Not Perfect(75)

She glanced at Levi in his bed in this surprisingly nice private room, which she was sure would cost more than the most luxurious hotel in the world. He was asleep, finally, though the bruises were starting. She could see them on his face, but she knew they would run all the way up his body, following the path of the bike. Tabitha asked, and the biker was okay. He was thrown but landed well, they said. He had a badly scraped elbow but nothing more. Apparently he was very worried about Levi at the scene. That was about as far as Tabitha could go in her mind before she had to shut her eyes and try to imagine something else—the two kids sitting on the couch watching television was the image that kept coming back to her, the one that calmed her.

Tabitha tiptoed out of the room. Two nurses talked quietly at the dimly lit desk.

“Can we help you?” one of them asked.

“Yes, I wondered, I’m worried about my daughter at home. Levi is sleeping. Would it be crazy to run home and see her, and then come right back? We don’t live far.”

“You can go, of course,” the nurse said. She was so pretty, with blond hair and a clear, open face. Tabitha decided there was no way that she always worked overnight. Someone who worked overnight regularly couldn’t possibly look that fresh and vibrant. “I’ll keep an eye out. When should I tell him you’ll be back, if he wakes while you’re gone?”

“I should be back in an hour, two at the most,” she said.

“I bet he’ll sleep through,” the other nurse said now. “He’s had a lot of medication.”

“Thank you so much,” Tabitha said. “I’ll hurry. I just want to give her a hug and let her know Levi is okay.”

“I completely understand,” the first nurse said. “We’ll see you soon.”

Tabitha went back to get her purse and gave Levi one last check. He was fast asleep, breathing through his mouth, which still looked misshapen, but she had been assured it would work itself out, though it might need some help. She grabbed her bag and walked out, past the nurse’s station and to the elevator. Downstairs, she walked out through the main entrance into the cool night air. It was so dark out. She got a cab right away and gave the address, Nora’s address. She had no intention of going home. She never did. Fern and Rachel were fast asleep. They didn’t need her right now.

The cab driver grunted an acknowledgment and pulled away from the hospital. She watched the people coming and going, so many people either just beginning to deal with their emergency or safely on the other side. She looked in her purse and pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil. She had been formulating a new list in her head—what she owed and what she was terrified might be taken from her, what was almost taken. She set the paper on her knee and drew a line down the center making two columns. On the left she listed two things: my mother, the allergy. On the right she listed two things: Fern, Levi. At the bottom she scrawled: a life for a life? How much did she owe? Did it even work that way? And how much did she take? She still wasn’t sure. She turned the pencil around in her hand and began to erase everything. It was messy, and the eraser kept getting stuck on the paper, ripping it. When the words had almost disappeared, though, she could still make them out if she looked very hard, she ripped the paper into tiny pieces and kept them in her clenched fist.

She had not thought about actually paying for the cab. She still had the cash from Nora, she never put it in the bank, so she pulled out a twenty and waited for the change, giving a 10 percent tip, then adding two more dollars at the last minute. She got out and walked into the quiet lobby. She thought for sure she’d be stopped now, or probably Nora’s door wouldn’t be open. It was practically the middle of the night, for heaven’s sake. She had not thought through any of these complications. She walked by the desk where a man looked half asleep, maybe two-thirds asleep, if that was possible, definitely more than half. She leaned over to drop her paper pieces into the garbage can next to his desk. She waited as they fluttered down, pushing the last few off her sticky, sweaty palm.

The man cleared his throat.

“I’m going to care for Nora,” she said, before he asked. “On the second floor.”

He looked at his watch.

“That time already?” he said, then, “It’s a little early.”

She had no idea what he meant. Early for what?

“It is,” she said. “I just got the call.”

“All right then,” he said. She waited a beat longer but he seemed to be done with her.

She went to the elevator and pushed “2.” While she was going up, she brushed one last tiny piece of paper off her shirt, which she let fall to the floor. She got out, walked across the hall, and opened the door. She wondered if Nora was sleeping. It didn’t make any sense that she would be in here, defenseless, with the door open. She would talk to someone at some point about this, maybe she’d have to make an anonymous call to Home Comforts, which was so clearly an incompetent company, and just hope someone answered the phone.

The lights were on, but she didn’t want to yell out the way she had before. She tiptoed in thinking, This is crazy! What was she doing? But if she could just get to the bathroom and get that money . . . Maybe she could do it all without anyone knowing. As she came around the corner into the living room, there was Nora, on the floor, her knees elegantly to the side in a position Tabitha would not have thought her capable, especially with her recently injured leg. Her white hair, which was usually up in a bun, was down around her shoulders. It looked thin and slightly greasy. She had clearly been crying.