Читать книгу The Apotheosis - Darrell Lee - Страница 27

The receptionist at Mass General said, “Room 438. Go down the hallway to the elevators; it’s on the fourth floor. Turn left when you get off.”

When John found the room, he knocked but got no response. Opening the door, he saw Amira asleep in bed. She had on a hospital gown and he noticed a white gauze bandage on her right arm a few inches above the elbow. He stood at her side and took her hand in his. Her fingers were cold. Under her fingernails, he noticed a brownish crust. Dried blood. Her breathing was slow and deep. He lowered his mouth next to her ear.

“Amira,” he said. She did not move. “Amira, it’s John. I’m here.” Again Amira did not move. John stood up straight. The door opened and two older adults entered, each of them with a rolling suitcase. The woman looked suspiciously at the stranger holding her daughter’s hand. John released Amira’s hand and extended it toward Sharon.

“I’m John Numen. I’m on the board of directors at the company where Ethan works.”

“Sharon… I’m Amira’s mother,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I’m Guy Levitt, her father,” Guy said and shook John’s hand next.

“I’m so sorry to hear of what happened. I came by to offer my condolences and the company’s assistance to Mrs. Shinwell in any way that we can. I seem to have come when she’s sleeping.”

“Thank you. The doctor gave her something to make her sleep. He told us that’s the best thing for her right now. In the meantime, we went home to get a few things,” Sharon said.

“How are you doing, Mrs. Levitt?” John asked.

“I’m trying to be strong, for Amira,” Sharon said. Her eyes filled with tears. “I just can’t seem to stop crying.”

“This thing is bigger than any one of us. We’re holding on tight to each other and to God to get us through. Our greatest concern right now is Amira,” Guy said.

“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you now?” John asked.

“Thank you, Mr. Numen. I don’t think so. Just pray,” Sharon said.

As John drove out of the hospital parking garage, he spoke to his car, “Call Aunt Cathy.” In a moment, a ringing phone came over the stereo system speakers.

“John! How are you doing, sweetie?” Cathy answered.

“Okay. Hey, I have the weekend free and am missing your home cooking. How about I come there for the weekend?” John asked.

“That would be great. You’ve been away far too long.”

“Great. I’ll see you about seven o’clock.”

That evening, John and Cathy sat at the table in the breakfast area of Cathy’s house. Bowls of warm tomato soup sat in front of them. Halfway through his bowl, Cathy caught John by surprise.

“I haven’t seen you like this since Janet Wilson.”

“Janet Wilson… now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.” John’s mind slipped back to an autumn night his last year in high school, the empty parking lot of the natatorium, after swim team practice. Alone with her in his car. The windows fogged against the crisp outside air. The fumbling, awkward disrobing. He lost his virginity that night.

“I still see her mother at the country club every week. In fact, I play doubles against her every now and then. If you want, I can get Janet’s number. Last I heard she had a couple of kids and a couple of divorces. Living in her uncle’s travel trailer just outside Oklahoma City.”

“Very funny,” John replied.

“Her mother says she’s been clean months now, working on her real estate license. Probably get you a heck of a deal on some farmland.”

“Janet, living in Oklahoma… who knew?”

“How about you start by telling me her name and what she looks like?” Cathy said.

“Aunt Cathy, sometimes you are a little scary.”

“I raised you. I know you better than you know you.”

“Okay, I’ll give you the answers to the usual laundry list of questions I get from you… I know you, too. Her name is Amira—she’s tall, slender, dark hair, deep brown eyes, smart… went to college at NYU. Does that cover your usual basics?”

“It’ll do for now.”

“And one other thing… one of the nicest, kindest people I’ve ever met.”

“How long have you been seeing her?”

“About eight months.” John looked down at his bowl of soup and filled another spoonful.

“And why haven’t I met her yet?”

“She’s married.”

Cathy’s spoonful of soup stopped halfway to her mouth.

“I met her at the company holiday party last year,” John said.

“So, she’s married to someone at the company?”

“Yes.”

“This is so unlike you,” Cathy said.

“You can’t always stop these things from coming at you. I couldn’t help myself, and things have been great. Really great. I’ve fallen in love with her.”

“You’re in love… does she know?”

“No.”

“Does she feel the same?”

“I think so, although I don’t know for sure.”

“So, besides the obvious, what else is wrong?”

John told Cathy the whole story. About how they saw each other at lunch and in the mornings. About Amira moving out and the shooting and the death of Elona and that now, as they were talking, Amira lay sedated in Massachusetts General Hospital. And to top it all off, he was in charge of the laboratory that Amira’s husband, who was in jail on murder and attempted murder charges, used to manage.