Sta.sh
Names
by ~reido"SOLD OUT." That was what the digital display flashed at him as he pushed the button for Coca Cola. Sold out? It made sense, he figured—it was late, the truck probably did not come to refill the machine until early in the morning. There was nothing else but artificially sweetened diet sodas and funny frou-frou drinks left. And water. His brows creased in thought, and he pushed the button, then listened to the plastic bottle tumble its way down from wherever in the machine it was being kept, thump-thumble-bang, to the little rectangular receptacle at the bottom. The loud noise smashed its way into the silent cafeteria. His back creaked as he bent over to retrieve the water and he muttered about how crazy it was that a bottle of something he could get out of the sink in the bathroom cost as much as a bottle of highly-processed soda. Knobby, wrinkled knuckles wrapped around the clear, cool plastic; his lips pressed together to hold back the grunt as he stood erect, and a wave of pain rushed down his spine.
Slowly, he turned around and made his way out of the cafeteria. On his way out, he passed two young men, one tall and one short, chatting in hushed tones about their grandmother. He wondered if he knew the woman in question. He passed a tired nurse, who was working the night-shift; the younger, dark-haired man smiled, and wished him a good night. The nurse did not refer to him by name. He passed a woman with her child sleeping in her lap; she was crying into the girl’s hair. He wondered what their names were.
The hallway seemed too long, pointed, and bright. Exhausted, he shuffled his way along, doing his best not to let his eyes wander away from the far end, not to look in on the patients. It was so hard—his eyes seemed drawn to the doors. There were so many, and only a few of them were shut. He realized suddenly that the doctor was in front of him. The man could not remember the fresh-faced woman's name. It did not matter: she always recognized him, and made sure he knew what was happening and what was going to happen.
"The meds," she said gently, "will keep her from feeling any pain, but they'll leave her disoriented. She might not know where she is." Okay, he said. "A nurse will come by every few hours to check on her. I'm about to go home for the night, but she's in good hands. I'll be back in the morning." Again, all he said was, okay. "Try to get some sleep yourself, all right? I understand how difficult this situation is." Yes, he interrupted, it's complicated. "When will your children be arriving?"
The old man stared at her for a moment, furrowing his brow again. It's so sudden, I'm not sure when they will be getting in. They've all got their own kids, their own lives. They're grown up.
"I understand. Good night, Mr. McLeod." And then she was gone, in a rustle of her lab-coat and a flip of her pony-tail. He pushed the door to his wife's room open, made his way inside silently, and let it shut behind him as he pulled his hand away from the steel handle. His fingers were shaking, but he did not pay them any mind. The room was dark, with only the light of the large white neon light on the front of the hospital glowing through a crack in the curtains.
He shuffled across to the chair beside the bed. As he sat, unscrewing the top of the bottle of water, the silence in the room was interrupted by a single name: "Joshua?" His wife's voice was weak, raspy. He hesitated. Yes, Mom? he asked, a guilty knot immediately forming in his gut. The doctor had warned him, but he had not expected it to actually happen. "Oh, oh, it's so good you could make it. I think you'll like the doctor, she's real pretty. Are you still looking for a girl?" Yes. "It’s such a shame Nancy left. She was a real class-act. Do you keep in touch with her?" Not anymore, Mom. "Well, that's too bad." Get some rest, Mom. I'll still be here in the morning.
After a moment, her breathing became even again, and she drifted back into slumber. He let out a deep, shaky sigh, and took a drink from the bottle of water.
An hour passed, and he was jolted from sleep by another name. "Samuel? Is that you?" Again, he hesitated. Yeah, Bea, it's me. "Oh, it's been a long time, Sammy. I haven't seen you in years!" Not since your wedding, Bea. "Oh, yes, that's right. You looked so handsome in that get-up, just like your brother. I told him that night that the two of you really cut a dashing figure together. Such handsome gentlemen." Thanks, Bea. "You know—it’s the craziest thing—someone told me later that you'd gotten yourself in an automobile accident. I've been meaning to come see you in the hospital. Susan was absolutely convinced you were dead." Well, I'm here now, Bea. Go back to sleep, I'll still be here in the morning.
Again, he listened until her breathing evened out. He was too restless to sleep, so he rose from the chair and slipped out into the hall. He shuffled along, joints creaking with each step. The hall was still too bright, but he figured it was supposed to be, so the nurses could get around. It seemed even longer now. The knot of guilt tightened in his stomach, and he felt like he might be sick. It was for the best, he thought. It was for the best! Josh was in Hawaii, and wouldn't be back for days, and by then it would be too late. And Sam had died in that car crash right after the wedding. If it made her happy, then he was doing the best thing—even if it hurt so much. By the time he had bought another bottle of water, he had subdued the guilt enough to settle the feeling in his stomach.
He was not sure how long he had been walking when he came across the woman and her child again. They were sitting on a bench outside a room much like his wife’s, both of them fast asleep. Through the narrow space he could see an older woman, Beatrice’s age, sleeping in the hospital bed. A man slept in the chair next to her.
He quickly looked away, not wanting to intrude. His eyes fell on the younger woman; the child with her was awake now, silently watching what must have seemed like a very strange old man to her. A pang of jealousy struck his chest.
He tried to call his son on the cell-phone in his pocket. It was not as late where Josh was, so maybe he would catch him before the younger man went to bed. He let it ring for a full minute before he gave up, pushed the ‘END CALL’ button, and stuffed the phone into his pocket. He decided that Joshua must have already been on a plane, en route, because he never turned his cell off otherwise.
He found himself at the door to his wife’s room again. He stood there for a moment, shaky fingers on the handle, before he went inside. The door closed behind him with a soft click. The nurse was there, a large black woman with her hair pulled back. She smiled a sad, knowing smile, and returned to the hall, leaving him with his wife.
As he sat in the chair again, she called out another name: "Liz?" Once more, he hesitated. No, he said. "Oh, Michael!” Another name, he thought sadly. “I thought Elizabetta was with you. I'm sorry, it's so hard to tell in this light." It's okay, she'll be around in the morning. She's watching the kids. "Oh, I can't wait to see those two little girls again. I’ve got such beautiful grandchildren." Okay, Mom. Get some rest.
He took a drink from the bottle of water and leaned back in the chair. Sleep found him before he could tell if his wife had fallen into slumber herself.
***
He slept until dawn—and what a glorious morning it was! The sun shone in the window, past the wide-open curtains, and fell on his wife. On the horizon the sun was ablaze with reds and oranges and yellows, making the clouds glow brilliantly. Beatrice turned her head as her eyes opened, bluer than they had been in years, and she cast a radiant, happy smile at her husband. Short, curly hair rested gently on her forehead, like grey feathers, and she reached up with a small hand to push it away from her eyes. He smiled at her, and rose; she reached over and took his hand in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I love you so much, Matthias," she said, with her voice as clear as it had been on the day they had been wed, oh so many years ago. He smiled as he heard his own name, finally. She said something else then, but all that came out of her mouth was a high-pitched noise, flat and piercing and alien. There was a hollow thud, followed by the sound of water pouring out of a bottle.
***
Matthias' eyes opened slowly as he felt someone moving in the room. It was night outside the window, lit still by the giant white light. Two nurses, the black woman who had checked on Beatrice earlier and another woman whom he had not met, were there. "She's gone," one of them whispered. "Time of death: 2:47 a.m.,” she said, looking at her watch.
"The floor's wet. What the hell?" the other said, just as quietly.
"The husband—poor man, he dropped a bottle of water in his sleep. Sir? Mr.
McLeod?"
"Are you okay, sir?" Their voices were so gentle and caring.
"We're going to have to ask you to move to the waiting room, sir. Sir?"
"Mr. McLeod, are you all right? I'm sorry. Are you going to be okay?" No, he said. No, I'm not. Matthias buried his face in his hands. His fingers had finally stopped shaking.
