repeated.
They had arrived in a two-bed room on the third
floor. The curses emanated from the other side of a
pale blue curtain. Joe didn’t respond. He didn’t have
to. Judith recognized the voice.
“Hi, Renie,” he finally said as Judith was flipped and
flopped onto an ancient hospital bed with a black iron
bedstead. “How’re you doing?”
Renie’s answer was unprintable.
Judith and Renie had requested sharing a room, but
the staff had made no promises. Good Cheer wasn’t a
hotel or a summer camp—it was a hospital.
“May I?” Joe asked in an unusually meek voice as
he gave the blue curtain a twitch.
“Why not?” Renie snapped. “You can set fire to the
whole damned place as far as I’m concerned.”
Judith moved just enough to see Renie, propped up
SUTURE SELF
27
on pillows with her right arm in a blue sling and her
shoulder sporting a bloody dressing.
“Hi, coz,” Renie said in a more normal tone. “How
are you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but let out a
bloodcurdling scream.
“What’s wrong?” Judith asked in alarm.
“It’s the only way to get attention around here,”
Renie said, then screamed again.
“Stop that!” Judith exclaimed. “It makes my head
throb!”
“I throb everywhere,” Renie shot back. “They
dumped me in here almost an hour ago, and I haven’t
seen anybody since.” She slapped with her left hand at
what appeared to be a buzzer button extending from a
thick rubber cord. “I’ve poked this stupid thing so
often I think I burned the light out over the damned
door. Now I’m getting hoarse from yelling.”
“Where’s Bill?” Joe inquired.
“He left,” Renie replied after taking a deep sip of
water. “He had to run some errands and then have dinner. He’ll be back this evening.”
Judith looked at Joe. “You ought to go, too. It’s been
a long day.”
Joe seemed torn. “Shouldn’t I wait until Dr. Alfonso
comes in?”
Judith gave a faint shake of her head. “You’ve already talked to him. You have to tell Mother I’m okay
and let Mike know I survived. Frankly, you look beat.
I’ll be fine, as long as Screaming Mimi over there shuts
up. I might be able to sleep a bit.”
“Well . . .” Joe’s green-eyed gaze roamed around the
room. “I suppose I should head home.”
“Of course you should,” Judith said, also taking in
her surroundings. The walls were painted a dreary
28
Mary Daheim
beige that hadn’t been freshened in years. A crucifix
hung over each of the beds and the only other furnishings were a pair of visitors’ chairs, a commode, and the
nightstands. A TV was mounted high on the far wall,
flanked by a small statue of Jesus revealing the Sacred
Heart and, on the other side, Mary holding the infant
Jesus. Two old-fashioned sash windows on Renie’s
side of the room looked out over one of the city’s residential areas. The roofs were gray, the houses were
gray, the skies were gray. Even the trees looked gray
on this late-January afternoon.
With a reluctant sigh, Joe leaned down to kiss Judith’s forehead. “Okay, I’ll check in at the B&B to
make sure that Carl and Arlene are getting along all
right. I’ll see you this evening.”
Despite her brave words, Judith kept her dark eyes
on Joe until he was out of the room. Indeed, he was
practically run over by a disheveled young man carrying a balloon bouquet in one hand and an almost lifesized cutout of a football player in the other.
“For Bob Randall,” Judith remarked, daring to gaze
at Renie.
“The ex-quarterback?” Renie snorted. “I swear, the
only time I ever watched him play, he always threw an
interception or got sacked.” She paused, then made a
futile attempt to snap the fingers of her left hand.
“That’s it! Ramblin’ Randall is getting all the attention
while we suffer and starve. I timed myself. I screamed
for eleven minutes nonstop. Nobody came. I think I’ll
set fire to the bed.”
“Coz—” Judith began to plead, but was interrupted
by a tall, handsome nun in an exceptionally well-tailored
modified habit.
“Mrs. Jones? Mrs. Flynn?” the nun said, standing on
SUTURE SELF
29
the threshold. “Which of you has been requesting
help?”
If not embarrassed, Renie at least had the grace to
look slightly abashed. “Yes . . . that would be me.” She
offered the nun a toothy smile. “I’m having quite a bit
of pain.”
You’re being quite a pain, Judith thought, but kept
silent.
The nun glanced at the IV. “I’ll see what I can do,”
she said in her crisp, no-nonsense voice. “By the way,
I’m Sister Jacqueline, the hospital administrator. I
should point out that our staff is extremely busy this
week. The surgery floor is full, and as usual, we’re a
bit shorthanded. The economics of medicine aren’t
what they used to be.” She gave the cousins a tight little smile.
“I understand,” Judith said. “It’s a terrible problem
that nobody seems able to solve.”
“It’s those damned insurance companies,” Renie asserted, lifting her head a few inches from the pillow.
“Let’s not even talk about the greedy jackasses who
run the pharmaceutical industry. What about the patient? I’m lying here in misery and half starved while
a bunch of bumbling morons in Washington, D.C., try
to figure out whether their pants get pulled up over
their fat butts or go down over their empty heads. Or
maybe they aren’t wearing any pants at all. Furthermore, if anybody had an ounce of—”
Sister Jacqueline cleared her throat rather loudly.
“Mrs. Jones. Ranting will do you no good. I suggest
that you exercise the virtue of patience instead.”
“I am the freaking patient!” Renie cried. “And I’m
not a patient patient.”
“I gather not,” Sister Jacqueline said mildly, then
30
Mary Daheim
turned to Judith and spoke almost in a whisper. “If
someone is discharged tomorrow, we might be able to
move you to a different room.”
Judith tried to smile. “It’s fine, Sister. Honestly. I’m
used to her. She’s my cousin.”
The nun drew back as if Judith had poked her.
“Really!” She glanced from Judith to Renie and back
again. “Then patience must be one of your outstanding
virtues.”
Judith looked sheepish. “Well . . . Many things in
life have taught me patience. In fact, my cousin really
doesn’t—”
A tall, thin middle-aged man who looked vaguely
familiar tapped diffidently on the open door. “Sister?”
he said in an uncertain voice.
The nun stepped away from Judith’s bed. “Yes?”
“I’m worried,” the man said, removing his thick
glasses and putting them back on in a nervous manner.
“My brother isn’t getting any rest. There are way too
many visitors and deliveries and I don’t know what all.
I thought since Margie volunteers at the hospital, she’d
keep things under control.”
“I haven’t seen Mrs. Randall since Mr. Randall was
in the recovery room,” Sister Jacqueline replied. “Even
though the post-op news was very good, she seemed