The Pain Nurse (Will Borders: Cincinnati Casebook 1) - Page 18

“And what about when you’re home? I can’t even begin to…”

He reached over and took her hand. “You won’t have to. I can be very self-sufficient. You’d be amazed at what I can accomplish just here in the hospital. I won’t be trouble. Pretty soon I’ll be walking.”

Her gaze moved past him, again. “We haven’t lived together in a long time.”

He felt a paw grip his insides. He said quietly, “I know.”

“Your doctors say you’ll need a lot of physical therapy.”

“I’ll get it. I’ll do a lot better on the outside. God, I can’t even sleep. Can’t you talk to them? Please, Cindy, get me out of this place.” He knew he was pleading. He couldn’t stop the urgent cadence of his voice.

“I brought your stuff.”

He could tell she was managing him.

He was too tired to fight her. Too scared. After a moment, he looked through the bag she had brought. Another two pairs of sweatpants and some T-shirts, a CD player and CDs, small packets of Kleenex, his wallet with cash inside.

“Thanks. I haven’t even been able to buy a Coke.” He paused. “I feel bad that I wasn’t able to get you a Christmas present. Remember, the doctors wouldn’t let me drive once they found the tumor.”

“It’s okay.” Her voice was barely audible. She was carrying the Coach handbag he had gotten her for Christmas two years before, meant as a peace offering as their marriage was coming apart, piece by piece. The room had emptied out completely. They were alone with the hospital smell and the Christmas garlands.

“Will, I can’t…”

He suddenly felt such heaviness. She could have just stood and walked away, simple movements that were both miracles in his new life. But she sat there and spoke.

“I’m not like you,” she said quietly. The harshness fell from her eyes, replaced by tears. “I’m not noble. I have a job. You have a…calling.” She didn’t speak the words like a compliment. He gripped her hand but she pulled it away. “I can’t put my whole life on a shelf to, to…put it right for the dead. I’m not a damsel in distress anymore, so what am I to you? I’m not a mu

rder victim.”

“Cindy…”

“I can’t…” She waved him away, pulled into herself. Her face became red and tears streaked her cheeks.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Her eyes were red and fierce. “You’re always so goddamned reasonable! It’s not okay. None of it is. And you know it! You’ve never even forgiven me…”

“That’s not true.” He felt a sucking hole in his middle. He reached for her again, but she pushed away.

“Wait, Will. Please. I’m not…I can’t. You and I, we’re just too different. I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I thought I could. I had thought it all through. I wanted to wait for all this to be over. I prayed you would be all right, and I’m so glad you came through the surgery. But this is never going to be over. Don’t you get it? Will, I can’t do this. I can’t take care of you, be your nurse.”

“I don’t need a nurse!”

“I can’t give up the rest of my life. I’ve given up so much already, for you, for Sam, and he won’t even talk to us. I have a career. I’m still young. I’m entitled to a life, you know.”

He had met her at a bank robbery. She was a teller and he was a young patrolman. Somehow he had found the courage to come back and ask for her phone number. She had been a young woman with a shy smile and a two-year-old baby. They had married six months later. It had all happened too fast. Eighteen years had happened too fast. He now recalled how, two days after his surgery, a nurse was helping him from the bathroom back to the bed. He had been constipated for a week, and suddenly he shit on the floor. Just shit on the floor. He couldn’t move fast enough to get back to the toilet, or even take a step. He could just move enough to see, in the mirror, the horrible brown cord snake out of him onto the floor, and to see Cindy’s expression of disgust. He knew she was thinking: I had married this?

Now he said nothing. The speakers called trauma team one to the emergency room, and then trauma team two. His mouth was too dry to speak, his lungs too tired to force out any words.

“I’ll help you with money, Will. You won’t have to worry.”

“Just go.”

“I’ve talked to your brother,” she said.

Tags: Jon Talton Will Borders: Cincinnati Casebook Mystery
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