Tattoos: A Novel (26 page)

All the lights in the apartment were out except for the tube light over the sink that Gran had left on for me. I hadn’t been able to tell her that I wasn’t going to be around for dinner since my phone had died. I hoped she wasn’t pissed at me. I hung my coat on the hook and went to my room. I planned to call Marilee and say goodnight before I crashed, but I needed to charge my cell before I did. I would have called her from the land line in the apartment, but since I only ever called her with my cell I reasoned she might not pick up.

I plugged my phone in and left it on the counter. I only needed about half an hour and I’d be able to call her. I checked the time and realized that it was already 9:00 p.m. but I still had wiggle room since Marilee didn’t go to bed until at least 11:00 p.m. most nights. My eyelids dropped from exhaustion. I stretched out on the sofa, planning to close my eyes for a few minutes. The next thing I knew Gran was shaking me awake.

“Jackson it’s already 8:00, don’t you have a shift at Vinyl this morning?”

“Damn,” I said, vaulting to my feet. It wasn’t a smart move and it left me feeling light headed, my mind a muddle.
 

“You shower up, I’ll get some breakfast for you,” Gran said. She touched my cheek with her liver spotted hand and shook her head. “You look pale, you’re over doing it Jackson, you can’t be everything to everyone, something has to give.”

“Yeah I know,” I said with a grin.
 

I leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She sighed hugely.

 
“I may as well talk to the walls for all the good it does talking to you.” She stomped, or what was considered a stomp for Gran, but was really only padding in her fuzzy slippers to the kitchen. I didn’t waste any time getting showered and dressed as my shift started at 9:00 a.m. The last thing I could do was be late again. My early morning visits to Marilee and subsequent late arrivals at Vinyl, had gotten me in hot water a few too many times. I was already on probation and no matter how chill my boss was, if I was late one more time I’d get a pink slip.

As promised, Gran had two toasted poppy seed bagels slathered with cream cheese, a banana and a massive glass of milk, sitting on the table when I came out. While I wolfed down my breakfast she polished Grandad’s cabinet. The scent of lemon furniture polish filled the air. It didn’t need to be polished in the least since she’d just done the whole cabinet from top to bottom two days before, but I knew it was her ritual. A ritual that happened more frequently in the time that led up to Christmas Eve. For Gran cleaning the cabinet was less about the non-existent dust and more about remembering the husband she’d lost.
 

“Thanks for breakfast,” I said, throwing on my jacket. Gran stopped what she was doing and walked toward me. She reached for my face, a dust cloth still grasped in her right hand.

“Take care of yourself,” she said. Her tone was uncharacteristically firm. Her blue eyes seemed to spear me in place.

“You worry too much,” I said, giving her a hug. Gran held on longer than normal. When she finally let go I saw a tear sparkle in her eye. I didn’t mention it because I knew she’d be annoyed if I did. The fact that it was there made me make a mental note to try to spend more time with her. Especially since it was so close to Christmas.

I was out the door seconds later and just managed to catch the bus, literally since it was already moving. I jogged alongside it for a few minutes before the driver decided to stop.
 

Soon after I’d arrived at Vinyl it was packed with people. It seemed every person in the universe wanted to buy vintage tracks for Christmas presents. To make matters worse the guy that was supposed to work with me didn’t show up, so I had to go it solo. Not until my shift was over did I realize that I hadn’t visited or called Marilee for the first time in as long as I could remember. As I rushed to catch the next bus that would take me to the hospital, I reached into my jacket for my phone and cursed when I recognized that I’d forgotten it at home.

By the time I’d pushed through the doors it was already dark and the Christmas lights were twinkling merrily on the tree outside the hospital. As had been the case lately the place was extremely quiet. More and more people had been discharged for the holidays. The last elective surgeries had been done a few days back, so other than emergencies, the operating room was closed. I took the elevator to the third floor already imagining the feel of Marilee in my arms.
 

When I saw the Crash Cart wasn’t where it was supposed to be on the third floor, my stomach dropped. The Crash Cart was just as the name suggested a cart filled with all the things needed to resuscitate someone that went into cardiac arrest or crashed.
 
I’d seen the Cart moved a few times before. Thankfully those times had been few and far between. Either someone died or almost did.
 

I sprinted forward and down the hall. I needed to see Marilee, hold her, have her scent flood my senses and hear her voice say my name like only she could. When I rounded the corner the sense of foreboding that had encased me seemed to harden like concrete, making it difficult to breathe.
 

“Marilee,” I said, but it came out in barely a whisper. I instinctively knew she wasn’t on the third floor anymore.

I raced down to the end of the hall to room 312. Every part of me knew that Marilee wasn’t there, but hope made me go through the motions. Maybe it wasn’t what it seemed after all.
 

By the time I walked into her room I was drenched in sweat and my head spun with a multitude of reasons why she wasn’t there, most of which didn’t include the Crash Cart.

The sheets were tangled into knots on the bed, the Crash Cart still stood at the bedside. It had been ripped apart, emergency medicines and supplies used, like only happened when someone arrested. Sterile gloves, plastic tips from syringes, sterile cloths, containers that once held needles and empty intravenous bags were scattered on the floor and on Marilee’s bed. There was no sign of her anywhere.
 

It felt like all the blood in my brain retreated. I was certain I was going to pass out.
 

“Jax,” a familiar voice said from behind me. I spun to face Chip. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his face grim.

My lips moved but no sound came out. It didn’t matter because Chip already knew what I needed to hear.

He ran a thick hand over the top of his head as if there was still hair there, then tried to smile. It didn’t even remotely work.
 

“I’m not supposed to be giving out information about patients and all but…” he started to say.

“Marilee’s not just a patient,” I said. I was so close to my breaking point that it took all of my will not to shout the words at Chip.

He nodded. The creases in his forehead deepened. “From what I heard she had a bad reaction to her chemotherapy…”

“So she’s alive, she’s okay?” I said. A modicum of relief bloomed in my heart. She wasn’t dead, she could be fixed.

Chip shook his head slowly. “No Jax, she’s not dead but she’s…” His eyes grazed the floor then came back up to meet mine. “I’m just a janitor I don’t know much about anything medical. She’s in Intensive Care, they should be able to tell you more there.” He sighed, pushing a rolling bucket and mop farther into the room before locking on my face again.

“For what it’s worth I’m really sorry, I knew she meant a lot to you.”

“Don’t you mean she means a lot to me. She’s not dead,” I snapped before I could reign in my emotions. Chip seemed to take my bitter retort in stride. It made me feel even worse because he was my superior on the floor and…

“I’ve got to go,” I said, breathlessly.

 
I rushed by Chip who stood fixed as if it were all too much for him to take in. I understood the feeling because never in my life had I ever been as close to snapping under the pressure of it all, as I was then. Before I chanced going down to the ICU, I needed to know what I was in for. The only way to know was to talk to the nurses on the ward.
 

The nurses station was muted, so unlike it had been just a day before when everyone had been discussing cookie recipes and were counting down the days to Christmas. The first person to see me was Tana, the head nurse. She was a petite woman with short dirty-brown hair, bifocals and age spots on the back of her hands. She wore black dress pants and a cream colored cotton short sleeved blouse with lace, edging the cuffs.
 

Someone who didn’t know her might have been fooled into thinking that her
 
diminutive nature and her kind gentle face meant she was a push over. They would have been wrong. Tana was the captain of the ship and though she was tough with the nurses in her charge, she was equally fair. I knew that if anyone had all the information I needed it was her.

“Jax,” she said. She released an extended sigh, as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. All eyes went to me, but none of the other nurses spoke. Tana moved down the length of the counter of the nurses station. I noticed her head just managed to clear the top. Unable to speak I watched her come around.
 

“I gather you’ve already been to Marilee’s room,” she said when she’d reached me. Her eyes were soft and understanding. I was thankful for her obvious compassion because right then I didn’t have it in me to demand that she tell me what had happened. Tana fingered the name card that hung around her neck. It was the only signal that showed she was out of sorts.

I nodded. Satisfied with my response, Tana continued to speak.

“She’s taken a turn for the worse and she’s…”
 

She shook her head and brought her razor sharp gaze to my face. “I can’t give you all the details, but I can say that you need to prepare yourself.”

Whatever strength that had kept me going up until that moment seemed to be siphoned away. I leaned against the side of the nurses station to steady myself.

“But how? I just saw her yesterday and she was fine and…”
 

Guilt washed over me like pins and needles. If only I’d been able to see her maybe she would be okay right now.

“She started her new cycle of chemotherapy early and well…you’ll have to ask the nurses in the ICU. The only reason I’ve told you as much as I have is because you work here, in fact even what I’ve said is too much.” Her lips tightened in a move that signaled she was done offering information.

“Are her parents here now?”

“We called them a while back. I haven’t seen them so I assume that she was already transferred by the time they’d arrived.”

 
I hoped she was right because Harold and Luanne were the only two people who would be able to get me into the ICU to see Marilee. I couldn’t believe how a turn of fate had me relying on the most undependable two people I knew, to get me the answers I needed.

“Thanks for telling me Tana,” I said.
 

I truly appreciated every bit she’d told me. As far as I knew it might be the only information I’d get. Tana’s expression was wistful. It made the already crumbling walls of my resolve weaken even more. I had to get out of there before I lost it.

 
“I’m going to go see her now,” I said, my voice trembling. I hated to think that something as simple as seeing Marilee might not be possible now. I turned without another word. My legs carried me forward as if they had a life of their own.
 

I took the elevator to the fourth floor, trying not to think too hard about how sick Marilee was. The fourth floor wasn’t a floor I was familiar with since I mostly worked on the third. I’d filled in a few times when Chip had been in a pinch for staff. Unlike the rest of the hospital, that did it’s best to make the ambience appear cheery, the ICU had none of that. I guess when someone’s loved one was sick enough to be in the Intensive Care, bright colors and cutesy pictures might somehow seem to minimize the severity of the illness.
 

Other than a few silver garlands and an artificial Christmas tree just across from the elevator, the place was devoid of decorations. The atmosphere was cold and clinical and reminded me one more time how truly sick someone had to be, to be a patient here. A sliding glass door blocked the entrance from everyone other than staff and close family members. It might as well have been metal bars to a prison for how likely it was that I could get inside. My only hope was to find Marilee’s parents and convince them to put my name down as an approved visitor.

There was a waiting room outside the ICU that was open to the public. I made my way there. The room held ten or so metal and leather chairs, and a small kitchenette area to make coffee and tea. There was a microwave available to heat up food, a wooden table with six wooden chairs and a forty-two inch television that was mounted on the wall. A worn out but still operational PC sat on a computer desk, with a chair for anyone who needed to surf the net or catch up on emails.
 

Unfortunately there was no sign of either Harold or Luanne. Surely they were already inside with Marilee, at least I hoped they were.

I positioned myself in a sling back chair and waited. As soon as I wasn’t doing something my mind went through a hundred scenarios of how I would lose Marilee. No matter how many times I chased the bad thoughts away they kept coming back, each time with more power than before.
 

After an hour had passed I was too agitated to sit around for another minute. I strode to the sliding glass door, determined that I was going to get in to see Marilee no matter what the cost. If I had to smash the window to do it, I needed to find out how she was doing. It was then that my muddled brain came up with a plan that was so seemingly foolproof that I felt like an ass for not thinking of it before.

I took the stairs down to the third floor and went directly to the utility closet. Thankfully Chip wasn’t around to ask me what I was up to. I fished in my pocket for my keys to the closet and opened the door. Seconds later I was suited up in my work coveralls and ready. I pushed my utility cart to the elevator and went back up to the fourth floor. I was going on the concept that the hospital was already operating on a skeleton crew staff, and that the cleaner responsible for ICU wouldn’t be working right then. But even if someone was, I was prepared with a story about being there for back up so they could get their break in.