Authors: Tessa Saks
“That bad?”
“Sam, you can’t
imagine. She looks terrible. She’s not eating—can’t, actually. They’re thinking
of not allowing any solid foods for her. She gags and throws everything up
anyway. And she cries all the time. Apparently, she is even confused and
forgetting things.”
“Sounds awful.”
“Brianna went to see
her. I guess she’s still paranoid, still unstable and still thinks she’s in
danger. The kids are worried. They think she’s gone completely mad. I can’t
always be there for her,” he said, “I won’t
…
I’m tired of all this drama.”
“Poor thing.” Ellen
paused, holding her hand over the receiver, deciding what to say. “Maybe she’s
not imagining all this—”
“God, not you, too,”
he snapped. “That’s all I need. Are you telling me you hired a hit man to kill
her? Just what the hell are you saying?”
“No,” Ellen said.
“No. I was just thinking, who knows why she thinks these things?”
“She thinks these
things to get attention! She thinks these things because she is mentally unstable.
She’s losing her mind, for God’s sake.” His voice was so incited, Ellen could
practically picture him spitting into the receiver. She sat, waiting for him to
finish. “Damn it all, I have to go,” he said sternly, “I’ll call you.”
Ellen stared at the
phone. What could she do? What should she do? One thing was certain; she was
glad she wasn’t Ellen Horvath any more.
***
Rory glanced up at
the map of the hospital buildings, then back down at the number on the piece of
paper. He forgot to ask why his cousin Wendy was in the hospital and wondered
if he should still bring flowers. The receptionist at the desk pointed to the
gift shop. Inside he was informed that no flower vases were allowed except
unbreakable plastic. He chose a bunch of cheerful sunflowers.
Rory paid and went
back to the front desk and asked about room 22056. The receptionist went
through a list of procedures and restricted items, mostly sharp objects, belts
and drawstrings or shoelaces. The security guard opened the locked gate,
allowing him into the restricted area.
Rory punched in the
pass code for the elevator and rode to the second floor. He got off and
approached the desk. Two nurses were laughing. One of the nurses stopped
laughing and turned to Rory. “Pretty flowers.”
Rory smiled back.
“I’m here to see Wendy.”
“Wendy? I don’t know
any Wendy, do you?” She turned to the other nurse.
Rory looked at his
paper. “Says Room 22056.”
“Ellen? That’s Mrs.
Horvath’s room. Let me see
…”
Rory smiled and
pulled the paper away. “That’s right, Mrs. Horvath. She used to go by Wendy
Horvath, her middle name. I forgot. Is it over this way?” Rory pointed to the
right.
“No, that way.” The
nurse pointed in the opposite direction. “Follow the hall until it splits,
fifth door on the left. She’ll be in bed. She’s not well, so don’t say anything
to upset her.”
Rory nodded and
headed toward her room. The hallway smelled like cleaning chemicals. He winced
as voices cried out from the darkened doorways. Were they in pain? A man
shuffled in front of him, his slippers sliding along the polished linoleum, his
one arm waving to anyone, or no one. He whispered to himself, shaking his head
side to side.
Rory said, “Hello”
as he passed by. The man continued whispering and shuffling. Another lady was
sitting in a wheelchair with her head tipped sideways. Her eyes followed Rory
as he passed. “Hi,” Rory said, smiling. She smiled back, their eyes meeting
briefly. The background of voices grew dimmer as he reached room 22056.
A sign posted said:
ELLEN HORVATH
Rory rapped at the
door. “Hello,” he called into the darkness. “Hello,” he said again.
“Yes?” A weak voice
called out from the silence.
“It’s Rory Chasen.
Can I come in?”
“Rory! Yes. Yes,
come in,” the voice called out, louder and more animated.
Rory entered the
darkened room, unlit except the slashes of light finding their way through the
slatted blinds. Ellen Horvath lay on her side and appeared to be trying to sit
up. Her one arm was in a cast, making any movement difficult. She smiled when
she saw Rory. “Are you really here?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rory said.
“But I’m not sure why I’m here.”
“But here you are.”
Sam watched as Rory set the vase of flowers on the desk. “No, bring them here.
They’re so pretty
…
for me?” she
asked, patting her nightstand.
“For you, and my
cousin Wendy.” Rory smiled, placing the flowers beside her.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I
had to make that up.”
“Apparently. How did
you know about my cousin, and why the scam to get me here?”
“I needed to see
you. It was urgent. I
…
I asked
around.”
“May I?” Rory asked
as he pulled the chair closer to her bed.
“Yes, please stay. I
don’t get any visitors. Except Brianna, but she lives far from here and has to
work.” She motioned for him to move closer. “Come, turn on this light. I want
to see you.”
Rory reached over to
the light on the nightstand. Her hand touched his face as he turned on the
light. “I forgot how handsome you are,” she said, unable to take her eyes off
his.
“Thanks.” Rory made
an awkward grin, unable to mask his discomfort.
Sam laughed. “You love
it, don’t you? Come on, I know you.”
Rory cleared his
throat and sat back down. “Do you?” he asked, adjusting his shirt. “Know me,
that is? I don’t know you.”
Sam turned away.
“You don’t, do you?” She pulled the cover closer. “Well, no matter—tell me what
you’ve been doing these past months? I loved the paintings at the coffee shop,
they’re so powerful and raw. Are you painting anything new?”
Rory narrowed his
eyes, as if uncertain whether to continue talking to her or leave. He gave a
shrug, and then relaxed, relaying the past three months to Sam. She nodded with
approval as he talked about his new job and the success of his show. He told
her about selling several paintings and that another gallery planned to have
him show in a few months.
“Mrs. Robinson would
be rolling in her grave to see you now. I’m so proud of you.”
Rory looked at her
with a puzzled stare. “You don’t even know me, why do you care what I do?”
“But I hear all
about you.”
“From who?”
Sam looked away as
tears formed in her eyes. She couldn’t tell him, he might leave. She wanted him
to stay as long as possible. “From Jonathan.” She waved her hands to dry her
eyes. “Whew
…
sorry, I’m rather
emotional these days,” she said. “How is Sam?”
“Sam? She’s great.
Say, how did you know my teacher, Mrs. Robinson?”
“I hear the wedding
is going ahead. I bet she’s excited. Are you?”
“I guess. Yes. Why
shouldn’t I be?”
“No reason
…
and the baby?”
“Baby?” Rory’s face
twisted with unease.
“Come on, I know all
about it.”
“How?” Rory cleared
his throat as his face relaxed. “How are you
…
about that, I mean?”
Sam waved her hand
in the air. “I don’t care anymore. It’s all hopeless, really
…”
She leaned closer to Rory. “I
can’t change anything, can I? I am stuck in this situation and I just have to
accept everything—and so I have. I have accepted my whole lot in life, however
pathetic.”
Rory studied her
face for a few moments. “May I ask you a personal question?”
Sam smiled. “Sure,”
she said, then reached for his hand and held it.
After an awkward
moment, he pulled his hand away and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes,
then asked, “What will Jonathan do if Sam keeps the baby?”
“Keep it? She wants
to keep it? Oh my God, why?” Sam sat forward in eagerness, unable to imagine
anyone so foolish.
“She doesn’t think
she can go through with an abortion,” Rory said, sitting back and tapping his
hands on his legs. Sam’s eyes followed his hands, staring at the firm thighs
filling his tight jeans.
“She’s just playing
him, I bet.” Sam smoothed the bedcover. “She knows it would be better to have a
baby, insurance policy, you know, a lifetime of alimony
…
every girl knows that.”
“I don’t think
that’s why.”
Sam pressed her
lips, trying to imagine another reason. “Why else would you keep it?”
Rory shrugged his
shoulders and traced his fingers along the edge of the nightstand. “Conscience
…
seems she has developed a
conscience and can’t have the abortion.”
“Oh, you’re shitting
me!” Sam blurted.
Rory opened his
mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“She’d be crazy to
have it if he insists on an abortion. Has he figured out it’s not his?”
“Not his? Why
wouldn’t it be his?” Rory asked, crossing his arms.
“Come on, don’t tell
me you two never hooked up.”
Rory’s face lost
color. “I don’t think that’s anything you should
…”
Sam lay back and
grinned. “I would if I were her. I would bang your beautiful body the way I
used to, without shame, without regret, to the sound of “Hungry Like the Wolf,”
remember? That was our song. Then I would shower with you, and soap you up and
slide against your skin, slipping and sliding against those massive muscles,
and then I would tie you to a chair and dress up like a warrior princess or a
nurse—those
were
your favorites. Or maybe like when we—”
“How do you know
this stuff?” Rory yelled, jumping to his feet, his face violently red and
twisted. “Did she tell you all this?”
“No, calm yourself,
tiger,” Sam said, leaning forward on her good arm. She stared into his eyes. “I
know because I am Sam Miller, deep inside, I am Sam.”
Rory stood, his hand
clenched into a fist, smacking his palm. He started to walk away.
“No, please, stay
and hear me.” Sam tried to reach out to touch him and missed, falling forward,
half hanging off the bed.
“Damn it.” She
struggled to prop herself back onto the bed, her broken arm a useless support.
Rory turned around and stepped forward, then lifted her back against the
pillow. “I’m sorry,” she said as she looked up at him. “I don’t care anymore
what anyone thinks. Johnny won’t let me out of here—I hate my life. I plan to
kill myself, anyway.”
Rory sat down. “You
can’t kill yourself,” he said, his voice thick and edgy.
“I can and I will
…
besides, someone else will probably
beat me to it. There’s a hit out
…
on
my life.” Sam took a deep breath and sighed. “No one believes me, but I know
about it, because—surprise—I am Sam. I was there with you and Bob, and Mom at
Amy’s wedding, I know all about the poisoning. I’ve had two, maybe three
attempts already.”
Rory had an awkward
look on his face, as if shocked. “Have you told anyone?”
Sam fell onto her
back again, “Yes
…
over and
over. That’s why I’m still in here. God—long story—but I tried to tell people
and they didn’t believe me.”
“But,” Rory’s face
twisted in confusion, “you can’t be Sam, I saw her yesterday.”
“I think—no—I know,
Ellen is in my body, she stole it.”
“That’s insane!”
Rory laughed and shook his head. “No offence, but that’s the craziest thing I
ever heard. It’s just nuts.”
“I know
…
I know. That’s why I’m in here. I
wanted to see you because I plan to die one way or another. It’s the only hope
I have of ever getting my life back—of being Sam again.”
Sam started to cry.
“I miss
…
my life. No one
understands. I want my own life back. I want to be young and to be loved again.
I want to be beautiful and adored, to have men desire me. I want to have the
chance to have a husband and babies—”
“Hah!” Rory laughed
aloud and stood, pulling the chair away. “You almost had me, up to the babies
part—Sam would never want babies.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know.”
“The abortion? That
still bothers you, doesn’t it?”
Rory looked at her
with a puzzled stare and slowly sat again, sliding the chair closer.
Sam nodded. “I know
because I was there. You drove me and then waited for me. And after, we went
for ice cream and I acted as if it was great, that I was fine
…
only, it wasn’t great. I lied
because I didn’t want you to think I had made the wrong choice. I didn’t want
regrets. I hoped to fool myself
…
and
you.”
“I don’t understand
any of this. Who told you?”
“Rory, I was cruel
to you. I wanted to marry a man who, basically, is an ass, and all because he
had money, lots of money. I loved you. I always loved you—I still love you. I
was always so afraid to be poor and end up like Mom. Her life has been
brutal—you know that. You, of all people, know how much I wanted a better life.
I wanted to have opportunities. She filled my head with dreams of being rich,
of never struggling like she did, of having everything
…”
Rory sat motionless
as Sam continued, “I’m sure I’ve hurt you over the years. I can’t believe it
myself. I was cruel. I see it now. I don’t deserve anything from you, but know
that in my heart, I’ve changed. I realize now, it isn’t just your beautiful
body I miss—it’s you. Your laugh. The way you always tickle me when you know
I’m lying. And your hugs, I really miss your hugs, having your arms hold me.
It’s how I feel when I sit beside you—that comfort, like I’ve known you for
centuries.”
“I—”
“Please, let me
finish. It’s how fiercely loyal you are to me, to my family. And your integrity
…
like when you refused to cave in to
Bob’s demands and lie for him or how you don’t worry what others think, you
decide for yourself. You’ve never worried about being somebody, you already
know who you are
…
and I love
you as you are. I’m so sad that I will never have the chance to be with you
again. I regret I will never be able to make it up to you.” She reached out and
grabbed his hand. “I love you, Rory. More than life itself. Always remember
that, okay?”