What is Love? (39 page)

Mrs. Miller stared
out toward the bar, lost in thought. “Bob’s different, you know
 …
he’s brave and I respect that. He
takes chances. So he got caught? He’s trying to make a better life for us, just
like you are. We can only use what we got. He uses what he’s got and you
 …”
She reached across and patted
Ellen’s cheek. “You, my pretty baby doll—you use what you got, just like I
taught you. That’s the way it all works.” Mrs. Miller sat back, basking in her
pride. “Soon, you’ll be so dang rich, I won’t even need Bob, anyway. Hell, I
might just keep him around on account of his charms, though.” Mrs. Miller
winked and flashed a devious smile.

“You’re right. I
guess I’m flustered from all this crazy talk of
 …
death and murder. You will talk to Bob, and stop all this
so I can get the money, right?”

“You bet. Say, you
gonna come visit your old granny sometime? She misses you. It’s been a long
time since you was by
 …
and we
could go visit Benny at the pen. Make a day of it.”

Ellen couldn’t hold
back her smile. “That would be a real treat, should I bake a cake?”

“Can’t bring ‘em anything
‘cept books and magazine subscriptions. Benny still likes those big truck ones
and Bob, you could bring him a couple of girlie ones, good to trade for shit.”

Ellen’s joke sailed
right over her frizzy head. No surprise really. Ellen stood. “I need to go.
Thanks for helping
 …
er, Mom.”
She leaned over and air-kissed Mrs. Miller goodbye.

As she set money on
the table, Mrs. Miller touched her hand. “I’ll try, baby girl, I’ll try. Say,
you got some extra in there?”

Ellen looked at the
bills visible in her wallet, her cab fare home. She needed this woman to help
more than she needed to avoid a grim bus ride. She handed most of her cash to
Mrs. Miller. “Hey, Mother, how about a lift to the bus stop?”

Mrs. Miller smiled
and downed her beer, then put her arm around Ellen. They left the bar and Ellen
climbed onto the bike, her arms wrapped around this tough mother’s waist as
they sped to the bus stop on a loud, rumbling motorbike.

Ellen waved goodbye
to Mother and boarded a bus for home. Her thoughts of death ping-ponged around
in her head as the bus pulled away from the stop. Her death. Sam’s death. It
was real
 …
but who would ever
believe it. As the trip home dragged on, Ellen thought of the words Samantha’s
mother said as she was leaving.

“Sammy, I’m proud of
you.”

“For what?” Ellen
had pressed, curious what could make her proud.

“For getting
yourself a rich man. I shoulda done it myself. I sold out to love, and look
what I got all these years—nothing. Never sell out to love.” Mrs. Miller had
taken Ellen by the shoulders and held her as she repeated, “Never. Okay?
Promise me? It ruins your life.”

Ellen had nodded.
Every mother’s dream
 …
marry
your daughter to a rich man. She held that same dream, except Brianna insisted
on love. “I’ll never be in a loveless marriage,” she would exclaim. The
underlying message made abundantly clear—never in one like
yours
.

Ellen stared out the
window of the bus and tried to imagine what would happen. The future suddenly
contained more questions than answers, so full of problems and fear. Yet, in
spite of all of it, she hoped that no matter what happened
 …
that she would, at the very least,
be happy. Why couldn’t she? Why was it always so difficult, so challenging,
just to be happy?

***

It had been two days
since Brianna’s visit. Sam couldn’t stop thinking about the baby. She hadn’t
heard from Jonathan. She rode a roller coaster of emotion as she imagined
Jonathan having a baby and getting married. She chided herself for feeling
hopeful.
A baby.
In
her
body!

She would never have
a baby in this decaying body. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

I should be
getting married. I should be pregnant. I should be young.
The more she
tried to console herself, the worse she felt. Everything was out of her
control. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t have anything she wanted
 …
and far worse, everything she ever
loved was gone. Anyone whom she ever loved was gone. No friends, no lovers, no
family except for Brianna. Thank God for Brianna. She felt more like a sister
than a daughter.
The irony
, Sam laughed—
she’d hate me if she actually
knew who I was. Despise wouldn’t be a strong enough word.

And Jonathan. In her
heart, Sam believed Jonathan would see “her” inside this crappy shell of a
body. Was he really so shallow to only love the outside shell? Sam tried to
defend him, but she couldn’t, not anymore.
He never really tried to talk to
me. He never really got to know me; if he did, he would see, I’m not Ellen. I’m
nothing like Ellen.
And Ellen—he still judged her based on the past forty
years of routine. A habit so deeply entrenched, a set way of thinking, so
stubbornly strong, he couldn’t even see his Ellen had changed, had improved.

Does he treat
her, the Sam imposter, as if she were me? Didn’t he notice I was gone? In
reality, what was I to him?
It scared her that she had truly been just a
body, a young body, but only that, nothing more. The exterior far more important
than any interior. How could no one notice either of them had actually
switched? Was everyone really that blind?

Sam lay on her bed,
staring mindlessly at the ceiling lights, when a nurse came in.

“Here you go, Mrs.
Horvath,” she said, setting the tray on the table over the bed. “Supper and
medication time.”

Sam sat up and
pushed the tray away. “I’m not hungry.”

“Mrs. Horvath, you
haven’t eaten for two days. I won’t leave until you eat something.”

Sam looked at the
nurse, who had her arms folded across her chest and the strong look of
determination. “It’s your favorite, macaroni and cheese.”

Sam lifted the lid
and looked at it. Her stomach flipped twice. “I can’t.”

“You have to. You
need to take your prescriptions, and they must be taken with food. Here, these
first.” The nurse handed her a glass of water. Sam swallowed the pills followed
with cool water. Then she picked up a fork and pushed the noodles around, as if
looking for something lost. “A few mouthfuls,” the nurse said.

Sam took a deep
breath and lifted a forkful of pasta into her mouth. She closed her eyes. It
tasted good
 …
until swallowing,
then it landed in her stomach with a heavy thud. She tightened her face. “One
more,” the nurse demanded.

Sam picked up the
fork and put one more bite in her mouth. As she chewed, the taste turned from
pleasant to bitter. The texture seemed mealy and thick, almost sticky, like
wallpaper paste congealed into clumpy blobs. Her throat tightened. She
swallowed hard as the lump of food fought its way down to her stomach. Sam held
her hand up. “No more. I can’t
 …
I
just can’t.”

“Okay, we’ll try
again later.” The nurse said, picking up the tray. “You have to eat, you can’t
be all skin and bones.”

Sam tried to force a
smile. “Skin and bones? God, I’m a good hundred pounds of flab away from skin
and bones.” She lay back and rested her hands on her stomach. She squeezed the
fatty layer, a plump ten-inch handful of flab. No, she’d have to wait awhile
for skin and bones. The nurse mumbled something as she took the tray away. Sam
was watching the room tilt up and down, then side to side. She closed her eyes
to make it stop. She prayed to feel well again. She prayed to feel happy. She
prayed to be herself again.

***

Several days later,
Ellen sat in the clinic rubbing her stomach. There was something magical about
a life growing inside you. She smiled at Sienna, reaching for her hand, “Here,
feel
 …
feel a new life.” Ellen
put her hand on hers.

Sienna put her hand
on her stomach and closed her eyes. “Nothing, sorry.”

The ultrasound technician
entered the room. “Let’s have a peek at this baby of yours.” The technician
lifted Ellen’s shirt and squeezed the warm gel onto her belly. “Have you had an
ultrasound before?” she asked, as she spread the clear liquid.

“Years ago,” Ellen
said with a smile.

Sienna looked at
her. “I thought you never did.”

“Oh, I mean I was
here with a friend. She had it done.”

“Well, let’s see how
your baby is doing.” The screen showed a small grey and white shape within a
dark oval surrounded by more grey and white static. “That’s the baby here.” The
technician pointed to the spot on the monitor.

“That’s a baby?”
Sienna laughed. “It looks like lint on a screen.”

“See, here
 …
the head and spine. And here
 …
this is the heart.”

“I can’t believe you
can see it already,” Ellen said.

“Yes,” the
technician said, marking points for measurement. “It’s ten weeks old.”

“Ten weeks? No, it
should be seven weeks.”

“Well, it’s at least
ten weeks. It has a thirty-one millimeter crown rump length.”

“But
 …
that’s impossible.” Ellen looked at
Sienna and said, “Grab my purse.” She pulled it up beside her and Ellen
rummaged through it, finally pulling out a calendar. “If that’s correct—when
was I sick with that bad fever, do you remember?”

Sienna looked up at
the ceiling as she performed the mental math. “Oh, June I guess. I was away at
that stupid audition in Philly and then we went wedding dress shopping
 …
around the twentieth, I’d say.”
Ellen dropped the calendar by her side and closed her eyes.

“We’re all done.”
The technician handed her a towel. “Here, wipe the gel off with this.”

Sienna moved to the
chair across from Ellen. “Sam?” she asked as the door closed behind the
technician. “What is it? You look as white as that paper sheet.”

Ellen looked at
Sienna. “It’s nothing. I’m just surprised by the dates. Today is September fifth,
and if my fever was twelve weeks ago, that means—”

“You still have
time, right?”

“You saw the baby
 …
it’s already ten weeks
 …”
Ellen let out a deep sigh and
collapsed back, covering her face with her hands.

Sienna got up and
sat beside Ellen on the bed. “What are you going to do?”

Ellen turned away.
“I don’t know.”

“If you can’t go
through with
it …
you know
 …
you could go stay with your mom.”

Ellen turned and
faced her. The thought of having to live with Sam’s
mother
sent a chill
through her body. “I don’t know what to do—what to think. I don’t think I can
do it. I know I should, but for the life of me, I just can’t imagine.”

Sienna reached her
arm over her shoulder and held Ellen. Ellen silently hoped things would change.
Hoped Jonathan would change. Hoped for a miracle.

***

In the several days
since Brianna visited, Sam still hadn’t heard from Jonathan. She lay in bed,
unable to move. The vomiting had stopped, but she was weak and disoriented. Her
stomach felt raw and punctured. How many times had she been sick in the night?
Too many to count. She leaned over and tried to reach for the nurse’s buzzer.
It was already flashing.
Where the hell were they?
She needed to get to
the bathroom—now!

 Sam tried to
concentrate on something besides her discomfort. She imagined Jonathan coming.
He’d see her, realize how cruel he was and take her home. How long had it been
since she had seen him? Had he come since she was first checked in three weeks
ago?
Checked in—hah!
A jolt of pain stopped her from laughing. She
tightened her arms around her stomach. How had she allowed this? She tried to
remember what started all of this. Her mind was full of thick, foggy patches.
Sam rolled onto her side.
Damn them, where are they?

She tried to put her
feet on the floor, but the room took hold of her and pulled her into it. She
could only see black and white crystals dancing in front of her eyes, until the
stars stopped abruptly as pain exploded in her head and shoulder. She felt the
cool smoothness of the linoleum floor pressed firmly against her cheek. She
would sleep now, falling deeper into a soothing gentle slumber.

***

A sharp tug on Sam’s
arm woke her. “Oww!” she cried out as pain shot through her sleepy body.
Everything was black, her eyes unwilling to open.

“She’s hurt,” a
voice called out followed by other voices.

“Damn it. Get a
gurney.”

“Here, lay her on
her back.”

“Call housekeeping
to clean up this vomit. We better change her. Ellen? Ellen?”

She felt a hand
touching her face, resting on her forehead, a tug on her eyelid and the shock
of bright light followed by darkness. Then another try on the eyelid and more
brightness.

“She’s conscious.”

Sam tried to open
her eyes voluntarily. They seemed heavy and immovable. She tried a few more
times before finally giving up. “Where am I?” she asked in a faint whisper.

“You’re in the
hospital, you’ve fallen. You may have a broken arm or shoulder. We’re sending
you for x-rays. Can you open your eyes?”

Sam tried again,
willing her eyes to open. At first only the right eye responded, then slowly
the left. She blinked, several heavy and slow blinks.

She felt the cool,
smooth vinyl of a blood pressure cuff as it was Velcroed around her arm. “Now
Ellen,” a voice spoke. “We’re going to take some blood. You have the flu.”
Someone attempted to tie a rubber band around her bicep.