Chương 10
"You blinked for forty minutes."
"Close enough."
"No."
"Mara."
She leaned back.
"Fine."
"Thank you."
"But I am not driving to Baltimore, finding a laptop from 2019, cracking it open like we're in a crime show, and then accidentally destroying evidence."
"I didn't ask you to."
"You were thinking it."
"I was absolutely thinking it."
She pointed at me.
"See?"
I rubbed my forehead.
"What if I just tell Ruiz it exists?"
"That's smarter."
"I hate when you're right."
"Family tradition."
Later that morning, Denise returned with a walker.
I stared at it.
"No."
"Yes."
"I can barely sit."
"You can sit for four minutes now."
"That's not walking."
"Correct."
"Then why is there a walker?"
"Because I like accessories."
She locked the bed wheels.
"We are going to stand."
Mara moved to the corner.
Her hands were clasped so tightly the knuckles had gone white.
I noticed.
"Don't make that face."
"What face?"
"The funeral face."
"I do not have a funeral face."
"You do."
Denise slid the gait belt around my waist.
"Save the family dispute for after we avoid a head injury."
The first attempt failed before my feet were fully under me.
My knees folded.
Denise and another therapist caught my weight and lowered me back.
Heat rushed into my face.
"I told you."
Denise adjusted the belt.
"You told me what?"
"I can't."
"Can't what?"
"Stand."
"You didn't stand."
"Exactly."
"You attempted."
I glared at her.
She waited.
I hated waiting people.
Leo never waited.
He filled silence until everyone else gave up.
Denise could stand inside it all day.
"Again," she said.
This time I got both feet flat.
I could not feel the floor properly, only a distant pressure like someone pressing through several blankets.
My arms shook as I pushed against the mattress.
Denise counted.
"One, two, three."
I rose.
For half a second, nothing held.
Then my knees locked.
I was standing.
Not well.
Not independently.
Not safely.
But standing.
Mara made the funeral face again, only wetter.
"Don't cry."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"Shut up."
Denise kept one hand at my waist.
"Eyes forward."
I looked at the wall.
Someone had taped a laminated fall-risk chart beside the sink.
The cartoon figure on it was smiling.
I hated that cartoon.
"How long?" I asked.
"As long as your body tolerates."
"My body is an asshole."
Denise nodded.
"Common diagnosis."
Ten seconds.
Maybe twelve.
Then my right leg buckled.
They lowered me onto the bed.
My heart was pounding hard enough to hurt.
Denise checked my blood pressure.
"That counts."
"It barely happened."
"It happened."
I looked down at my feet.
My right toe twitched once without being asked.
I laughed.
Mara wiped her face with her sleeve.
"You're disgusting."
"You love me."
"Unfortunately."
By noon, Dr. Patel had more results.
He stood at the foot of my bed with a tablet tucked under one arm.
"The good news is we're seeing some return of motor function."
"One toe and a bad stand."
"Neurologists are easily impressed."
"Can I recover completely?"
He made the same careful face.
"We have reason to be hopeful."
"That wasn't the question."
"I know."
I sighed.
"Everyone here is trained by the same irritating person."
"Probably accreditation."
He pulled the chair closer.
"The exposure appears to have caused a toxic neuropathy."
"Meaning?"
"The nerves that carry signals between your spinal cord and muscles have been impaired."
"Damaged?"
"Yes."
"Permanently?"
"We don't know."
I stared at him.
He let me be angry.
"Can the damage heal?"
"Peripheral nerves can recover, but recovery can be slow and incomplete."
"How slow?"
"Weeks to months."
"Months."
"Possibly longer."
I looked at Mara.
She was staring at her shoes.
"What about work?"
Dr. Patel glanced at me.
"What do you do?"
"Insurance claims analyst."
"Remote?"
"Mostly."
"You may be able to return before your mobility fully recovers."
"May."
"Yes."
"Driving?"
"Not now."
"Stairs?"
"Not safely."
"My house has stairs."
"Then discharge planning will need to account for that."
I laughed bitterly.
"Conveniently, police are also processing my house."
Mara looked at me.
Dr. Patel did not know whether I was joking.
Neither did I.
After he left, Benton returned alone.
She carried a thin folder this time.
"I have one question."
"Only one?"
"For now."
She opened the folder and placed a printed transaction on the tray table.
It showed a prepaid debit card purchase.
The card had been used to pay the chemical supplier.
"Recognize the card?"
"No."
"It was purchased at a grocery store six miles from your home."
"That narrows it down to half the county."
Benton nodded.
"We obtained the store's transaction record."
She placed another page down.
The prepaid card had been purchased with cash.
"So nothing."
"Not nothing."
She tapped the timestamp.
January twenty-third, 6:42 p.m.
My stomach tightened.
"Why does that date matter?"
"Does it?"
I looked at the date again.
January twenty-third.
A Thursday.
Something tugged at me.
Mara leaned closer.
"You were at my place."
I looked at her.
"What?"
"That was the night your furnace broke."
She snapped her fingers.
"You called me because Leo was at some dinner thing and you didn't want to sit in the cold."
I remembered now.
Mara's apartment.
Takeout noodles.
Her cat sleeping on my coat.
I had stayed until nearly ten.
"I wasn't near that store."
Benton nodded.
"Can you document that?"
"Mara was with me."
"All evening?"
"From six until ten."
Mara pulled out her phone.
"I ordered food."
Benton held up one hand.
"Don't start digging yet."
"Why?"
"Because I'd rather preserve whatever records exist cleanly."
Mara lowered the phone.
I looked at the timestamp again.
"Where was Leo?"
"I don't know."
Benton studied me.
"Think."
"He said he had dinner."
"With whom?"
"Clients."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Did he usually tell you?"
"Usually."
"Did you ask?"
"Probably."
The memory came slowly.
May you like
Leo standing in our kitchen that afternoon, knotting a tie.
Me teasing him because the tie had tiny sailboats on it.
