30
No one would tell her anything at the hospital. Was she family? Well, no, not exactly but—
I’m sorry, they said. There are rules we have to follow.
But can’t you tell me what room he’s in? Or if he’s okay? I’m his ex-wife. I’m the only family he has.
I’m sorry, ma’am.
She held her phone in her hands and waited. Every ten minutes she tried calling him until finally, someone answered.
This is Charlie Fallon’s phone, a woman said.
Hi, hi, yes, this is Charlie’s ex-wife, I’m here at the hospital, but no one will tell me anything. What room he’s in or if he’s okay. Please. He doesn’t have any other family.
What’s your name, ma’am? the nurse asked.
Vivian. Vivian Peterson.
Vivian—wait a minute. Class of seventy-seven?
Yes, but—who is this?
Vivian. It’s Deanna. Deanna Avery. Oh, for heaven’s sake, the woman said. He’s on the fourth floor. I’ll meet you at the nurses’ station. And listen, just tell everyone you’re married. Okay? Come right up.
Minutes later she was following this old high school friend to his room. He had a heart attack, Deanna said. He’s stable now but resting. There was significant blockage in one of his major arteries, so the doctors put in a stent, and I’d have to check his records, but I think they performed an angioplasty as well.
But is he going to be okay?
Yes, I think he should be fine. The treatment is so good these days that he’ll probably be released in the next twenty-four hours. It’s amazing, to be honest. Not quite as run-of-the-mill as a broken bone, but not too far off.
Before they entered Charlie’s room, Vivian reached for Deanna. Do you know where my daughter is, Jessie?
I didn’t know you had a daughter by that name. I thought it was just Melissa. I have that right, don’t I? Melissa? Beautiful girl.
It’s a long story, Vivian said. But—so you haven’t seen her? Her name is Jessie, or Jessica. She’s forty years old. Short. And, well, she has Down syndrome.
I haven’t, Viv, I’m sorry. Have you tried calling her? Look, why don’t you sit down in Mister Fallon’s room? I’ll bring you a glass of water. Call your daughter. Mister Fallon isn’t going anywhere. He’s very safe here with us. Okay? And we’ll catch up later. It’s great to see you.
Vivian called Jessie, who answered immediately, apparently unperturbed, and back at the group home. They had just finished lunch.
How did you get home?
Oh, the nice policeman gave me a ride.
Vivian shook her head. The police. Well, that was kind of them.
Yeah, they let me turn on their lights and sirens. Okay, bye, Auntie. As sometimes happened, Jessie hung up the phone without any further ado.
Vivian exhaled. One lost soul found. Now to check on the other.
She walked into his room. His head was turned away from her and toward the light of the window. The machinery beside his bed beeped and hissed. A television on the wall opposite his bed was showing an afternoon game show, the volume lowered to a level of utter pointlessness. The room was peaceful but severe feeling. This wasn’t some kid who had broken their arm skateboarding. Or endured a tonsillectomy on the way to several days of chocolate milkshakes. As she sat on the bed beside him, she reached for his hand just as he tried to pull himself up, but then put her hand on his chest, on the thin nightgown they had provided him with, and silently urged him to stay as he was. His white chest hair stuck out from the flimsy garment, and she ran her fingers through it now.
Jessie, he said, is she all right? She wouldn’t respond to me, Viv. Like I was a stranger or something. I was so scared.
It’s okay, she said soothingly, Jessie’s fine. She just—listen, she just forgets sometimes. Especially if someone is new in her life. And she’s easily distracted.
She began laughing quietly, knowingly as she reached towards his face. Let me ask you something: Where were you?
He glanced out the window, then down at his hands.
Actually, she said, let me guess. Walmart?
How’d you know?
It’s her favorite place. Can I have another guess?
Okay.
Did you lose her near the TVs? Or was it the gaming stuff? Maybe the frozen food aisle? Near the ice cream?
Now he smiled.
The thing with Jessie, she explained, or really anyone for that matter, is that she tends to do the same things. She has patterns. Behaviors. You didn’t know those patterns. And you didn’t lose her. She just does this. At Walmart, she goes to the TVs. At the mall, she goes straight for the food court. Every single time. You never had any children, but it was actually the same with Melissa. She liked to play hide-and-seek in the changing rooms, but the thing was, I didn’t know we were playing. Used to drive me crazy.
You’re not angry? he asked.
No, she said, still touching his face. I was worried about you.
They sat that way for a while. Looking straight at each other. Holding hands. Breathing deeply.
I was afraid, he said. I was afraid for Jessie, but…I also thought, at one point, I was going to die. I don’t want to die. I’m not ready for that.
You’re not going to die, Charlie. Not now, anyway. You can’t. Look at this as a wake-up call, don’t you think?
I know, he said. No more smokes. No more drinking. I get it. I just want to get home.
Me too. But you have to listen to them. The doctors. Take the medications. Exercise. I like our walks, but we could do more.
I like our walks too.
Anyway, it sounds like you’ll be released tomorrow. They might not want you to drive because of your surgery. We can figure out how to get your truck home later. Don’t worry about that.
She looked out the hospital window. The land was growing ever lusher and greener, fragile leaves widening, elongating, unfurling on tree branches, new grass already inches high, pushing past and through last year’s old khaki-colored grass. She stood and cracked the window. Birdsong. The steady drone of distant traffic. A train whistle, far off. Mournful and plaintive. Like a hymn for sunset, for dusk, for the soft appearance of the first evening stars. It was a common enough sound on that edge of town, but no less welcome for it.
Do you ever miss it?
What’s that?
Trains. Do you miss trains?
He nodded. Yeah, sometimes. It was a simple life. I was outside all the time, moving. But it isn’t a job for an old man.
Can I tell you something? she sighed.
Anything, he said, sitting up again, regarding her with a measure of concern.
You know when we helped Melissa move into her apartment? That was the first time I’d left Wisconsin since before Addison was born.
Come on. Really?
Yeah. It’s about four or five years. And even before that, I’d occasionally visit Melissa when she worked in Minnesota, sure, but I never got any farther than that.
But you never left? In those four or five years? Not even to go shopping in Minneapolis? Or up to Duluth? To see Lake Superior?
No. There was too much to do and, frankly, never enough money. To be honest, it never even dawned on me, any of this, not until we were driving west, until we crossed the Saint Croix River. Isn’t that funny? I never thought of other places. I guess it was…unimaginable. She reached for his hand. Promise me something?
Okay.
We’ll travel, won’t we? It doesn’t have to be anything exotic. It could just be how we used to travel. Camping. I just—I think I realize now what I was missing.
Anywhere you want to go, my love.
They held hands. Looked out the window as the dusk burned on the horizon like a dirty light bulb. She stayed until night fell complete over the land, and then kissed him goodbye and drove back to the house, where she let Blueberry out to do his business before visiting Shelby in the barn.