Chapter 5
After leaving the hospital, I didn't go home.
I went to a print shop.
Two agreements.
Everything spelled out in black and white.
On the first page, it reads: Party A - Simon, Party B - Jane.
I picked up the pen.
Party A's signature spot.
The tip of the pen hovered less than half an inch above the paper.
Three seconds.
Five seconds.
Then I signed.
Simon.
The handwriting was firm.
Even firmer than I'd expected.
I folded the agreement and slipped it into my coat's inner pocket.
Then I went to the supermarket.
I bought a case of milk, two bags of fruit, a pack of disposable underwear, and a roll of toilet paper.
I should've had all this ready this morning.
But I'd been sitting in the hospital room the whole time.
Sitting there, I forgot I had to keep living, too.
Back home.
I slid the key into the lock.
I opened the door.
The entryway was dark.
On the shoe rack were Jane's running shoes and a pair of men's sneakers, Henry's.
He came over for dinner last weekend and forgot to change back into them before he left.
Jane said, "Just grab them next time."
Next time.
There's always a next time.
I grabbed the sneakers.
I hesitated for a moment.
Then I put them in a plastic bag.
I'll bring them to him at the hospital tomorrow.
For the last time.
*****
At nine o'clock that night.
Jane sent me a message.
[Why aren't you here yet?]
I replied: [I'm wiped out today. I'll come by tomorrow morning.]
Jane replied: [Oh. Then get some rest.]
That was it.
She didn't ask if I'd eaten, or if I was okay.
Just "Oh."
And "Get some rest."
Like she was telling an intern to remember to clock in tomorrow.
I put my phone down and lay on the bed.
I stared at the ceiling.
It's a six-foot bed.
For the past three years, if Jane managed to spend twenty nights a month in this bed, that was a good month for her.
The rest of the time, she slept on a cot at the station, napped in the car during stakeouts, or dozed in the passenger seat beside Henry with her head against the window.
I rolled over.
The space beside my pillow was hers.
The pillowcase still held the gardenia scent of her shampoo.
It was fading.
Soon, it would be gone for good.
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I'll show her the agreement.
When she's feeling her best.
No more delays.
If I keep putting it off, I'm afraid it'll be like the last three years all over again,
Forget it.
Just hang in there a little longer.
I wouldn't tell myself to hang in there a little longer ever again.
*****
At seven the next morning.
When I got to the hospital, Henry was already there.
He was slumped in the visitor's chair, head tilted to the side, fast asleep.
There was an army green jacket spread out on the chair as a makeshift cushion.
Jane was awake.
When she saw me come in, she put a finger to her lips, signaling me to be quiet.
She whispered, "He insisted on staying the night. I couldn't talk him out of it."
Last night.
After I left the hospital.
Henry came back.
He kept watch all night.
I looked at him, curled up in that chair, neck twisted at an awkward angle.
Same as me the night before last.
But here's the difference.
After I'd spent the whole night at her bedside, the first thing Jane asked was, "Did Henry come by?"
After Henry spent the whole night at her bedside, Jane shushed me so I wouldn't wake him.
It felt like my chest was weighed down with lead.
So heavy, I could barely move.
I set down the groceries I'd picked up.
Milk, fruit, and some disposable supplies.
And that plastic bag with the sneakers.
"These are Henry's shoes. He left them at our place last week," I said.
Jane glanced at them.
"Oh, leave them there. I'll give them to him when he wakes up," Jane said.
I sat down.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket.
I checked the time.
7:11.
I'll wait until she's finished breakfast.
And until Henry heads out.
That's when I'll pull out the agreement.
"What's wrong?" Jane suddenly looked at me. "You look even worse than yesterday."
"Didn't sleep well," I said.
"Your neck's bothering you again, isn't it? I keep telling you to get a new pillow, but you never listen," Jane said.
She frowned, sounding like she was nagging me.
Like I was some stubborn subordinate.
Not her husband.
Never was.
Henry woke up.
He rubbed his neck as he sat up, looking a bit surprised when he saw me.
"Simon, you're here so early?" Henry asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"I'm gonna go wash my face." He stood up, gave a lazy stretch, and his neck gave a loud crack.
As he walked by, he patted my shoulder.
"Jane woke up hurting in the middle of the night. The nurse had to give her a pain shot so she could get back to sleep. You should ask the doctor if they can give her something that lasts longer," Henry said.
She woke up in pain in the middle of the night.
I wasn't there.
He was.
He was the one who told me about it.
Like changing shifts.
It's like the previous caregiver giving the rundown to the next: "Here's how she was last night."