Bothersome Bodies
bothersome bodies
It was light outside when her phone pinged. She answered without looking at the caller ID.
“Where are you?” Bob demanded.
Blythe pulled herself up to a sitting position.
“In my house, Bob,” Blythe croaked. “Where are you?”
“We’re at the airport. Kate said you would pick us up.”
“Kate said that? All right, I can do that, but it would be quicker if you took a cab to the hospital.”
Bob’s voice was harsh. “You mean this is too inconvenient for you to do even if it’s for Celeste?”
“Why can’t Kate pick you up? I’ve got the kids here.”
“Miranda’s seventeen. I think they can survive a few minutes without you.”
“Why are you being so cranky?”
“Because I’m frightened for my mother.”
It all came back in a rush: Celeste was in the hospital. Why was she even arguing? “Fine. I’ll be right there.”
She gave herself a minute to shower and slip into a clean sundress. She wrote, in large letters, on the chalkboard: I’M GOING TO THE HOSPITAL TO SEE GRANDMOTHER. CALL ME IF YOU NEED ANYTHING .
She quietly left her house, stopping for one luxurious moment to breathe in the new morning air. Birds chirped and rustled in the trees. Her willowy cosmos stood tall and cheerful, with their slender stems and colorful petals. Down the street, carpenters were already working up on the roof of someone’s home.
At the small island airport, Bob and Teri waited on the edge of the sidewalk. Blythe slowed the car. Bob got into the passenger seat and Teri sat in the back with their two duffel bags.
“How is she?” Bob asked.
For a moment, Blythe felt caught in a time warp as her ex-husband’s familiar voice asked the question he’d asked so many times over the years.
How is she? When Miranda, at six months, had colic and cried constantly. Blythe had cried a lot, too.
When two-year-old Daphne put an eraser up her nose and Blythe had to take her to the doctor, afraid if she tried to get it out herself, she’d only push it farther in and their daughter would need an operation to extract it.
When Teddy, at a Little League baseball game, got hit in the head with a ball and developed an enormous lump on his forehead, as wounded and proud as if he’d won the baseball game single-handedly.
When Holly, eight years old, decided she was a mermaid and tried to swim from Steps Beach to a small sandbank twenty feet out, couldn’t make it, and lay on her back, kicking her feet and exhausted, until Blythe swam out to help her back to safety.
Bob hadn’t been there at any of those moments. Blythe had called her husband to tell him about the emergency.
“How is she?” he’d ask. Or if it was Teddy, “How is he?”
“She’s okay now,” Blythe would answer, feeling sick and lonely because she was the only adult there to hear baby Miranda’s crying, to see the softball slam straight into Teddy’s head, hitting him so hard he crumpled to the ground and Blythe had screamed. The only parent to force herself to be calm as she organized the two older children to go out with her into the blizzard to take Daphne to the doctor to extract the eraser, all the time fearing the child would suck it farther back into her complicated sinuses. The only parent—who was not that good of a swimmer—to thrash through the water out to rescue Holly, all the time cursing herself for trying to read while her children played on the beach.
Bob said, “Blythe? Hello?”
“Sorry, Bob. My brain’s a little foggy right now. When I left, Celeste was doing better, they were just keeping her under observation. I’m sure Kate told you the details. Have you spoken with your sister?”
“She turned off her phone.”
“Good. I hope she’s getting some rest.”
At the hospital, Blythe spoke with a nurse who told her Celeste could have more than one visitor at a time now. Blythe walked to Celeste’s room with Bob and Teri. Kate, looking as tired as Blythe did, hugged her brother and took him into their mother’s room.
Blythe was left standing with Teri.
“I wish I knew what to do to help,” Teri said. She had a Hermès bag hanging off her shoulder and wore a lovely linen dress and high heels.
“Just being here is a help,” Blythe said, hoping that was true.
Blythe’s phone chimed. Holly.
“I have to take this,” Blythe said, walking away from Teri.
“Mommy, how is Grandmother doing?”
“I haven’t seen her yet, darling. I’ll let you know when I get home.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon. I want to hear what the doctor says first. Your father and Teri are here. They flew down and I just picked them up at the airport and brought them here to the hospital. He and Aunt Kate are with Celeste now.” Listen to me, Blythe thought, all sweetness and light about Teri, about Celeste, about Kate.
From the background, Daphne said, “Tell Mom I’m making pancakes for us.”
“Daphne, how wonderful,” Blythe said, and she burst into tears.
Holly said to Daphne, “Mom’s crying.”
Daphne said to Holly, “Tell Mom to drink some coffee.”
Oh, her sensible daughter! Blythe laughed through her tears.
“I’ll do that. And I’ll be home soon,” she said.
—
After a while, Kate and Bob came out of Celeste’s room.
Teri hugged Kate. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
Kate managed a weak smile. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
What? Blythe stood there, reality warping around her again as she realized that Teri and Kate liked each other.
“Have you been here all night?” Teri asked.
Kate yawned. “I have. Nothing’s changed. They say she’s resting peacefully.”
“Let’s go home, Kate,” Teri said. “You can sleep for a few hours and I’ll deal with the phones. Bob can stay here with Celeste.”
Kate nodded. “That’s a good plan, Teri. Bob, really all you have to do is sit with her. Of course, call us if there’s a change.”
Blythe stood a few steps away from the others, feeling left out. She was left out. It was as if she’d become invisible to the other three.
Childishly, she said, “I’ll stay here and keep Bob company.”
Why did she say that? She didn’t want to spend time with Bob. She wanted to be there for Celeste, which was why she’d come in the first place.
Kate looked over her shoulder as she walked away. “You don’t need to do that, Blythe. Bob will be fine by himself.”
“I want to stay,” Blythe called. “I’ve got a lot to tell him about our children.”
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Teri assured Bob.
Blythe hoped she’d made them uncomfortable. She’d certainly made herself uncomfortable. Hadn’t Kate learned by now not to ignore Blythe? And why did Blythe want to irritate Kate?
Probably she always wanted to irritate Kate.
The two women turned left and disappeared down the hall.
Bob sat on a chair, head in his hands. He glanced up and saw Blythe. “Blythe, thank you for waiting with me. I’m afraid for Mom. A heart attack…and she’s over seventy.”
“I know. But she’s strong, Bob. She’s healthy.”
To her surprise, Bob stood up and threw himself around Blythe.
“I don’t want her to die,” he cried.
“She won’t die,” Blythe insisted.
Being this close to her ex-husband was unexpected and overwhelming. Blythe sympathized with him. She knew how much Bob loved his mother, and Bob knew how much Blythe loved Celeste. She wanted to be comforting.
But they hadn’t hugged for years. Without trying, she noticed that he’d lost weight and his arms were more muscular. The children told her he’d joined a gym and was working out. It seemed she was embracing both a familiar man and a strange one. Her body swept her through a reservoir of memories she hadn’t realized she’d kept, in her limbs and her skin and her deepest mind. He’d held her like this the first time she told him she was pregnant. He’d been in awe. She was going to make him a father. It had always seemed so unfair and capricious of nature to gift a woman with so many physical signs of becoming a mother while a man never had so much as a hint. She had loved being pregnant, except for the first few weeks of morning sickness.
The last time Bob had held her like this, or tried to, was the morning they stood before the judge who pronounced them divorced. Bob had pulled her to him in a brief, pro forma hug.
Now, in the Nantucket Cottage Hospital, she stepped back. “Let’s check Celeste.”
Celeste lay quietly in her hospital bed. She was sleeping, so very still. Her dark hair was long and streaked with silver, spiraling over the pillow like strands from a star. Blythe had known Celeste for twenty years. When Bob had brought her home to meet his parents, Celeste had been only a little older than Blythe was now.
Who could stand at someone’s bedside without counting years? Years past and years to come. Celeste was only seventy. She would have years, maybe a decade or two, to enjoy life.
“She looks so small,” Bob said.
“She’s strong,” Blythe reminded him. “She needs to rest.”
“It’s odd to see Celeste so still. She’s always so active, so creative.”
Bob pulled a chair next to the bed for Blythe, and one near her for himself.
“Yeah, and remember the Halloween she turned the house into a haunted mansion?”
Blythe laughed, remembering. “Celeste dressed up as an old witch, complete with a pointed black hat and pointed black teeth and long fingernails. When she opened the door to the trick-or-treaters, she cackled.”
“Right. Holly was only three then, and she was terrified.”
“Little Holly. Fortunately, she didn’t connect that the witch was her grandmother.”
Bob folded both hands behind his head and tipped his chair back, anchoring it with his foot on the bed. “Do you remember the Halloween party we went to that night, after Carol had come over to babysit?”
“Let me think.” Blythe wasn’t lying, just trying to delay the moment. They’d gone to an adult party, and she’d dressed as a lady of the night, complete with fishnet stockings and a plunging blouse, and Bob had been a cop. They’d drank too much and stumbled home and after the babysitter left, they’d made love right on the living room floor. Or tried to. Blythe was feeling nauseous from too much punch, and as her husband slowly peeled her fishnet stockings off, she’d twisted away from him and vomited.
Bob had fetched a wet washcloth, washed her face, and cleaned up her vomit. He’d helped her move to the sofa and covered her with a soft cotton throw. He’d gone up to bed, and Blythe had slept on the sofa all night.
Now she groaned. “The Halloween I drank too much and vomited.”
“Yeah,” Bob said. “You were really disgusting.”
They both laughed, remembering.
“It was the punch,” Blythe insisted. “It was always that punch.”
Bob nodded. “We had some good times.”
Blythe stood up. “I’m going to go buy some coffee. Would you like some?”
“Please.” Bob went back to watching his mother.
It felt good to stretch her legs and roll her shoulders. When she checked her phone, she saw that two hours had passed. Her children would all be awake by now. She passed through the automatic doors and stood outside for a moment, enjoying the sun on her face.
She called Daphne to update her.
“Hi, Mom, how’s Grandmother? Can I come see her?”
Love flushed Blythe at her daughter’s voice. “Hi, Daphne. Grandmother’s still sleeping. Her body needs a lot of sleep so it can get well. I’m going to stay here with Dad for a while—”
“Is Terri still there too?”
“Yes, she’s with Kate. What are your plans for the day?”
“Well, Mom, I’m hardly going to have a normal day when Grandmother’s in the hospital. I’ll just hang here and wait for you to call again.”
“Sounds like a good plan. Call me if you need me.”
She went back inside the hospital, bought two cups of hot coffee, and carried them to Celeste’s room.
“I called home. Daphne’s awake and in charge.”
Bob chuckled. “Daphne’s always in charge.”
Blythe settled in a chair. “Funny how our children are all turning out different.”
“Well, look at Mom and her children. Kate’s a witch and I’m charming,” Bob joked.
Blythe laughed. “You can be charming when you want to.”
“Do you ever think about us, Blythe?”
She studied her ex-husband for a moment. He was still handsome, and age had given him an aura of stability, even wisdom. Blythe thought age had given her a few wrinkles and some extra pounds.
“No, Bob,” she said quietly. “I don’t think about you and me. We’ve been apart for three years. You’ve found a new woman, and she’s lovely. The kids are fine, well-adjusted.”
“How do you feel? Are you fine?”
“I’m fine, Bob. More than fine. I’m going to start teaching again. I’ve agreed to teach seventh-grade English. And I’m excited about it.”
“That’s good, Blythe, that’s good.” His face changed as he had a sudden thought. “That means I’ll be able to pay less child support, right?”
Oh, why did I tell him? Blythe wanted to kick herself.
“Right,” she said caustically. “Because teachers are paid so well.” She continued, “When I’m working, you’ll need to have more responsibility for the children. Like taking them to ballet class or soccer practice.”
Bob’s mouth turned down. “You know I can’t just leave my office in the middle of the day. I have clients who need me. I work hard. And pay the bills.”
“Maybe Teri could take them.”
“Blythe…about Teri.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this, but, honestly, I think you’re the only one who can help me.”
Now what? Blythe waited.
“Teri wants to have a baby,” Bob announced, the words rushing out of his mouth.
“And…” Blythe prompted.
“Jesus Christ, Blythe!” Bob ran his hands over his face. “I don’t know if I can do it again. I’m too old for a baby.”
“Al Pacino is eighty-three and has a toddler.”
“I’m not Al Pacino!” Bob shook his head. “Honestly, Blythe, I don’t think I should do it again. It’s exhausting. I have enough children.”
“But Teri doesn’t.”
“You’re on her side?” Bob asked, incredulous.
“I guess I am. She’s young enough. And babies are nice.”
“What about our four? They’d be jealous. Angry.”
“They’d be thrilled. You’d have free babysitters.”
Bob stood up and paced the floor. “I’m shocked. I don’t understand you at all.”
Should she do this? Blythe didn’t hesitate. “The very least you can do is be honest with Teri. Tell her you’ve had a vasectomy.”
Bob fell back into his chair. “You’re killing me, woman.”
“Good morning, everyone!” A large, lovely nurse with a name tag telling them her name was Wanda swept into the room.
Blythe didn’t think she’d ever been so glad to see anyone in her life.
Wanda said, “Could I ask you both to leave? I need some time with my darling Celeste.”
Blythe almost said, “She’s not your darling,” but then she thought, maybe she was, maybe Wanda really cared about her patients and found their limp, pallid bodies endearing to her. Like some people naturally loved dogs and others loved babies but not teenagers.
“Thank you, Wanda,” she said.
As they left the room, Bob suggested they go somewhere for lunch.
“Thanks, Bob, but no. I need to get home to the kids.”