CHAPTER 19
Date: 2015-10-07; view: 586.
Now at least I wasn't afraid to go home, I wasn't seared about "actingnormal." We were once again sharing everything, even if it was the awfulknowledge that our days together were every one of them numbered. There were things we had to discuss, things not usually broached bytwenty-four-year-old couples. "I'm counting on you to be strong, you hockey jock," she said. "I will, I will," I answered, wondering if the always knowing Jennifercould tell that the great hockey jock was frightened. "I mean, for Phil," she continued. "It's gonna be hardest for him. You,after all, you'll be the merry widower." "I won't be merry," I interrupted. "You'll be merry, goddammit. I want you to be merry. Okay?" ''Okay. "Okay." It was about a month later, right after dinner. She was still doing thecooking; she insisted on it. I had finally persuaded her to allow me toclean up (though she gave me heat about it not being "man's work"), and wasputting away the dishes while she played Chopin on the piano. I heard herstop in mid-Prelude, and walked immediately into the living room. She wasjust sitting there. "Are you okay, Jen?" I asked, meaning it in a relative sense. Sheanswered with another question. "Are you rich enough to pay for a taxi?" she asked. "Sure," I replied. "Where do you want to go?" "Like-the hospital," she said. I was aware, in the swift flurry of motions that followed, that thiswas it. Jenny was going to walk out of our apartment and never come back. Asshe just sat there while I threw a few things together for her, I wonderedwhat was crossing her mind. About the apartment, I mean. What would she wantto look at to remember? Nothing. She just sat still, focusing on nothing at all. "Hey," I said, "anything special you want to take along?" "Uh uh." She nodded no, then added as an afterthought, "You." Downstairs it was tough to get a cab, it being theater hour and all.The doorman was blowing his whistle and waving his arms like a wild-eyedhockey referee. Jenny just leaned against me, and I secretly wished therewould be no taxi, that she would just keep leaning on me. But we finally gotone. And the cabbie was-just our luck-a jolly type. When he heard MountSinai Hospital on the double, he launched into a whole routine. "Don't worry, children, you are in experienced hands. The stork and Ihave been doing business for years. In the back seat, Jenny was cuddled up against me. I was kissing herhair. "Is this your first?" asked our jolly driver. I guess Jenny could feel I was about to snap at the guy, and shewhispered to me: "Be nice, Oliver. He's trying to be nice to us." "Yes, sir," I told him. "It's the first, and my wife isn't feeling sogreat, so could we jump a few lights, please?" He got us to Mount Sinai in nothing flat. He was very nice, getting outto open the door for us and everything. Before taking off again, he wishedus all sorts of good fortune and happiness. Jenny thanked him. She seemed unsteady on her feet and I wanted to carry her in, but sheinsisted, "Not this threshold, Preppie." So we walked in and sufferedthrough that painfully nit-picking process of checking in. "Do you have Blue Shield or other medical plan?" (Who could have thought of such trivia? We were too busy buyingdishes.) Of course, Jenny's arrival was not unexpected. It had earlier beenforeseen and was now being supervised by Bernard Ackerman, M.D., who was, asJenny predicted, a good guy, albeit a total Yalie. "She's getting white cells and platelets," Dr. Ackerman told me."That's what she needs most at the moment. She doesn't want antimetabolitesat all." "What does that mean?" I asked. "It's a treatment that slows cell destruction," he explained, "but-asJenny knows-there can be unpleasant side effects." "Listen, doctor"-I know I was lecturing him needlessly-"Jenny's theboss. Whatever she says goes. Just you guys do everything you possibly canto make it not hurt." "You can be sure of that," he said. "I don't care what it costs, doctor." I think I was raising my voice. "It could be weeks or months," he said. "Screw the cost," I said. He was very patient with me. I mean, I wasbullying him, really. "I was simply saying," Ackerman explained, "that there's really no wayof knowing how long-or how short-she'll linger." "Just remember, doctor," I commanded him, "just remember I want her tohave the very best. Private room. Special nurses. Everything. Please. I'vegot the money.
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