CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
October 15 to December 25, 1990.
The last eight weeks are a blur of fragmented memories, beeps, and tubes.
Numerous visitors said kind words and dropped off various items. Nurses and doctors came in long enough to say a few sentences and increase my pain medication.
“She’s heavily sedated” was a common sentence.
When I finally wake up, Layne is sitting next to me, scratching a lesson plan onto a legal pad. “Layne?”
“Morning, beautiful,” he says before tapping the nurse call button. “How do you feel?”
“Groggy.”
“They finally decided they could decrease your medicine. I told them you didn’t need any more beauty sleep. You’re already gorgeous enough.”
I groan. “That was terrible, even for you.”
He grins and kisses my knuckles. “I think we can rule out personality changes.”
“How are my work people?”
“Tom’s been by every morning. Jonas has done well taking over for you but is looking forward to your return. Ra’Shelle usually brings food. You don’t need to worry about work.”
The nurse comes in and helps remove various tubes from my body and orders me a dinner tray. Then the doctor tells me about my collapsed lung, broken ribs, concussion, bruised organs, broken leg, and internal bleeding.
Apparently, my body needed time to heal.
After a variety of scans and tests, they decide I can be discharged after replacing my leg cast with a walking boot.
I spend a few more days with Layne before returning to Minneapolis, and Layne joins me on the weekends.
It’s not that I didn’t realize that we lived apart, but this is the first time that it truly hit me how strange it is to be without him. On Sunday, he pours me a cup of coffee, but on Monday, I’m pouring it for myself, and my heart aches from missing him so much.
Of course, I don’t tell him any of that. We can’t change anything for another eighteen months. What good would it do to upset him?
But our wedding can’t come fast enough.
***
The week before Thanksgiving, the doctor removes the walking boot but tells me that I need a few weeks of physical therapy to make sure that my leg returns to its normal strength.
In the meantime, I go with Layne to pick up all the items for the envelopes Layne donates to the shelter: vouchers, gift cards, bus passes, and money. Carrying a box of fifteen thousand motel room vouchers gives me an entirely different appreciation for the scale of this donation.
Serving food at the shelter is even better than I remembered. Now that I know the staff and volunteers, it’s easy to connect with them and create a synergy to the work. I smile every time someone thanks Layne or starts a conversation with him, and he gives them his full attention. Now that I know the secret of the envelopes, I feel like I belong to an exclusive club that specializes in generosity.
It feels like this is exactly where I am supposed to be. Despite the fact that I could have died in August, I truly feel like my life is perfect.
I helped Layne stuff the envelopes for the Thanksgiving giveaway, but we take the rest with us to Tom’s for Thanksgiving dinner, and Tina is especially happy to “play Santa” again.
Ra’Shelle, Alex, and Colin are spending the holiday with Colin’s dad, and the house seems a little empty after the attendance last year.
“How’s it feel being back in Minneapolis?” Tom asks me when I tie an apron around my waist.
“Fine. Good. Glad to be back at work! Why?”
My response may have been overly enthusiastic because Tom raises his eyebrows. “No reason. Just thought it might be an adjustment after you spent so much time with Layne.”
“I didn’t spend time with him Tom, I was barely conscious. Things are exactly as they were before.”
“I’m just saying… Jonas is doing great. If you ever wanted to move back here, we could talk about that.”
I snort. “No thanks. Layne is excited to move to Minneapolis when his contract expires. Me moving here is a step backward.”
Tom hands me a bowl of potatoes to peel. “Okay then. Definitely stay in Minneapolis. Forget that I asked.”
I gently elbow him in the ribs. “Thanks though.”
He smiles and elbows me back. “Anytime.”
***
When the semester ends, Layne spends two weeks with me in Minneapolis, and one of us usually wakes the other with coffee and bagels. Sometimes, he comes with me to work, and other times, he roams the city looking for people to help.
Every time I’m assertive on the phone or diplomatically handle a situation, he smiles or squeezes my shoulder.
It’s nice to be with someone who appreciates both my femininity and my power.
On the twentieth, we head back to his house, and we spend most of the next few days helping at the animal shelter before serving food to the homeless.
On Christmas afternoon, we head to Tom’s again. This time, Ra’Shelle’s family has joined us, and although Hanukkah ended a few days ago, Ra’Shelle is making traditional Hanukkah entrees.
“That’s not because of me, is it?” I ask Tom when we’re alone. “She’s not making those entrees because of my… issues, right?”
He side-eyes me. “It’s good for the kids to be exposed to different cultural dishes.”
“Nice sidestep.”
“You worry too much. No one knows about your history, and no one cares that we’re not eating a bird. It’s all right, Sam.”
“Thanks.”
“How’s the wedding planning going?”
I chuckle. “Layne,” I call, “Tom asked how the wedding planning is going.”
Layne practically bounces into the kitchen. “We just found a calligrapher!”
“That’s right,” I tell Tom. “Not a typeface. No, a real calligrapher.”
He’s facing away from Layne and grins, sharing my amusement.
“She’s amazing,” Layne says. “She’s going to create the invitations, envelopes, place cards–”
“Basically anything with writing,” I say.
“She’s happy to have the work,” Layne says. “Michael, our wedding planner, set up interviews with caterers for the next four months. I’m looking forward to that. Then we’re going to choose a color scheme. It should be fun!”
“The next four months?” Colin asks, stepping into the kitchen.
“Well, yeah,” I say. “Because these people are in eleven different cities. I suggested we just go with someone in Hawaii, but–”
“I wanted options,” Layne says. “We’re going to six states, and then Italy, France, Japan, New Zealand, and Egypt.”
“For catering,” Colin states dryly.
“We’ll just fly in the best ones,” Layne tells him.
“What if you like all of them?” Colin asks.
“I guess there will be plenty of leftovers,” I quip.
“You two are a little nuts, you know that?” Colin asks.
“Hey, it’s all Layne,” I say, wrapping my arm around him. “I’m just along for the ride.”
Layne kisses me on the cheek. “But you’re enjoying the ride, right?”
“Very much.”
Not a huge fan of public displays of affection, he pecks me again, but the love in his eyes makes me shiver.
Over a year and a half later, I’ve still never been this in love.
And if Layne dies before me, I’m sure that I never will be again.