Death Kit (28 page)

“And the bills! Dalton, you have no idea how much this is costing her grandfather and me. And to think it was all for nothing!” Diddy was heading for the elevator, speechless with sorrow and rage. The woman scurrying along to keep up with his long strides. “The bills.…”

Well, it was easier to speak than to listen to this drivel, pretending to be a stone wall. At the elevator, Diddy turned on the aunt and looked at her sternly. “Mrs. Nayburn, I intend to help with Hester's hospital expenses. So please stop fretting about that.”

“You do?” said the woman in an incredulous tone that was partly feigned, partly genuine. The small sharp eyes that Diddy hated, widening. “May I ask why?”

“You know perfectly well. Because I want to marry Hester, if she'll have me.”

Diddy paused to let the woman play with her face and try on several different reactions. She started with “Why, Dalton!” Then quickly realized surprise was the wrong tack. Without transition, she switched to reassurance. “What do you mean, will she have you? Of course she will!” Diddy making his face as stern as he could, so Mrs. Nayburn would understand that approach was wrong, too. She settled, finally, for affectionate sagacity. “You know, I knew it all along. All along. Well, then, it
was
for a good purpose that the good Lord brought us here. He didn't choose to restore my baby's sight. But he did find her a wonderful husband.”

The elevator opened. “I hope Hester thinks so. Please excuse me, I have to return to work. Tell her I'll be back.” The woman's jaw dropped. Two desires. One, to follow Diddy into the elevator, to continue this extraordinary conversation. The other, to hurry to her niece's room, drag her by the hair out of her anaesthetized sleep, and pour out the news of Diddy's intentions. The result of Mrs. Nayburn's being torn between the two impulses was that she did nothing. Stilled ligaments, a bleached will. Couldn't take a step. Just stared at Diddy open-mouthed, as the elevator door closed. Stood, gaping, even after the car had started down the shaft.

Diddy, observing the spell he'd cast, was delighted to be rid of Mrs. Nayburn so easily. The outsized elevator car descended smoothly. The doors parted with a faint whirring of rubber. No familiar faces waiting for him in the lobby of the hospital. Diddy was free.

It was raining. Diddy began to feel chilled after walking several blocks. He wasn't free, he was just outside. And sorry (now) he'd spoken so bluntly and then left, since that meant Hester would first hear from her aunt of his impending proposal. Having let him get away, the woman would have no other thought but to return to Hester's bedside. Stationing herself there until the first vague stirring of the girl's body indicates that her mind was surfacing. Coming awake, awake enough to hear the news. If only Hester were deaf, like a snake. So she couldn't hear her aunt's raspy voice. Instead of blind, like those primitive species of fish that inhabit underground lakes in dark caves.

Wouldn't Mrs. Nayburn's crass enthusiasm contaminate his proposal in Hester's eyes? Bad tactics. Still, Diddy wasn't too worried about that. He had faith in the girl's independence of spirit. Hester was aware of her aunt's crassness and insincerity. Certainly, she must have known for some time how shamelessly eager Mrs. Nayburn was to get her off her hands. Diddy refused to consider that Hester might imagine that he, Diddy, was made of equally coarse cloth. That his proposal might be fired by emotions of the same venal quality, though different in aim and method than her aunt's.

What he thought most likely was that Hester would simply mistrust his intelligence. Thinking that he couldn't distinguish between pity or benevolence and love, she would try to save him from herself. He would try to save her for himself, more vehemently. Diddy has faith in the adequacy of his powers of persuasion, believed that he couldn't fail to convince Hester. Because (now) it was different. He had already convinced himself.

Still raining. Diddy, bareheaded, walking along a street near the Warren Institute. He could have returned to the conference, which had at least an hour to run. Should have gone back. The prudent thing to do. His abrupt departure, though covered by a plausible excuse, obviously had not sat well with his superiors. Diddy had always been a poor liar. Hated lying. When he attempted it, a combination of cowardice and pride always made him, somehow, transparent. They must have seen he wasn't really ill. Doesn't matter. What his bosses think of him was unimportant. The important thing was that, if only Hester will turn to him, a new life might begin.

Diddy the Daring will take the risk of the unknown. He clasps the idea of Hester to him.

Having no doubt that he loved her. And anything that might lead Hester to love him he would welcome. No scruples of pride there. If her knowing herself (now) to be permanently condemned to blindness enhanced his suit, so much the better. How lucky he is that she had so few choices. For if the choice was between living with him and living with her aunt, he had little doubt what she would choose.

But if Diddy hadn't been thinking at this moment how Hester's blindness and her consequent need for a reliable and loving protector favored his courtship, would he then have regretted her being blind? On her behalf, yes. The truth is, Diddy doesn't really think of Hester as being blind. In the sense that the world is divided into two camps: the fortunate majority with normal eyesight, and the tiny minority of the blind. The world is not so simple. Diddy saw eyes everywhere. Everyone has some kind of eyes. There are the squinty-eyed, the fish-eyed, the dragon-eyed, the piercing-eyed, the wolf-eyed. And the no-eyed and the all-eyed. The no-eyed not to be confused with the blind. And besides their number and qualities and uses, eyes may be distinguished by their composition. Some people's eyes are made of water; others of vapor; and others of crystalline splinters. Diddy thought his own eyes might be made of paper; at best, a tough parchment. Whereas Hester's eyes were made of the same soft flesh as her sex. For him, she had seeing eyes, and always had. All over her body. Like those animals such as the frog and the guinea pig and the rat, whose skin is rich in the pigment melanin; making the entire surface of their bodies responsive to light. Like that Russian girl with extra-ocular vision recently discovered by scientists, who can read—slowly—with her elbow.

Were it within Diddy's powers to make Hester see, he would. But he could also be grateful that the operation this afternoon changed nothing. Leaving her sight and the rest of her health exactly as they were before.

Leave everything as it is. Just walk in the rain. So Diddy will not go back to the conference. He will stroll and daydream for an hour. Afterwards, get some coffee. And then return to the hospital.

As soon as she gets out of the hospital, they would return to New York. After that move, communication with Mrs. Nayburn would become extremely infrequent and casual—at least Diddy hoped Hester would agree to that, hoped she wanted to be free of her aunt's supervision. When would they marry? So deep was Diddy's feeling for Hester (now), and so powerful his wish to secure the tie between the girl and himself as strongly as possible, that he would like nothing better than to have the ceremony performed in the hospital. This week. Or downtown, at City Hall, the day she was discharged. For that speed, he'd even put up with having Mrs. Nayburn as godmother and witness. But perhaps Hester wouldn't want to be rushed. Don't! Diddy would count himself blessed if she consented to live with him on a trial basis.

So Mrs. Nayburn would be packed off, and Diddy and Hester would live together, marry legally whenever Hester was willing. But where would they live in New York? His apartment was too small. Not an apartment. Diddy would try to borrow money for the down payment on a house: a brownstone on the West Side, or perhaps, even cheaper, an old frame house on the fringe of Chinatown such as one he'd once gotten a rental agent to show him. Hester would know every inch of that house. Without having to extend her arms to keep from colliding with doors and walls and furniture. She would never bruise herself.

More rain. Diddy is getting drenched. There's hardly anyone on the street (now). Does Hester like to walk in the rain? Diddy doesn't know yet.

He stops in a phone booth to call the hospital. Gertrude, the head nurse on the floor, who knows Diddy by (now), tells him Miss Nayburn is still unconscious. She should be awake by eight. He can come for just a few minutes' visit then.

It's only six o'clock now. Time for more walking, and cups of coffee, two cheeseburgers, a slice of pie, another cheeseburger. By seven-thirty, Diddy is almost lost somewhere in the neighborhood. The sky is starting to clear, the rain is fading. Seven-thirty already. Perhaps she's regained consciousness already. He hurries back to the hospital.

No one stops him at the nurse's desk. Diddy races down the hall, then stops before the room. His heart is thumping loudly. And softly opens the door. Hester is awake, though lying flat on her back without any pillows. Mrs. Nayburn is by the bedside whispering. As Diddy comes in, he's aghast at the pallor of that half of her face not masked by the thick white bandages. He rushes to the far side of the bed, leans over, and touches her cheek with his lips. “How do you feel?” She smiles wistfully. “Does it hurt?” She motions no with her hand. “Can you talk?”

“Yes.”

Diddy, burning, leans across the bed. “Mrs. Nayburn, would you please leave us alone for a few minutes?”

“Why?” the girl whispers.

“Hester!” Diddy pleads.

The aunt glances haughtily at both of them. “I'll do whatever you say, lovey. I certainly never meant to be in anyone's way.” Diddy's no longer to be humored. His proposal blurted out, he's already to be taken for granted.

“Hester!”

The girl strokes her aunt's hand. “Yes. For just a few minutes.” Mrs. Nayburn rises with a sigh. “Don't get her overexcited, Dalton,” she says as she leaves the room.

Diddy waits to hear the footsteps growing fainter as she moves down the corridor. Hears nothing. So she's just outside. Still, there's a door between.

“Hester, am I being very selfish? Was I cruel just now? It's just that I had to be with you alone.”

She reaches up to touch his hand. “It's raining, and you've been walking. For a long time?”

“Hours. Ever since I came at four-thirty, and they wouldn't let me see you.”

“You could have stayed, and seen me earlier. When I woke up about a half hour ago, Aunt Jessie was right outside the door.”

“Hester, don't reproach me. You're right. But the thought of spending several hours in that woman's company, while I was waiting for you, was intolerable. I had to go out.”

“I feel sorry for her,” the girl says in a strange weak voice Diddy has never heard before.

“For God's sake, Hester, stop thinking about her for a moment. Tell me how you feel. Are you in physical pain?”

“I ache all over, I guess from the anaesthetic. Otherwise, I don't know. No, I don't think I'm in pain.”

“What about your … face. Your eyes.”

“No. I feel nothing there.”

“And how do you feel inside?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, are you very sad?”

“I've been sad all along. You know that I knew the operation wouldn't work.”

“One more thing. Very important. Did your aunt tell you anything about what I said to her when I came this afternoon?”

“Yes, she told me you want to marry me.”

Diddy straightened up slightly from the uncomfortable position he'd adopted, in which he is leaning over Hester, his head above hers, his elbows and forearms resting on the mattress on either side of her head, the upper half of his body close but careful not to press on hers. She'd spoken (now) of what was most important to him, their future together; but in such an odd, remote way. Maybe he should never have brought the matter up. Saved it for tomorrow, when she would be stronger. Still, he couldn't bear to pull away altogether. Without knowing more of what she felt or, at least, could feel (now).

“Were you surprised?” A stupid question. Take it back. No.

“Well, your telegram last night.…” Hester's voice faded out.

Diddy should stop asking questions. Oh, please! Only one more. “Are you glad?”

“I'm not sure.”

Diddy's limbs stiffen. “Not sure of what? Not sure you can be happy with me?”

“Oh,” the girl says wearily. “I can be happy with almost anyone, I think. It depends on me, whether I'm happy within myself.”

“But you weren't happy living with your aunt? Yes or no?”

“No, I wasn't happy.”

“Will you leave her and live with me?”

“I'll try.” Diddy, speechless with joy, lowers his face and kisses Hester's cheek. Is that all, really all? Is there no special eloquence needed? Nothing more he has to say? Not really. But Diddy about to say something anyway. When he notices Hester moving her pale cracked lips; her voice so low he has to strain to hear it.

“What, my love?”

“Can we call Aunt Jessie back now? She must be waiting outside.”

Are those the words that follow? Diddy can't help feeling hurt. “Don't you want to be alone with me, Hester? For just a few minutes?”

“I can't be alone with anyone right now. I'm too tired, and I feel as if I've been sliced into a thousand pieces. Don't you see, Dalton, there isn't one person here for you to be alone with? So you mustn't be jealous of my aunt.”

“I'll try not to be.” He's been clumsy, overbearing with his tenderness. Who is Diddy to insist that he's better for Hester than her aunt?

He held the door open for Mrs. Nayburn. The woman walked stiffly to her niece's bedside; began whispering to the girl. Diddy stands contritely at the window, graciously allowing the two women to ignore him.