C Reiss: Sing

The squawk of a police radio made me look up before I crashed into the uniformed cop. He was in his thirties, and seemed to take up more space than humanly possible. A female counterpart stood nearby.

“Staff only,” he said, blocking my way to the narrow hall.

“Uh, okay?” I peered past him. The hall looked like every other one, except for the lack of flitting staff and the presence of three old Italian women in black. This was the hall.

I made note of the location and walked away.

I knew Brad had said he’d be in his Doheny office, but I checked anyway. He was just my neighbor, and he meant nothing to me, but I’d stepped on him in a way guaranteed to offend him. I didn’t want to leave things like that.

He was there, on his way out the door, clipboard in hand. He slowed when he saw me, which I took as a good sign.

“I know you’re busy.” I said. “I just wanted to apologize.”

He kept walking. “I want to explain how serious what you did is, but I have a meeting.”

“I know. I have reasons, but not excuses.”

He pulled me to the side, out of the hall traffic. “I only have a second. I don’t want to make you feel better, because I’m still pissed off. But first of all, the list doesn’t work the way you think. Geography is important. The state of the patient. The gender. It’s not like a line for coffee. But second, you’re not getting away with it. When this is over, you’re sitting with me and I’m explaining to you the ten ways you fucked up.” He was taller than me, and used to being in charge. He had the arrogance of a cardiologist, and the authority of a man not called by his first name. But when he looked at me, I knew he wasn’t half as pissed as his words let on.

“All right.”

“Over dinner.” He must have seen me turn to ice. “Platonic. If you knew me better, this wouldn’t have happened. That’s all I want.”

“I guess I owe you.”

“You do.” He walked away. Had he just asked me out? Yes and no. Jonathan wouldn’t be thrilled, but Brad didn’t expect Jonathan to be around, did he?

MONICA

I had to see him once again before I did this thing and they dragged me away. Just put my fingers on his lips before I faced what I had to face. I wasn’t going to tell him what I was doing, because he’d be an accessory if he didn’t stop me, and suicidal if he did. I was going to stand with him clean, as his mate, if even for an hour.

I got out of the elevator on Jonathan’s floor, and made a right instead of a left, to check the placement of the stairwell closest to Patalano’s room. I stopped at the turn as if a brick wall was in my way.

Margie and Will Santon stood in a corner, too close for friendship, too far for intimacy, hands up, Margie pointing and accusing, Will’s in supplication. Their words were inaudible, but their faces shouted rage, hurt, and frustration. I’d have to check the placement of the stairs on the little map by the elevator, because I wasn’t just strolling past them. I turned and walked away.

I got two steps before I felt a hand on my arm. Margie slowed me down. She looked drawn and upset, and though I didn’t know her that well, I was sure she didn’t want me to ask her what was going on with Will.

“I was just—“ I started to explain exactly nothing, and was grateful for her interruption.

“Forget it.”

“Where have you been?”

“This family’s a full-time fucking job. Congratulations, by the way. Well done. One less pre-nup to argue over.”

“It didn’t even occur to me.”

“Him either, I’m sure. But I want to tell you, if he doesn’t make it through tonight, I have your back. I’ll do what my brother wanted.”

“He’s not dead yet.”

She grabbed me by the shoulders and put her eyes square with mine, as if she wanted to tell me something; something critical and painful, but instead she threw her arms around me and held me so tightly I thought my ribs would break.

“I envy you,” she said. “You know that?”

“If something goes bad,” I said into her ear, “like if I do something wrong, would you represent me? No matter what?”

She pushed me away, holding me by the shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

“Stuff. Life. Say yes.”

“Fine.” I caught Will out of the corner of my eye, and her gaze flicked to him, then back to me. “Go see him. I’ll be there in a minute.”

MONICA

There were doctors and nurses everywhere. Clean white sheets and sage scrubs. Trays of uneaten food and plastic detritus in soothing, meaningless colors. The lights pinpoint and dull as if this would help him sleep with the human traffic in the room.

The doctor wasn’t much older than I was, but I knew her from the way she asked questions instead of answered them.

“Hi,” I said.

“You’re the wife?”

The title still hit me like a bag of flour.

“Yeah. I’d like, I don’t know. Time. A little.”

“You got it.”

She hustled everyone out, and it was just me and him. He looked like someone had painted him white. If I thought it was hard to see him after his disastrous operation, well, this was worse. This was where it came down to me accepting that this was what it was, or me living in a fucking illusion.

“Good evening, sir,” I said.

“Get over here.” His voice was no better than a whisper breaking through a stone wall. There was effort in it, as if he carried me uphill. I put my elbows on either side of his head and touched my nose to his.

“Jonathan, I...”

“You look beautiful.”

“You made me so happy. I wanted to tell you that.”

“I played with you in the beginning. And I wasted too much time lying to you.”

“That’s over now.”

“Actually...”

He paused, and I knew why.

“You’re kidding,” said.

“The night of the Eclipse show, when I went to Jessica’s...”

“La la la I don’t hear you.”

“There was more than kissing.”

I let my neck release the weight of my head, dropping it until my forehead was on his shoulder. “Go ahead,” I said.

“Second base.”

From his reaction, the way he stroked my arm and nuzzled my hair, he must have thought my shaking shoulders and hitched breaths were signs that I was crying. But when I picked my head back up and he saw that I was laughing, he smiled.

“So it’s okay?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s okay. Is there anything else? I mean, seriously. Something that matters?”

“No. But my brain’s not working very well. So something might come up later.”

I put my cheek to his, because he spoke about later as if it was going to happen. He felt cold against me already.

“You never told me about our wedding night,” he said. “I carry you into our house over my shoulder.”

I bite my lip. He doesn’t want sad. He wants to have a life in his mind. I could give that to him.

“I’m laughing, because Lil can see us, and the whole caveman thing is hilarious. I know you have something planned, but I have no idea what. The house is on a hill in Beechwood Canyon. Can we do Beechwood Canyon?”

“For the sake of this conversation.”

“It’s a modernist masterpiece in the hills, with walls of windows looking over the city. You close the door behind us, and carry me through the dark house, out to the backyard. It’s lit with tea lights and the pool has lights in it. Everything shimmers like it’s under water. You get me to my feet, and say, ‘Take your hair down.’”

I raise my arms to pull a hundred pins and braids out of my hair. My arms are out of the way, and you use the opening to kiss my cheek, my neck. Your hands follow, landing on my collarbone. You drag your thumb across it, and down. You find the zipper to my wedding dress on the side, and pull it. I’m still not done with my hair. I admit I’m going super slow, but it’s starting to fall out of its arrangement. You pull the dress down until it pools at my feet. Your hands find the edges of my underwear. It’s all straps and rings. My hair falls totally. You step back and look at me. I feel beautiful. You’ve made me feel like that all day, looking at me like that in your black tux. I say, ‘What do you want, sir?’ And you say—”