“I know, but I have to.”
The nurse returned and told me to follow her. Wyatt got up to come along, but I asked him to wait. He said maybe he could make her smile a bit. I put my arm around him and kissed him on the ear.
We walked down several corridors and took some turns. I was breathing hard and told myself to stop it. We’d go in and if she was happy to see us, we’d stay a little while and maybe that would make her smile.
But it was worse than that. Far worse. When the nurse slowly opened the door, the room was almost completely dark except for light from the window, which fell halfway across the bed.
The little girl, Uschi Soding, was a tiny, almost unrecognizable curl under the stiff white sheets. She had stomach cancer, but I had known her before as a bald and jolly little naughty thing who liked to come up and sit under my arm when I was reading to the children. Once she had reached over and tweaked one of my nipples with her fingers, then laughed uproariously when my mouth dropped open in shock. Today there was almost nothing left of her. If she was still alive it was only in her pulse and the slow opening and closing of her eyes. The nurse whispered that they expected her to go any time.
That should have torn me apart except that by then I was watching her hands and what they were so slowly doing. I don’t think Uschi knew we were there, and even if she did, she was so tired that she couldn’t have done anything. Instead, her eyes and all of her concentration were on the small figure she held in one hand, just barely propped on her chest. It was a little shiny silver windmill, the kind you buy in a souvenir store in Amsterdam. The light from the window flooded over her hand and only after a while did I realize what she was doing with the last strength she had in her body. Slowly, she moved one finger across the windmill so that it would block the light. Then she took the finger away. Over and back, over and back. Light and dark, light and dark. I whipped my head toward Wyatt to see if he saw, but he had turned away and was looking at the floor. The nurse touched my shoulder and signaled that we should go. I was scared. I had to stay and watch her do this more to make sure it was for real, but the next thing I knew, the woman had taken my arm and steered me back into the hall.
We left all the things we’d bought at the magic store there for the kids and walked out of the building wrapped in our separate silences. I wanted to talk about what I’d just seen but needed to think some more before saying anything.
As we started toward the car, Wyatt spoke but didn’t look at me.
“Do you know Claire Stansfield, Harry Radcliffe’s girlfriend?”
“Sure. I used to buy things in her store.”
“You know she moved to South Africa recently. Harry told me the last time they spoke, he was all ready to plead with her to return. He’d do anything, just please come back because he couldn’t live without her. Anything. Well, as soon as she said, ‘Hello, Harry,’ he knew it was finished. There was no chance. She’d always been happy and peppy when she knew he was on the phone, and her hellos were always packed full of love. This time, though, he said it was the deadest, most regretful word he ever heard her say.
“The girl in there, Arlen. I know what’s happening to me and I’ve known it a long time, but just seeing that little… it was like Radcliffe hearing the ‘hello.’ The other kids were great. You can see they’re suffering, but they’re still kids and have life in them. Not that one. God, I wish I hadn’t seen her. It reminded me of when I was last in the hospital. And where I’ll end up.”
“But wait, Wyatt, I have to tell you something.”
“Emmy!”
I turned before he said her name because the look on his face went from bitter regret to instant, big-eyed amazement. When I saw her, I understood why. In the time we’d been together since Leland’s last visit, one of the things Wyatt told me about was this woman Emmy Marhoun and what Leland had done to her. She was dead without knowing it. I remembered her from the day in the café and my being jealous that my man had been involved, however long ago, with this great beauty.
“Wyatt, hello! I’m so glad to see you. I have to tell someone. The greatest thing has happened!” She was all dolled up and looked as if she was going to a party. Wyatt introduced us, and I think she might have remembered who I was but I wasn’t sure from her expression. Anyway, she was too excited to be interested. “Do you have time for coffee? There must be a place around here.”
Wyatt looked at me and I nodded. I wanted to ask her questions, now that I understood what had happened to her. Maybe there were things she could tell us. I prayed there were things she could tell us.
There was a small espresso bar down the street from the hospital. Inside, we saw the usual midday workers and low-lifes hanging around with their glasses of wine or something stronger, talking quietly and then not talking at all for a moment when they saw us. Emmy paid no attention and pointed gaily to a table. We sat down and she started talking immediately.
“This is so wonderful. You’re the first people I’ve seen and I’ve got to tell you. The man I was in love with, I mean really in love with, is back in my life. Isn’t that incredible? I haven’t seen him since we broke up, but today, two hours ago, I was walking down Obere Donaustrasse and who comes strolling up in the other direction but him. I mean, is that absolutely incredible? In Vienna? And he wasn’t fazed at all about it. Came up, gave me a big kiss, and said, ‘How’re you doing?’ As if we’d seen each other yesterday.” She giggled and then, oddly, patted her nose a few times. “It’s been I don’t know how long since we saw each other and, believe me, that was a truly awful time. I cried for six months afterward. But there he was today and, best of all, he was glad to see me! Asked if I wanted to have dinner with him tonight.”
“Emmy, do you know who I am?”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?” I leaned forward and glared at her. She had to know.
“Well, yes, it’d be hard not to. You’re Arlen Ford. Why?”
“Do you remember when we met?”
“No. Have we met before? I think I’d remember meeting you.”
Wyatt and I looked at each other and then at her.
“What’s the name of your boyfriend?”
“Leland. Leland Zivic.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He teaches literature at Grinnell College.” She frowned, her eyes going back and forth between us. “Why do you want to know?”
Wyatt looked at me. “Why would he use the same name with her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it means something to him.”
“What do you mean, the same name? What are you two talking about? Do you know Leland?”
A phone rang somewhere in the background but I barely noticed it. My head was buzzing with questions and possibilities. But before I had a chance to say anything, a waiter came to our table and asked if there was a “Frau Marhoo” here. Someone was on the telephone for her. Emmy stood up quickly and, with an uneasy look, went to get it.
“Who would know she’s here?”
“Guess, Arlen. You’ve got one guess.”
We watched as she picked up the receiver, spoke a few sentences, and then put it down. She waved both of her hands at us in a gesture that clearly meant she had to leave immediately. She was out the door before either of us could do anything.