'That certainly sounds like the DTs.'
'Oh, it is. Believe me. She's disruptedthe whole floor. Those people are so self-centered and inconsiderate. Theynever stop to think of the consequences of their drinking, if you know what Imean.'
Harry had heard enough. Where had thiswoman been for the last fifteen years?
'Sorry to get here after visitors' hours,'he said, 'but I had a man in the ER with a GI bleed. Is it okay if I visit withEvie for a while?'
'Sure. If Maura-the-moaner gets to be toomuch for you, we'll just tighten her restraints and move her into the hall. Asa matter of fact, she's due to have a visitor soon, too. Her brother called alittle while ago. He's a policeman, of all things. He doesn't get off duty fora while and he wanted to see her. I almost told him to bring in a whip and achair.'
'Well, Miss' — he checked her name tag — 'Jilson, I appreciate your bending the rules for me.'
'Anytime. Your wife is very beautiful, Dr.Corbett.'
'Yes. . yes, thank you.' Harry hurriedaway from the woman and down the hall to room 928.
'. . so they're just mean to me. Meanand nasty. They don't like me because they think this goddamn floor is clean asa whistle and I keep pointing out the bugs that are crawling everywhere. God, Ihate bugs. I hate them. Stuck-up, snobbish, know-it-alls …'
Several doors from the room, Harry couldhear Maura Hughes's steady stream of babble. He had treated every form ofalcohol withdrawal during his residency at Bellevue and over his years ofprivate practice in one of the more indigent areas of the city. DTs — deliriumtremens — while at times amusing, was potentially lethaclass="underline" heart rate up,respiration up, core temperature up, nervous system irritability marked, fluidloss through perspiration and hyperventilation intense, fluid intake minimal tonone. He had seen studies showing a mortality rate from DTs as high as 25percent. And Maura Hughes was three days post craniotomy as well. She was amedical time bomb, the last roommate he would have chosen for Evie.
Harry glanced down the hall at thejanitor, placidly working his buffer from wall to wall. He had on a Walkman andwas bobbing his head in time to the music, totally oblivious to thelife-and-death dramas being played out all around him. Harry wondered what itmust be like to have a shiny floor be the extent of one's professionalresponsibility.
Evie had the bed next to the windows andfarthest from the door. The curtain separating the two beds was pulled. Harryglanced at Maura Hughes as he passed. She was restrained to the bed with acloth Posy harness. Her wrists were secured to the bedrails by broad leatherstraps. She wasn't old. He could tell that much about her, but little more.Below her turban bandage, dense, violet bruises enveloped both of her eyes andran down to the corners of her mouth. Her oxygen prongs had dislodged from hernose and were ventilating her left ear. Her cracked, arid lips were drawn backin a strange, twisted rictus. Harry's first impression was that she wassnarling at him. Then he realized that she was smiling.
'Hi,' he said. 'I'm Evie's husband,Harry.'
'Double, double, toil and trouble, fireburn and cauldron bubble,' she replied.
Harry managed a smile of his own andstepped beyond the curtain. Evie accepted his kiss on her forehead withoutreaction.
'She knows Shakespeare,' he whispered.
'Actually, she knows a lot of things. It'sjust that the insects and snakes and spiders keep getting in the way.'
'The creepy crawlies. It would be sort ofhumorous if the insects and such weren't so damn real to her. She should bethrough this in another day or so.'
'Ouch! Get off my sheet, you filthy bug!Hey, will someone please come over and help me!'
'Go say something,' Evie urged. 'Try andcalm her down.'
Harry walked back around the curtain.
'You're too late, Gene,' Maura said tohim. 'It bit me and it's gone.'
'Sorry.' Harry realized now that she waseven younger than he had originally thought — possibly in her mid-thirties. 'Myname's Harry. Not Gene.'
'Well, you look like Gene Hackman.'
'Thanks. I like Gene Hackman.'
'So do I. I thought you were an actor.'
'I'm not. Why would you think that?'
'Your pin.'
For a moment, Harry had no idea what thewoman meant. Then he remembered the pin his niece — Phil's oldest daughter,Jennifer — had given him. It was a tiny depiction of comic and tragic faces — aprize she had won for drama at school. A year or so ago he had helped her placeit on the lapel of this particular sports coat, and there it had remained. Herarely even thought about it being there. Maura Hughes had identified it fromeight feet away.
'I'm impressed that you saw this,' hesaid.
'I notice things.'
Suddenly she began squirming and fightingher restraints.
'Dammit, Gene,' she snapped, 'do you haveany Southern Comfort on you or not? You promised and — Shit, Gene, watch out!Right there on the wall by your head. What is that? A scorpion? A shrimp?'
In spite of himself, Harry glanced at thewall.
'Try and get some rest,' he said.
He returned to his wife, who was lyingalmost flat in bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Don't shut me out, he wanted to insist. Afternine years, on this of all nights, why can't you share some of what's going oninside you?
'There are no empty beds on the wholefloor,' he said instead. 'No place to move either of you. If the nurses can'tmedicate her anymore, perhaps they can give you something.'
'I don't want anything,' she said, withoutturning her gaze from the ceiling. 'I want my brain functioning at maximumcapacity right up until the last possible moment.'
'I understand. You're going to do fine.'It was then Harry saw the IV — a bag of 5 percent dextrose in water, hangingfrom a ceiling hook nestled in the dividing curtain, delivering tiny dropletsthrough flow-control tubing. 'When did that go in?'
'A few hours ago.'
'I didn't even notice it. I wonder whythey put it in tonight and not in the OR tomorrow. Do you know who ordered it?'
'The anesthesiologist, I think the IVnurse said.'
'Hmm.'
'What difference does it make?'
'None, I guess.'
A prolonged, uncomfortable silencefollowed.
'Look, Harry,' she said suddenly, 'I thinkI need to be alone.'
The words hit him like a slap. He staredat her, uncertain how to respond.
'Could you please tell me what's goingon?' he said finally.
'Nothing's going on. I … I just have alot on my mind.' She took a deep breath. Her tension seemed to ease a bit.'Look, they said I could eat until midnight. I'll tell you what. I'm dying foran extra-thick chocolate malt from Alphano's. Pick me up one, then we'll talk.Okay?'
Alphano's Ice Cream Emporium was twoblocks beyond their co-op — a fifteen-minute drive from the hospital if thetraffic was reasonable. But Harry felt grateful to have something — anything — to contribute.
'Done,' he said, rising. 'I'll be backwithin the hour. And we don't have to talk. I'll be happy just to hang with youfor a while.'
He bent to kiss her but again there was noresponse. He settled for another peck on her forehead.
'Gene, Gene, lean and mean. Keep him looseand keep him clean,' Maura Hughes sang as he passed.
Out in the hall, the buffer man hadstopped his work and was kneeling down, Walkman still in place, scowling at themotor of his machine when Harry walked by. Harry felt strangely pleased to seethat the man's life wasn't so uncomplicated after all.
Farther down the hall, the nurse, SueJilson, smiled up at him as he approached.
'Leaving so soon?'
'My wife asked for a milk shake that'sonly made at a place on West Ninetieth. I can be back by nine-thirty, if that'sokay.'