73. Annie
Chapter Seventy-Three
ANNIE
H is Mom’s Timing: shit.
“ O h you've gotta be kidding me.” I slide off him and jump down, unhindered by IV cords this time, but still having a ridiculously hard time of it. I pull on my pants, run for my bra and pull my blouse over my head while still snapping my bra and sticking my feet in my shoes. Brendan, very amused, points to my panties. I run over and, not having time to make it to my purse, throw them at him. He quickly shoves them under his blanket as the chair gets pushed in by nurse Josephine Miller, carrying a fresh bag of saline and followed by Brendan’s mother – a very pretty older woman with Ralph Lauren style and bobbed, streaked white, dark-brown hair.
“He was just praying, Mrs. Clark,” Josephine says, walking over to Brendan’s IV.
“Praying?” she asks, confused, looking at me. Her brain puts two and two together instantly. “You must think I’m an idiot. Or you are.”
I step forward, holding my hand out sheepishly. “I’m Annie. I’m a friend of Brendan’s.”
Mrs. Clark peers at me and Josephine, now privy to the true manner of my privacy request, throws a furtive glance our way out of inescapable curiosity. Suddenly I remember that I told them I'm his sister, and now what must they be thinking?
Brendan speaks up to let her know I'm not some cooz. “Mom, Annie’s more than a friend - she’s the owner of the bar where we were held up.”
Mrs. Clark’s demeanor instantly changes from suspicious judgment to concerned compassion. “Oh! Oh, you must have been so scared! How are you?"
“I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt.”
“She’s okay, Mom. She didn’t get hurt.”
We glance at each other.
“Well, that’s good news.” Mrs. Clark releases my hands and walks to her son just as Josephine goes to leave. “Thank you, nurse.” To Brendan, she says, “Why didn’t you call me? Why did I have to hear this from Mark?”
I stand awkwardly wondering what to do with myself. Reading my thoughts, or my body language, he motions to the chair and I pull it over for her.
"No, I meant for you," he says.
She’s only interested in hearing about what happened and being close to him, so she sits sidesaddle on the end of his bed. “Did they catch the robber?”
“No. Chances are pretty slim, Mom.”
Mrs. Clark nods. “It’s a shame with all the technology today. We should have chips in us, then you’d know where everybody was.” She looks over to me for agreement.
“That’s a good idea,” I cross my legs to get comfortable in this strange chair and situation. Does she live in the city? How did she get her so fast?
Brendan argues, “People would find a way to remove them, cut them out. Evil people are just evil people, no matter what you do.”
Mrs. Clark frowns and fiddles with her ring. “Well, now you sound like your father.”
“Where is Mr. Clark?” Instantly, I see the answer in their faces, and regret having asked.
Mrs. Clark looks down for a moment. “He passed away last year. A heart attack in his sleep.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” My chest hurts at the look on her face. “You loved him very much.”
She nods, absently turning her ring around over and over. “He was the love of my life. A truly good man.” Brendan reaches out and touches her arm, and she clasps his for a quick second before they both let go. “Annie, you own a bar?”
Brendan interjects, “It’s a nice place, Mom. Around the corner from my house. I’m going to help her make it a huge success as soon as the window gets repaired.”
“What happened to the window?”
I wave my hand. “You don’t want to hear all the details.” Brighter, to change the subject, I say on a smile, “I’m thinking of putting in a patio. What do you think about that?”
Brendan pictures it, mulling it around. “That’s a great idea. It’d be a huge draw. Make it covered, or with a retractable awning for weather.”
“Oh, I love that! The awning has to be black. God, won't that look great?”
His mother is watching us, but neither of us is aware of it.
“With just the sign in silver, yeah. Perfect. Mark said you used Atlas for the font.”
“I did!"
“He’s such a geek.”
“How did he know that?"
“He works for a software company.”
“Really? You're kidding." I chuckle to myself. "That's the last place I would have pictured Mark."
Brendan pauses. His expression shifts. “What do you mean?”
My heart leaps into my throat as I search to cover my slip. “Normally guys into computers aren’t as…”
“Gorgeous?” Mrs. Clark fills in, leaning toward me with a saucy look.
“Mom.” Brendan closes his eyes for a second and grins.
She straightens up and pretends to smooth her hair. “What? I’m a woman, aren’t I? Mark’s not exactly hard to look at.” I smile, trying to act relaxed, but I’m so freaked out about my fuck-up, I don’t venture speaking.
“I’m going to tell him you want him,” Brendan smirks.
Mrs. Clark playfully smacks his leg and stands up, smoothing down invisible creases in her camel-colored slacks. “Oh come now. Give your mother a little fun. Jeez!” Looking to me, she asks, “You two are like two peas in a pod. How long have you known each other?”
A football-sized lump forms in my stomach and I just stare at her, wondering how I can lie to her. She's so nice! I can’t. I don’t want her to hate me. I want her to like me!
Brendan comes to my rescue, mistaking my obvious discomfort for guilt at being caught having sex with her son so soon. “We met the night of the robbery, Mom. But we’re two adults, so don’t start judging…”
She waves away the rest of his sentence. “Now, now. I know. Please. I was in the free sex revolution.”
My heart is pounding, so the laugh that explodes from me is a bit larger than it should be. They both look over at me, eyebrows raised. “Sorry. I just… It’s a relief to hear that. It’s a little nerve-racking to have someone’s mom walk in on you when you’re… making out?”
Brendan cuts a sideways look to his mother. “You’re freaking Annie out, Mom.”
Mrs. Clark walks over to me with her arms out. “Come here.” I stand up and she wraps her arms around me. As she pats my back, she says, “You’re a good girl. I know.” Then she holds me at arm’s length and says, before she walks away, “You’re not a tramp. That’s obvious.”
Brendan and I exchange looks as she goes to her purse, and I thank my luck for having dressed conservatively to go to the police station today.
“Well, you two, I’m going to let you have more time to get to know each other. I have a movie date.”
Brendan's eyebrows come together in that tortured way they do. “A date, Ma?”
Pulling her purse strap onto her shoulder, she sighs and faces him, their energy shifting for the first time clearly to mother and son. “I think it’s time, don’t you?” Her tone is kind and soft. But it doesn't matter. His jaw is clenched firm and his eyes betray loyalty for the father he’s lost, the father who’s always been there… the only man who was ever supposed to love his mother.
“Brendan.” She walks to him and touches his face with tenderness. “I loved your father. And if he were here I would be with him and only him. You know that. But he isn’t. And I'm lonely. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. No one wants that.”
She kisses his forehead and melts his frown away. My hand drifts to my mouth as I watch, realizing I have to tell my parents what happened to me. I miss my mom. I miss my dad. Why don’t I call them more often?
Brendan’s chest relaxes and he says quietly, “Okay.”
"I'm going to talk to the doctor before I go, and hear all about this." She points at his rib cage area and steps back to look at me, on the way to the door. “Nice meeting you, Annie.”
“Have fun, Mrs. Clark.”
“I love you,” Brendan calls to her.
“I love you, too.”
As soon as the door closes behind her, I whisper, “Your mother is very progressive.”
“She’s become more so since Dad died. I think coming face to face with mortality makes people change. Things don't become as important.” He’s staring at the door, thinking about her out with a man he doesn’t know. Life is unfair for taking our loved ones away from us before we’re ready. Why can’t we all go at the same time?
I walk over. “Hey.”
He gives me a smile he would never give her. “Hey,” he says and takes my hand, looking down to watch our fingers naturally entwine. “I doubt I’ll get used to that.”
“I’m sure she won’t have you meet anyone until it gets serious.” He closes his eyes. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll deal with it when it comes. I wasn’t thinking about that.” He’s looking at our fingers still. “I was just thinking about us getting interrupted again. You know what I can’t wait to do?”
“No, what?”
His eyes slide up to meet mine. “I can't wait to take you back to my place where we can lock a fucking door."
I laugh. “There would probably be an earthquake or something where the building would have to be evacuated.”
“Right?” He laughs, too. “Every time. It’s like someone’s laughing at us up there.” His eyes travel heavenwards.
I sit down beside him, looking at him, and wishing I could tell him, now. I could, couldn’t I? I could just say it and get it over with. But my mouth doesn't open and my tongue doesn't move. I just sit here, frozen and guilty.
The door opens and a doctor walks in who I’ve not yet met, wearing glasses under thinning gray hair. He nods to me and looks at Brendan. “Well, how’s it going in here?”
“Great. I’m feeling stronger today.”
Nodding, he walks to the other side of the bed to look at Brendan’s wound. He lifts up the gown while Brendan holds the blanket over himself, throwing a hilarious look to me like the doctor wants his body. I try not to start laughing, and bite my smile back instead.
“Well, this is healing well. You’ve got some stretching here. Did you pull at this?”
Brendan throws me another quick look. “She ran around the room begging me to chase her, doc. Wouldn’t you have done the same?”
The doctor smiles and walks to the end of the bed to look at Brendan’s chart. “I’ll refrain from answering that so I don’t get sued.” He writes a note and looks over to me. “If I sent him home tonight, you think you could watch over him?”
Brendan’s eyebrows fly up. “Really? I can go home?”
Quickly, I agree, “Of course!”
The doctor keeps the folder in his hands as he heads to the door. “I think you’ll heal faster with a good night’s rest, don’t you?”
Brendan nods, incredibly relieved. “That’s what I was saying! Yes. Definitely.”
“Okay, well, first I’m going to give you another M.R.I. and make sure that lung is healing. If so, you can go home.”
“How long does the M.R.I. take?” Brendan asks, wishing we didn’t have to wait.
“About forty minutes.” The doctor nods to both of us and leaves.
“Holy crap. Did I say you were magic, or what?” He grins as I go to open up the curtains.
"I can't believe it. It's like our luck is finally changing. Look at the world you're about to go out in again. Oh, what a nice view of the parking lot.”
“It’s good, isn’t it? That's why I had them closed."
“Gorgeous. All that cement and steel. And light posts. A couple bushes. Wow. It’s like we’re in Cabo.” I turn and see him smiling. At me... . Brendan Clark . Maybe it’s the distance, but looking at him from here hits me in a way that it didn’t when I was close to him, or when his mother was here. Or even when we were making love. Maybe it's knowing we're about to leave together. That he wants me to be the one to take him home. It's mind-bending and once again the desire to confess consumes me. What good would that do us? He's happy. If I'm living in guilt, then that's on me, isn't it?
“You okay?” he asks, frowning.
I bite my lip and look down at the clean tile. “I’m just glad it’s all ending well.”
“Yeah. We’re going to get burgers and eat them in my penthouse. Sound good?" On my nod, he adds, "You can’t wear clothes to this party, by the way.”
Laughter bubbles up and I grin at him, still struck.
He closes his eyes and says on a stretch, “Yep. That’s the way it’s gonna be. Burgers, a naked Freckles, and eighteen hundred thread count sheets. Can’t wait.” The gorgeous muscles of his arms and neck tighten, reaching out. He relaxes and looks at me like, doesn’t that sound great?
“It sounds perfect,” I say on a big smile just as the nurse comes in to take him to the M. R.I. “Have fun.” I wave my fingertips.
His smirk lets me know that he’s not talking about the M.R.I. “Oh, I will.”
Alone, I walk to the window and look out into darkness. I have a moment to sit and be still, let the quiet settle into me. The reflection of myself in the window as the light from Room 323 catches it against the black night sky, shows a woman I’ve worked hard to become. Comfortable in my own skin, mostly. Able to accept friendship, albeit awkwardly. Optimistic about the future, very.
The only definite is one thing: I never expect anything. They say expectations are the road to unhappiness and disappointment. For me, I can’t have them because when you’ve changed as much as I have, trusted when you normally wouldn’t, loved when you were afraid to, reached out when all you wanted to do was hide – the world opens up and becomes completely unpredictable. Expecting anything is impossible when you know that anything can happen if you let it.
I bring my finger up and trace the shape of a heart on the glass. I’m going home with Brendan tonight. I’m going to be there by his side while he heals. It’s exactly what I hoped for when I came here the day after the shooting, before Rebecca verbally slapped that hope out of me.
It’s come full circle. See? Unpredictable, I think to myself.
Smiling, I step away from the window and walk to my ringing phone.