Tied Up In Knots

 
The corridor was long. The smell of cleaning solution and the random beeps filled the air. I passed by room after room until I came to room 451 where I had been directed.
 
I had dreams about this place, well not this place exactly but one like it. The dreams started right after my mother died. They were all the same, me running down the hallways of the hospital looking in each room for my mom. Each room held its own horrors, men and women dead or dying, the way my juvenile mind imagined it. The search for my mother, my effort to say good-bye to her never realized. Instead I'd run into some tall nurse who would hold me at arm’s length and explain rather coldly how my mother was gone. I’d wake up in a fit of tears.
 
My throat tightened as I stood outside the room staring at the plaque that read 451. The door was open but I dare not look in, not yet.  A few deep breaths, a quick pep talk to myself and a tight grip on the vase of flowers purchased at the gift shop, and I was finally ready.
 
Ruth was reclined in the bed, her eyes closed and her skin gray in color. She wore a dingy hospital gown, nothing like the bright colors she loved to wear, and was hooked up to several types of monitors. The woman once lively and jovial, the one who told me she loved me as a daughter, lay comatose and maybe dying.  A chair was pulled besides the bed and slumped over lying on his mother's lap was my husband, broken and spent.
 
I couldn't stop the sob from escaping my throat as I took in the scene before me. The sudden outburst startled Patrick and his head popped up, his face covered in day old stubble. He looked at me confused. He rubbed his eyes, as if checking to see if I were a dream or perhaps a mirage, then called to me, "Lydie?" as if performing one final check.
 
I broke down not able to handle the extreme hopelessness the scene had caused me. Tears flowed freely down my face. There was no sense in stopping them. I knew it was no use; when my emotions gave way, there was no way for me to gain control.
 
Patrick rose to his feet. He took the vase from my hand, and he must have set it down, but I don’t remember that part because his arms came around me and we fell into each other in a crying sobbing mess.
 
It was hours later that we arrived to what was once our home in Thunder Bay. It may have been only hours, but it felt like days had passed, sitting by Ruth’s bed, talking to doctors and nurses about her chances of survival and the type of care she might need if she did pull through. The day was filled with more questions than answers, because until she woke up there was no knowing how badly the heart attack and minor stroke affected her ability to function.
 
I put water on for hot cocoa, while Patrick went upstairs to change. He had spent the night prior in the hospital, and this was his first opportunity to clean up. He returned to the kitchen twenty minutes later, hair wet and messed wearing sweats and a t-shirt that clung to him like he was born in it. He was such a beautiful man, those soft blue eyes surrounded by rugged good looks and the sight of him, his heartbreak and worry on his sleeve, melted me. I took a deep breath fighting the urge to slip into his arms and comfort him the way I always had in the past, and poured the cocoa into mugs. We settled into the small breakfast nook and sat in silence sipping hot chocolate, lost in thought and prayer.
 
“Thank you for coming,” he finally said minutes later. “I don’t know how I would have gotten through the day without you.” He covered my hand with his own and gave it a squeeze. “I bet it wasn’t easy either. You had to take off work and I’m sure Duncan didn’t let you go without a struggle. I know I wouldn’t have if I were him.”
 
I thought back to the conversation with Duncan.
 
****
 
“It’s not your worry anymore Lyd,” he’d tried to explain his apprehension of me going.
 
“If it’s not my worry than why am I worried Duncan?” My eyes filled with tears not sure how to make him understand.
 
He ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t want to fight with me, I could see it in his eyes, in his demeanor. “This is about Sharpie isn’t it? You feel like you need to be there for him.” He turned his back to me.
 
I ran my hands up his bare muscular back and over his mammoth shoulders, and I could feel him relax against my touch. “It’s about him a little maybe,” I said honestly. “But it’s also about a woman who I love, who treated me like her own daughter. She was always so kind to me Duncan. I need to be there for her too.”
 
He turned and I know he saw the sincerity and sadness in my eyes. He caved immediately, even though he didn’t say it right away. I could tell by his face that he wouldn’t fight me on this. “If you want to go, I can’t stop you.” He paused for a moment. “I won’t even try. Maybe I should come with you.” He smiled brilliantly believing it was a legitimate option. It wasn’t.
 
“Sure Duncan. I’m sure the Chicago Blackhawks are going to be ok with you taking time off to go visit your girlfriend’s soon to be ex-mother-in-law.” I wasn’t even going to touch on how awkward that would be. How him being there would create all kinds of drama that no one needed or deserved.
 
He laughed. “You’re right. It was a stupid suggestion.” He scooped me into his arms.
 
“I love that you’re willing to do that for me,” I said and kissed him softly.
 
He held on to me tightly and kissed me deeper, in an almost needy way, that wasn’t exactly sexual. Without breaking this kiss, he lifted me and carried me to the couch where he sat and held me in his lap. “That’s the closest you’ve come to telling me you love me.”
 
I was taken aback by the  statement. This was not the right time for the conversation that threatened to ensue. “We’re getting there Duncan. We are.” It was the best that I could do at that moment, and I meant it. There were times that I felt that I loved him, but there were still times when I felt lost and alone without Patrick. “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, and you make me so incredibly happy. I never thought I’d be this happy again.”
 
“But you’re not ready?” he asked and there was no escaping the disappointed tone in his voice. I nodded and it killed me to agree, but he deserved the truth. “I’ll wait for you Lydie. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just promise you’ll come home to me?”
 
“Yes. Duncan of course I will.” I leaned up and kissed him harder this time, letting him know that I was committed to him.  That I wanted to be his and only his.”
 
“I love you. Lydia and if you need anything, anything at all. I’m here for you.”
 
“Thank you Duncan. I needed to hear that.”
 
****
 
My conversation with Duncan felt weeks old and it had only been the better part of a day since it happened. “Duncan was pretty Ok with it actually.” I replied without going into detail. Without telling him how he clung to me as he dropped me off at the airport. How it was on the tip of his tongue to beg me not to go. But that wasn’t Duncan’s way. He was too strong, too much of a man, and I was glad for that. I needed to be in Thunder Bay, with Patrick and Ruth. I needed to be there.
 
“Well, Thank you. It means a lot to me,” he said and withdrew his hand from mine, leaving behind the remnants of a tingle that he always caused when he touched me. His eyes connected to mine locked together in familiarity and love that was no longer allowed, but still they lingered. “I want you to take our room,” he said finally breaking eye contact. “The master bedroom,” he corrected.
 
“I can’t Patrick. It’s your house now. It wouldn’t be right.” If I were being completely truthful, I would have told him that I couldn’t. I couldn’t handle the memories the feelings still left in that room.
 
“Ok. If you’re sure,” he said, and I nodded my agreement. He leaned over the table and kissed me softly on the cheek. “Good night Lydia,” he said, his lips lingering at my ear, his words lingering in my mind.
 
****
 
I walked down the long corridor of the hospital passing room after room of sick people. Monitors beeped and buzzed and the antiseptic smell filled my senses. It seemed as if it took forever to arrive at the right door. 451 was staring at me from the plaque beside the entrance to the room. I looked back at the path that I had taken to arrive at the room and it stretched on forever. Never ending.
 
I took a deep breath like I had the day before and walked in. There were two beds in the room now, and no sign of Patrick. I stood between the two beds and looked to my right. Ruth laid in the bed, her eyes closed and her arms crossed over her chest. A nurse walked past me and pulled the sheet over her head. “NO!” I yelled out. “NO!” The nurse said nothing, just walked past me and out of the room.
 
I looked to the bed on the right, hoping for an explanation, but as I did monitors went off all around me. Loud like alarms. Swarms of people filled the room and pushed me back. "She's gone," said a voice that sounded like my fathers. I looked past the people working on the woman in the bed, and my heart nearly stopped. It was my mother, the way I remembered from the combination of vague memories and photographs. “No,” I screamed again. She was in the same arm crossed, eyes closed position as Ruth. “I just want to say good-bye. Let me say good bye.” But the nurse, the same one I'd seen in my dreams all those years ago, wouldn't let me. She shook me and told me to wake up, her gruff cold voice got warmer and deeper, until…
 
Patrick pulled me into his arms and out of my nightmare.
 
I clung to him and I sobbed. "She's dead. She's dead," I cried.
 
He stroked my hair and cooed in my ear, "She's not baby. She's going to pull through this."
 
I cried for a long time into Patrick's chest. I cried for my mom who was taken away from me when I was so young. I cried for Ruth who was so sick she couldn't wake up, and I cried for my marriage that fell apart without warning.
 
"It's OK. It's OK," he said rocking me until I was nearly back to sleep.
 
I felt him lay me down and his grip start to loosen. "No. Please don't leave me," I whispered. "Please stay with me."
 
Patrick said nothing. He pulled back the covers from the guest room bed and crawled in behind me. He held me tightly against him and stroked my hair until I fell into a peaceful sleep feeling completely safe and completely loved.
 
**** Patrick's POV
 
Soon Lydie's breathing evened out and she fell into a deep sleep in my arms. I stayed awake relishing the moments holding her, recalling her asking me to stay with her and knowing that Duncan could never do this for her. He could never be her be all and end all the way I had been. The way I still was, though she wouldn't admit it. She murmured a few times and snuggled in tightly, asleep and unaware. Her head rested on my chest and her legs entwined with mine. It was like nothing had happened, like I hadn't made that horrible mistake and my life hadn't crumpled to pieces.
 
Lydia had always been an avid dreamer. She talked in her sleep, cried out in her sleep and I always took pride in being able to comfort her. Tonight her nightmare seemed worse than normal and though it was overstepping my boundaries, and even though she'd likely regret it in the morning, she needed me and I held her while the fear dissipated and she fell fast asleep in the safety and comfort of my arms.
 
I slept on and off worried for her, worried for my mother. I was losing everything, everything and everyone that I loved.
 
In the morning, I let her sleep and crawled out of bed. She wouldn't be happy to see me there once she realized, and with everything else going horribly wrong, the last thing I wanted to do was upset her more. I turned and watched her sleep for a moment from the doorway, her short hair tucked behind her ear and a small strand, the one that always wandered astray, fell over her closed eye. She was breathtakingly beautiful. She meant everything to me, and I lost her. Maybe it was time to accept that. Maybe.
 
Visiting hours weren't until 10AM so I pulled some things out to make breakfast. I called Mrs. Plendiz, my elderly neighbor, who earned extra money looking after the house during the season to let her know about my arrival. I didn't want to scare her with an unannounced appearance. She took pity on me and brought over some necessities. Lucky for me, it included everything I needed for French toast, Lydia’s favorite.
 
I worked around the kitchen, trying to keep my mind off of the hospital and the possibility that my mother may not make it home. I busied myself so as not to think about how, though I'd spent the night in the same bed as my wife, I may never get that opportunity again. I whisked eggs added milk and cinnamon and a touch of vanilla, and that's when I heard Lydia's phone. I shouldn't have listened, but I couldn't help it.
 
"Duncan," she said sounding surprisingly awake.  "I know, I'm sorry. I should have called. I meant to. I did, but I got to the hospital and…" She paused clearly cut off from her thought. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I just…" and again there was a long pause. He was giving her shit about not calling him. Didn't he get how traumatic this was for her. I squeezed my hands into fists, hating that he'd do that to her. "I will. I promise. Just a couple days." There was another pause before she said, "Not good. Not good at all." At least the bastard had the decency to ask about my mother. The tone of her voice changed and I could hear the call winding down. "I'll call you tonight. I promise." She giggled and I waited for it. I waited to hear her say those three words that would crush me into oblivion, but they never came. The call ended and I wondered why she didn't say it. She didn't know I was listening. She always told me she loved me before we hung up the phone, even if we were going to see each other in five minutes. I smiled as I placed the batter soaked bread into the pan that sizzled on contact.
 
She doesn't love him.
 
**** Lydia's POV
 
I felt him move away from me and get up from the bed. Part of me wanted to pull him back down, a big part. But he wasn’t mine anymore, and I wasn’t his. He stopped at the door and I felt his gaze on my face.  I panicked inside, what if he came back to me on the bed? What if he kissed me, a real kiss. Just a simple touch from him at that moment could set off a chain reaction, a pathway I dare not venture down. I didn’t know if I was strong enough to stop it. I probably wasn’t. Then I heard him shuffle away down the stairs and I felt both relief and disappointment.
 
I laid in bed for awhile until my cell phone rang. I knew before I answered it; it was Duncan. I had promised to call when I arrived, but I was busy finding a cab and then the hospital was so overwhelming. It simply didn’t slip my mind. I could hear the hurt in his voice that I hadn’t called. He tried not to scold me, but I deserved it, and for more than just forgetting to call. Duncan is a great man however, and he let it go, sweetly inquiring about Ruth. “I love you,” he said as we were ending the call. “I love you Lydia. Remember you’re coming home to me.” I agreed, and disconnected the call.
 
When I made my way to the kitchen, I couldn’t hide my pleasure at the sight before me. Patrick whistled while he flipped French toast, my favorite breakfast in the world. He turned and matched my smile, handing me a mug of steaming hot coffee that I used to warm both my hands and my insides.
 
“You OK?” he asked sweetly. “Last night was kind of rough. You want to talk about it.”
 
I took a seat at the breakfast nook. “No I want to forget about it. I’m Ok…” I wanted to say Thanks to you, but I dare not. Instead I chose to say, “Thanks for staying with me.”
 
His eyes sparkled, the blue so bright that morning. “Anything for you Lydie.” He set a plate of French toast, real maple syrup and fresh strawberries down in front of me.
 
“I forgot how much I like French toast,” I said stuffing my mouth full. Patrick’s French Toast was magical with almost a heaven like quality. I used to tell him the only thing he did better than making French Toast was making love. He’d laugh and try to convince me he was a pretty good hockey player too. I giggled at the thought, and just by his look I knew he was having the same memory which made me feel shy and turned my cheeks red.
 
At the hospital, Patrick sensed my apprehension, remembering the stories of the hospital nightmares I’d had. He held my hand and gave me a reassuring look. “It’s going to be OK,” he promised, and we walked side by side down the corridor and into Ruth’s room.
 
She was awake, and sitting up. A nurse was taking her blood pressure. At first sight of Patrick and I hand in hand tears came to Ruth’s eyes. “Oh,” she said softly, struggling to speak. Patrick went to her side, while the nurse explained to me that we shouldn’t do anything to upset her. She was stable, but we should still be cautious.
 
“Ruth,” I said and gave her a gentle hug. “You had us so worried.”
 
“I’m sorry dear.  I’m sorry Patrick,” she said. “But I’m so happy to see both of you here together. I was worried too.” She paused and looked like she was waiting for some pain to pass. “I was worried something was wrong between you two. When you didn’t come home this summer…”
 
Patrick’s eyes locked on mine. I could see how ashamed he was that he’d lied to his mother, or at least withheld the truth. “There’s something I have to tell you Mother,” he began.
 
He was about to tell her when the words of the nurse rang through my mind. “Not now Patrick. It can wait. Let’s just wait OK?”
 
He looked shocked, not understanding my motives, but he let it go.
 
The afternoon was pleasant, almost fun. Ruth slept off and on, but it looked like the stroke wasn’t going to cause any permanent damage. She was able to move her limbs well, and her speech was groggy but clear. I could see the change in Patrick, a weight lifted from him. He held her hand while we reminisced about our time together in Thunder Bay and at Ruth’s insistence, about our wedding. Instead of the dreadful thick feeling in the room the night before, it was almost giddy from relief.
 
“You two need to go, have some dinner. Let an old lady rest.” She said with a smile as the sunlight faded into night. “Maybe some romantic time. It would do you both some good.”
 
“Mom, about that,” Patrick started.
 
But I cut him off. “That’s probably just what we need Ruth. Thanks.” I slipped Patrick’s hand into mine and gave it a squeeze. With hugs and kisses to Ruth we fled the room.
 
“What am I missing Lydia? Why won’t you let me tell mom about us?”
 
Patrick looked hopeful as he waited for my response. His hand was still in mine as we stood outside her door in the hospital hallway. “I’m sorry Patrick, but the nurse asked me not to upset her. I think we should wait until she’s strong enough to hear the news.” I watched the light and the hope drain from his face. I laid on hand on his cheek and the touch was soft, but electrifying. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
 
He covered my hand with his own, and closed his eyes tightly for a moment, before he said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” His fingers entwined with mine, and we left hand in hand.
 
****
 
“Lydia! Patrick!” was our greeting as we walked into the Pub. In Thunder Bay everyone knew everyone else. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mom,” Joe said as he approached us at the door.
 
“Thanks Joe.” Patrick replied. “It mean a lot.”
 
Joe offered any help he could give regarding Ruth, and told us to take any seat that was available. The old pub felt like home, welcoming and warm, the smell of pretzels and beer and whatever the kitchen special was that night. We took our usual seat’s at the bar, ordered two of whatever the special of the day was, and settled in to quiet comfortable conversation.
 
“Can you believe Claire and Adam?” I asked looking over the mug of beer.
 
“Those two are liable to cause a quake in the earth’s gravitational pull. It’s scary if you ask me,” Patrick said and took a long pull on his bottle of beer.
 
“I think they’re adorable,” I rebuffed, and he looked at me with a smirk. “What?” I asked innocently.
 
He leaned over, his lips almost touching my ear, causing a sudden flush to overwhelm me. “Adorable is how you describe a kitten Lydie, not what those two have been up to.”
 
I smiled still feeling overwhelmed with the smell of him, the feel of his breath on my face. “I guess you’re right.” I agreed. “They’re hot together, sexy, erotic. The thought of it makes my toes curl and my panties wet. Is that better?”
 
He laughed enjoying my little joke, maybe a bit too much. He put his beer down on the bar, “Come on!” he said, not giving me an option. He dragged me off of the stool and on to the dance floor.  “Hear that?” he asked as Lee Dewyze sang Beat of Burden. He pulled me right into him without hesitation and started moving us to the music. “Remember this song Lyd?”
 
“Of course I remember.” I looked at him, knowingly. “How could I forget.” I let him pull me in to him, to my memory of a night where we danced and we drank and we stripped each other naked on the lake dock. This was the song that started it, and here we were dancing remembering the heat of that night, the sweat on each other’s skin, the feel of our mouth’s and hands exploring everything the other had to offer. It wasn’t just my mind that remembered that night, it was my body too, heating up at just the recollection. I remembered it like it was yesterday, could feel him biting into my skin, taking from me anything he wanted, and me allowing it, relishing in it.
 
“That was some night,” he said looking as affected by the memory as I was. His lips lingering dangerously close to mine and I stood there wishing he’d just close the gap and take me right there. I thought he might do it too. I thought he might not ask and just do it. If he asked I’d say no, but if he didn’t ask…
 
“Sharpie, Lydia. You’re dinner is up,” Joe called out. It shattered the moment.
 
Reality set back in.
 
And my heart ached.