Forty Words for Sorrow

But he knew he would- when the drugs wore off, when he was back at home, when he woke in the middle of the night. When he could think about something other than the hole in his hand and the holes in his guts, he would have to think about his own distant crime. It would never go away. That was the shape looming in the fog. And besides, R. J. was not the only one he had written to.

NEXT morning Cardinal woke in a different room on a different ward. Sunlight poured in the windows; he could feel it before he even opened his eyes. Magnified by panes of glass, the light felt hot on his arm. It felt good; it felt like health. He would lie there like a cat and soak it up. He started to stretch, but the stitches in his stomach changed his mind. Sometime later he became aware that someone was holding his hand. A small hand, smooth and warm.

"How's my sleepyhead?"

"Catherine?"

"I'm afraid so, darling. They let me out."

Catherine sat on the edge of his bed, not at all like a guardian angel. Her eyes were not serene pools of certainty; they were shy and worried. He could see the slight droop of her left eyelid where the medication refused to loosen its grip. But her agitation had subsided- there were no restless movements; the hands that held his own remained still.

"No, I'm not deranged anymore. I'm running on lithium, like the Starship Enterprise. Sorry. That has intergalactic overtones, doesn't it."

She was wearing the beret he had given her. Such a small gesture, and yet he couldn't find the words to say how much it moved him. "You look great" was all he could manage.

"You don't look bad, either. Especially for someone who near drowned and was shot twice."

There was a silence while they held hands and tried to think of words that would help start them on the road to knowing each other again.

"There've been a lot of flowers sent to the house. Cards, too."

"Yeah. People have been great."

"There was one delivery, the fellow had a patch over one eye. Big. He seemed quite concerned about you. I brought the card along." She pulled a large, floral Hallmark from her shoulder bag. Inscribed beneath the sentimental verse:

Be seeing you. Rick.

"Very thoughtful guy, Rick." After a pause, Cardinal said, "I guess you didn't get my letter."

"I got your letter. So did Kelly. We don't have to talk about it now."

"How'd Kelly take it?"

"Ask her yourself. She's on her way home."

"She's angry, right?"

"She's more worried about you right now. But I expect she'll be angry, yes."

"I've really done it, Catherine. I'm so sorry."

"I am, too. Yes, of course I am." She looked away from him, thinking how to phrase it. Outside, sparrows scattered like thrown seed across a blazing blue sky. "I'm sad that you did something wrong, John. It's not how I think of you, of course. And I'm sad for the pain it must cause you. But part of me- I know it sounds strange, John- John! It's so wonderful to say your name again and have it not just be in my head. To be beside you!… But even aside from that happiness, part of me is happy about the other, too. Happy that you did something wrong."

"Catherine, you don't mean that. What are you talking about?"

"You've never understood, have you? What you don't understand- how could you?- what you can't understand is that no matter how hard it is for you to be encumbered with me, to have to watch over me like a child, to have to worry about hospitals and accidents and where is she this time, no matter how hard all of that is- I think it's far harder to be the one who is always looked after. To be the one who is the burden. To feel like a net drain on the economy, so to speak."

"Oh, Catherine…"

"So, you see, to have you do something wrong- something very wrong- to have you actually wreak potential havoc on our lives is… Well, I'm taking a very long time just to say it's nice to be needed. To get a chance to be the strong one, for a change."

Cardinal's doctor came in noisily, blaring greetings and questions. "No, no, you can stay," he said when Catherine started to leave. He shone a light in Cardinal's pupils. Asked him to sit up. Even had him walk a few steps, holding onto the bedrail like a little old man, his gut in agony.

"Fuck you, Doc. I'm going back to bed."

The doctor was scribbling on the chart. "I didn't really need you to walk. Just wanted to see if it hurt as much as I thought it would. You're doing great. Going to take four to six weeks for your innards to heal, though. Bullets really whizzed around in there."

"Six weeks!"

"Do you good." For Catherine's benefit the doctor jerked a thumb and said, "Big dumb hero, eh?" Then he let the chart drop with a clatter against the bed and left as noisily as he had come in.

"Christ. He could be a cop with that sense of humor," Cardinal said. Sweat was cooling on his brow.

"I better go," Catherine said. "You're whiter than the sheet."

"Don't go, Catherine. Please stay."

So Catherine Cardinal stayed. Stayed and watched over him as she had in his dream.