Chapter 17

Three weeks had past since Sheila’s accident. Charlie had made sure that she was as taken care of as possible, and instructed Chad to call him (in emergencies only) if he needed help. Chad was also told to make sure that Sheila kept her appointments with a therapist, and watched to make sure the sleeping pills stayed out of the house. She started taking a anti-depressant which was helping her get back to a regular quality of life; sleeping normally, taking care of herself, and getting back into her work. She had been hired by a band Frank heard about, and was getting them prepped for a European tour.

Charlie and was swimming in the pool with Jean Marie on Saturday morning. They had spent the last few days preparing for a party, to celebrate Terry and Charlie’s album release. The songs they had recorded in the home studio piqued the interest at their old record label, and they agreed to release their album internationally. It was called Bastard Songs, because they couldn’t decide who would get to billing on the album. Terry had told the label executives, “Since we had both worked on the songs, in a true collaboration, they have no true parent, so Bastard Songs.” It was released this morning, and early reports were that it was selling off the shelves.

In the past, the band would have made an appearance on a television show, or sat in a crowded record store to sign autographs, on the day of an album release. But with Terry still ailing, and Charlie wanting to be by Jean Marie’s side as much as possible, they decided to have a private party at the house.

Charlie held her shoulders as she floated in the water of the pool. She was now almost six months pregnant, and though her belly wasn’t full grown, she had started to be kicked by the baby and was experiencing the common difficulties of pregnancy; constantly needing to pee; being unable to sleep comfortably; getting hungry and then getting nauseated.

However, she remained as positive and up beat as possible. It wasn’t hard to do, as Charlie was doting and caring over her as much as he could be.

She put her feet down in the pool and stood in front of Charlie. She kissed him on the cheek and walked up the steps. He followed her, and helped to towel her off. The party would start in a few hours, and there were banquet tables set up by the pool, and soon the caterers would arrive with plates and platters of food, and bowls of punch and bottles of drinks galore. This was the time to relax, so that the excitement of the party and the energy of the day would not become overwhelming.

They made their way up to the bedroom, and she went into the bathroom to take a shower. He pulled out some of the clothes he had thought about wearing that day, so he could show her what he was planning on wearing. She never told him what to or what not to wear, but she enjoyed seeing him make a fuss about things as frivolous as party outfits, and he enjoyed making her happy in these little ways.

The phone rang, and it was Terry calling to say that they were also getting ready. Lana was also thinking about clothes, and Terry asked if Jean Marie would call her back to discuss outfits with her. “Girls,” he said. Charlie didn’t tell him he was going to have the same type of discussion with Jean Marie.

After the showering and the wardrobe consultations, Jean Marie went downstairs to help the caterers and to greet the guests as they arrived. Frank appeared first, again bearing gifts. This time is was a present for the baby – a soft, crocheted blanket of yellow yarn, outlined with a satin ribbon. Terry and Lana then came in. Lana had decided to wear a red pantsuit, made of silk. It looked like an Asian business suit, except that it had a jacket with only two buttons and the pants came just to the middle of her hips, to let her pregnant stomach show underneath. Terry was in a black, tight fitting t-shirt and grey silk pants. He had on his black sunglasses, and with his hair so closely shaved looked like an Italian rock star. Jean Marie had conferred with Lana about her outfit, as well, and was wearing a turquoise kaftan, with a gold and silver ribbon detail on the edge.

“It is comfortable and breezy, but doesn’t look like a muumuu,” Jean Marie told Lana, who agreed with the choice.

“Lana, you look fabulous! I love your hair, it looks wonderful up in that bun.”

“Thanks, I went to the salon to do it – I didn’t want to fuss with my hair. You look great too, very regal! How do you like Terry’s look?”

“I was thinking, European Rock.”

“Exactly.”

Terry hugged Jean Marie, “Oh, you two. Why don’t you go play with your paper dolls!”

“That’s what husbands and boyfriends are for, dear,” Lana told him, with a wink.

Charlie had decided to wear a green button-up shirt, and khaki Bermuda shorts.

“You guys could be from two different continents today,” Jean Marie commented. “Terry is from Italy, and Charlie’s from the Caribbean!”

“God, let’s hit the hors d’ouvres before they want to paint our toenails,” Terry said to Charlie.

Later the party would include Aaron and Twig, and their girlfriends. Tim appeared with his wife, Lynne. J.B. Parker, Peter Smith, and other musicians Charlie had befriended also came to the party. The songs from the album were playing in the background, and people were making connections with each other. Terry paraded Lana around, showing her off to anyone who would pass by, feeling proud of the woman and the future child he had in his life.

After a while had passed, Frank had the DJ stop the music, so he could make a speech to the crowd.

“Ahem,” he said, catching their attention. They started to quiet down, and he said “I just wanted to say a few words before we cut into the cake over there.”

Terry shouted out, “There’s cake? Hurry up!” getting everyone to laugh.

“Alright, calm down old man. Just a few words.” The group was quiet again. “A few years ago, let’s say 15 to be kind to those of us geriatrics in the group, I was brought in to see a band play at this dive of a club in Westbury. I had been told that the group was ‘a good one,’ but they had a tendency to over-sing and over-play everything. This was true. I listened as they butchered the hell out of a ballad, and then butchered the hell out of a cover song, and on and on. They new I was there, and wanted to meet me. So, I obliged and went backstage after the show. This kid, who was going by the name of The Wizzard introduced himself to me, and said his name with a straight face.”

There were giggles in the crowd, and Aaron nudged Charlie in the ribs.

“The Wizzard said that their band, Accelerator, was a phenomenon, and proceeded to tell me all the ways they were going to take over the world. Huge tours, massive concerts, smashing albums. I could feel the energy of his words taking over me, and although the business side of me was telling me to get the hell out of this dive and away from this clearly insane person, the music fan in me wanted to know more about him. I guess that’s how history is made – ignoring your better judgment and listening to your heart. Although, I made damn sure that he stopped calling himself The Wizzard – Charlie – and I also taught them the difference between a love song and a slam dance. Now, I am glad to know that Charlie and Terry have so matured to the point of being able to put aside their egos, and instead have learned that the point of relationships is not to simply let them explode and then sweep the leftovers into the corner. The point is, to make a long story short, to take a look at what made things explode and to harness that energy into something much stronger than what you had before. So here is to future success, world domination, and to Terry and Charlie!”

The crowd cheered and shouted, “Terry and Charlie!”

Terry hollered out “To explosions!” and as if on cue, the DJ put on the song Pay Day from their first album:

Honey see me walking down the street
Lookin hot, got no time to be sweet
I’m workin’ every day of my life
For Pay Day – yeah, that’s right


Girl I’ll take you out for the night
Show you a good time, I’ll treat you right
But don’t you plan on stickin’ around
For Pay Day – I got my feet on the ground


I need money
I don’t need too much
I want your money
But I don’t need your love


I got a Pay Day coming
Ooo, right about now


Baby it’s time you learned the rules
My life goes fast, and I sure ain’t a fool
And when I’m gone, you won’t be around
It’s Pay Day, when my back is on the ground


I won’t forget it, all the fun I had then
My memories will be my only friends
Can’t live my life by the book (oh no way)
I live for Pay Day, that’s the way it’s meant to be


I don’t need money
Baby it’s bringing me down
I don’t need money
Lord, just let me rest in the ground


I got a Pay Day coming
Ooo, right about now.

Chapter 16

On their way to the hospital, Jean Marie had Charlie stop off at the nearby grocery store to pick up a bottle of water and some soda crackers for Sheila. She thought it would be something that she might need to have at home, and Charlie acquiesced. They pulled into a general parking area and, since they had no idea where they needed to go, walked into the nearest administrative area. The woman at the counter looked up Sheila Polk in the computer and directed them across the hospital’s campus to the recovery ward (they had pulled into the surgery wing of the hospital).

Jean Marie offered to drive the car over to the other ward, while Charlie walked to the same location. “Besides, I don’t need to be there. I’ll just wait in the loading zone, ok?”

Charlie kissed her goodbye as they split in the lobby.

When he made it to the recovery ward, he again asked to see Sheila. A nurse had him sign in, and showed him the corridor that led to her room, 9H. He was carrying the water bottle with him, and was feeling more than a little nervous at what she might look like.

He knocked on the door, and Sheila called out for him to enter. Walking in slowly he was a little thrown by how dark the room was.

“Wow, it’s like night time in here,” he commented, and he walked up to her bed. “Oh, Sheila. You look like you’ve been in a bar fight!”

“Thanks for that, Charlie. You always did make me feel pretty,” she adjusted herself in bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was just startled to see you with the bruise on your face, and the stitches.”

“I know – I know what I look like, I mean. What’s that for?” She pointed to the bottle in his hands.

“Oh, it’s for you. It’s water. I thought you might be thirsty.”

“Thank you. Maybe you can just hold it for now, ok? Where’s the nurse? She said she’d come in with you to check me out. I want to get out of this place.”

“I think she’s busy. Do you want me to go get her for you?” Immediately after saying it, Charlie felt like he was getting back into his old habits – catering to Sheila’s needs. He reminded himself that this wasn’t the same relationship. “I mean, why don’t we push the call button for her.” He leaned over and pointed at the button. Sheila pressed it, and a voice soon came into the room’s speakers.

“Do you need help?”

“My, uh, friend is here to take me home now. Can someone help us with that?”

“I’ll be right there.”

The room became awkwardly quiet. Charlie walked over to the window and pulled back the drape to let the sun in. “Are you a vampire, or is it ok to open this up?” It was an innocent joke, but he had a feeling that she would take it the wrong way. However, he decided to not say any regretful apologies over it.

“That’s fine,” she said. “My head was really hurting me, so I had the nurse make it dark in here.”

“Oh,” he felt like an ass for making the joke now, but was sticking to his guns and not apologizing. “Well, I can close them again. But it’s a really nice day out now. Not really warm, but nice, you know?” She just sighed in an agreeable way. He walked over to a pile of clothes on the counter. “Are these yours?”

“Yes. That’s what I was wearing when they came to get me.”

“Oh, you came by ambulance?”

“I thought I told you that.”

“No, I thought you just had a fall and came to the hospital by yourself. But I guess that doesn’t make much sense, now that I say it.”

“I passed out on the phone with 911.”

More silence.

Charlie was starting to feel the urge to go out and grab the nurse and drag her into the room. The silence was creeping into his brain and making him search his mind for small talk, but he kept coming back to the same topic – the divorce. Not a good thing to tell a woman on painkillers who’s feeling insecure about her condition, he told himself. Just then there was a light tap on the door, followed by a slim woman charging into the room like a tornado.

“I hear you want to leave us now, Miss Polk.”

Charlie flinched at hearing her call Sheila by her maiden name.

“Well, it’s been fun but it’s time to leave the party,” Sheila said.

“Ok, let me have you sit up and I’m going to take your temperature and your blood pressure and then I can sign you out, alright?”

Sheila obliged, and Charlie sat down on the neighboring bed.

When the nurse was finished she started to leave the room, but turned around and said “Do you need help getting dressed, Miss Polk?”

“No, I think I can manage it.”

“Alright. We’ll you’re welcome to put your clothes back on but there might be some blood on them, is that ok?”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized that – Charlie, can you take a look at them and see how bad it is?”

The nurse left the room, giving Charlie a sympathetic look as she closed the door. He set down the water bottle on the counter, and grabbed the pile of clothes and laid them out one at a time on the other bed. Sheila turned to look at the clothes with him. “Are these your pajamas?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Did you fall out of bed or something?”

“Or something,” was all she offered. “Is there blood on the robe?”

“Uh,” he leaned in to examine it, turning the collar over and back. “It looks clean, plus it’s kind of pink so I think it’ll be okay.”

“It’s orange. Fine, I’ll wear those then. Let me have them, please.” She reached out to take the clothes from him.

Before handing them off, he gave her a quizzical look. “Are you sure you don’t need help getting dressed?”

She dropped her hand in an exasperated gesture, and said “Fine. Just help me with the pajamas, and drape the robe over me, ok?”

Charlie walked up to her with the top of the pajama outfit. It had been sliced down the center, as the paramedics were assessing her condition. As he went to place it over her head, he noticed this. “I guess I can just put this on you like a cardigan.”

“Oh, my poor silk pajamas!” Sheila frowned slightly, making her stitches tug. “Ouch! Oh, fuck.”

“What is it?”

“Stitches!” She put her hand to her face.

The nurse entered the room again. “Are you getting dressed?”

“Look,” Sheila pointed to her sliced top. “I can’t wear that out.”

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said, in a very manner of fact tone of voice. “You can wear the paper dress out if you want, instead.”

“I’ll just put the robe over you, ok She?” Charlie was feeling his blood pressure rise as  Sheila’s frustration became more evident. He was not in the mood to bring a raging ex-wife into the car with his pregnant wife. “Here,” he said, placing it over her shoulders.

“Looks great,” the nurse said. “We’re going to wheel you out to the car, ok?” She looked to Charlie, “Do you have to pull the car up to the loading dock?”

Sheila said “Yes,” just as Charlie said “No.” They looked at each other, her confused, and him looking caught in the act.

The nurse sensed this tension, and quickly said “Ok, I’ll just go get the chair.”

“I thought you drove your car. Did you just leave it in the loading dock?” Sheila asked.

“No, Jean Marie came with me to help out. She’s got the car in the dock now. She actually had me bring you this,” he said, holding up the water bottle.

“Oh.” She tugged at the robe, pulling it farther over her shoulders.

The nurse came back with the wheelchair, and helped her into it. Charlie grabbed the remaining pajamas and the water bottle and followed behind the nurse, as they went out to the lobby. Charlie pointed to the car, and the nurse pushed forward. Jean Marie got out of the driver’s seat and stood up beside the car. She smiled at the nurse, and walked around to the passenger side to get the door. Charlie tried to out run her to it, but he couldn’t make it in time. As she passed the back of the car, Sheila got a perfect side view of Jean Marie’s pregnant belly. She turned her head to look away, feeling as though she was just flashed by a naked person. Charlie stopped in his rush to the door, as if waiting to hear Sheila start to openly wail and sob at this discovery. Instead, she was silent.

Charlie dropped Sheila’s clothes and the bottle into the back seat, and sat in the driver’s seat. Sheila was strapped into the passenger’s side by the nurse, and Jean Marie sat behind Charlie. They left the hospital and headed for Sheila’s house.

“Hi Sheila,” Jean Marie said, as they started to drive off.

“Hello,” she deadpanned back.

“So what happened to you, Sheila?" Charlie pressed. "How did you fall? Or, where did you fall? You said you hurt your hip, right?”

“Do we have to talk about it?” She was staring out the window, watching the trees outside as they drove past them. She could feel the glare of Charlie’s eyes on the back of her head, and she was trying her hardest to keep from crying.

“It’s ok, Charlie. She’s probably in a lot of pain,” Jean Marie said, almost as a peace offering between them.

He was quiet for a bit. Thinking about all the misery and pain that Sheila had put him through, during the separation, and before that with the band and the wedge she drove between him and Terry, he didn’t want to let the subject die. He wanted to hear about her pain, to know what it felt like to hit the ground with her face. He was looking for an ounce of pleasure in her pain.

“No, I want to know why you had to go to the hospital," he continued. "Why you passed out on the phone to 911.” Jean Marie pushed on Charlie’s seat to signal him to stop, but he kept on. “Why did you have me come and get you? Chad’s not on vacation, is he Sheila?” He grabbed the steering wheel making the blood leave his fingers, and he stared, immoveable, directly ahead.

“Charlie,” Jean Marie whispered in exasperation under her breath.

“Fine,” Sheila said. She pinched the skin on the back of her hand, to center herself, trying to keep from blubbering like a child in front of these two.

“Sheila, you don’t have to talk about anything right now,” Jean Marie said.

“Shh, Jean,” Charlie said to her.

“I just don’t want her to feel like we’re ganging up on her, especially when she’s just gotten out of the goddamn hospital!”

“I said fine!” Sheila said, louder this time. “Well, Chad is really gone, and I sure as hell wouldn’t have called you if he was around. I fell in the bathroom, standing over the bathtub. I hit the wall with my face,” Jean Marie gasped at this, “and my hip hit the tub. I had to crawl out of the bathroom to get to the phone, and I called 911.” Her voice started to crack. “When I tasted blood I got really weak again and that’s all I remember.”

Charlie was quiet and didn’t make any facial expression in response to her story.

“Aren’t you satisfied now? Huh? Or, maybe not. Maybe I should have just called my lawyer to pick me up – he seems to be the only one around that cares about how I feel, lately.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he said. 

“You bastard, you couldn’t even call me to tell me you wanted a divorce? I had to hear about it through papers from your lawyer. You should know about this, Jean Marie, since he’s got you knocked up now. This is going to be the father of your children.”

“You leave her alone, Sheila. She has nothing to do with what happened between you and me.”

“Doesn’t she? I think so, after all I was the one who introduced you two. And if it hadn’t been for that accident, you probably wouldn’t have needed to have met her. Did you thank Terry for that?”

“Sheila, please,” Jean Marie said. “Charlie… let’s just drop this, you guys.”

They ignored her pleading. “Terry and I are friends still, Sheila. Despite all of your attempts to spoil that relationship, too, we’re still friends.”

Sheila’s house was in front of them now, and the car was silent once more. Jean Marie had closed her eyes, and was trying to imagine that she wasn’t in the car with these two feuding people. Sheila wasn’t crying, but was instead feeling light headed again. Charlie parked in front of her door and turned off the engine.

Finally, Sheila spoke out. “I know you hate me, and you’ve gone on with things. Thank you for the ride home.”

Jean Marie unfastened her seat belt and got out of the car, walked up to Sheila’s door and opened it. She leaned over to reach her seat belt buckle, but couldn’t maneuver it. Charlie undid the buckle, and Jean Marie offered Sheila her hand to help her out of the seat. He got out of the car and went to help them both. Sheila stood up, and straightened the robe and patted her hair down. “Can you get my things, please Jean Marie?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have a house key, Sheila?” he asked her.

“It’s probably unlocked. But there’s a spare hidden behind the yucca plant next to the window.”

Charlie tried the door handle and found it locked, and went to retrieve the hidden spare key. He opened the door, and turned to look as Jean Marie and Sheila were moving slowly to the door. He walked inside and went to Sheila’s bathroom to investigate.

The floor was wet, and there were broken shards of the ceramic mug Sheila had dropped scattered all around. He grabbed some toilet paper and wiped these up, and threw it all away in the bathroom trash can. He went to her bedroom, and saw a small spot on the floor next to the bed. He got more toilet paper and blotted this up as much as possible. He knew she wasn’t telling him everything about her accident – why she fell, what was happening with her, but from the look of her house, he knew she was not taking care of herself.

There were piles of dirty plates and silverware in the kitchen, and the trash can was overflowing. She certainly wouldn’t be able to take out the garbage in her condition, so he made a mental note to do this before they left. Her room’s floor was coated with various items of clothing, all appearing to be wrinkled. There were tissues in the bed: under the sheets; under her pillow; shoved into the corner of the mattress. He picked these up and went back to get the trash from the bathroom. He passed them as they entered the room, and went into the kitchen to get the garbage.

Jean Marie helped Sheila to sit up on her bed. She looked around the floor, trying to find another outfit that would better suit her than the hospital dress. “Do you have another slip or some pajamas?”

“That drawer over there,” she pointed to her dresser.

Jean Marie opened it to find only t-shirts and a baseball hat. “Do you want to wear a t-shirt?” Sheila nodded, and tossed the robe and then the paper dress onto the floor. Jean Marie pulled the t-shirt on Sheila’s left arm, and then her right and helped her pull it over her head. She whispered to her, “Do you need some underwear, Sheila?” She nodded yes, and laid down.

“Third drawer, right,” she said.

Jean Marie was lucky and found a pair, and some socks. She handed these to Sheila, who waved her off. Jean Marie turned away to let Sheila dress herself, and started to pick up the clothes on the floor. Charlie walked back into the room.

“I took out the garbage,” he said, and started to help pick up the clothes. “Are you having a maid come over, Sheila?”

“No, I don’t need one.”

Jean Marie rolled her eyes at Charlie, and he walked over to Sheila. “Yes, you do. This place is huge. Does Chad help you out with the housework?”

“Chad? Of course he does. He’s just been on vacation for a while.”

Charlie barked out, “That’s no reason to live in filth, Sheila!” He felt like he was admonishing his teenage daughter for not keeping up with her chores. “I’m calling a maid service to come over tomorrow. And the pharmacy said they’d bring your medicine over tomorrow morning. What’s Chad’s number? I should call him and tell him you’re home.”

“It’s by the phone in the kitchen.” She pulled the sheets over her shoulders and rolled onto her side. She rubbed her hip and closed her eyes.

“I’ll go call him,” Jean Marie said.

Charlie watched her leave the room, and he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Sheila, are you taking drugs?”

“What?” She was almost asleep.

“I know you. You’re not like this. You never let me get away with putting my feet on the couch, and look at this place! What is it? Painkillers? Alcohol?”

She sighed. It wasn’t worth another fight, and she wasn’t up for it anyways. “I’m taking sleeping pills. I can’t stay asleep.”

He took a deep breath in. “Oh.” He rubbed his ear, trying to think of what to say to her. “Is this because of the divorce?”

She let out a little sob, and started to cry into her pillow. He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t cry, please? You’re going to be alright, Sheila. You’re a really tough woman, you know?”

“No – you are going to be alright. You’ve got her, and a baby on the way. You’re back in the business with your music and your collaborations. I know what you’ve been up to! And look at me! I’m sick and tired, and yet I can’t sleep through the night without waking up in a panic, sweating about my life.”

“Sheila, I think you’re overreacting about all this.” She continued to sob. “Look, it’s not like you’re going to be a single mother now, and you certainly still have your career.”

She yelled at him, “It’s not the same!”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset! You’re the one who wanted to separate, and now I guess you’re just pissed off that I’m actually happy for once in my life, without you!”

Jean Marie heard the commotion, and stood in the doorway listening.

“I’m glad you’re happy now, you asshole!” Sheila said.

“You’re just jealous, aren’t you! You need to grow up, Sheila. The world is not under your control, and you’re not going to tell me what I can and can’t do anymore. I let you have your way with me for 17 years, and it’s over now and you can’t handle that!”

“I know,” she said in between sobs, “I know.” This took the wind out of Charlie’s sails, and he stopped himself from continuing on. “Just leave me alone, alright? I can take care of myself.”

He quietly stood up and walked out of the room. Jean Marie gave him a hug, and he walked back to the kitchen phone. He dialed up Frank’s phone number.

“Frank? Hi, it’s Charlie.”

“Hey there, what’s happening?”

“Sheila’s had an accident.”

“Oh no, is it bad?”

“She’ll be ok, but she is pretty banged up. He assistant isn’t around, and I wanted to know who you get to clean your house. She’s going to need some help around here.”

“Sure thing. Let me call them up and tell them to head over there. What’s the address?”

“Uh, let me see,” he pulled out an envelope from a pile of unopened mail on the counter.

“It’s 17654 Yorkshire Terrace. Out by the Cedar Plantation neighborhood.”

“Ok, got it. Yeah, I’ll call up the house and see if someone there can go over and help out. How is she doing?”

“I’ll talk to you later about it.”

“That bad, huh? Hm. That’s too bad. Well, you’re being quite the knight in shining armor for her, eh?”

“Want to give me an award? Anyway, thanks for your help.”

“Sure thing.”

He hung up the phone. “I looked in the fridge,” Jean Marie said. “It’s pretty bad. I think there’s some mayonnaise and a bottle of gin in there.”

“Yuck, that’s a bad martini.” He smiled at her.

“I’m glad your sense of humor is back. I think we should get her some food, maybe some microwave dinners at least, and some milk and cereal.”

“You’re already getting that mothering instinct, huh?” He kissed her on her forehead. “That’s why I love you, you have a huge heart.”

“And a huge belly!” She patted her stomach, and he bent down to kiss this too.

“Can you stay and watch her, and I’ll go get some food?” She nodded. “Ok, well I have my cell phone, so call me if something happens.”

“Will do.”

They kissed and hugged again, and he left for the store. Jean Marie returned and cleaned up the bedroom some more, and put some laundry into the washing machine. The phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Sheila? Who is this?”

“This is Jean Marie. Who’s calling?”

“Chad! Where’s Sheila?” He was in a panic.

“Oh,” she patted Sheila on the shoulder and woke her up. “It’s Chad. Can you talk to him now?”

Sheila nodded and reached her hand over for the phone. Jean Marie left the room as they talked, and went back to the kitchen and put some dishes into the dishwasher. While standing over the sink, she thought about the relationship between Charlie and Sheila, and wondered what it would become after this encounter. Would they still talk, or visit each other? She didn’t know if she had a preference for Charlie to keep in touch with her or not, after seeing how volatile their interactions were today. She thought about the baby, and if she wanted to have Sheila in its life. There was no obligation for her to be, but Jean Marie felt that Sheila was a significant part of Charlie’s life, and whether he liked it or not he knew that she made him as famous through her work in his career as much as his talent had. She heard Sheila hang up the phone, and thought about going back to talk to her, but realized that she was probably trying to get some sleep now, and went back to washing the dishes.

Chapter 15

Sheila had been sleeping for nearly 18 hours, when she heard the phone ring. She turned in bed, to look at the alarm clock. The red numbers were blurry at first and she rubbed her eyes until she saw 11:45 AM appear. She reached a hand out to search for the phone, but as she lifted the receiver to her ear the caller had hung up.

It had been two months since she had signed off on the divorce papers between herself and Charlie. Chad had brought over the papers two weeks after that, so she could return her driver’s license, bills, and bank accounts to her original name, Sheila Polk. They were still unsigned and sitting where she had left them that day, on the dining room table. Still embarrassed by her sexual harassment of Chad, she had told him to take a month’s vacation. He was reluctant to go.

“I’m really worried about you, Sheila. I don’t think I should let you be alone for a week, let alone one month,” he had told her.

“Oh, please don’t be worried. I’ll be fine. I’ve been through bigger problems than this before in my life.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, ok? Just, believe me. I can get through this on my own. I need to do this, alone.”

She didn’t believe her own story then, and she was proving her doubts, and Chad’s, right.

She couldn’t sleep without taking a pill, and she couldn’t stay awake without taking another pill. The doctor was concerned about issuing her a prescription, since she hadn’t had sleeping problems before. He didn’t know about the divorce, but could tell that she was not in a good frame of mind.

“Are you getting any exercise, Miss Polk?” He had been instructed over the phone by Chad earlier that day to use her maiden name. “Perhaps some light activity would allow you to relax?”

“I’m walking everyday, doctor. I don’t think it’s exercise. I have just been working so damn hard, you know?” She had started to cry. It was so easy to produce tears normally, and in her exhaustion the tears were even easier to come by. “I just need something to help me stay asleep. Please, Dr. Miller?”

He wrote her the prescription for some Dalmane, but only gave her 10 pills and no refills. After those pills ran out, she went to see her gynecologist, and got another prescription for Ambien. The  pills were starting to run low, however. She was thinking about seeing Dr. Miller again soon, trying to craft another story in order to get more pills.

She tossed her feet out of bed, and stood up. Feeling wobbly she placed her hand on the wall and walked to the bathroom, and ran a bath. As the water filled the tub, she flipped on the light switch, and was immediately blinded by the bright lamp above the bathroom sink. She tried to take a look at her reflection in the mirror, but couldn't bear to open her eyes wide under the light.

Leaving the bathroom, she walked into the kitchen with her eyes half-closed, still holding on to the wall for balance. The coffee pot was still filled with yesterday morning’s coffee, so she poured herself a mug and heated it up in the microwave. She ran some cold water from the kitchen faucet and wiped her eyes with it. When the microwave was done, she took out the mug, filled it to the brim with  milk and sugar, and took it back into the bathroom.

She tried to test the water with her toe, while holding the mug of coffee with both hands. Her head started to spin and she spilled the coffee on to her arms. This shocked her so much so that she slipped into the bathtub. Her hips hit the edge of the tub, and sent her face into the tile wall behind the tub. She immediately tasted blood in her mouth, and this sent her into a panic.

Her heart racing, she crawled into her bedroom. The bath was still running and the coffee  spilled on the white tile floor, but she didn’t have time to deal with this. She feared that she had broken her jaw. She dialed 911.

The operator had a hard time hearing her, as she couldn’t open her mouth up. She started to gag on her blood, and the operator – hearing this – told her to calm down, that the paramedics were on their way. Sheila blacked out.

“Looks good to me. Nurse, will you please let them know that she’s ready for Dr. Geary to take a look at her?”

Sheila heard the voice, but couldn’t see who it belonged to. “What – what’s happening?” There was silence, darkness. “Where am I?” She started to panic again.

“It’s ok,” the voice said again. A sheet was lifted from the side of her face, which had been covering her eyes. “You had a fall and you needed some stitches in your mouth and on your cheek.” Sheila turned her head to look at the person, but immediately felt sore.

“Ow,” she grabbed her neck.

“Yes, you’re going to be sore for a while.” She felt hands turning her head, very gently. “I’m Dr. Phillips, Mrs. Polk.”

Sheila tried to sit up, but felt Dr. Phillips’ hands pressed on her shoulders. “No, don’t try to sit up just yet. You’ve badly bruised your hip. It looks like you were pretty close to breaking it, so you need to take it easy. Just lie back.”

He was handsome, olive skinned with big, black eye brows and dark brown eyes. His hair was covered up by a blue paper hat, and he was wearing blue paper scrubs.

“What happened to me?”

He picked up a manila folder sitting at her feet, and said “Patient found at right side of bed, in prone position. Looks like you passed out while talking to 911. There’s also some notes here about a conversation you had with the paramedics.”

“Oh?”
            “You said that you were trying to take a bath and you slipped and fell into the tub.” He looked up from the folder and looked at her. He smiled at her and said, “How do those stitches feel?”

“I can’t feel anything, really.”

“That’s good.” Putting back the folder, he said “Why do you think you slipped?”

She was quiet, thinking to herself if she should mention the pills, or start with the divorce that left her unable to cope with even the idea of sleeping.

“The pills? I guess, the pills I was taking to make me sleep made me dizzy.”

“Ambien? They found the bottle in the bathroom. And a bottle of Dalmane. Why did you need sleeping pills, Mrs. Polk?”

The question sounded accusatory to Sheila. “It’s Miss Polk, Dr. Phillips.” She closed her eyes and tried to turn as much as she could away from his glare.

“Miss Polk, sorry. Are you upset about something?”

“Are you a psychiatrist or a physician?”

He leaned over the bed, putting his arms right beside her body. “Miss Polk, I am a physician who cares about you. I could send in a psychiatrist, if you’re telling me that you want one, or maybe that you need to talk to one?”

The tone in his voice melted away the armor she had so quickly put up. She expected to start crying, but she couldn’t feel the tears in her eyes. “I’m just so tired. I’m tired of everything. But I can’t stay asleep.”

“Is that what you want – to just stay asleep?”

“Not forever, no. Just to sleep through the night, not waking up at any little sound or because of something I thought I felt, you know?”

“Ok. Well, I think you need to try and get some rest now. Dr. Geary is going to come in and look at your stitches and the bandage on your hip, but you can close your eyes. Do you want me to close the blinds and turn off the lights?”

“No, that’s ok.”

He patted her shoulder, and left the room. With the door closed, Sheila could hear the humming of the fluorescent lights, and started to feel the sting of her hip. She rubbed her tongue on the inside of her jaw and felt the stitches along her gums. “Oh my god,” she thought, “What the hell do I look like?”

Dr. Geary entered, not expecting Sheila to be lucid. He picked up the file folder and looked over the notes. Sheila moved her feet in the bed to make him aware of her presence, and he looked over to her. “Hi there. I’m Dr. Geary. Looks like Dr. Phillips did a great job with the stitches,” he leaned in to her face to get a closer look. “Very nice.” He smelled like pine needles and cedar.

“Does it look bad?” she asked him.

“Well, take a look for yourself,” he turned around to find a small mirror and handed it to her. “You had a bad spill, and you’re going to see that bruise on your cheek grow about three times that size. It could have been much worse, though.”

 She looked at her reflection and saw the red and blue spot just below the stitches on her cheek-bone. “Oh my god,” she said, out loud this time. “I look like someone beat me up.”

Dr. Geary took the mirror from her, “All done? I told you, it could have been worse. You could have damaged your eye socket, or lost some teeth.”

“So my teeth are ok?”

“You did get cut on the gums, but no tooth damage that we could see. You are going to have to call your dentist, however. He’ll want to make sure of that for himself.”

“Chad.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Ask Chad to call my dentist, he’ll have the number.”

“Who is Chad, Miss Polk?”

Sheila was confused for a second. Surely Chad had followed the ambulance to the hospital, and would be getting reports back from the doctors and nurses. “Isn’t Chad here?” she asked him.

“I’m sorry. Is he a relative that we should contact? Your boyfriend?”

“He’s my assistant.” She recalled that he was away, and wouldn’t be back until the next day. “I forgot, he went to Jamaica for a month.”

“Do you have his phone number, where we could reach him?”

“He’s gone until tomorrow, but maybe someone could leave him a message on his cell phone?”

“I’ll have the nurse get the number from you.” He made some notes on a pad of paper that he got from his breast pocket. “I’m going to have her call Chad and tell him that you are in the hospital.”

“He’ll freak out,” she mumbled.

“What’s that? Oh. Well, we won’t tell him any more than we have to. Your hip is very bruised and will be considerably painful for at least two weeks now, Miss Polk. Try to not roll over on to your left side, ok?”

Sheila nodded at him. “When can I go home?”

“We’ll see what we can do about getting a hold of Chad.”

Knowing that she couldn’t wait for him to return and then come retrieve her from the hospital, she called out to the doctor, who was making his way out the door. “Wait! Call my hus… my ex-husband. I know the number.”

Charlie was in the studio, working on the sound editing of the song he and Terry wrote several weeks ago. It was called Enough, and Frank, Jean Marie, Lana, and anyone else who heard the rough version of the song thought it was magnificent. Terry was still dealing with his cancer, and made several trips a week to the studio to help Charlie with the songs they had written. However, Charlie couldn’t stop fussing over Enough, wanting it to be perfect. He imagined listening to this song after Terry had passed away, and was racing against an invisible clock to finish it, perfect it, so that he could present it to Terry and the rest of the world, in all its glory.

Jean Marie was lying on the floor of the bedroom, practicing some yoga stretches she learned from a videotape her sister sent her. Her pregnancy, now five months and one week along, wasn’t causing her significant discomfort, but with her physical therapy background and her desire to stay moving, she was eager to try as much as possible with her ever-changing body. As she lifted her right leg straight into the air, the phone rang.

“Oh, great timing,” she said. She brought her leg down and rolled on to her side, propping herself up from the carpet, waiting to see if it was a wrong number. After the third ring, she got up and rushed to pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Charlie Clark residence?”

“Who is calling, please?”

“This is Meridian Hospital, Nurse Lee calling. Is Charlie Clark there?”

“This is his wife, can I help?”

“I am calling on behalf of a patient here, Miss Sheila Polk. She requested that we notify Mr. Clark. Is he available?”

Jean Marie was searching her memory, trying to think of who this Sheila Polk could be. Finally it clicked. “Oh! Sheila Clark? I mean, Polk? Um, can I call you back? I need to find Mr. Clark, Charlie.” The nurse gave Jean Marie a number to call, and hung up immediately.

She took the number with her down the stairs and out to the studio. She knocked on the doors, as had become customary during the recording sessions so that they wouldn’t be disturbed. She didn’t wait for a reply, though, instead entering immediately.

“Charlie? I just got a really strange phone call for you.”

He looked up from the sound mixer. “Huh? A phone call? Who was it?”

“Well, it was the hospital. Meridian Hospital. They said that Sheila Polk wanted you to be notified that she was there.”

Charlie’s face was smacked with surprise. “Sheila? What happened?”

Jean Marie handed him the phone number, and said “I don’t know, you’ll have to find out. What do you think happened?”

“Well, knowing Sheila,” he waved the paper in the air, “something tragic, dramatic, tragically dramatic, or none of the above. Let’s find out.”

Charlie went to the phone in the kitchen, dialed the number on the paper and waited. A nurse answered and told Charlie about the situation. She asked him if he wanted to talk to Sheila.

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“One moment, please.” There was a horrible song for the hold music, and he pulled the phone away from his ear while it was playing.

“Hello?”

The voice was muffled. Charlie pulled the phone back to him, “Hi, Sheila?”

“Yes, who’s this? Charlie?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

“Oh, thank God you got the message.”

“Are you ok? Is it something serious?”

“No, luckily it isn’t. I just had a really bad fall. I hit my face and my hip, and I got stitches.”

Jean Marie tapped Charlie’s shoulder, looking for any information about what Sheila was saying. Charlie looked up at her and nodded with a serious look on her face, and she grimaced.

“Is anything broken?”

“Well, I almost broke my hip, and they said my teeth could have been damaged. But it just seems like I’m going to have some really painful bruises and bumps for a while.”

“Ok.” Charlie paused, waiting for any additional information, but there was none. He finally said, “So, why did you need me to call you?”

“Oh yes. Well Chad is in Jamaica on a vacation – great time for me to give him a vacation, huh? They said I couldn’t leave the hospital unless I had someone give me a ride home, and I don’t want to leave in a taxi like some orphaned woman. So I was hoping you would help me. Please.” She said it more as a matter of politeness, rather than pleading with him.

“Let me talk to Jean Marie and I’ll see what I can do. Where are you?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s the Meridian Hospital. There’s a number on the phone – it’s 9H.”

“Ok, She. I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up, without waiting for her to say goodbye. He looked back at Jean Marie whose arms were crossed at her chest, and she still had the grimace on her face.

“Is this where I have to be the understanding wife and let my husband go off to save his ex?”

“You don’t have to be understanding at all, honey. I’m just giving her a ride home, that’s it.”

“I trust you Charlie. I don’t trust her, though.” Charlie rolled his eyes at this. “Don’t look at me like that! I’ve heard all the horror stories – stories you yourself told me, about how domineering she can be and how she made you the villain of the band. Maybe I should go with you?”

“If you want to come along, that’s fine with me.”

“Do you think she’ll flip out?”

“Probably.”

They both looked at each other for a bit, thinking about the possibilities. “I’ll come, it’ll be a little adventure.” Charlie stood up from the barstool and gave her a hug.

“You are an understanding wife. And I will get you a present for this, when we’re all done.”

“Just as long as it isn’t something from the hospital gift shop, though.”