Only the Rain(42)

They had me hooked up to one of those heart monitors, Spence, so it wasn’t long before a nurse came in to see why my heart was racing like I’d sprinted ten miles uphill with a full pack.

“You having a hard time breathing?” she asked.

“This tape might be a little tight.”

“It’s supposed to be tight. I’ll get you something for the pain.”

As soon as she was out the door, I looked at Pops and said, “So what are my options here?”

He said, “I’m trying to think of one.”

Then the nurse was back with a plastic bag of something, which she rigged up to drip into the tube already taped to my arm. “You’ll start feeling better in a minute or so,” she said. “You might want to tell your grandfather goodnight while you’re still awake.”

She hung around so long after that, watching the monitor and taking my pulse, that before I knew it I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I’d feel myself going off into the dark, sort of slowly melting down into it, then I’d yank myself back up again and force my eyes open. But then the dark would take hold of me again and suck me back down.

The last thing I remember is feeling Pops’ stubbly chin scrape against my nose as he kissed me on the forehead. I tried to lift my arms up and hug him, but I was in the quicksand then, brother, and sort of hoping I’d never have to come back out.

The doctor didn’t get around to having a look at me until after eleven the next morning. Cindy had already called three times for an update. Good thing it was a Saturday; she didn’t have to go to work or take the girls anywhere.

After the doc released me I sent Cindy a text, cause I wasn’t ready yet to get into a conversation with her. I knew that was waiting for me at home once the girls were busy playing or watching TV. I got dressed and went downstairs and signed some papers, then I went outside and sat on a bench overlooking the parking lot. All I could think about was how much that night in the hospital was going to cost me. Three, four thousand minimum, that was my guess. Shit, they charge you fifty dollars every time they step inside the room.

So Cindy pulls up in the truck, and the girls aren’t with her, so I know I’m in for it. No way she’d leave the girls with anybody on a weekend unless she has serious business to attend to. I climb in and shut the door and sit there watching the telephone poles go by.

We’re nearly halfway home before she swings us off the road and into a Food Lion parking lot. She eases into the first empty slot and shuts off the engine. She sniffs a couple of times, and it finally dawns on me she’s crying. It hurts to look at her sitting there hunched up over the steering wheel.

“I didn’t do anything with that girl,” I tell her.

“You did something,” she says.

And there it was again, another chance to come clean and tell her about the money. Looking back, I can see these moments clear as day. But when you’re actually inside one of them, and there’s this heavy fog over everything you do and say and think, it’s not so easy to make an intelligent decision. I’d already disappointed her once. How would she react to finding out her husband was a thief? I felt hollow and broken and more alone than I’d ever felt in my life. The rest of the truth could only make matters worse.

So I told her, “I swear to God I didn’t.”

“That man threatened one of our babies!”

“I’ve been thinking about that. And I think all he wanted was to scare you. You and me both.”

“Well he did a pretty damn good job of it, didn’t he?”

“He’s not going to touch them, I know he won’t. How stupid would that be if he did? The playground monitor saw him, the vice principal knows he was there. You put it all on record.”

“So maybe he’s too stupid to think about that. Then what?”

“He’s not stupid, Cindy. He’s calculating. Pops told me about how the three of them shook down a college kid by charging him with rape.”

“Oh my God, Russell.”

“It won’t happen with us, I promise you. There’s no evidence. Not a shred. Things are different these days, what with DNA and forensics and all that stuff. Plus, if they try the same scam again, their history will come back to haunt them. We’ll take them to court.”

“With what? How are we supposed to pay a lawyer? I don’t even know how we’re going to pay your hospital bill!”

“I took care of that already.” I don’t know why I said it, Spence. Because I love her, I guess. And because I’d already caused her enough worry.

“What do you mean you took care of it? How?”

“Your insurance covered about a third of it. The rest was covered by some program for low-income families. With me being out of work and all.”

At first she seemed pleased by this news. Then she broke down and started crying for real. “Damn it, Russell. What’s next for us—food stamps? I will not live like that again!”

“You won’t have to, babe. I promise. If I don’t get that job at Lowe’s, I’ll find something else. I’ll flip burgers if I have to. You and the girls are my life. You know that.”

Finally she pinched the tears from her eyes and rubbed her cheeks dry. “I forgot to ask you how the interview went yesterday.”