Chapter 36
It was almost noon when Peter reached the hospital and ran straight to the nurses’ station in the Cardiac Care Unit.
“Richard Michaels?” Peter leaned forward anxiously while the nurse checked her log.
Amy spotted him from the hallway and ran to him. “He’s stable.” She put her arms around him, and they stood for a minute in each other’s arms. “Peter, it was a bad stroke.”
“How’s Mom?”
Amy gave him a worried look and led him down the hall to Richard’s room.
The small two-patient room had a large curtain between the beds, the wall half- glass to allow a view from the nurses’ station. One bed was empty, and in the other Richard lay with an oxygen mask over his face, an IV hanging from his arm, and a heart monitor that beeped softly and regularly. Sheila, in her pajama top and sweatpants, sat in a chair by his side holding his hand, small and disheveled without make-up. She almost didn’t notice Peter by the door.
“Mom,” Peter whispered.
Sheila glanced up and stood quickly to hug him. “I can’t do this,” she whispered after a moment. “I don’t want Richard to see me this way.”
Amy took Sheila’s hand and nodded at Peter over Sheila’s bowed grey head. “I got you some clothes, Mom, your brush and things. Let’s go to the bathroom and get cleaned up a bit, okay? Maybe coffee?”
“I don’t want to be away from your father.”
“Peter’s here. He’ll sit with Dad. We’ll only be gone a minute, I promise.”
Sheila looked at Richard and smiled a painful smile while Amy took her arm and, after a moment, led her into the hall.
Peter took his jacket off and laid it gently on the edge of the bed. He pulled the chair closer to Richard’s bedside and kissed him on the forehead.
Richard opened his eyes, blinking. “Peter,” he whispered his name clearly.
“Dad, I’m here.” Peter leaned in so Richard could see him, combing a few strands of hair away from Richard’s eyes and touching his face.
Richard made a sound and an odd grimace, as though he were trying to smile.
Peter’s blinked back tears, looking into his eyes. Richard maintained a steady gaze, and Peter squeezed his fingers.
As Richard tightened his hand in response, he mumbled something that sounded like, “Maddy.”
For a moment Peter didn’t understand. “You want to know about Madeline?”
Richard squeezed his hand again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t bring her but tomorrow’s Saturday. I promise I’ll bring her then. She loves you, Pops.”
Richard almost shook his head, his lips forming words but his voice nearly inaudible. “Apologize.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Peter said after a minute. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Whatever it is, don’t worry about it. We’re here to take care of you.”
Sheila and Amy came into the room behind Peter with coffee, Sheila small under the shelter of Amy’s arm. Amy carried Sheila’s change of clothes in a bundle, and Sheila made her way to Richard’s side, taking his hand. “Are you sleeping, sweetie?” Sheila patted his hand tenderly. “That’s good. You’ll feel better soon.”
“She sounds exhausted,” Peter murmured to Amy. “Did she drink any coffee?”
“Just a sip.” Amy handed him a Styrofoam cup.
Sheila raised her eyes to Peter. “Peter! Where’s Tara? Shouldn’t you be with the doctors in her room?”
“Tara?” Peter looked at Amy. “Mom, Tara’s not in the hospital. She hasn’t been since last winter. Don’t you remember?”
Sheila glanced down, momentarily confused. “Of course. But—but where’s Madeline?”
“She’s in school.” Peter frowned slightly. “She’s always in school at this time of day.”
Sheila looked down at Richard and at Amy, and she shook her head, waving her hand. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t mean anything.” She patted Richard’s hand. “I’m sure he’ll be able to come home soon. He has such good color. Doesn’t he look good, everyone?”
When Peter turned to Amy again, she met his gaze steadily.
Richard fell in and out of sleep for the rest of the afternoon. It wasn’t until the doctors arrived that he fully awoke while they poked him and prodded him and asked him questions. He made what sounds and gestures he could, blinking his eyes on command, but he tired easily, and his reactions became unpredictable. The doctors took Peter and Amy and Sheila into the hall.
“His condition could persist for a very long time, but even with rehabilitation—” The doctor shook his head. “He’ll never regain what he’s lost.”
Sheila gave a small cry and covered her hand with her mouth.
“Be prepared,” the doctor said gently. “His heart’s been in bad condition for a very long time. Also a stroke at this age could indicate another aneurysm. We’ll be running tests.”
Peter put his arm around Sheila as she leaned into him, a sudden weight.
That evening Peter and Amy sat at the Michaels’s kitchen table over macaroni and cheese in the old blue-spotted bowls that Sheila had been using since they were children. The kitchen seemed silent and empty without Sheila and Richard, the fabric of the curtains dated, the linoleum faded. Peter looked around hopelessly. He could barely swallow.
“She’s not taking it well,” Amy said between bites.
“It was awfully strange of her to mention Tara being in the hospital.” Peter paused, circling his plate with his fork. “What was that all about?”
Amy shrugged. “I told you she’d been getting forgetful. How is Tara?”
“She’s doing all right.” Peter pushed his plate away. “She just needs a little rest to get over this latest biopsy. She beat this thing once, she can beat it again.”
Amy put her hand on Peter’s arm.
“But what about Mom? She seems to be going to pieces, Amy. Is there something you haven’t been telling me?”
“You know how absent-minded she’s always been. It’s gotten a lot worse recently. Even Dad noticed and said maybe we should get her evaluated. Peter, what’s she going to do if Dad doesn’t recover? What are you and I going to do?”
Peter reached across the table and took her hands. “Whatever we have to.”
Amy looked at him helplessly, and he looked back. After a long moment he kissed her hands.
Days had passed, life had changed, but in the Michaels’s house, time seemed to stand still. Now everything was quiet, only the hardwood floors of Sheila’s bedroom creaking overhead.
Peter poured himself a cup of coffee and pulled another mug from the cupboard. As he turned to face the island an open view to the living room, he saw Richard’s empty recliner, a thin beam of morning sun streaming from the window to touch the edge of the arm, and he saw how the leather still held Richard’s shape, as though he’d just gotten up.
Tears came to his eyes.
This time last week Richard had been alive and well. Five days ago he had been alive. Even four days ago at this hour he’d still been alive.
Peter had arrived at the hospital early that morning with Amy and Sheila, anxious because Richard had shown signs of progress the day before. After a restless morning, Richard had finally fallen into a quiet sleep, so Sheila stepped out with Amy for a cup of coffee. Peter was at the nurse’s station when a deafening beeping startled him. Within moments, a nurse had whisked into Richard’s room and out again.
“Code Blue!” Her voice echoed down the long hall.
Before Peter could move, doctors hurried with their white coats flapping into Richard’s room. Nurses wheeled in a defibrillator, and the doctors leaned over the bed.
“Clear!” The voice was loud and authoritative over the heads of the staff.
Richard’s body on the bed jerked. There was a pause.
Peter’s heart pounded, as he stood frozen in the doorway. He could barely see the lower half of Richard’s body under the sheets and blankets through the crowd of nurses and doctors around the bed.
“Clear!”
Richard’s body jerked again.
Peter tried to push into the room, but a nurse laid a hand on his chest, her eyes fixed on the doctors. An instant later she gave a small sigh. The beeping of the heart monitor had stopped and a flat line ran unendingly across the screen.
“Peter!” Amy’s voice was panicky by his shoulder.
He turned to where she stood holding Sheila’s hand behind him, and he burst out crying. Sheila took one glance at Peter’s face and collapsed to the floor as he and Amy leaped to catch her. They were kneeling with Sheila in their arms when the doctor came to the doorway and saw them there.
“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said softly. “We were afraid of this.”