Sue Grafton - U Is For Undertow

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said to him, as an aside.

“That’s fine,” Walker said. If she didn’t get on with it, his bladder would burst. He only half listened, distancing himself from what was going on.

“The size of a Foley is indicated in French units,” she was saying to the student nurse. “The most common sizes are 10 F to 28 F; 1 F is equivalent to 0.33 millimeters or.013 inches, 1/77th of an inch in diameter…”

After she instructed the student nurse in the proper technique, she encouraged her to try her hand at it. The girl was apologetic. Her fingers were ice cold and trembling. After two failed attempts, the nurse took over and inserted the catheter with remarkable efficiency. The relief was a miracle. The whole encounter was humiliating, but he was already converting it to an amusing anecdote he’d tell at the next cocktail party.

He finally managed to fall asleep, though he was awakened four times in the night-twice for a check of his vital signs, once when the pain in his ribs became insistent and he had to ask for medication, and once because an aide came into his room by mistake, thinking he was someone else. At some point during the night he realized Blake Barrigan, the shit, had never stopped by.

At 8:30 the next morning Carolyn arrived. The timing was such that he figured she’d just dropped Fletcher and Linnie off at preschool. At least he was alert now and fully awake, though he still drew a blank when it came to the accident. He knew they had top-notch insurance coverage, so he wasn’t worried about the expense. It was the hassle of paperwork and the inconvenience of being without transportation until he picked up a rental car. The headache was creeping up again, starting at the base of his skull.

Carolyn took off her coat and placed it over the arm of the upholstered chair. It took him ten seconds to register the fact she wasn’t looking at him and another ten to realize how angry she was. Carolyn was ordinarily easygoing, but once in a while something set her off and then there was hell to pay. This mood he knew: cold, withdrawn, her face pale with rage.

“Is something wrong?” He didn’t much feel like the verbal beating he knew would follow. He had no idea what she was so pissed off about, but if he didn’t ask now, she’d freeze him out until he did.

“I take it Blake Barrigan didn’t stop by last night to bring you up to speed,” she said.

Fleetingly, he thought Blake’s being remiss might explain her attitude. Carolyn took these matters seriously. She had high standards for herself and she expected others to anticipate her requirements and behave accordingly. If Blake said he’d stop by, then by god, he’d better do it.

Walker said, “Not that I’m aware. The nurse said he had a patient on the surgical floor-”

“You killed a girl.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said.”

In a flash, he felt his body disconnect from his soul, like a caboose uncoupled and left behind on the track as the rest of the train moved on. He found himself floating in one corner of the room, looking down on himself. He could see the expression of bewilderment on his face. He could see the crooked part in Carolyn’s hair, her features foreshortened from his perspective. For a moment, he wondered if he’d died. Actually, he hoped he had because what she’d told him was too horrendous to absorb. His mouth was so dry he couldn’t muster speech.

Carolyn talked on, her tone indifferent, as though she were speaking of matters unrelated to him. “She was nineteen years old. She was on spring break, her sophomore year at UCST. She’d driven to San Francisco to spend the weekend with friends. She told her mother she wanted to avoid the late-afternoon traffic, so she left the city Monday morning at nine. At four-twenty she came over the hill on the 154, just three miles from home. She was halfway down the pass when you crossed the center line and struck her Karmann Ghia head-on. She never had a chance.” Carolyn closed her mouth, her lips forming a tight line while she got control of herself.

He shook his head. “Carolyn, I swear to god, I don’t remember any of this.”

“Oh, really,” she said, all cynicism. “You don’t remember going into the sports bar at State and La Cuesta Monday afternoon?”

“I didn’t even know there was one.”

“Bullshit. The Whizz Inn? We’ve passed it a hundred times and you always make a joke about the name. You were drunk when you got there Monday afternoon, loud and obnoxious. You insisted on service, but the bartender refused and when he asked you to leave, you were belligerent. He ended up calling the police the minute you were out the door. A motorist saw you getting on the 101, weaving all over the place, but by the time he got to a gas station and called it in, you’d taken the 154 off-ramp and you were heading up the pass.”

“That’s not right. That can’t be.”

“There were three other witnesses-two joggers and a guy in a pickup truck you barely missed. He ended up going off the road. He’s lucky he didn’t end up dead as well.”

“I’m drawing a blank.”

“That’s called an alcoholic blackout in case you haven’t figured it out. Forget what went on and you absolve yourself of blame. What better way to sidestep guilt than to blot it out of your mind?”

“You think I did this on purpose? You know me better than that. When have I ever-”

Carolyn rode right over him. “You know what’s odd? We saw her-the girl you killed. The kids and I must have left San Francisco the same time she did. I didn’t realize who she was until I came across her picture in this morning’s paper. We’d stopped at that Applebee’s near Floral Beach. The kids were cranky and hungry and needed a break. She was sitting in the first booth eating a burger and fries as we walked in. We sat in the booth next to hers and the kids were being silly, peeping at her over the top of the banquette. You know how they do. She started making faces at them, which delighted them no end. She finished her meal before ours arrived and she waved from the door as she went out. She was so fresh and so pretty. I remember hoping Linnie would be as sweet to little kids when she was the same age…”

Carolyn’s face crumpled and she put a hand over her mouth, sobbing like a child, rocking back and forth. She held herself at the waist, as though she had a stomachache.

He wanted to reach out, but he was aware that any gesture he made would seem woefully inadequate. Had someone really died because of him? Carolyn’s anguish was contagious and he felt tears spill from his own eyes, his weeping as automatic as yawning in the presence of someone who’s just yawned. At the same time, in the most detached and clinical part of his brain, he was hoping she’d catch sight of his tears and feel sorry for him. She was capable of mood swings and emotional shifts, being outraged one minute and forgiving the next. He needed her on his side; not an enemy, but his ally.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I had no idea,” he whispered. His voice cracked and he could feel the tension in his chest as he choked back a sound. “I can’t believe it. I’m sick about it.”

Her face snapped up, her tone incredulous. “You’re sick about it? You’re sick? You were drunk on your ass. How could you do that? How COULD you?”

“Carolyn, please. You have every right to be furious, but I didn’t mean to do it. You have to believe me.” He knew he was sounding too rational. This wasn’t a time to try persuading her. She was too upset. But how could he survive if she turned on him? All their friends loved Carolyn. They’d take their cue from her. Everyone said she was an angel; considerate, warm, loyal, kind. Her compassion was boundless-unless or until she felt betrayed. Then she was merciless. She’d often accused him of being cold, but at the core of her being, she was the one with a stony heart, not him.