CHAPTER 6

CASSIE FOUND MITCH IN A GLASS ROOM in the Neurological Intensive Care unit, where he and his many monitors were highly visible to the nurses and doctors responsible for keeping him alive. He was also mercilessly displayed in all his certain mortality to anyone else who happened to pass by. With breathing tubes in his nose, and hookups to any number of life-sustaining devices, he wasn't a pretty sight. Plastic tubing and drip bags were everywhere, several going in, and one tube that snaked out from under the covers led to a half-filled urine bag.

The head of their family, the captain of their little ship, lay on his back like a beached whale. His beautiful tan had turned to a putty gray. The hair that he had freshly blow-dried every single morning of his life was now a thin, oily mat on his scalp. The true extent of his receding hairline was now clearly revealed. He was motionless, yet there was motion all around him. A respirator breathed for him, making whooshing noises. Monitors clicked, showing his brain and heart activity. There didn't appear to be much. Mitchell Anderson Sales was alive, but only just.

Teddy hung back outside the window. "I can't take this. I'll wait for you outside."

Having ascertained no wedding ring on Wellfleet's finger, Marsha now took the opportunity to consult with the neurologist just down the hall. So Cassie pulled herself together and went into her husband's glass cocoon all alone. The first thing she saw was that his eyes were open, and her heart spiked with hope.

"Sweetheart, it's Cassie," she said brightly. "You're going to be just fine. I know it." The cheerleader in her went right to work. Go Mitch.

Mitch didn't seem interested. His eyes, directed elsewhere, did not register her optimism.

"Can you hear me, baby? It's Cassie. I'm with you." She leaned closer to catch his reply, but Mitch wasn't home. The breathing machine with its loud mechanical whoosh answered for him.

"Baby, I'm with you. Marsha is here. Teddy. We're all here, and we're going to stay with you until you come back from there. From wherever you are." She paused. Nothing. This emptiness where there used to be such power scared her.

"Listen, kiddo, remember that swami who came to see Mother in the hospital? Remember what he told her about going into the light? Mitch, listen. Whatever they tell you about heaven, don't go into the light, okay?" She paused again, thinking of her mother, who'd gone right into that damn light when Cassie was only twenty-four. Oh God, she still missed her mommy.

"Listen to me, Mitch, honey. I know what I'm talking about. That light thing, forget it. Look at me, sweetheart. I'll stay with you. I'll bring you back, I promise. I don't care what the doctors say. You can do it. I know you can. We'll travel together from now on. I'll keep you company. We'll have fun, live to be old, okay? An old couple, having fun."

She leaned down close to his ear. A big cauliflower ear. Five or six gray hairs were growing out of it. She swooned, dizzy from those hairs and the smell of intensive care. The tubes were everywhere. So many plastic tubes laced back and forth around him, they actually appeared to be mating. Cassie realized she was now in greater intimacy with her husband than she'd been in years. She closed her eyes and let the noise take over. She didn't realize that his unseeing eyes were empty. She felt a profound irritation, thinking he was resisting her attempt to be with and care for him.

This was not an unusual situation for them. She'd walk into a room, and he'd walk out. He only hung around long enough to have a fight with her. But this time she was here and he wasn't walking out. He wasn't fighting. He was stuck, and had to listen to her. And this time she wasn't taking no for an answer. He was hers and he had to survive. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if he didn't.

"Listen to me, Mitch. I won't let you go like this. It's my fault. I didn't tell you about the face-lift, and I know that was wrong. I'm sorry if it was a shock. Just wake up, and I'll never do it again. I promise. Okay? Okay? I'm sorry. I'll remember every single thing about wine. I'll drink white, or I won't drink it. Whatever you want. Okay? I won't complain about cigars. Honey, just come back." She finished her prayer and stood there, waiting for a sign from him. But there was no pressure back from his fingers. He wasn't going to forgive her for the plastic surgery, for not being whatever it was he'd wanted of her. The tears came again. She was sorry, oh was she sorry.

Finally she composed herself and went into the hall. Teddy was nowhere in sight. Marsha was in deep dialogue with Dr. Wellfleet. She could tell from their body language that the conversation would continue for some time. She found Dr. Cohen facing a window, talking to himself. When she approached, she realized he was on his cell phone. He finished the call when she touched his shoulder.

"Mark, I want to spend the night here," she told him.

"I know it looks bad, Cassie, dear. But I don't want you to do that. I want you to go home and get some rest. We'll call you if there's any change. I promise."

"I have to stay with him. I feel so responsible for this."

"What are you talking about? You're not responsible. He had a stroke."

"No, you don't understand. He saw me like this. He took one look at me and just… Mark, he keeled over!"

"Well, it is a surprise." Mark pulled back the scarf and turned her head this way and that. A doctor can never resist examining. "I'm surprised myself. We go back a long way, Cassie. You might have told me you were planning this. We could have consulted. I know the best people. But it's not bad," he admitted grudgingly. "Whose work is this?"

"Who cares, it caused a stroke."

"No, Cassie. Don't think like that. You know Mitch had dangerously high blood pressure. I told him months ago he needed medication. He was in denial. That's not your fault."

"High blood pressure?" Cassie tried to frown but couldn't.

Mark frowned for her. His forehead creased like an accordion. "Didn't he tell you?" he asked.

"Oh, you know Mitch and the privacy thing. He may have mentioned something a few years ago," Cassie said vaguely, trying to defend the indefensible. Her husband was sick and hadn't told her.

"No, no. This is not years ago. This is recent. I warned him a month ago. I gave him some medicine, but he wouldn't take it. He said it killed his libido." Mark smiled. That man thing.

Cassie stared at him. Mitch was worried about his libido? What libido? She blew air out of her mouth. Mitch had some ego. He didn't want his own doctor to know he hadn't been interested in sex in years.

"I'm sorry, Cassie. Mitch called me yesterday from Paris and told me he felt funny. Didn't he tell you he was coming back?"

"No, I guess he didn't want to worry me." Cassie didn't know he was in Paris. She defended him some more. It probably would never in a million years occur to Mitch that she might not be in any condition to care for him. Paris? She'd thought he was in Rome.

Mark gave her a funny look. "Is everything in order? You're going to have to take over now, you know."

"What?" The look on his face puzzled her. What else was she missing here?

"You know, the insurance-the paperwork, his will… We don't want to be premature. But just to be on the safe side, you might check and see if he has a living will."

"Oh that," she said vaguely.

Mark took both her hands in his. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this. But you have to be prepared. In case his heart fails." He squeezed her hands.

She was puzzled by the warmth with which he was speaking and squeezing her. But he was an old friend, as well as their doctor. Why not? He was talking more, and she tried to listen.

"It could happen, you know. And you have a power of attorney, right? You need that."

"Is it that serious?" Cassie whispered.

"I don't want to alarm you. But yes, it's that serious. You know I'll always be there for you, Cassie. But you're going to have to make the decisions now. I'll be frank with you. Mitch may have a partial recovery, but not for a long time. You're a strong and beautiful woman. And you never know. This may all be for the best." He stared into her bruised face and squeezed her hands one last time. "Go home now. I'll see you back here in the morning."

It was ten-thirty on a Friday night. Cassie was reeling with the things Mark had told her. She didn't know what to think about it. Mitch was so stubborn. He'd come home because he was sick? He'd never breathed a word about it to her. He was being audited? He'd never breathed a word about that, either. She needed a painkiller badly. She was deeply hurt that he'd been hiding these things from her, but no matter what had been in his mind about it, she couldn't imagine why an old friend like Mark Cohen could think a disaster like this could possibly be for the best. She was still thinking about it when she found Marsha and pried her away from the neurologist. The two of them located Teddy in the lobby talking to a zaftig nurse with orange hair. For the first time in years, his face, too, was full of hope.