He nodded quickly and moved away. She watched him, the small bag still tight in his fist. And have the night of your life, she mused again. Glad I could help.
Julia: Okay, to get the idea, you should sort of think of the Wizard of Oz. Cat: ok. Julia: There's a woman scientist, a butch team leader, a big-hearted archaeologist, and an alien guy with a snake in his stomach. Cat: yes. simple. is he gonna do something about the snake? Julia: Oh, he doesn't have it anymore. Cat: oh ok. Julia: It died, and he couldn't get another one in time, so he's on a drug now that mimics what the snake did for him. Cat: ohhhhhhh of course Julia: So now he's only like an alien because he has a gold brand on his forehead. Cat: oh that guy! ok. i know which one he Is.
Chapter 6
"Hi, sweetheart."
Joe opened his eyes without otherwise stirring, a habit born on the job, where catching a nap, sometimes with coffee still in hand, often made it possible to keep going for hours more.
But he was sitting empty-handed in his mother's hospital room. Across from him, she was looking at him, her head turned at last on that white pillow.
He smiled at her. "Hi, yourself. How're you feeling?"
He rose and crossed over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking her hand up in both of his.
"Woozy," she conceded, adding after a moment's consideration, "Thirsty, too."
He reached for the pitcher by the bed and poured out a cup of water, fitting a straw to it and holding it so that she could draw a sip.
She emptied half the cup before setting her head back. "Good Lord, that hit the spot."
"How's your head?" he asked her.
"Fine. What did I do to it?"
He pursed his lips slightly, concerned. "You don't remember the crash?"
Her response set him at ease. "Oh, yes. Well, most of it. I remember the snow crashing against the windshield. I thought it would break. But that's about it." Her eyes suddenly widened and she gripped his hand. "Is Leo all right?"
"He's fine," he soothed her. "Banged up a little, too, but on the mend."
She closed her eyes. "Thank God. Poor boy."
Joe smiled at that, considering the man's age. The door to the room opened, and a nurse stepped in, smiling. "So," she said brightly, "you decided to join us, after all? I would have, too, with a good-looking son like that hanging around."
Joe's mother narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized him. "How long have I been like this?"
"A few days, Mom," he told her, bending quickly to kiss her cheek. "We've been keeping you company in shifts. You just missed Gail. She had to go back to Montpelier."
"Oh, my," she reacted, her cheeks pinking up, as if she was embarrassed at being caught napping too long.
The nurse set about checking her vitals and asking her questions. Joe rose and crossed to the window. The surrounding trees had maintained their thick mantle of snow in the windless cold and so now were almost hard to look at in the sun's glare.
"Mr. Gunther?"
He turned at the nurse's voice.
"The doctor will be wanting to check your mom out. If you'd like to take a small break and maybe grab a cup of coffee, now would be the perfect time. She'll be in good hands, I promise."
He smiled at the roundabout, practiced verbiage. "You'd make a good bouncer." He reached out and touched his mother's foot. "You have fun with the doc. I'll go torture Leo a little. Tie a knot in some of his tubing."
"You're an awful child," she told him, but he could see that he'd hit a nerve with the mention of tubing.
"Never claimed otherwise," he said, adding, "I'll be back with a report card."
That, as it turned out, was going to be a bit tricky, assuming the news was to be upbeat. Leo was still in intensive care, was in fact still hooked up to multiple tubes and wires, and, if anything, was in slightly worse shape than when Joe had seen him last.
He remained coherent, however, though only barely.
"Hey, Joe," he said weakly as his brother came into view by his side.
"Hey, yourself. Got good news: Mom just woke up. They're checking her out, but she seems fine. Just needed to sleep it off."
Leo closed his eyes briefly with relief. "Jesus." He then tried to move his hand to grasp Joe's, but grimaced and failed. Joe took his fingers in his own and gave him a squeeze. "Relax, Leo. It's going to be fine. All that's left is for you to get better."
Leo nodded quietly, taking his time. Joe noticed a tear building up in the corner of one of his brother's eyes. He reached out and wiped it away.
"I don't know," Leo said, so softly his words were almost lost in the whir of the surrounding equipment.
Joe leaned over to be near his face when he whispered. "Leo, you've got to do this. It's not like I have any spare brothers, and Mom'll make my life hell if you kick the bucket. Stop thinking of yourself, for Christ's sake."
Leo smiled slowly. "You are a son of a bitch."
Joe kissed his bristly cheek. "I love you, too."
His brother sighed and gave a halfhearted nod. "Okay. What about the car?"
"The nut on the tie rod went," Joe said, hoping that made sense.
Leo's eyes widened. "No shit? How the hell would that happen?"
"You had it serviced lately?"
"Yeah, but not for that. It's too new. The tie rod ends should be factory fresh."
"You bring it to Steve's, right?" Joe asked. "Exclusively?"
His brother nodded, beginning to fade.
"You ever have problems with them?"
Leo didn't respond immediately. Joe bent close again, not wanting to miss his chance. "Leo?"
"No problems," Leo mumbled.
Joe straightened back up. That would have to be it. He placed his palm flat on Leo's forehead and told him, "Hang in there. Mom's fine. That part's over. But we need you back, okay?"
He thought he could feel his brother nod agreement under his hand, but it was too slight a gesture to trust.
Their mother was discharged later that day. Joe had remembered to salvage her wheelchair from the trunk of the shattered Subaru, and used it to roll her out of the hospital and into the cold New England sunlight. As they cleared the overhang of the main entrance portico, she tilted her head back and let the sun hit her full in the face.
"God, that feels good."
Joe was relieved by the gesture. She'd refused to leave without first visiting Leo, and the sight of her last born, rigged up like a science experiment, had clearly shaken her. But she'd spoken to his physician in detail and had been told of a probable, though long-term, full recovery. Joe hoped that had helped with the worst of her concerns. But he wasn't sure. She hadn't spoken until hitting the sidewalk-she was, after all, of hard-core Yankee stock, a people who were not cold, as was their weather and their reputation, but who were indeed prone to self-containment. By instinct, people bred and brought up among these ancient mountains didn't speak of their feelings and didn't pry after those of others. For that matter, he hadn't asked her outright himself.
She worked at being upbeat during the drive home, insisting on stopping by the market to pick up a few things she thought he'd enjoy, and chatting about everything but the accident and her broken son. Joe let her find her emotional bearings, which, he sensed, would only really fall into place once they reached home. He therefore wasn't surprised when she quieted as he topped the same rise in the driveway that had similarly affected him the day before. He did, however, reach out as he stopped the car before the house, and squeeze her hand.
"He'll be fine, Mom. We'll see him through it."