Chapter Five: "Aftermath"
The doctor wants to talk to Geoffrey, but Geoffrey is flickering in and out. He can't follow the conversation. The doc is looking down at him. Geoff looks around and finds he is in bed with Anne, and then he remembers. The doctor talks. Geoff is answering. They've been conversing, haven't they? He tries to follow it, to reconstruct it. What have they said?
She's had insults to several systems. Whatever that means. We think her liver function will improve on its own. You think? It should. She's pretty well re-hydrated now, and we'll get her electrolytes balanced pretty soon. That should help her heart rhythm. Should? It should. There doesn't seem to be any permanent damage to her limbs, though an orthopedist needs to have a look at her shoulders. That's good, I guess. And the antibiotics should clear up her pneumonia and the infections in her lesions. Lesions? Her burns and cuts. Some of them are infected. We decided against giving her a transfusion for her anemia. Why? She should improve with medication and diet. I see. Two things we have to watch are her kidney function and her heart.
"Wait a minute! I thought you said the electrolytes would clear up her heart."
"Well, yes, but there may be damage. We can't tell yet."
"And her kidneys?"
"We'll have to see how much they improve. She might be fine."
She might be fine. Geoffrey wakes up completely and thinks about that for awhile.
* * * * *
Geoffrey has hardly left Anne's side. He hasn't had a choice. She held onto him through everything last night, even her x-rays. He couldn't let go of her hand to change positions without her getting agitated. He couldn't go to the bathroom until they gave her something to help her sleep, and when he got back she was rolling in a nightmare. He leaned down to her. "I'm here, Annie. It's okay. You're safe." She opened her eyes barely enough to see him, sighed "Geoffy," and faded back out.
Besides him, her room is filled with machines and charts and blinking lights, metal tubes and a glass wall to the main ICU staff area. Everyone who passes looks in at them. Staff come and go. Security sits just outside the door. During the night Geoff had tried to stay awake while waiting for all the tests. Someone would address him and he'd jerk out of a velvet sleep. He had a passing thought that he should call someone to cancel his classes, but who cares?
The doctors finished with Anne around three a.m. When they left, Geoff pushed a green vinyl chair right up against the bed, blocking one of the monitors, and held her hand through the safety bars. He woke an hour later to see her staring down at him, and for the first time he knew she was awake and aware and back in the world. She was looking at him with the saddest expression he had ever seen.
"I hurt you and left you and you came for me." She couldn't continue. She cried with gulps and sobs.
"Annie. Annie."
Geoffrey stood and leaned over her, and as he did the world spun and he held the bed rail. The world spun and spun, then merely rocked, then only trembled. Geoffrey put his mouth to Anne's temple. "Annie, Annie, it's okay. Please don't be sad." Her hair was clean. It smelled of shampoo. When did they have time to wash her? How did he miss it? The world twirled around Anne's temple, around the fine hair and the smell of shampoo.
"You should have let me die!" Her crying changed to coughs, and in a minute a nurse came in to give her something.
Anne drifted back to sleep but kept jolting awake. If Geoffrey sat completely still the room would stop floating, but Anne couldn't stop jumping, and every time he had to stroke her and whisper and put his cheek on her. Finally he slipped off his shoes and crawled onto the bed, under her IV line, and held her. No one was going to stop him. He fell asleep. When she'd kick and twist he'd simply hold her and say something, and they'd glide back under together. Then, during the night, Victor was leaning against the far wall, holding a cigarette in a European fashion, but when Geoffrey sat up Victor transformed himself into some sort of medical apparatus covered with a gray tarp. Satan! Geoff had to check to make sure he hadn't accidentally jerked out the IV tube.
Later he woke snuggling Anne in a spoons position, with his hand on her hip, coming out of a dream in which they were fucking. He was completely erect and moving his penis up and down against her. He stopped. He thought she couldn't possibly ever want sex again.
They were both asleep when the chief attending physician came in to give his morning report a few minutes ago. Behind him Geoffrey can see the morning nurse, smiling like the Mona Lisa and touching a finger to her lips. Anne sleeps through the whole thing. Someone put an oxygen mask on her during the night, and Geoff slept through it. What if Satan had sneaked in?
She might be fine.
* * * * *
Anne probably doesn't need so much time in ICU, but the mayor has made the call. "America's Most Wanted" started the ball rolling and now the case dominates the cable networks. It probably will for a few weeks, until some six-year-old shoots his father in Wyoming. For now it's Anne the celebrity, Anne the victim, Anne of the black box. The tabloids can't get enough of her. The mayor isn't going to let anything happen to her. At least the media are kept away from her floor, and the city picks up the tab.
On the second day, Geoff looks up at a TV in the cafeteria and there they are, videotapes of the basement and the box, along with edited footage from the Web site archives. It's a cable news talk show. The two hosts are supposed to represent the left and the right. Today they agree the nation needs new laws and a crackdown on Internet smut. The one from the right blames the Clinton administration for a breakdown in sexual morality.
Contributions from women's advocacy groups pour in. Cost isn't going to be a problem. The FBI doesn't make a big case of it, since after all no one was killed, but at least Victor is now a Federal fugitive. Photos of Victor are plastered everywhere, with the usual information on what numbers to call.
* * * * *
The third day.
They're edging down the hall toward the elevators. The doctors want Anne to walk but she's awfully weak, so they go slowly, she still swaying a little on those spindly legs. Geoffrey holds the wheeled IV bag cart to one side, the tube crossing behind his back. He pulls it along while his other arm is around her waist, supporting her and holding her to him. When they pass the nurses' station one nurse whispers to the other, "They're so sweet together," before turning back to the mayor's press conference on CNN.
Geoff is telling Anne something. Some little thing. "You promise to eat something for me, right Annie?" She usually won't speak, not since the first night. Maybe she'll utter a word or two almost under her breath, in a monotone, but that's it. She'll talk to Geoff a little, when they're alone. Now they murmur almost conspiratorially. Anne seems to be agreeing to try to eat. Then out of the blue she stops walking and begins to cry. She doesn't try to hide it, just stands there with tears flowing down her face, making panting little high-pitched sobs. Geoff turns to her and she puts her face to his chest. He doesn't know what to do. She shows no emotion to anyone else. She's a blank slate to them. Not to Geoffrey, though. Not now. He touches his free hand to her head.
After a few minutes she's better. She looks up at him and puts fingers to his cheek and kisses him, then they walk some more.
Before they get back to her room Anne is winded and covered in a fine, itchy sweat. Geoff helps her to the bed and looks at her, wondering about the kiss. Anne speaks a whole sentence, "Geoff, don't look at me like that."
"What? Like what?"
"You know." She looks away.
"Annie?"
"I'm so ashamed." She's still looking away. Her eyes are watery but there are no more tears.