Chapter twelve

It was night when Gail awakened. The rain had stopped, the winds were calm, and the air felt warmer. Her body hurt from the uncomfortable bed of concrete, but her T-shirt was dry. She looked quickly around and found herself tucked into a small alcove of a building. Gail had no recollection of leaving Washington Square Park, but now she sat, somewhere in midtown Manhattan. How did I get here?

She was confused, but relieved to be out of the bushes. Gail turned her head to the right and squinted repeatedly, trying to focus. After three attempts, she pinpointed her location. She recognized the Plaza Hotel. Gail had come to rest at FAO Schwarz toy store. Her leather bag was still with her, and she checked it quickly. The three items were safely inside. Gail tried her cell phone and still received no signal. She checked the battery. It remained fully charged. The digital clock on the phone read 3:32.

Over her shoulders, she wore a brown jacket that smelled as though it had never seen the inside of a washing machine. White gauze bandages on her forearms were dotted brown, telling of injuries beneath them. Her hands throbbed with pain. Small bandages also circled her palms. Gail grabbed the cognac from the bag and washed down another Percocet.

Several people passed by. When she yelled for their help, they offered neither attention nor service. Even with the pain she experienced, she couldn't blame anyone for not coming near the lunatic who smelled like a distillery. Gail chugged the remaining cognac and stuffed the empty bottle back into her bag.

Her umbrella was nowhere in sight. Gail pushed herself up and leaned against the wall. She looked toward the park and saw several trees down. Large yellow machinery, dotted the immediate interior of the park. She looked again at the Plaza Hotel.

The Plaza doesn't know me. They'll treat me as a homeless person.

Gail turned to face left, south, on Fifth Avenue. A small dog barked close by, and she heard the shuffling of feet behind her. She turned to the noise and was never more relieved to see a familiar face.

"Harry," she said weakly.

Harry set a paper tray of coffee cups onto the concrete. He helped Gail to sit. Hans cuddled against her and rested his chin on her leg. When Gail reached toward him, Hans licked at her fingers. Harry sat with her and opened a cup of coffee.

"Sugar and cream?"

"Cream." She closed her eyes until he nudged her. "Thank you." She closed her eyes again and took a sip. How long has it been since I've had breakfast in bed?

"It's hot," he said to her. Harry opened a paper bag and withdrew a bottle of orange juice and a bottle of water. He poured half of the water out and then filled the bottle with juice. Harry took the coffee from Gail and handed her the juice and water solution. "You need this more than coffee. Don't get too rambunctious with it. You've been unconscious for two days."

"Two days?" Gale leaned her head against the granite. She gratefully took the bottle but drank too quickly. The cold liquid caused Gail's stomach to cramp, and she quickly threw up. "Oh, shit," she muttered and leaned back again.

"You don't listen well, for a well-bred lady. Drink some more. Slower. You need some energy before I take you back."

"Take me where, Harry?"

"Just sip that drink and I'll clean up this mess."

"Did you bandage my arms?"

"Yes," he said while wiping Gail's mess from the concrete.

"Two days?" she asked and felt a modest energy flowing into her, but maybe it was the Percocet playing with her brain.

"Almost. I found you under a bush and took you to a room I sometimes sleep in. Your arms were bloody and, well, the way you were slumped, Hans and I thought you were dead. You cut your arms on the briars, and your hands looked burned. I think you have some infection there."

Hans's eyes shifted, watching Harry remove the bandages from Gail's arms. Several small slashes still oozed of blood. Harry pulled fresh bandages, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, and tape from his bag. He cleansed the reddened, swollen, pus-filled wounds with the disinfectant. Gail watched as the peroxide fizzled and stung her flesh. Hans's eyes shifted to Gail and he lifted his head when she moaned from the sting. Harry wiped the wounds dry, dabbed each with an antibiotic ointment, and wrapped her arms with fresh bandages. He repeated the steps with Gail's hands. Hans relaxed again, knowing what to expect.

"Your knee is just about every color of the rainbow. What happened?"

Gail told Harry what she could remember.

"I hurt everywhere. I think I have a broken rib."

"Wouldn't surprise me or Hans," Harry said. "You look like someone took a baseball bat to you." He completed his bandaging and then threw the coffee cups into a trash bin. He returned and sat with Gail. "You ready to go?" Hans's ears perked up at the word "go."

"Go where?"

He pointed down Fifth Avenue.

"I can't walk, Harry. I can't. Don't make me walk," she begged weakly through tearing eyes. "It hurts too much."

"You let me worry about that, Gail." He shoved his possessions into his backpack. "Hang on to your juice." Harry slung Gail's bag around her neck and under her arm. Disregarding Gail's protest, he helped her to stand. She attempted a few steps, but her knee screamed with pain. "I'll take you. It's not far," Harry said. Easily, he picked her up and carried her. Hans walked beside them, his tail wagging.

"This is impossible for you." She tried to convince him but was too weak to fight. Every part of her body ached, and all she wanted was to see Tannen. She held tightly around Harry's shoulders and rested her head.

"It's not far," he said. "I got you there once. I suppose it was too early for breakfast."

"I don't want breakfast, Harry! I have to get to Bethune."

"I wish I had known that when we were still in the Village. That's not what you've been saying for two days." He carried Gail for nearly two blocks before he set her down again. He sat beside her and said, "Drink some more juice."

Gail lifted her eyes to him. "Am I too much weight for you, Harry?" she asked giddily. She sipped the juice and Hans jumped onto her lap.

"No," he said casually. "You're tall, but you don't weigh much. This is your stop."

"What? No. I have to go back to the West Village." Gail tried to push herself up but lacked the energy.

"That's not what you told me."

"What did I tell you?"

Her brain neared mush from the painkiller and cognac. I have to be dreaming this. I'll wake up without scratches or a busted knee. Tannen will be in the guest room, spewing her favorite F-word while fresh coffee waits downstairs.

Gail put her hands to her face and wept, not understanding anything, not wanting to be in this nightmare any longer. She leaned against Harry.

"You were talking in your sleep. You got up to leave a couple of times, but you weren't in any condition to go traipsing up Fifth Avenue. I kept stopping you. I finally gave up and decided to take you myself. You insisted on having breakfast-"

Suddenly, a muffled Bach minuet chimed from the leather bag. Harry casually removed the phone and opened it. He handed it to her.

"Hello," she was barely able to say into the phone.

"Oh, thank God. Where are you, darling? Are you injured?"

Gail whimpered at the sound of Tannen's voice. She choked back her tears and her body trembled more forcefully. She leaned forward and rocked back and forth.

"The city," she said. "I'm hurting. I need your help, Tannen."

"Where in the city? What street?"

"Fifth Avenue. Near the Plaza."

"Can you get to the Plaza? I'll call them. I know several people, and someone will see you to hospital."

"I can't go any farther. I think my knee is broken." Gail sobbed violently. "Oh God. Everything hurts, Tannen. Please come and get me."

"I'll call the Plaza. They-"

"I need to see you. Come for me. I don't want to go to the Plaza. I want to see you."

"Darling, you've been missing for two days. If you're injured, you need medical attention."

"I need to see you first. You're not listening again." She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Tannen's bracelet scraped against her cheek. If Found, Please Return to Tiffany and Company. Gail looked quickly behind her. She squinted and read the polished polyurethane sign next to the doorway. She choked. "I've been returned to Tiffany's. I'm at Tiffany's. Please come for me."

"It will be quicker to hail a taxi."

"I haven't any money."

"Get a taxi. I'll talk to him on the phone. Do it now, darling. Call me back when you're in the cab."

Gail turned to Harry and Hans. They were nowhere in sight. She struggled but eventually pushed herself from the sidewalk and limped to the curb. Three cabs passed before one stopped.

"Jesus Christ, lady. What happened to you?"

She climbed in the backseat and pushed Tannen's speed-dial number. Gail handed the phone to him. "Please talk to her."

"What?" He looked at the phone.

"Talk to her, please." Gail stretched out on the back seat. She listened from what seemed a great distance.

"Uh, yeah. Hello?" the cabbie said into the phone. "Uh, yeah, she looks pretty beat up. Smells like an old pool hall I used to frequent...Say again? These damned cell phones got bad connections, ya know? I don't care how many bars they got...Oh, yeah. I know you. You're the naked actress...Bethune. West Village. Right. What number?...You'll be waiting outside with the money?...That works for me. Yeah, I'm halfway there. It'll be a few minutes...Right. See ya in a couple." He reached back and nudged Gail. "Hey. Here's your phone." Gail returned it to her bag. "You feelin' better back there? What the hell happened to you? Someone slug you around? You get caught up in the hurricane? Boy, that was a mess, huh? Knocked a couple dozen trees down in Central Park. It's a mess. You'll be fine. We're almost there."

Gail felt minor relief as she rested on the back seat. The floor, trashed with empty snack bags and a partial bottle of orange soda that rolled with the cab's motion, held Gail's attention. She was afraid to close her eyes for fear of not waking up for another two days, or forever. I won't sleep until I've talked to Tannen.

Gentle bumps and the driver's soft music nearly lulled her to unconsciousness. She felt the cab pull off the grid of upper Manhattan and onto the erratic street patterns of the West Village. Gail slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. She leaned against the door just as the driver turned onto Bethune. I see you there, sweetheart. More tears slid down her cheeks.

He brought the cab to a smooth stop in front of the apartment. Tannen stood waiting. Gail felt an immediate sense of relief when Tannen opened the door. She reached for Tannen's hand, and Tannen quickly snared it.

"Oh my God, darling. What have you been through?" Tannen leaned down and touched Gail's forehead. "You're burning with fever. You need immediate treatment. Saint Vincent Hospital is close. Let us take you there."

"I've gotten this far. I won't go until I've talked to you," Gail said, exhausted. Her body felt nearly expended. It wouldn't be long before she lost consciousness.

Tannen asked the driver, "Will you help me get her inside?"

"Yeah, sure," he said and hustled around to the street side of the cab.

Gail lifted and moved her injured leg with both hands. She reached with both arms and Tannen helped her to stand. Gail tightly embraced Tannen and sobbed. She felt immediate warmth with Tannen's full body against hers, and it infused her with a small amount of peace and rest. She leaned her cheek against Tannen's head. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you," and felt Tannen's arms hold tighter.

"I know, darling. I know you do." Tannen stepped back, still supporting Gail. "Help us," she said to the cabbie.

"I'll take her, Ms. Albright. You open the door." He scooped Gail into his arms and she let out a yell when her injured leg bent. "Oh. Sorry there, honey. Wow. That's some kind of mess you have on your knee." The cabbie easily carried her up the four steps and into Tannen's apartment. "Nice joint ya got here." He looked around. "Where do you want I should put her?"

"The kitchen," Gail said.

"Darling, at least the sofa."

"The kitchen," she said again. "Where's my bag?" The driver sat her on a kitchen chair at the head of the table. "Where's my bag?"

He took the liberty of wetting a dishtowel with hot water. He wrung it out. "Miss," he said and handed it to Gail.

Gail accepted the towel. "Where is my bag? Will somebody please give it to me?"

She held the towel to her face. The small gesture from him felt as enormous as a hot shower. Gail leaned her elbows on the table and wiped her face slowly, trying to awaken the nerves that were quickly fading from pills and liquor.

Tannen ran in from the cab.

"I have it, darling." She placed the bag in front of Gail and then turned to the cabbie. "Thank you. You've been an immense help to us." She handed him a small stack of paper money.

"This is too much, Ms. Albright."

Tannen closed his hand over the money.

"Please take it. We very much appreciate your help. Thank you."

He looked over at Gail.

"You'll be better, miss. Ms. Albright will take care of you." He turned to Tannen. "You take good care of her. Good night."

"Wait," Gail said and reached for his hand. "Thank you."

"I'm glad I could help. You sure you don't want me to take you over to Saint Vincent's? I don't mind." Gail shook her head. "Okay then. Good night, ladies," he said and closed the door behind him.

Before she returned to the table, Tannen grabbed a blanket from another room. She hurried over to Gail. Tannen pulled the jacket from Gail's shoulders and dropped it to the floor. She wrapped the blanket around Gail. From behind, Tannen wrapped her arms around Gail's shoulders. Tannen kissed Gail's cheek.

"I love you," Tannen said.

Gail leaned her cheek against Tannen. "I need to talk to you," she said and finally felt the heat of the room begin to penetrate her skin.

"Darling, you're badly injured. You have a fever and you're dangerously dehydrated. You need medical attention."

"Just listen to me, damn it! I always have to make you listen to me! I feel like I'm..." She began to cry. "I've never felt this horrible in my life, Tannen. My body hurts, I can barely think straight. I said horrible things to you and Karen." Gail struggled to stay lucid. "Just let me talk."

"Okay." Tannen released Gail. She pulled a chair closer and sat facing her. "Talk to me, darling."

Gail pulled the leather bag closer to her. She reached in and pulled out the ketchup bottle. Turning toward Tannen, Gail held the glass container tightly and then placed it on the table between them. She stared at it and her chin began to quiver. When Tannen rested her hand on Gail's shoulder, a spring of tears fell from Gail's eyes. She choked as she tried to speak. She bit her lower lip, then struggled for a deep breath.

"Do you want to tell me about this, Gail?" Tannen gently asked.

"I want to tell you. I need to tell you."

Gail wiped her eyes with the towel. She swallowed hard and took the container into her hands. She held it horizontal to the table and attempted to peel the wax seal from the cap. So weakened, it seemed her nails gouged at granite. Her hands shook and a small piece of wax dropped onto the table. Gail slowly chipped away at eighteen years of self-imposed solitary confinement. The bottle held the reason for her imprisonment.

"I called you monstrous," she began, and looked directly to Tannen, "and a murderer." Tannen vaguely nodded in acknowledgment. "I couldn't handle your agreement with David."

An arc of wax fell onto the table. It rocked twice and then fell to its side.

Gail shuddered, feeling chilled to the bone. "You must have felt extreme emotional pain with your bravery." She closed her eyes and set the bottle on the table. "I don't expect you to forgive me."

Gail sobbed. She opened her eyes and stared blankly at the table. She pulled the blanket tighter. Her arms and knee felt on fire. Gail lowered her head, trying to keep her thoughts coherent. Her tears splashed against the table.

"Darling, you don't have to do this." Tannen placed her hands around Gail's left hand. "I'm calling for an ambulance." As she began to rise, Gail picked her head up and then grasped the bottle.

"No." She gave a final pull to the wax and the complete piece fell to the table. "Sit down." Gail attempted to twist the cap but she hadn't the strength. She handed it to Tannen. "Please?"

Tannen effortlessly loosened the cap and placed it back into Gail's hand.

Gail reached for the cap and removed it. She stared at the sand that filled the container almost to the top. She pulled the leather bag toward her and slowly poured the sand into it.

"I couldn't handle your story about David because I killed my daughter." Gail dropped the container and covered her face with her hands. She shook uncontrollably. Tannen moved her chair closer and put her arms around Gail. Gail spoke without interruption. "It was an accident. I was eight months pregnant. Olivia was so alive, she kicked every few minutes to remind me." Gail let out a painful cry. Her muscles tightened as she remembered.

"I'm so sorry," Tannen said, wiping her own tears away.

"I left with a headache, from a friend's house." Gail held on to Tannen. "Five minutes later a drunk driver hit me head-on." She moved away and continued to pour the sand. "I was thrown into the steering wheel. That's all I remember, until I awakened in the hospital."

"Gail," Tannen said, "you're not responsible."

"I am responsible. I didn't protect her enough. I wasn't wearing my seat belt." She poured the final sand. A gold cylinder, no larger than an unfiltered cigarette, slid out. The final grains of sand followed and landed on top of the cylinder. Gail brushed them away with her finger.

"My shoulder and ribs were bruised, I cut my forehead on the windshield, but my unborn child was dead." Gail sobbed uncontrollably. "Her father was an Egyptian I had met while I traveled his country." Gail wiped her eyes, and then her nose, with the wet towel. "I was dabbling in the straight life." She took a deep breath. "We went our own ways and he never knew about Olivia." Gail picked up the small container from the table and wiped it clean with her shirt. "She deserved to be near him, even in death, as she was to me." Gail bit her lip to stop it from quivering. She continued. "Not much remained after her cremation." She caressed the cold metal. "Her remaining ashes are in my bedroom." She set the cylinder on the table and Tannen reached for her. Gail cried against Tannen's shoulder.

"You placed some ashes in the Egyptian sand, to keep her closer to her father," Tannen said quietly.

Gail twitched against Tannen.

"I loved my baby. I wanted her, and my love wasn't protective enough for that little girl." She cried harder. "She never had a single chance to laugh. I brought only tears and pain to her. I never let her have her first breath."

"Darling," Tannen said, "after you left Karen's, she told me everything about Olivia. Your daughter's death claimed your life. You no longer became emotionally attached to other people."

"Yes," Gail sobbed. "I couldn't love again. I came close only once, and that was with Karen." She pulled away and wiped her face again. She placed the towel to the side and took the small container of ashes into her hand. Through teary eyes, she looked at Tannen. "Then you happened." Her lips trembled. "I've been struggling with this, with you, since...since...oh shit, I just don't know when I fell in love with you."

"How can I help you, darling?" Tannen asked, and Gail slumped toward the table. "Gail?" Tannen shook Gail's shoulder. "Gail!"

"Hmm?" Gail raised her head slowly. "I want to lie down," she said sluggishly.

Gail struggled to her feet with Tannen's assistance. She guided her to the living room and helped Gail to stretch out. Gail pulled the blanket around her shoulders and closed her eyes.

"I want my life back," she whispered.

A moment later, Gail heard, "I'm Tannen Albright and I need an ambulance immediately."

Дата добавления: 2015-08-27