rare cases like his. He regained consciousness for a little while, so that’s a good sign. They’ll be able to anesthetize him for the surgery. The surgery will be scheduled as soon as possible,” she assured me. “Just have a seat, Mrs. Hope, the doctors can explain more. Just wait here.”
“I have to go to the restroom,” I told her.
She pointed me down the hall and smiled. I dashed around the corner and ran to the car.
On the road, every light turned red at my approach, every driver took his time. I drove back to the house, threw up my breakfast, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, tossed a set of clothes and Adam’s hat into the station wagon. I had to calm myself, keep my voice even as I lied, assuring Wallace that Adam was okay.
The drive sharpened me and pulled me back into myself. The snow had melted and the day began to warm. I’d never been to Duke University. I passed farms and houses and towns. People drove to work. Children played in school yards. By the time I got to the hospital, a hard calm had come over me.
I parked the car and grabbed Adam’s clothes. When I asked for his room number, a nurse handed me more papers. I pretended to read them till the nurse turned her head, then dashed for Adam’s room. Two young men in hospital uniforms pushed an empty gurney out of the room as I reached the door. “My husband,” I volunteered, stretching a smile across my face. “Just want to see him for a minute.”
The taller one answered, “You won’t have much time. They’ve prepped him already. They’re in a hurry on this one. He’s pretty dopey.”
Adam slept propped up in bed, pale yellow against the white sheets. The bandages on his head were new and smaller, but no hair stuck out above them. He had been completely shaved. I took his hand, the one not attached to the IV bag, rubbed it, and called his name. His eyes half-opened. He looked drunk, drugged, his eyes bloodshot and glassy. He garbled my name.
“Ya here,” he said and closed his eyes. “Th’ X-ray me ’gain.”
“Are you okay?”
“Thin’ so. The’ don’t. Won’t let m’ sleep, eat, walk. Lots o’ doctors.” He stopped and looked at me, his eyes half-open. Then, slowly, his head drooped forward. He passed out again.
My heart raced. I balled my hands up and pressed them into my stomach to stop my trembling. I held Adam’s chin and gave him little slaps till he opened his eyes again. “Adam, I’m taking you home.”
He grinned sloppily, but did not open his eyes. “ ’Ood, ’m hungry.”
I peeked out into the hall. Then, quickly, I untaped Adam’s IV, slipped the needle out, and started dressing him. He mumbled incoherently. I got the gown off and his shirt on. Then his pants. He was almost too tall and heavy for me, a bigger, looser version of the being I’d dragged out of the mud years before.
I supported his head and shoulders as I slid him sideways into the wheelchair. Only once did he seem to be in pain—when he went down hard into the chair. The bandages would give him away. After belting him into the chair, I perched his hat gently on his head, then slipped his shoes on.
I surveyed the hall again quickly. A nurse strolled around a corner. We made it past the nurses’ station and to the elevator. Two orderlies maneuvered a gurney out past us. I tried to make it look like affection as I held Adam’s head up steady with one hand.
On the ground floor, I wheeled him across the lobby as fast as I could without being conspicuous. Adam slumped like a rag doll. I chattered away to him as if he could hear me.
No one grabbed my shoulder, no one shouted from behind us.
Outside, I wheeled him straight to the car. I got in the backseat and quickly, gently as I could, pulled him into the car and onto the seat. Then we took off.
As soon as we were out of sight of the hospital, I pulled over and checked Adam. He slept curled up on his side, seemingly oblivious. I stripped off my jacket and wedged it under his head.
I drove just under the speed limit all the way home with the rearview mirror angled so I could see most of Adam in the backseat. The