“I didn't do anything,” he said, looking instantly hurt and angry. “You're always accusing me of something. Can't you see how hard this is for me? Do you think I like it?”
“I can't talk about this now,” she said, feeling panicked again. She just wanted to get back to the professor.
“Stop blaming me for everything. It's not fair.”
“I'm sorry.” She always tried to be fair with him, but the inequities between them made them both very touchy. “Mrs. Rosenstein's not doing it,” she said, trying to sound calm to Steve. “And somebody keeps taking all my money, I didn't mean to be rude about it.”
“I forgive you,” he said, walking over to kiss her. “Do you want me to come with you?” He looked mollified after her apology, though still visibly wounded, and she always felt so terrible after she accused him of something. Maybe it really wasn't him. She left her door unlocked a lot, it could actually have been one of the other boarders, and looking at Steve's face, she was beginning to think so.
“I'll be okay. I'll call you if anything happens.” She ran down the stairs then, after kissing him again, and looking embarrassed, she asked Mrs. Boslicki if she could borrow cab fare. And without hesitating, her landlady handed her ten dollars from her own purse. It was the first time Gabriella had ever asked her for anything, and she wasn't surprised, since everyone knew that she was supporting that deadbeat. They had all grown tired of him by then, with all his grand stories about Stanford and Yale, and his excuses about why he couldn't get a job. They couldn't see why, since everyone else did. Maybe he thought he was too good for the jobs he was being offered. He got enough phone calls, and they had to be for something. Mrs. Boslicki was sorry now that she had pushed Steve at Gabbie at Christmas. She thought she could do a lot better.
“Call and tell us how the professor is,” Mrs. Boslicki said as Gabriella flew out the door and ran down the street to hail a taxi.
And as soon as she saw him, she knew things were not going well. He looked restless and seemed to be in pain, and every time he looked at Gabbie, he got agitated and stared at her so intently, she was frightened. Eventually the nurses asked her to leave again, but she decided to stay anyway, and sleep on the couch in the ICU hallway, just in case something happened.
She went back and sat with him at dawn. The nurse on duty said he was awake, and he seemed a little more peaceful.
“Hi,” Gabbie whispered, as she sat down next to him. “Everyone at the house said to say hello.” She had forgotten to tell him the night before, but she was sure he knew that anyway. “And Mrs. Rosenstein said to tell you to take your medicine, and don't make a fuss about it.” She had actually said that to her, dabbing at her eyes with a hankie. “We all love you,” she said, and meant it more than she could ever tell him.
She had been thinking all night about taking some time off, and nursing him when he got home. She was sure Ian would understand, for a few weeks at least. She had some vacation time coming anyway, and there was nothing she wanted to do more now than be with him. She started telling him about a story she'd been working on the week before, and she told him that Steve really liked it. And as she said it, the professor frowned again and lifted his left hand and slowly wagged a finger at her. He was very weak and he could hardly raise even his good hand, and she smiled as she saw what Mrs. Rosenstein called his “famous finger.” He was always pointing and waving a finger at someone to emphasize a point or warn them of something. She thought he was scolding her for not writing more often.
“I will,” she said, thinking she understood him, but she didn't. “I've just been so busy, with work, and trying to help Steve, it's hard for him still being out of work,” she said gently, as the finger wagged again, and he looked like he was going to start crying. “Don't try to talk,” she admonished him. “They'll make me leave again if you get all worked up. When you come home,. we'll go over some of the stories together.”
She hadn't sold a story since the first one, but she knew she wasn't working as much as she should have. The rest of her life seemed too distracting. And now this. She couldn't imagine writing a word while she was worried about him. All she wanted to do now was infuse him with life, and help him get healthy. That was the only thing that mattered to her.
He closed his eyes again then, and slept for a while, but he stirred fitfully, and every time he opened his eyes and saw Gabbie sitting next to him, he stared at her intently, as though willing her to know what he was thinking. The nurse on duty that day was nice about letting her stay, the others all made her follow the rules of the ICU, and made her leave the room regularly. But this one just let her sit quietly in the corner, watching him sleep and praying for him. She hadn't prayed as hard or as long since her days in the convent. And she thought about the Sisters now, and Mother Gregoria, remembering the community they had been, their quiet strength and utter certainty that their God would always love and protect them. She wished for that now, to be able to draw on the faith that had brought her through everything, and she was willing Professor Thomas to feel it with her.
He was still dozing when she finally left him that afternoon, to go home and shower and change and report to the others. He seemed to have stabilized, and she thought he'd be all right for a while. She kissed his cheek gently before she left, but he didn't stir this time. He was in a deep sleep finally, and she turned to smile at him from the doorway. He was going to be okay, he was strong, and he was fighting to stay alive, she could feel it. And she tried to say as much to the others. Mrs. Rosenstein was going to visit him that afternoon, and Mrs. Boslicki was already talking about the food she was going to prepare for him when he got home. Steve was out when she got back, but he had left her a note. He'd gone to play ball in the park with a friend, someone who knew about a job for him, and he promised to see her later.
Gabbie stood in the shower for a long time, letting the hot water run over her, and thinking of the man who was fighting for his life in the ICU, and all that he meant to her. He was so much more than just a friend to her, he was a part of her soul now, and she knew she could not lose him. She would do anything she had to, to keep him, she would pour her own life into him if she had to. God had given him to her, and she would not let him go now. She would not let Him take him from her. He had no right to. He had already taken far too many. And her own sense of justice told her she would not lose this one.
When she got back to see him at the hospital that afternoon, Mrs. Boslicki and Mrs. Rosenstein were just leaving. Both women were in tears, and they told her he had had some kind of a setback. The paralysis on his right side seemed to be worse, and he was having trouble breathing. They had finally done a tracheotomy on him, and attached him to a respirator, and when Gabbie saw him as she walked into the brightly lit room, he looked exhausted.
“I hear you've been misbehaving today,” she said as she sat down. “They told me you've been pinching all the nurses.” His eyes smiled weakly at her, and he continued to look at her intensely. But the finger didn't wag, and he made no sound at her. He couldn't with the respirator. He seemed weaker to her, but his color was a little better. She chatted to him, knowing he could hear what she said, and telling him about the things they were going to do when he got home. She pretended to complain that he hadn't taken her to dinner in ages. “Just because I have Steve in my life doesn't mean we can't go out. He's not jealous of you, you know, although he should be.” She kissed his cheek again and the eyes closed. He looked as though he were fighting a terrible battle. She told him Steve was playing ball that afternoon with someone who knew about a job, and his eyes flew open again and he stared at her, but the room was filled with silence. The sound of the machines keeping him alive and monitoring him were the only sound between them.