Three Little Words (20 page)

“Driftwood? Duck? A dolphin?” Wain points out the window.

Sid laughs. “There's no dolphin.” He was going to say
doofus
but it seems too mean now, especially after Wain has said
friend
rather than
fag
.

“Give up?” They nod and he points toward the sleeping hippies. “Dreamers,” he says. “I spy dreamers.”

Wain snorts and says, “No one would ever guess that. Your turn, Chloe.”

They play I Spy until it's time to go down to the car. No one has been able to guess anyone else's word, but it doesn't matter. It passes the time and keeps Sid from thinking about where he's going and what he's doing.

Wain and Chloe are plugged into their iPods, Sid naps and Elizabeth listens to some classical music station as she drives. They only make one stop on the way down the island, to eat the lunch Megan has packed for them and use the bathrooms in a small roadside park. When they pull into the driveway at Devi's house, Phil comes out of the garage to greet them.

“Good trip?” he asks.

“Exhausting,” Elizabeth says. “I need to freshen up before I go to the hospital.”

“You're going right now?” Wain asks. “We only just got here.”

“I didn't drive like a bat out of hell all the way down the island so I could put my feet up when I got here,” Elizabeth replies. “Take your things inside, Wain. We're leaving in ten minutes.”

“Can't I go tomorrow?” he asks. “I'm tired.”

“So am I,” Elizabeth says. “Phil told your mother we'd be there today, so that's what we're doing, tired or not.”

“Okay, okay,” Wain says. He slouches into the house, his shoulders hunched.

“I guess you're in the loft again, Sid,” Phil says. “Or Chloe can have the loft and you can sleep in my bed. Doesn't matter to me. The sheets are clean. I'll stay at Devi's with Wain until she comes home.”

“When's that going to be?” Sid asks.

“When she's stabilized. Couple of weeks, maybe more.”

Sid nods and starts toward the garage. “You want the loft?” he asks Chloe, who is extricating her suitcase from the trunk.

“Nah,” she says. “No way I'm getting this puppy up a ladder.” She sets the suitcase on its wheels and follows Sid.

“You gonna go with them?” she says.

“Now? No. Tomorrow. I'll go tomorrow. With you. And only for a few minutes.”

“You sure? That you want me there? I mean, I'm nobody to her. And you might want to talk—privately.”

“You're not nobody to me. I need you to be there. Not Elizabeth. Not Wain. You. And I doubt whether we're going to talk much. She's all doped up.”

“Okay, okay. Just checking. As long as I get time to shop, I'll be happy. I don't suppose Elizabeth knows where someone my age would shop.”

“I doubt it, but remember I told you about those girls who helped me look for Wain. Amie and Enid? They'll know where you should go, although they're pretty big into vintage, I think. And I wanted to see them anyway. Tell them what's happening.”

“I can do vintage,” Chloe says. “Can you call them tonight?”

“Sure,” Sid says. He opens the door to the garage.

“Awesome smell,” Chloe says as they walk through to the living quarters. “And this apartment is soooo tiny and adorable.”

“Wait till you see the bathroom,” Sid says. “Devi tiled the shower walls. It's really beautiful but kinda creepy.”

He carries his stuff up to the loft and lies down for a moment, staring up at the skylight. He can hear Phil talking to Chloe, showing her around, offering her a drink. He hears Elizabeth's car start up and drive away. The door to the garage opens and shuts. Phil's and Chloe's voices move farther away, into the garden. A flock of Canada geese flies overhead in perfect formation. Geese are a good omen, he decides, unlike crows. Geese are orderly, purposeful, community-minded birds. Maybe they're flying to Jimmy Chicken Island.

Chloe's giggle floats up from the garden, like a bubble in a glass of soda. Fizzy, funny Chloe. He feels calm, calmer than he thought he'd feel. He knows that tomorrow he might feel differently, but today he's okay. He's here to support his brother and his grandmother. He chose to be here. He's with his best friend. He's going to get the visit with Devi over with and go home. It's that simple, he thinks as he drifts off to sleep.

Over the Moon

P
hil takes Sid and Chloe to the hospital after breakfast the next day. Elizabeth is already there; Wain is at home, asleep.

“Seeing Devi yesterday was hard for Wain,” Phil says as they wait for an orderly to buzz them into the ward. “She doesn't look so good.” He doesn't elaborate, and Sid imagines her as haggard, wild-haired, filthy. A lunatic, shackled to her bed.

Any sense of well-being Sid had experienced the night before evaporates as they approach the psych ward, which is on the top floor of the hospital. He wishes he had never agreed to watch
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's
Nest
with Chloe. He grabs Chloe's hand. His mouth is dry, but his palms are sweaty. He hopes she doesn't mind.

She squeezes his hand and whispers, “It's gonna be okay.”

The door swings open to reveal a dingy green corridor that leads to an elevated, glassed-in nurses' station overlooking a lounge full of grungy couches and battered coffee tables. A big-screen
TV
is tuned to something with an irritating laugh track.
Happy Days
. Half a dozen patients stare blankly at the screen. No one is laughing, not even when Fonzie says, “It's a lot of fun in la-la land.” The studio audience shrieks with joy.

Phil stops at the nurses' station and checks in.

“She's doing better today,” a young nurse named Sandra says. She is dressed, as are all the nurses, in street clothes: jeans, sneakers, cheerful T-shirts. She smiles at Sid and Chloe. “First time here? Kinda freaky, right? But don't worry. I'm not Nurse Ratched and we don't do lobotomies anymore.” Before Sid can recover from the fact that a) she appears to have read his mind and b) she has a really dark sense of humor, she picks up a chart and says, “Devi's a little more alert today. It helps that her family is here. Although we have to make sure she doesn't get overtired.”

Phil nods and leads Sid and Chloe down another green corridor, this one lined with patients' rooms. Some of the doors are open and Sid can see the inmates, none of whom look at all like Jack Nicholson. Most of them are dressed in hospital pajamas. They look more defeated than anything else, lying on their hospital beds, staring out the chicken-wired windows. Their rooms are devoid of decoration. Sid hangs back when they get to Devi's room. He feels queasy.

“Let me tell them you're here,” Phil says. “Make sure this is an okay time.”

Sid tries to smile, but his lips stick to his teeth. It's not an okay time for me, he thinks. He starts to move away down the hall, but Chloe pulls him back. She's strong for a small girl. All those Polish peasant genes.

“What are you doing?” she hisses.

“Leaving,” he says.

“No way.”

“I don't want to see her. I made a mistake. I need to leave. Now. This isn't going to do me any good.”

“You don't know that,” Chloe says. “Did it ever occur to you that this wasn't all about you? That it's about Wain and Devi and Elizabeth too?”

“Fuck you,” Sid says. “I'm outta here.” He yanks his hand away from Chloe just as Phil comes out of the room.

“She's ready,” Phil says. He looks from Chloe to Sid. “You okay, Sid?”

“He's fine,” Chloe says sweetly. “Aren't you, Sid?” She stands on tiptoe and kisses him softly on the cheek. Then she takes his hand in hers again and they walk together through the open door. Phil closes it behind them and waits in the hall. The room is dim, the only light coming from a high, barred slit of a window. It's a horrible room—depressing, definitely the worst on the ward—but Sid doubts whether someone as doped-up as Devi cares.

Elizabeth is sitting next to the bed, her hands in her lap. Her eyes are fixed on the figure in the bed. Devi is very, very thin, her body almost child-size under the blankets. Soft gray curls frame a face that is all angles, although her cracked lips are full. A cut on her forehead bears three stitches and one arm is bandaged. An
IV
drips clear liquid into her other arm. Her fingernails are clean and clipped short, but her hands look chapped and raw.

Chloe steps up to the bed, pulling Sid after her. “I'm Chloe,” she says, “and this is Sid. He's a bit freaked out at the moment, but I'm sure he'll stop acting like a total whiny baby pretty soon.”

Devi opens her eyes and tries to focus. “Sid,” she says.

“He's not always like this,” Chloe continues. “Usually he's pretty cool. Not exactly outgoing though, are you, Sid?”

She nudges Sid, who continues to stare silently at Devi. She's so small, he thinks. So helpless. So—he searches for the right word—
fragile
. Like a robin's egg that has dropped from a nest. There is nothing about her that screams
Mother
or
monster
. Nothing at all.

He clears his throat. “I don't know what to say,” he croaks.

Devi nods. “Me too.” She coughs and Elizabeth hands her a plastic glass of water with a striped bendy straw, the kind Megan keeps for when kids are sick.

“The medication makes her mouth very dry,” Elizabeth explains as Devi drinks.

“I'm sorry you're sick,” Sid says. “I hope you get better soon.” He knows he sounds lame, as if she has the flu or maybe pneumonia—something ordinary and curable—but his own mouth is dry and his brain has shorted out. He hopes it's temporary.

“Yes,” Devi says. Her eyes close and she turns her head away from him.

That's it? Sid thinks. My big reunion? A tiny sick woman in a hospital bed. Three little words. He shakes his head.

“She'll sleep now,” Elizabeth says. “I know it's hard for you to understand, but she made a huge effort today. Huge.” Her eyes fill with tears as she smoothes the covers over Devi. “You'll come back tomorrow, won't you? I know she wants to see you again.”

How can you tell? Sid wonders, although he knows he will return. He has promised Wain they would come together while Chloe goes shopping.

“Yes,” he says. “But then we're going home.”

A voice from the bed whispers, “Home.”

The next day, Sandra greets Wain by name when he and Sid arrive on the ward. Today she is wearing a pink T-shirt that says
I will get my
ocd
under control…as soon
as I wash my hands one more time.

Wain stares at her chest a long time and then laughs. Sid's pretty sure Wain doesn't need that much time just to read a slogan.

“Not as funny as the one you had on the other day, the paranoid one! I loved that.” He turns to Sid. “It was awesome. What did it say again, Sandy?”

“
Paranoid? You would be too if everyone was out to get
you
. The guys love it.” Sandy and Wain cackle. An old man watching
TV
yells, “Sucked in the vacuum cleaner!” and someone else tells him to shut up.

“Business as usual,” Sandy says. “You can go on down to your mom's room. She's expecting you. She's much better today. I called your grandmother and told her there was no need to rush in. She said you two were coming. She has a meeting with Devi's team this morning.”

“Her team?” Sid asks as he and Wain walk down the hall to Devi's room.

“Shrink, social worker, nutritionist, massage therapist, yoga instructor, priest. Who knows? The Dalai Lama could be on her team for all I know.”

“That'd be cool,” Sid says.

“I guess.” Wain stops outside the door, shuts his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Relaxation breathing. Megan taught Sid to use it years ago. Maybe Devi did the same for Wain at some point.

Sid fills his lungs and lets the air out with a
whoosh
. “The Dalai Lama would be proud,” he says as they open the door to Devi's room.

Devi is sitting up in bed, eating breakfast. Cream of Wheat, weak tea, orange juice. Gross. The
IV
has been disconnected, but the pole is lurking in a corner. She pushes the tray away when they come in. When she speaks, her words are a bit slurred.

“My boys,” she says. She holds her hand out to Wain, who leans over and kisses her. Sid stays at the end of the bed.

“Thank you for coming, Sid,” she says. “You didn't have to.”

“Actually, I did. Or Wain would have beaten me up.”

Devi laughs. It's a strange sound in the dim room—clear and deep as the water in Sid's favorite lake.

“Is that true, Wain?” she says.

“I could,” Wain says. “He's such a—”

“Such a what?” Sid asks, waiting for the words.
Pussy
.
Faggot
.

“A wimp,” Wain says. “He's, like, a pacifist or something.”

“That true, Sid?” Devi smiles. Her teeth are perfectly straight but dingy, as if she had orthodontics but never brushed her teeth. “Are you a pacifist? Or a wimp?”

Sid shrugs. “Bit of both, I guess. Depending on the situation.”

“Very commendable,” Devi says.

“Very stupid,” Wain says. He reaches over and punches Sid on the shoulder. Sid ignores him.

“Nana tells me that Sid's”—Devi hesitates—“Sid's mother has invited you to stay with them until school starts.” This is the longest sentence she has spoken and she seems exhausted by the effort. Her eyes close and she leans back on the pillows.

“Can I go?” Wain asks.

Devi's eyes remained closed as she says, “Do you want to?”