Читать книгу The Look of Love - Jill Egizii - Страница 5

Anna knew she’d better swing back out to the farmhouse and clean up. She and the kids ran late this morning leaving dirty pans and dishes scattered around. If…mind you, if…Erik managed to get downstairs she didn’t want the kids to have to listen to him throw a fit later. She scans the room for evidence of his presence as she tiptoes in the back door.

“Anna!!!” He booms from somewhere above. “Annie!!!” He knows she hates that nickname. She waits a few ticks to see if he’ll shut up or if she’ll have to go deal with him. Their so-called separation hadn’t kept him from leaning heavily on her because of his stupid, unnecessary, hypochondriacal, operation. Of course he managed to find doctors who said ‘how high’ when he yelled ‘jump.’ So surgery it had been. But he isn’t going to suck her into being his slave today.

Finally after weeks of sending out résumés and making follow-up phone calls Anna has two job interviews lined up. Today of all days she isn’t going to get dragged into his drama. She’s tired of living in her Mom and Dad’s empty house in town, driving back and forth to take care of the kids. A job held the promise of money that would buy her freedom.

Erik, as good as his threats, allowed her absolutely nothing; not a thin dime out of his several millions. Anna only discovered his betrayal when the grocer refused to take her check.

The embarrassed store manager drew her aside to show her the previous two checks the bank returned. Erik stopped payment. He changed all the credit cards. Now Anna has nothing but what she carried out the door six weeks ago. She arrives at the house every morning before the kids wake up and leaves in the evening after dinner is cleaned up and homework is finished. Most nights she stays until Betsy and Drew are asleep. Thankfully Erik either stays at the office late or haunts their regular round of dining emporiums. Most likely drinking his way through every menu, leaving a trail of abused waiters and offended chefs in his wake. As a result Anna and Erik rarely cross paths.

“ANNNIIIEE!!” He bellows, following up with a rapid fire succession of increasing volume. “ANNIE, ANNIE, ANNIE, ANNIE, ANNIE.” She is sorely tempted to walk out and slam the door. Let him know she’s blatantly ignoring him. Erik’s bellows are more grating than the lowing calves when first separated from their mothers. The thought gives her a small chuckle. It is in that instant of mirth in which she relents. ‘Oh what harm could it do to get him a fresh glass of orange juice and track down his remote?’ He most likely flung it across the room in a fit of pique last night while watching the political pundits.

She bounds up the steps shaking her head. Boy oh boy once she’s gone…really gone that is…would he ever learn. Well once he’s gone that is. He refused to move out to make their separation ‘official’ until he bought another house. When Anna couldn’t stand his presence anymore, couldn’t live with him one more day while he studied the market, she started staying at her parents to get away from him. They were in Florida most of the year anyway. Plus it was only temporary until he moved out. ‘And once he does’ thinks Anna, ‘he’ll realize that it’s me that holds him together.’ Literally. Frankly she looks forward to the day he realizes how truly helpless he is without her at his beck and call. She collects Betsy, Maggie, and Drew’s stray things from the steps as she goes up, dropping a pile of lost belongings in each child’s doorway.

“Annie!” he’s a little more contrite in tone now. Good. “Anna?” Even close up he’s quiet. Amazing. She peeks around the bedroom door to find his bed empty. Odd guttural sounds draw her attention to the bathroom. Something liquid trickles from under the door, glistening in the light. Did he try to take a bath? That idiot! Everyone knows you don’t put fresh surgical staples in water. As she gets closer, what she thought was water takes on a distinctly more sinister appearance. ‘Oh! That’s blood.’

“Erik?” She says rushing through the door. “Uh gah-uck,” she chokes back the bile that rises in her throat at the sight of him. Despite her years on the farm, the blood everywhere frightens her. He’s somehow managed to tear open the entire incision across his belly. It’s deep. His surgeons cut efficiently at least, that’s for sure. Much to her chagrin, Anna discovers that far worse than the blood is the pulsing viscera he juggles with little success. It looks as though his entire inside has flopped out.

She grabs the nearest towel and approaches him in a wary crab walk. He’s panting and writhing, furious at the betrayal of his own flesh, pissed off at the devilish innards trying to abandon ship. She never imagined so many shades of pink and red, nor the various qualities mucus could display. She puts some pressure on the bulging membranes in an effort to shift them back behind the flesh but the blood makes everything slippery and she’s shaking and choking on bile. Not to mention scared within an inch of her sanity. He’s saying…something, “Arh- agu, abageehee u biss.” You bitch. That much she gets.

After doing what she can to stanch the bleeding and wrap him up she remembers her purse, her cell phone. She calls his doctor; Cudahy, then an ambulance and the hospital all while continuing to try to truss him up. He keeps pushing on her trying to stand up. The slime everywhere keeps them both trapped. Anna yanks down the rest of the towels spreading them over the floor; a new kind of red carpet for his royal highness.

Of course he can’t wait. He’s grabbing onto her, shaking and pulling. He’s white as parchment, his gut gaping like an open mouth and still the little dictator. She does what she can to wipe him down before wrapping him in a dark robe. He insists on hobbling down the stairs. His obvious intent to get to the car.

Her hands still quake as she fires up the ignition. He sprawls out in the passenger seat which is flung back and cranked to recline. He’s still blathering at her. With one hand on the steering wheel the other groping for the cell phone she manages to roll out onto the main road into town. Cudahy is talking in Anna’s ear as she struggles to maintain control of the car and herself. The shaking spreads from her hands to her chest. She realizes her ribs are shaking. Why is she so cold? Erik is roving in and out of consciousness. Blood trickles from the padding around his middle down his thigh. This single driblet somehow horrifies her, mesmerizes her.

“Anna…your incompetent driving is going to kill me before this gash does. Pay attention won’t you! You always were a terrible driver I don’t know how I ever even let you drive those kids to school…it’s amazing you haven’t gotten them killed…I’m gonna take away your car after this, if you don’t kill me that is…”

He rambles on and on as she shakes violently willing her eyes to stay glued to the black road ahead of her.

Their arrival at the emergency room is a blur of noise, rushing bodies, endless questions, and papers to sign. Doctor Cudahy has a room staked out in Emergency, prepped and ready for Erik’s privacy and comfort. Doc Cudahy insists Anna leave the room while he assesses the damage. As she turns to leave she sees Erik whispering in Doc Cudahy’s ear. Outside Anna slumps in a plastic chair facing the nurse’s station. She stares at the wall covered in preventative propaganda. “Never shake a baby,” warns one particularly graphic poster tacked up among many. The idea of shaking draws her attention to her still trembling hands which to her surprise are covered in blood and various unidentifiable fluids of life.

Her hands shake more violently as her gaze travels up her arms. She examines her sweater and the front of her jeans to discover she is smeared in the rust ochre of Erik’s drying blood. She touches her face and feels the clumps in her hair. She tries to rise to find a bathroom, a shower, a hose anything that will get the blood off her hands, out of her hair. She must look a fright. Her wobbly legs won’t lift her and she sinks back down the few inches she managed to hover while attempting to rise.

Anna glances around to see if she’s frightening any children. She recognizes the nurse approaching her with a stack of towels and clean scrubs. Her deep sigh of relief opens the floodgates to tears. She’s in full wracking sob mode in an instant. No amount of willpower can stifle the heaving cries that escape her. In fact she fears she may throw up…again. The nurse’s steady reassuring hand on her shoulder brings up a deep shame that urges Anna to resent the woman’s kindness, but she can’t. She wants to resent the nurse’s solicitude but is too weak. This only compounds her confusion, exacerbates her imbalance, makes her cry harder.

Cudahy comes out of Erik’s room at that moment. His bulk looming over her at least halts her heaving sobs. He spouts a string of incomprehensible noise at her sounding like honking adults from the Charlie Brown cartoons. Anna is certain her forced smile looks more like a grimace but she keeps at it. As he talks at her in his officious fashion she continues smiling and nodding until he abruptly strides away. Two orderlies wheel Erik from the room, tagging along behind Cudahy’s waddle.

“See everything’s going to be fine,” the nurse suggests. “They’re taking him into surgery now.” Anna returns her gaze to the reassuring posters on the wall. “Pregnant women should not smoke.” “Heart disease in women…the silent killer.”

“Ok why don’t I show you where you can clean up…doesn’t that sound good?” the kind nurse asks gently shaking Anna’s shoulder and offering her the clean scrubs.

TIME HAS LITTLE MEANING TO ANNA hovering in the hallway between the family waiting room and the coffee stand. She feels self-conscious in the scrubs. She’s afraid some frightened mother or sister will accost her demanding answers about Michael’s gallbladder or Steve’s prostate.

If for nothing more than the sake of appearances she knew she’d better stay put at the hospital, although she did wish she weren’t alone. She was tempted to drive to the school, pull Betsy from class, and bring her to the hospital to wait with her. After all it is her father in there. Maybe the kids should be there? But Anna recognizes her true desire is simply to have Betsy at her side so she won’t have to endure this alone.

Anna straightens her shoulders, reminding herself that she’s an adult. She can handle this. If being married taught her anything it’s self-sufficiency and how to think on her feet.

From week one she had to use her wits and creativity. She thinks back to the night on their honeymoon when Erik took her to an exclusive restaurant on the other side of the island. She wore a strappy evening dress and strappy sandals. Delighted to be shown off and showing off in the finest, most expensive place on the Island. That night Anna even wore the diamond earrings her grandmother had given her as a wedding gift.

To this day she can’t remember how it started…had she shushed him when he was raising his voice to the server? Did she decide to choose her own dessert? It could have been one of the million things Anna eventually learned to ‘manage’ over the years so as not to set him off. But this was the beginning, back before she learned to deflect his ire.

It ended with Erik stomping out of the restaurant, hopping in the rental car, and driving away leaving her there practically naked, definitely lost, and utterly alone. She didn’t even bother to bring a handbag so as not to break the charm of her ensemble. There she was nineteen, abandoned in skimpy evening wear on the far side of a tropical island, without a dime, a credit card, or key to her hotel if she should somehow make it back. He might as well have tattooed ‘victim’ on her forehead and shoved her out into passing traffic on the way home.

But she managed. Anna made a deal with one of the busboys. He drove her back to the hotel on his scooter and she had the concierge pay him and charge it to their room. She made it…she figured it out. Looking back it seems so much clearer, so much more sinister and cruel on Erik’s part. But back then…back then she cried and cried and blamed herself, just as he wanted her to. For most of their years together Anna had been so busy, so preoccupied using all her energy and effort to maintain her own balance, and then the kids, that she failed to realize it was not simply stormy seas rocking the boat; all along it was their captain Eric.

A pang of guilt undermines her renewed feeling of selfsufficiency when she remembers asking Erik’s secretary to tell her mother-in-law, Mother Reinhardt about Erik’s emergency. So okay she’s mostly an adult. But Mother Reinhardt scares most people, aside from Erik’s long time gal Friday; Marge. Marge frightens most people too. Anna thinks of the pair of old biddies as peas in a pod…well not really more like two dried up prunes in a tapioca. Or more like two dark parentheses closing in on Anna and Erik’s life from either side; work and family. ‘Whew! Where’d that come from?’ Anna wonders.

She shakes her head wondering if another cup of coffee will bring her back to earth. As she stands debating she catches a glimpse of Cudahy’s distinct waddle passing along a far hallway. She hustles after him, finding him oddly quick for a squat, stocky man. She calls out to catch his attention but he’s yapping into his cell phone and can’t, or won’t, hear. Eventually he ducks into a room. Anna closes in right behind pulling the door open before it even clicks shut.

Initially she’s embarrassed. She thinks for an instant she’s followed Cudahy into some stranger’s room. The woman she assumes to be the solicitous wife leans over her husband covering his face in kisses, hiccupping, murmuring, “Oh I’m so relieved you’re going to be all right. Thank heavens. Oh I’m so lucky” as she mwah mwah mwahes her way around his face. But the face… it’s Erik. Not as pale and peaked as he’d been last time she’d seen him, but definitely Erik.

“Ahahah hem hem,” Cudahy’s not so subtle warning to Erik and…whoever she was…that ‘trouble’ had just arrived froze them in mid kiss. Cudahy simply rocks back on his heels clasping his hands behind his back awaiting the requisite drama with obvious anticipation. Whoever-she-was stands, straightens her polyester suit jacket, and sends Erik a meaningful glare as she musters her remaining dignity to flee.

Anna makes a show of stepping aside to clear the woman’s exit.

“Don’t worry Hon, I’ll call you in a little bit,” says Erik in his courtroom voice as he pats Whoever-she-was’ hand.

Anna stopped giving them names a long time ago, about seven years ago…the time of their first divorce.