She sits on the ugly plastic chair next to the nightstand, removes knitting needles and yarn from her big lumpy purse, and starts to knit, chatting brightly as she works on something that could be a pot holder when it grows up. Right now, it’s the size of a coaster.
“That ICU doctor was cute too. Dayan. Very handsome. Do you think he’s Armenian? I had an Armenian boyfriend once, though not nearly as handsome as this one. Nice head of hair, though.”
“Mom.”
“Your father looks well, doesn’t he? Needs a haircut. I suppose that Zoe of his likes it long, her being a hippie and all. Can you imagine being raised in a commune? So strange. I have no idea what he sees in her. Maybe she sneaks pot gummies into his breakfast cereal.”
“Mom.”
“You’ll be happy to hear that I’m still not drinking, honey. And not a peep from Bob. Good riddance to that crabby bastard, right? I can’t believe how long I stayed with him.”
“Mom!”
Startled by my volume, she finally looks up at me. “Yes, honey?”
“You talked to Dr. Dayan about me this morning, right? Before they moved me?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
She lays the knitting on her lap and considers me. “That I shouldn’t tell you too much until you’re stronger because we don’t want to upset you.”
I close my eyes and count to ten, resisting the urge to scream. “That’s stupid.”
“Which is what I told him. Your father agreed with the doctor, but he’s on pot gummies, so we’re not listening to him either. What do you want to know?”
“What were the results of the brain scan?”
“The swelling has resolved. There’s no hemorrhaging. You might have some short-term memory problems because of the drugs they gave you, but that should resolve too.”
Should not will. I’ll worry about that later.
“What else?”
“Your bruising will last a few weeks most likely. You might be sore for a while longer than that. But overall, you’re extremely lucky.” Her voice drops. “That crash could’ve easily killed you.”
“When can I go home?”
“Tomorrow or the next day.”
“Good. And what’s happening with Cole?”
She glances down at her hands. She runs her tongue over her teeth. Then she looks up at me again and exhales heavily.
“He’ll make it. But they don’t think he’ll walk again.”
I turn my head and look at the ceiling.
It’s not until my mother jumps from her chair and hugs me tightly that I realize I’m sobbing.
“It’s okay, honey. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”
But she misunderstands. She thinks I’m crying because my boss won’t walk again.
I’m not.
I’m crying because the man I’m in love with is going to live.
Later that day, Cole’s father visits me.
He introduces himself to my father, who’s reading the newspaper. Dad stands and they shake hands, then Konrad asks if it’s all right if he has a word alone with me.
When Dad looks at me, I nod.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a while.” He leaves, quietly closing the door behind him, and Konrad stands at the edge of my bed looking down at me.
I know I look awful. My hair is greasy, my face is bruised, and I reek of sweat and disinfectant. None of that matters, however. I could be missing all my teeth, and I’d still be desperate to talk to him.
“Mr. McCord. How are you?”
He runs a hand over his hair, a gesture that reminds me of Cole. In the same business suit I saw him in yesterday, he looks worse for wear. He needs a shave, his eyes are bloodshot, and the lines in his face seem to have grown deeper since the day we met in Cole’s office.
“I’m awful. Thank you for asking. How are you, dear?”
“The same. How’s Cole?”
He gazes at me silently for a moment, then moistens his lips and shakes his head. “I should’ve guessed sooner. He was in such a better mood than usual. But it wasn’t until I saw you two in his office that I knew.”
Oh God. He knows.
My heart palpitating, I say, “It’s my fault. Cole kept telling me we couldn’t have a relationship, but I kept pushing for one. Please don’t be angry with him. If anything, you should be mad at me.”
He furrows his brows. “I’m not angry with either one of you.”
“Oh. But…the company policy about…you know.”