Chapter 48
CHAPTER 48
Maura
It’s Wednesday before the doctors say I can go home. In truth, Dr. Bow Tie isn’t best pleased.
“I’d really like to keep you here a little longer,” he said when I pressed the issue of discharge. “Just until you’re stronger. Steadier on your feet.”
I think Dr. Bow Tie would keep me here until my bones are fully healed and I can walk freely again. Or run, if I need to.
Christy arrives not long after lunch. He’s wearing casual gray trousers and a navy jumper that his mother hand-knitted for his birthday. I’m disappointed to find him out of a suit, because I know it means he’s taken the entire day off work and he’ll want to spend time together.
“Oh, darling, I’m so glad you’re coming home.” He leans in to kiss my cheek and my skin crawls.
He places a ginormous bouquet of red roses on the bedside locker. It’s the third bouquet of roses he’s brought this week. He brought jewelry and chocolates and perfume, too. The woman in the bed opposite told me countless times that she wished her husband was more like mine. I told her to be careful what she wished for.
Today, I’m sitting on the edge of my hospital bed, swinging my legs back and forth as if it doesn’t hurt. Dr. Bow Tie says I’ll be in the cast for another five weeks.
“You won’t even know the pins are there,” he says, writing something on a chart. “When everything heals up, your knee will feel as good as new.”
“As good as new,” Christy echoes. “See, darling, it’s not so bad.”
Dr. Bow Tie’s eyes narrow and he looks as if he wants to snap Christy’s leg with a kick. I let myself imagine it and a wry smile creeps across my face.
“Do you like my trousers?” I ask.
Christy looks at my blue denim trousers and his face sours. The wide leg does a decent job of covering my cast. My foot peeks out below the flared bottom and Dr. Bow Tie suggests I should wear a sock if I get cold.
“They’re very nice,” Christy says with a stiff jaw. “I didn’t know you had trousers.”
“They’re new.”
“Did a little shopping while you were in here, did you?” Christy jibes, and looks over his shoulder, waiting for Dr. Bow Tie to enjoy the joke at my expense.
But the doctor doesn’t laugh. Christy has the good grace to show embarrassment and quickly says, “We’d better hurry. The parking meter runs out soon.”
Dr. Bow Tie clicks his pen and drops it into his white coat pocket.
“Maura will be in pain for quite some time,” he says. “It was a very nasty break.”
“I am aware of the severity of a femur fracture, Doctor. Thank you,” Christy says, red-faced.
“Indeed.”
Christy slides two fingers under the collar of his jumper and tugs it away from his neck. “Right. We’d better hurry. As I said, the parking meter runs out soon. Thank you, Doctor.”
Christy extends his hand, and Dr. Bow Tie exhales audibly before he shakes it.
“Do take care of yourself, Maura. Please.”
I nod. If I chance words I might start to cry.
Christy picks up my bag and the bouquet of roses and walks toward the door. I slip my hands into my crutches with the doctor’s help and follow my husband. Christy’s pace is too fast but I don’t ask him to slow as we leave the hospital behind. He throws my bag and the roses into the boot and opens the car door. He places a hand on my head.
“Get in.”
His voice is gritty like hail scratching against the window and I’m afraid of him, just as I always am. It’s difficult to navigate my way into the car seat and every movement hurts. My ribs ache. My leg aches. My heart aches. Christy loses patience. He snatches my crutches, throws them into the boot, and slams it shut. We leave the carpark and pull onto the main road before I find my voice. And when I do, it’s a barely audible whisper.
“Can you drop me off on Grafton Street, please?”
“Excuse me?”
“Grafton Street. Can you let me out there?”
Christy stops at a red light. He lets go of the wheel and shifts in his seat to face me. He snorts. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“You can hardly walk.”
“I can manage with my crutches.”
“And what’s on Grafton Street?”
“Geraldine. You remember Ger, don’t you?” My voice begins to quiver as it does every time his eyes burn this intensely into me.
“The girl from Switzers. What about her?” He folds his arms.
“It’s her birthday.”
“And?”
“And I have to show my face.” My insides are shaking and I wonder if he can tell how frightened I am. “Only for an hour or two. It’s her twenty-first. She’s a woman now.”
The light changes. Christy places his hands on the wheel and we start moving again. I regret eating breakfast now as cornflakes threaten to come back up.
“She’s not your cousin, too, is she?” he says with a chuckle.
I hate him. I can’t think about anything except how much I despise the man I’m married to.
“I have to go. If I don’t, people will ask questions.”
Christy slows until we’re scarcely crawling forward. It’s supposed to intimidate me and it works. It’s not long before a car behind us honks their horn.
“Christy, please. People will expect me to be there.”
“People can mind their business.”
“I am going. I want to,” I say, as defiance creeps past my fear.
Christy jams on the brakes. The car behind honks again and swerves around us.
“We are going home,” Christy says, as calmly as if he is announcing the sky is blue. But his eyes are cloudy, like a storm ready to unleash rain.
I curl my fingers around the door handle. Christy shakes his head. Determined and wholly terrified, I open the door. A woman pushing a pram on the footpath almost walks into the door and I apologize.
“Be more careful,” she scolds.
Christy waits for her to pass before he reaches for my hair. He weaves his fingers through the inches at the back and tugs. My head jerks and fire encapsulates my bruised ribs.
“Let go,” I say.
He does not.
“Let go, or I will scream.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I’ll scream bloody murder, Christy, just watch me. I’ll tell everyone what you do. What you’ve done.”
“No one will believe you.”
“They already believe me.”
Christy’s grip grows tighter. My neck cracks audibly and I yelp.
“What have you been telling people?”
“Nothing,” I gulp, as my neck begins to burn from the strain. “I don’t have to say anything. People just have to look at me to see what you’ve done.”
He releases me. The sudden freedom is unexpected and possibly more terrifying than his tight grip, because I can’t tell what comes next. He gets out, opens the boot, and appears on the path in front of me with my crutches. My heart races as he reaches for me, wrapping his arms lovingly around me and helping me out the door and onto my feet. He offers me one crutch and then the other, and he doesn’t let me go until I’m steady.
“There you are now, darling,” he says, kissing my cheek.
Two elderly ladies with shopping carts approach. There isn’t enough room on the footpath for us all, so Christy steps onto the street, making room for them to pass by.
“Afternoon,” he says. “Lovely day.”
“Yes. Lovely,” one of the ladies says.
“Long may the good weather last,” the other adds.
They offer me a sympathetic smile as they walk on. Christy steps back onto the footpath, kisses me once more, and says loudly, “Enjoy the party, darling.” Then he lowers his voice and adds, “I’ll be waiting up.”
He sits into the car and drives away. I can’t move at first. But slowly I compose myself and find my bearings. I’m on the wrong side of town. I need to climb the steps of the Ha’penny Bridge and cross the Liffey to reach Bewley’s. It’s a walk I’d have undertaken effortlessly without a second thought last week, but today it’s a mammoth task. I have no money for a taxi and although the city is full of people going about their business, I feel hopelessly alone. I think of Josie and how lonely she must have felt. A child sleeping on the city streets, with nowhere and no one to turn to. I make a promise to her that I will be strong enough for the both of us now. I carry her with me as I carefully place one foot in front of the other.