The Burning Side(65)
Why did you give up on us? Tell me why.
Truth slants and slides across my memory. I can grant that April’s distance probably wasn’t entirely about me. She had two little people hanging from her all day and night, and she might have needed me to push my way back through her fog. Maybe it’s not bad to become a different couple—not a sign that I’m unwanted, but that love can take many forms throughout a long marriage. Maybe she was depressed, and I was so afraid of being a burden that my absence became a burden too great to bear.
My jaw goes slack. Is that what I did to her? Was I gone before I left?
She rounds the corner on her way back to our little table.
April the respondent. Leo the petitioner.
But just because she’s guilty doesn’t mean I’m innocent.
She sits. “One more chapter?”
We’ve been saying this for at least six chapters.
“Yeah.” I swallow. “One more.”
We’ve hit the point where we might as well just finish the whole story.
She resumes reading, but as masterful as Jonathan’s writing is, I have one foot in the prisoner’s world and one in my own. It’s how I’ve lived my life: half present and half imprisoned by my past.
On occasion April mumbles, “Wait,” and replaces flow with follow or bake with back. It’s easiest for her to read when it’s out loud. And it’s all about context—each part needing the others in order to make sense.
My phone buzzes, so she stops reading.
I look at the screen and frown. “Cameron.”
She nods for me to answer it.
I click the speaker button. “Hey, Cam.”
“Hey, is April with you? We tried to call her. It’s Dad.”
* * *
The hospital waiting room is filled with three things: germs, questions, and Russos.
Otto is asleep on Rachel’s lap, his eyelashes like butterfly wings. Sadie is at a friend’s house. Cameron is texting Josie. And Deb is staring blankly at a House Hunters rerun. We rush over to her.
April sits. “Mom?”
“He’s okay.”
“What’s going on? All Cam said was severe stomach pain.”
“They’re removing his appendix now.”
My shoulders loosen. Appendicitis. He really is okay.
I sit on the other side of Deb and ask, “How are you?”
“Me?” She pats my leg maternally. “Freezing.”
The AC is blasting. So I unbutton my flannel shirt, which Deb accepts, leaving me in an undershirt. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
I wonder if anyone would have told me about Billy if I hadn’t been with April today.
Deb nods toward the television. “Wallpaper, I tell you what. Everything comes back around eventually.”
She and April start talking about interior design. It’s hard to know how to bide time when a loved one is in surgery. I go check on Otto, whispering to Rachel, “Thanks so much.”
Soon, a doctor approaches and we all stand except Rachel, who is serving as Otto’s pillow. The surgeon smiles at Deb. “Billy did great. Nurse Diane will let you know once he’s settled in a room. They’ll go over everything in detail, but basically it will be twenty-four to forty-eight hours before discharge, then a few weeks of restricted mobility as he recovers.” Another smile to bookend the good news.
Deb’s relief is palpable, and I smile at how my shirt swallows her. I often forget how small she is. The doctor moves on, and we buzz with next steps. April picks up Otto and says she needs to go get Sadie. Cameron and Rachel ask if they should stay, but Deb says, “He’ll just be asleep. I can tell him you were here.”
Cameron hesitates. “You sure?”
I pull April aside. “I can take Otto and get Sadie. You stay. Give your mom some food and company.”
“Really?” In our unofficial schedule, it is not my day with the kids.
“Yes.”
She shifts a groggy Otto into my arms. “Thanks.” She smiles weakly. “Don’t finish Identity without me.”
A ballcapped man in the waiting room is having a coughing fit, and another man is sharing his unsolicited opinions about vaccines with a poor woman who is just trying to watch House Hunters.
April decides she’ll go get a Chipotle bowl for Deb and some plain rice for Billy. So we turn to walk out of the hospital together. April tells Deb she’ll be back shortly, and I tell her to keep the shirt. Otto tells her bye-bye, and Nurse Diane tells her, “Room 236.” She points down the hall. “He’s sleeping at the moment, and still coming off anesthesia, but you can go on in.”
DEB
August 13, 2022
BILLY WAKES UP AND TRIES to speak, but his voice is froggy.
I smile. “Morning, sunshine.”
He takes pains to clear his throat, and then he asks: “Has someone called my wife?”
Dread fills me. “Your wife?”
He says, “She’s going to be furious.”
My concern grows. “Why?”
He clears his throat again. “She has every right to be mad. She warned me about that turn.” He winces. “Did the belt injure my stomach?”
I take a guess. “The…seat belt?”