Page 75 of Nothing Less than Magic
“How so?”
“Well, this is going to sound horrible, and maybe I shouldn’t even tell you, but I actually think by the third or fourth day, she was hoping you would die, that she’d begun to realize alive you were a real threat to her and Austin’s relationship.”
This is the most personal Ronnie has ever gotten with me. But you can’t work with a person, share an office with them, and travel together all over the country without gleaning some personal information. For instance, I know about her mooch of a roommate, that her cat died sixteen months ago and she’s too grief-stricken even still to replace it, and that the last guy she dated stole fifteen hundred dollars from her. In return, Ronnie knows my sister and I have a complicated relationship, and that my divorce from Austin was extremely hard on me.
“Why did you get that impression?” Not that I doubt she’s wrong. One of the characteristics I’ve come to rely on from my assistant is her deep insight. Sometimes I think Ronnie would’ve made a better psychologist than me.
“She still came with him every day that first week, but she was resentful. You could see it all over her face. She was bitchy to the staff and bitchy to Austin, even though he was going through hell. Quite frankly, that’s the reason why. It wasn’t that she hated that he was going through hell, it was that she hated that he was going through hell over you.”
“This is going to sound warped, but I’m flattered.” And I don’t say this to Ronnie, but I’m also sort of vindicated that Austin’s new fiancée isn’t the second coming, though he’d certainly intimated that she was. Or maybe that was just my interpretation.
But this is petty stuff for someone who has just had a near-death experience, I remind myself.
“At the end of the day, I get the sense that Austin saw right through it,” Ronnie says. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he calls off the engagement. That last week you were out, Mary was nowhere to be found. My Spidey sense tells me that Austin told her not to come anymore. My Spidey sense tells me almost losing you made him see the light.”
“The light of Mary’s faults?” I ask.
“No, the light of what he gave up when he left you.”
There was a time when the sentiment, if it’s even true, would’ve thrilled me, but I’m too exhausted to care right now. Too messed up to think of anything other than getting well again.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask.
“Sure, whatever you need.”
“Could you see if there’s a floral shop in Ghost called Flower Power?” I figure if I start small, I can retrace my steps and disseminate what is real and what isn’t. Who actually exists and who doesn’t. Because even if no one believes me, including Ronnie, I couldn’t have built an entire world out of thin air.
“You sure that’s such a good idea?” Ronnie says. “Even if I find it, it doesn’t prove anything. You have a place up there, Chels. I’m sure a lot of your hallucination is based on real shops and real people.”
“I know. But can you please just do this for me? I’d do it myself, but until I get my laptop, the strain of searching and reading on the small screen of my phone hurts my eyes.”
“I will, but nothing good can come of it.”
Chapter 20
My last day at San Francisco General is a mixed bag. On one hand, I’m ecstatic that I’m finally going home to my comfortable and quiet condo, where I won’t have a roommate who snores or doctors and nurses who hover over my every move. On the other hand, I’m petrified to be on my own.
Though I’m markedly better than a couple of weeks ago, I’m still unable to do simple tasks, like tie my shoes. It’s as if I’m five years old again and have to learn the steps. Yet, I have no trouble dialing a phone or typing an email.
While waiting for my doctor to give the final release, I fold and pack my things. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve managed to accumulate quite a few nightgowns, robes, slippers, and various sundries. It’s a little crazy, because before the coma, I don’t believe I had this much sleepwear to my name. Austin brought me my favorite carry-on, and with all I’ve stuffed inside, I’ll be lucky if I can zip it.
A number of the nurses and staff have popped in to say goodbye and bring me small tokens to remember them by, including a dozen Vaseline samples. My lips will forever thank them. Everyone here has been so kind.
At noon, Austin arrives to drive me home. I told him I could take an Uber, but it’s against hospital policy, which makes me wonder what patients who don’t have anyone do. The question only adds to the emotional roller coaster I’ve been on ever since Dr. Sadie told me I was going home.
“You ready to go?” Austin grabs my suitcase.
“We have to wait for someone to get me in a wheelchair. I’m not allowed to leave on foot. I think it’s a liability thing.”
“Yep. That would be my guess. You hungry? I thought we could stop somewhere and grab something to eat. I figure you’ve had enough of hospital food.”
I don’t have the heart to tell him that I just want to go home and surround myself with familiarity before venturing out to sit-down restaurants. “Sounds good. But nothing too elaborate.”
“We can get it to go if you’d like and eat at home.”
There’s something about the way that he says “home” that irks me. Like it’s still the place we share together. I chide myself for being uncharitable. Throughout this entire ordeal, Austin has been my saving grace. The one steady constant in my life.
“That sounds perfect,” I say. “What did you have in mind?”
