Marge couldn’t be sick. She didn’t have the cancer.
No.
No, no, no, no, no…
I was thankful that Vivian had taken London to Atlanta, because I don’t know what I would have done with her all day. I spent hours drifting in and out of Marge’s hospital room. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I would pace the parking lot or have coffee in the cafeteria. I called Emily and shared what was going on; I asked her not to come by, but she came anyway.
Marge and Emily had a short but sweet reunion a little before noon, and in the hallway afterward, Emily held me as I shook with fear. She told me that she wanted to see me later, if I was up to it, and I promised that I’d call.
Finally, I called Vivian. When I told her what was going on, she gave a strangled gasp and immediately offered to fly back with London right away. I explained that London was probably better off with her, at least through the weekend. Vivian understood.
“Oh, Russ,” she said quietly, sounding nothing like her usual brisk self. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry yet,” I said, “we don’t know anything for sure.”
I was lying to myself, and both Vivian and I knew it. She was well aware of the history on my mother’s side of the family. As I spoke again, I could hear my voice cracking.
“Do me a favor and don’t say anything to London yet, okay?”
“Of course not. Is there anything I can do? What do you need?”
“Nothing for now,” I said. “Thanks.” Words were becoming hard to form, my thoughts beginning to scatter. “I’ll let you know.”
“Keep me informed, okay?”
“I will,” I promised, and I knew that I would. After all, we were still married.
In the afternoon, while my parents and Liz were visiting the cafeteria, I stayed with Marge. She asked about my work, and at her insistence, I described the ad campaigns I was crafting for my clients. I think she remembered that day in the hospital so long ago, after the auto accident, and could tell how frightened I was. She knew I could speak about work on autopilot, so she kept asking questions, to distract me.
As had become her habit, she asked about Emily and I finally admitted that I’d fallen in love, but wasn’t ready to tell our parents yet. At that, she cracked a grin.
“Too late. Mom and Dad already know.”
“How? I haven’t said anything to them.”
“You didn’t have to,” she said. “When you called Emily on Thanksgiving, the way you felt about her was plain as day. Mom raised her eyebrows while Dad turned to me and said, ‘Already? He’s not even divorced yet.’ ”
Despite everything, I laughed. That was my dad, all right. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. “I just wish you hadn’t waited until today to bring her by. I look like hell. You should have had us meet right after Costa Rica, when I was still tan.”
I nodded, struck by how normal Marge sounded.
“My bad.”
“I’d like to meet Bodhi, too. Since I’ve heard so much about him.”
“I’m sure you’ll have a chance.”
She twisted the hospital sheet, winding it tight and letting it unfurl. “I’ve been thinking about baby names,” she said. “I bought one of those books, you know? At work, whenever I’m bored, I look through it. I even started highlighting some of them.”
Baby names? Was she really talking about baby names? I could feel pressure behind my eyes and I struggled to get the words out without my voice cracking. “Any favorites?”
“If it’s a boy, I like Josiah. Elliot. Carter. If it’s a girl, I like Meredith and Alexis. Of course, Liz is going to have her own ideas, but I haven’t spoken to her about it yet. It’s still pretty early in the process, so we have plenty of time to make a decision.”
Plenty of time.
Marge must have heard herself because she looked first toward the clock, then the door of the room, which was propped open. Nurses hurried past, going about their duties as if today were no different than any other day. “I wonder when they’re going to finally let me out of here,” she said. “What’s taking them so long? I’ve been here for hours already. Don’t they know I have things to do?”
When I had no answer to that, Marge sighed. “You know I’m going to be okay, right? I mean, I’m not ignoring what happened this morning, but I don’t feel all that bad. I feel a lot better than I did before I left for Costa Rica, in fact. I probably just picked up some parasite while I was down there. Lord only knows what the sanitary standards are like in those kitchens.”
“We’ll see what the doctors say,” I murmured.
“If you see them, tell them to hurry up. I’d rather not waste my whole weekend here.”
“I will.”
Marge continued to wind and unwind the sheet. “London comes back tomorrow, right?”
“She does. I don’t know what time exactly. Early evening, I’d guess.”
“Why don’t you bring London over for dinner with Liz and me this week? You’ve been so busy lately, we haven’t had time for our normal sit-downs.”
Watching her work the sheet, I could feel my throat tightening again. “Dinner sounds great. But none of that Costa Rican food. What with all the parasites, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking right at me. “Trust me when I tell you that you don’t want what I have.”
The day crawled by.