Monday if I don’t talk to you before you go to the hospital.”
Judith clicked the phone off and reached for her address book on the kitchen counter. She ought to know
Effie McMonigle’s number by heart, but she didn’t.
Ever since Dan’s death eleven years earlier, Judith had
called his mother once a month. But somehow the
number wouldn’t stick in her brain. Maybe it was like
Gertrude not speaking directly to Joe; maybe Judith
hoped that if she kept forgetting Effie’s number, her
former mother-in-law would go away, too, and take all
the unhappy memories of Dan with her.
SUTURE SELF
13
Effie was home. She usually was. A nurse by profession, she resided in a retirement community outside
Phoenix. In the nineteen years that Judith and Dan had
been married, Effie had visited only three times—once
for the wedding, once when Mike was born, and once
for Dan’s funeral. Effie was a sun-worshiper. She
couldn’t stand the Pacific Northwest’s gray skies and
rainy days. She claimed to become depressed. But Judith felt Effie was always depressed—and depressing.
Sunshine didn’t seem to improve her pessimistic
attitude.
“Another baby?” Effie exclaimed when Judith relayed the news. “So soon? Oh, what bad planning!”
“But Mac will be two in June,” Judith put in. “The
children will be close enough in age to be playmates
and companions.”
“They’ll fight,” Effie declared in her mournful
voice. “Especially if it’s another boy.”
“Siblings always fight,” Judith countered. “I guess.”
She had to admit to herself that she really didn’t know.
Judith and Renie had both been only children, and
while they occasionally quarreled in their youth, they
had grown to be as close, if not closer, than sisters.
“When are they coming to see me?” Effie demanded. “Mike and Kristy have only been here twice
since Mac was born.”
“It’s Kristin,” Judith said wearily. “I’m not sure
when they’ll be able to travel. With the new baby on
the way, they’ll probably wait.”
“Oh, sure.” Effie emitted a sour snort. “I haven’t had
a new picture of Mac in ages. I’m not even sure what
he looks like these days.”
“I thought Mike and Kristin sent you a picture of the
whole family at Christmastime.”
14
Mary Daheim
“They did?” Effie paused. “Oh, that picture. It
wasn’t very good of any of them. I can’t see the slightest resemblance to my darling Dan in either Mike or
Mac. If they both didn’t have my red hair, I’d have to
wonder.”
As well you might, Judith thought, and was ashamed
of the spite she felt inside. “Mac doesn’t look like me,
either,” she said in an attempt to make amends.
“When are you coming down to see me?” Effie
queried.
“Not for a while,” Judith admitted. Indeed, she was
ashamed of herself for not having paid Effie a visit
since the year after Dan died. “It’s so hard for me to get
away with the B&B, and now I’m facing surgery Monday.”
“For what?” Effie sounded very cross.
“A hip replacement,” Judith said, gritting her teeth.
“I told you about it on the phone a couple of weeks
ago. I wrote it in my Christmas letter. I think I mentioned it in my Thanksgiving card.”
“Oh, that hip replacement,” Effie sniffed. “I thought
you’d already had it. What’s taking you so long?”
“It’s the surgery scheduling,” Judith responded patiently. “They have to book so far ahead. You know
how it is. You used to work in a hospital.”
“Hunh. It was different then. Doctors didn’t try to
squeeze in so many procedures or squeeze so much
money out of their patients,” Effie asserted. “Medical
practice today is a scandal. You’ll be lucky if you get
out alive.”
Judith glanced at the morning paper on the kitchen
table. It contained a brief item about an autopsy being
performed on Joan Fremont. In the sports section,
there was a story about possible trades to replace the
SUTURE SELF
15
Seafarers’ ace pitcher, Joaquin Somosa. At last Effie
McMonigle had said something that Judith didn’t feel
like contradicting.
Some people weren’t lucky. They didn’t get out of
the hospital alive.
All Judith could hope was that she and Renie
wouldn’t be among the unlucky ones.
TWO
JUDITH’S SURGERY WAS scheduled for eight-thirty on
Monday. Renie’s was set for nine-fifteen. Joe and
Bill delivered their wives to admitting at the same
time. The cousins had worn out the phone lines over
the weekend encouraging each other and trying to
make light of any potential dangers.
Their husbands chimed in. “Hey, Bill,” Joe said,
“we could have hurried this up by driving together
and dumping the old, crippled broads from a speeding car.”
“You already called the girls?” Bill said with a
straight face.
“You bet,” Joe replied. “Chesty and Miss Bottoms. They’re rarin’ to go.”
“Not funny,” Judith muttered.
“Nothing’s funny this early in the morning,”
snarled Renie, who usually didn’t get up until ten
o’clock.
Nor did Good Cheer Hospital’s forbidding exterior live up to its name. Built shortly after the turn
of the last century, the large, dark redbrick edifice
with its looming dome and wrought-iron fences
looked more like a medieval castle than a haven for
healing. Judith half expected to wait for a draw-SUTURE SELF
17
bridge to come down before driving over a moat into
the patient drop-off area.
Renie, who was bundled up in a purple hooded coat,
shuddered as she got out of the Joneses’ Toyota Camry.
“Why couldn’t we go to our HMO’s hospital? This
place looks like a morgue.”
“Don’t say that,” Judith retorted as Joe helped her into
the wheelchair. To make matters worse, it was a damp,
dark morning with the rain coming down in straight,
steady sheets. “You know why we’re here. Our HMO
doesn’t do orthopedic surgeries anymore. All the hospitals are consolidating their services to save money.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Renie said with an ominous glance at
the double doors that automatically opened upon their
approach. “It just looks so gloomy. And bleak.”
“It’s still a Catholic hospital,” Bill Jones pointed out
as he helped Renie through the entrance. “That should
be some consolation.”
“Why?” Renie shot back. “The pope’s not going to
operate on my shoulder.”
Bill wore his familiar beleaguered expression when
dealing with his sometimes unreasonable wife, but
said nothing as they waited for Joe to wheel Judith inside. The hospital’s interior looked almost as old as its
exterior. Over the years, the Sisters of Good Cheer had
put all their money into equipment and staff. As long
as the building was structurally sound and hygienically
safe, the nuns saw no reason to waste funds on cosmetic improvements. Thus, great lengths of pipes were
exposed, door frames were the original solid stained
wood, and though the walls had been repainted many
times, the color remained the same institutional shade