Chapter 34 Mariah
Georgetown, South Carolina
Present Day
Between the hours of 11:00 p.m. and 8:00 a.m., I had my phone set on Do Not Disturb. The only people who could get a call through were my father, sister, grandparents, Hope, and anyone who called repeatedly, so when it rang, waking me at 5:00 a.m., fear gripped me. The call came from an Upstate area code.
“Is this Mariah Clark?”
My heart raced. “Yes.”
“Vincent Clark is your husband?”
Soon to be ex-husband, I thought. “What’s happening?”
“I’m calling from Greenville Regional Hospital. Mr. Clark has been in a serious car accident. We need you to come to the hospital right away.”
Once my brain processed the accident, I could think clearly. I offered them the information they needed. “He has a girlfriend. Her name is Jess Daley. Have you been able to contact her?”
“Miss Daley has been here, yes, but you’re still legally married, and we need someone who can make decisions about his medical care. Unfortunately, that is not her.”
“Why isn’t that her? She lives with him.”
“Legally we cannot release his health information to her.”
My shock gave way to confusion. “Can’t he give permission? He just has to sign a HIPAA release, right?”
“You’re not understanding, Mrs. Clark. Your husband isn’t in a position to give us anything. He’s not conscious.”
Then I realized this was bad. They’d said “serious,” but I didn’t equate that with unconscious. “Are you expecting him to wake up?”
“At this point, until we have some identification from you, and we know who you are, I can’t continue to talk to you about his health condition. If you could, please come to the hospital.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, but I’m in Georgetown. I’m four hours away, and that doesn’t include the traffic that’ll pick up after seven.”
“The sooner the better. The doctors and surgeons need to make some very serious decisions for him.”
“Surgeons?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
***
My anxiety was high as I drove to Greenville. I might need a hospital bed before this was all over with.
I called again when I was halfway there to see what his status was and was told they were prepping him for surgery.
How was I supposed to make the life-or-death decision for him when we’d never talked about living wills? I tried to have those conversations with him. He would not talk about it. He felt like doing so would be giving in to the idea that something could happen.
His mortality was something that he was horribly afraid of. Now here we were with me not knowing exactly what he’d want me to do. I had to figure it out for a man who put me out of my house and business. Karma was something else.
I called my lawyer. I needed to know what my liability was from a legal standpoint.
“You are his legal proxy.”
“I don’t want to be. Can’t his girlfriend do it?”
“With his consent and some paperwork. The hospital will have it.”
“He’s not conscious.”
“That’s why they called you. They have to defer to you.”
“I hate this. I hate that he’s hurt. I don’t mean to make it just about the legal stuff, but you’re my lawyer, so I have to talk to you about the legal stuff.”
“It’s fine, Mariah. I know you were married to him for nine years and you’re sad for him. What questions can I answer for you?”
“If I give them instructions, can his family sue me if things don’t go well for him?”
“They can sue. Anyone can sue for anything, but they won’t have a case. It’s all your call. You are protected by the law.”
I had a few more questions, but she assured me that I was okay and told me to keep her posted on his condition.
My phone rang. It was Sabrina. “I got your note. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Vince is the one who’s not.” I filled her in on his condition.” She promised to take care of the last-minute details for Tabby’s opening and we got off the phone.
I arrived at the hospital and went to the main desk. I was directed down the hall to a waiting area. I was there for about ten minutes before a man who introduced himself as Dr. Warren appeared.
“Mrs. Clark, thank you for getting here.” He took me into a private room down the hall. It was one of those cubbies that belonged to no one in particular—basically, the room where news was given to families.
He tapped on an iPad and said, “So, as you know, Mr. Clark was in a serious automobile accident early this morning. When he first arrived in the emergency room, his condition was grave. It took several hours to stabilize him. He has a broken pelvis, a leg broken in two places—the shin and the femur—multiple broken ribs, and a broken right hand.”
Trying to take it all in, I played with the strap of my bag.
“He also has a head injury that we don’t yet know the extent of. We won’t know until he wakes up.”
“When do you expect him to wake up?”
“We’re hopeful, Mrs. Clark. He was having seizures. We put him in a medically induced coma to stop them.”
He said many more things. Stuff I didn’t understand. Things that sounded simply awful. I was overwhelmed.
“I just saw him last week.”
“I understand that you’re separated?”
“Yes. He has a girlfriend.”
“Miss Daley. She lives with him. She completed the paperwork. She left.”
“She left?”
“She got scared and didn’t handle it well. Her exact words were ‘Let Mariah take care of this.’ She’s the one that told us who you were.”
“Of course.” I sighed. “Vince and I are going through a divorce. I don’t think I’m the right person to make medical decisions for him.”
“You’re the only person. According to Miss Daley, he doesn’t have parents or siblings.”
“He has a few cousins here in the county.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t reassign consent until he wakes up.”
“I don’t want this responsibility. What if I choose wrong?”
“You’d be asking these questions if you weren’t going through a divorce. It’s natural to be anxious. What I can tell you is we will try to give you as much information as we can in lay language so you’re not overwhelmed.”
The doctor continued, “If Mr. Clark does recover, he’s going to require months of therapy, physical and probably occupational. He will need multiple surgeries, and we’ve already had one. And like I said, his head injury could affect all outcomes.
“Right now, he’s in surgery. We had to take him in to relieve pressure on his brain. We need to know if extraordinary measures are necessary, what are his wishes?”
“Vince is too much of a narcissist to go out without a fight. I give you consent to do everything necessary to save his life.”
The doctor left. This was too much. I wasn’t doing it. And I definitely wasn’t staying here in Greenville to deal with Vince’s health issues, not when Tabby’s was opening this weekend.
The only reason he was still my husband right now was because by law we had to wait twelve months for a divorce.
I sat down and thought long and hard about what I was dealing with here. I couldn’t just abandon him like Jess had, but I also couldn’t let him back into my life. I for durn sure wasn’t going to spend a single day taking care of him. I’d already taken care of his mother. I had nothing else for the Clark family. I’d worked too hard on my mental health for that.
I opened my phone and did a search for the courthouse in Turnin County. After getting a clerk on the phone, I asked for Justice Sharon Clark. I was given the runaround at first, but I finally told them her cousin was having a life-or-death medical emergency.
“Mariah, this is Sharon,” her smooth, cool voice came through my speaker. “What’s going on?”
“Vince was in a car accident.”
“What? When?”
“After some bar closed, so 2 a.m. He’s at Greenville Regional. He’s in a coma. They’re trying to keep him alive.”
Sharon muttered a bunch of words that shared her confusion. I waited for her to process. “Are you at the hospital now?”
“I’m on my way back to Georgetown. You should get over here right way. He’s in surgery, and they asked me about his living will.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean on your way back to Georgetown?”
“Vince is not my responsibility.”
“Yes, he is. He’s your husband. You’re not divorced.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going to let that ruin my life. You signed the order to have me removed from everything owned by the Clarks. You’re a judge. Sign the papers to make yourself his medical proxy. You’ll be much better at it than I will.”
I ended the call. I wasn’t sure if that was the right thing to do, but it was all I could do. Dr. Johnson talked about there being no right or wrong decisions. I was certain this fell into that category. I waited for forty minutes. That’s what it took for Sharon Clark, her mother, and her brother to come rushing into the waiting room. Once they reached the desk, I slipped out. Vince was in good hands. He was in the hands of people who still loved him.
***
I went to my apartment for the first time in almost three months. Everything was as I left it. I had no plants, no pets. Nothing needed care.
Except me. I needed care when I was here.
I undressed and stretched out on my bed. I missed it, but the one at my grandparents’ house was of better quality. Then I called my lawyer and told her what I’d done about Vince’s medical emergency.
“You left him in good hands,” she said, and I felt good about my choice.
Finally, I texted Hope and told her what was going on with Vince. She was busy at work and couldn’t talk but sent me a thumbs-up for making a decision that was about me and not what others expected.
I felt peace. A perfect peace that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I didn’t want Vince to die. I hated the thought of him being physically incapacitated, especially if he was alone, but he’d chosen to give up on us in a shady, spiteful way, so even though I wasn’t perfect in our marriage, the nasty conclusion was not my fault.
I texted Sabrina and Dante to let them know I’d left Vince with his family and I’d be back in the morning. Both gave me thumbs-up. Sabrina’s text included hearts and flowers. It felt good to be supported and not judged for not staying.
There was a knock at the door, a familiar one, and I sensed it was my special little friend. I opened the door, and he flew into my body. “Miss Mariah,” he said. “I miss you.”
I pulled him back. “I miss you too. How’s your summer been?”
“Good. I go to camp.”
“Wow. Camp is cool. How’s your mom?”
Jordy smiled. “She’s good. She’s not home.”
“Who’s with you?” I asked.
“Jordy?” a voice called from outside.
Jordy ran to the door and opened it. A college-aged student was on the other side.
“Jordy, what are you doing in this apartment?”
I walked to the door. “I’m Mariah,” I said, giving her my hand. “I’ve been away. We were just catching up.”
She sized me up like that meant nothing. She looked down at him. “You have to go get ready for your grandmother’s call.”
“Has he had dinner?” I asked.
The sitter looked at me like I had two heads. “Of course.”
“I always have dinner now,” Jordy said. And my heart felt like it would burst.
I looked at his sitter. “Can I have three minutes?”
She thought about it for a few seconds. “Leave the door open.”
“That’s fine,” I said. I walked to the couch, and Jordy followed. I sat. “Look. I have news that you might not like.”
“You’re moving?”
I looked at him curiously. “How did you guess?”
He shrugged. “You’ve been gone a long time. Where are you moving to?”
“Georgetown. It’s down near the ocean.”
Jordy nodded. “I won’t have your soups anymore.”
“No,” I said.
“I guess it’s okay now that Mom has food.”
My heart smiled. “I bet she makes really good food.”
He shrugged again. “Not as good as yours, but she’s learning.”
I laughed and stood. “Well, make sure you always compliment her for trying. Women need to be appreciated.”
Jordy wrapped his arms around my waist. “Thank you, Miss Mariah. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” I said.
Jordy walked through the door. I followed and closed it behind him. He wasn’t hungry anymore. I thanked God.
Once Jordy was gone, I decided to pack. I pulled another suitcase out of the closet and packed my favorite outfits. Once I had everything I wanted, I parked my suitcase next to the door. I cleaned out the refrigerator and took the trash out. Then I showered and made a cup of tea and sat in my favorite chaise by the bay window in the living room. It was the best feature of the tiny place, and I missed it.
I reached across to the bookshelf and picked up my photo album. I flipped through the different pictures of my family. Warmth spread through my chest in a way that it previously had not done. Even when I came to my dad’s pics, I felt a certain way, but not as negative as I had in the past. At the back of the album was a picture that triggered emotions. My grandmother gave it to me when I went to college. It was a picture of my mother and me.
I was perched on my knees on a stool, holding a spoon. The look on my face held anticipation of what was to come next. My mother was standing at the kitchen island behind a mixing bowl. One hand was on my shoulder and the other on her rising belly. So it wasn’t just a picture of her and me. It was a picture of her and her girls.
I sat with that one for a few minutes, tracing the lines and absorbing the beauty of the few memories I had with her. Memories that Sabrina never had.
I turned the page, and the next photo was Mom standing behind a table full of her jar cakes. I remembered the wide smile in this picture and the soft, happy eyes. These cakes were her specialty. I’d allowed losing her to make me resent what she loved.
I flipped back to the picture of the three of us. Mom loved her baby. She’d traded her life for her. And yet while I was successful at Clark’s, my sister was spiraling from the loss of Kendrick. She was living in a van and had given Ellen her daughter. All she needed was a little help, and I had not been there for her. I needed to make that right. I put the album down. I needed to right a few things. I picked up my phone.