White lies

She was exhausted; it had been two days since the first time he had woken up, and she had been with him for most of that time. She had talked until her voice was almost gone, her words giving him a bridge out of his coma into reality. She knew when he was awake, sensed that he was terrified, felt his struggle to understand what had happened. But this was the first time his lips had moved, and she was so tired she hadn’t been able to grasp what he’d been trying to say. The alphabet game was the only way she could think of for them to com- municate, but she didn’t know if he’d be able to concentrate enough for it to work.

His arm twitched. Just once.

She drew a deep breath, forcing her exhaustion away. "All right. Here we go. A… B…C…D…"

She began to give up hope as she slowly ran through the alphabet and his arm lay motionless under her hand. It had been a long shot, anyway. Major Lunning had said it could be days before Steve’s mind would -be clear enough for him to really understand what was going on around him. Then she said "W," and his arm twitched.

She stopped. "W?"

His arm twitched. Once, for "Yes."

Joy shot through her. "Okay, W is the first letter. Let’s go for the second one. A… B…"

His arm twitched on the H.

And again on the O.

He stopped there.

Jay was astounded. "Who? Is that it? You want to know who I am?"

His arm twitched. Yes.

He didn’t know; he really didn’t know. She couldn’t remember if she had mentioned who she was, except when she had first begun talking to him. Had she thought he would remember her voice after not seeing her for five years?

"I’m Jay," she said gently. "Your ex-wife."

Chapter Four

He was very still. Jay had the impression that she could feel him withdrawing, though he didn’t move a muscle. A surprisingly sharp pain bloomed inside, and she chided herself for it. What had she expected? He couldn’t get up and hug her, he couldn’t speak, and he was probably exhausted. She knew all that, yet she still had the feeling that he was pulling back from her. Did he resent being so dependent on her? Steve had always been aloof in a curious sort of way, holding people away from him. Or maybe he resented the fact that she was here with him now, rather than some impersonal nurse. After all, a certain degree of independence remained when the service was detached, done because it was a job. Personal service carried a price that couldn’t be paid in dollars, and Steve wouldn’t like that.

She schooled her voice to a calmness she didn’t feel. "Do you have any more questions?"

Two twitches. No.

She had been pushed away so many times that she recognized it now, even as subtle and unspoken as the message was. It hurt. She closed her eyes, fighting for the control that would let her speak again. It was a moment before she managed it. "Do you want me to stay in here with you?"

He was still for a long moment. Then his arm twitched. And twitched again. No.

"All right. I won’t bother you again." Her control was shot, her voice thin and taut. She didn’t wait to see if he made any response, but turned and walked out. She felt almost sick. Even now, it was an effort to walk out and leave him alone. She wanted to stay with him, protect him, fight for him. God, she would even take his pain on herself if she could. But he didn’t want her. He didn’t need her. She had been right all along in thinking that he wouldn’t appreciate her efforts on his behalf, but the pull she thought she had felt between them had been so strong that she had ignored her own good sense and let Frank talk her into staying.

Well, at least she should let Frank know that her sojourn here was over, and that she would be leaving. Her problems hadn’t changed; she still had to find a new job. Digging a coin out of her purse, she found a pay phone and called the number Frank had given her. He hadn’t spent as much time at the hospital these past two days as he had before; in fact, he hadn’t been there at all that day. He answered promptly, and hearing his calm voice helped. "This is Jay. I wanted you to know that my job is over. Steve doesn’t want me to stay with him anymore."

"What?" He sounded startled. "How do you know?"

"He told me."

"How in blue blazes did he do that? He can’t talk, and he can’t write. Major Lunning said he should still be pretty confused, anyway."

"He’s a lot better this morning. We worked out a system," she explained tiredly. "I recite the alphabet, and he signals with his arm when I get to the letter he wants. He can spell out words and answer questions. One twitch means ‘Yes’ and two twitches means ‘No.’"

"Have you told Major Lunning?" Frank asked sharply.

"No, I haven’t seen him. I just wanted to let you know that Steve doesn’t want me with him."

"Have Lunning paged. I want to talk to him. Now."

For such a pleasant man, Frank could be commanding when he chose, Jay thought as she went to the nurses’ station and requested that Major Lunning be paged. It was five minutes before he appeared, looking tired and rumpled, and dressed in surgicals. He listened to Jay, then, without a word, walked to the pay phone and talked quietly to Frank. She couldn’t make out what he was saying, but when he hung up he called a nurse and went directly into Steve’s room.

Jay waited in the hallway, struggling to handle her feelings. Though she knew Steve and had expected this, it still hurt. It hurt more now than it had when they had divorced. She felt oddly.. .betrayed, and bereft, as if she had lost part of herself, and she hadn’t felt that way before. She hadn’t felt so strongly connected to him before. Well, this was just another classic example of her own intensity leading her to read things into a situation that simply weren’t there. Would she ever learn?