The Waiting

Chapter Six

Christie and Cat spent the rest of the morning going back and forth between Jim's room and the waiting room. Christie's back was beginning to ache from the uncomfortable waiting room chairs and the long periods of time standing next to Jim's bed. At noontime, Cat persuaded Christie to accompany her to the cafeteria, where she managed to choke down most of a small bowl of soup, with a chaser of Tylenol, while Cat had her usual lunch of a protein bar and nonfat yogurt. As soon as they returned to the waiting room, an aide came in to tell Christie that Dr. Jaffrey wanted to speak with her. She hurried to the ICU, leaving Cat behind in the waiting room with Walter Clark, who had arrived while they were in the cafeteria.

There was no change in Jim's condition – none that she could see, anyway. But Dr. Jaffrey assured her his CT scan "looked good," whatever that meant, and they would start decreasing his sedation in the evening. Christie stayed in Jim's room for only a few minutes after speaking with Dr. Jaffrey. She needed to escape from the small, claustrophobic ICU room, crowded with medical equipment. But mostly she needed to escape from the sight of the silent, unmoving stranger in the hospital bed who couldn't be her husband – but he was.

When Christie returned to the waiting room, she began going through the contents of the box a hospital volunteer had given to Cat while she was in Jim's room. It was full of cards sent to Jim by well-wishers. Some of them had sent religious medals or figurines, too. She was touched that so many people cared, but she couldn't bring herself to read the cards. Not yet. And she didn't know how she could possibly acknowledge all of them. She sighed, leaning back in her chair. Next to her, Walter was regaling Cat with "war stories" from his long career as a detective. Cat's expression of polite boredom told Christie she wasn't enjoying them, but Walter didn't seem to notice. Christie tuned out his voice and closed her eyes.

She sat straight up and opened her eyes a few minutes later when Walter said, "When Jimmy goes back on the job – "

"What d'you mean – when he goes back on the job?" she interrupted.

Walter gave her a surprised look. "This is Jimmy Dunbar we're talking about," he reminded her. "You know him. When this is all over, you bet he'll go back on the job."

"If he can," Christie pointed out.

"Yeah, if he can," Walter agreed solemnly.

Shaken, Christie fell silent. She hadn't even considered the possibility that Jim might go back to work as a cop. But Walter was right. Of course Jim would go back on the job, if he could. And if he did, she would have to watch him leave home every morning, knowing what could happen and wondering when it would happen again. For an instant, she wished he wouldn't recover, so he wouldn't be able to go back to work. She wasn't going through all of this, she thought angrily, just so he could go back into harm's way.

Walter looked at her with a troubled expression, as if he knew what she was thinking, but said nothing. After a moment, he turned back to Cat. Before he could say anything, she stood up and walked past him to Christie. "I hate to leave you," she said, "but I have to go, or I'll be late picking up Connor at school."

"Oh. OK." Christie set the box on the chair next to her and stood up to embrace her sister.

"It'll be OK," Cat whispered as she hugged Christie tightly. She released her, then said, "Mom and Dad will be here soon."

"Don't worry," Walter spoke up. "I'll stay until they get here."

"Thanks," Christie said.

"Yes, thank you, Walter," Cat said briskly. She shook Walter's hand, then quickly crossed to the door and disappeared down the hall.

After Cat left, Christie picked up the box and began going through the cards again. She opened one of the cards at random and began to read, then closed it and put it back in the box. Walter sat next to her, turning the pages of the newspaper he'd already read.

Out of the corner of her eye, Christie saw the door open. A man in a white coat entered and approached the family at the far end of the room. He spoke to them briefly, then they all stood up and followed him out of the waiting room. She wondered if it was their Aunt Lourdes's time, as the woman who'd spoken to her had feared. In her mind's eye, she saw the family gathering at the patient's bedside. She wondered if she and her family would soon be part of a similar scene at Jim's bedside. She blinked back tears at the thought and turned her attention to the box, picking up a small figurine of an angel, exquisitely carved of wood. She marveled at the artistry which had gone into the object as she ran her hands over its smooth surface, detecting details which were invisible to her eyes. She knew it was only a piece of carved wood, but holding it was comforting, somehow. Walter watched her thoughtfully for a moment but said nothing.

After a moment, she replaced the wooden angel in the box and turned to Walter, frowning. "Have you heard from Terry?" she asked.

"No, I haven't," he replied. "He hasn't been here?"

"No. And he hasn't called, either. He should be here. Why isn't he here?"

"I don't know," Walter told her. "Maybe he's being interviewed – you know, for the investigation."

"Maybe – but he could still call, couldn't he?"

"You want me to call him?" Walter volunteered.

"No. If he can't be bothered – " she said crossly.

"I'm sure there's an explanation," he assured her.

"I guess," she replied, unconvinced. Something wasn't right. It wasn't like Terry to stay away at a time like this. If – when – Jimmy woke up, the first person he would want to see, after herself, was Terry. He needed to be here. She frowned again as she resumed her inspection of the items in the box.

Gordon and Adele arrived a half hour later. They crossed the room and embraced Christie. Walter Clark stood to greet them. "You remember Jimmy's friend, Detective Walter Clark," Christie said.

"Yes, of course," Gordon replied, taking Walter's outstretched hand. "Thank you for being here, Detective Clark."

"You're welcome. And it's 'Walter' – please." Walter replied as he shook Gordon's hand. He turned to Adele. "I'm sorry we have to meet again in these circumstances, Mrs. Richmond," he said.

"Oh, yes, thank you," Adele replied distantly. She turned away from Walter to speak to Christie. "Where's Catherine?" she asked. "I thought she was here with you."

"She was," Christie explained, "but she had to pick up Connor at school."

"Oh. Is it that time already?"

"Yes, it is," Christie replied, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

They sat down, Walter on one side of Christie, her parents on the other. After Christie updated them on Jim's condition and explained what the doctors had told her, their conversation lagged. Christie handed the box to Adele, who began examining its contents, occasionally commenting on one of the cards. Christie gave noncommittal responses at first, then tuned out her mother. Walter picked up his newspaper again, offering a section to Gordon. He shook his head and instead crossed to the television set and turned it to NY1.

When the sound came up, a female reporter was describing the "makeshift memorial at the scene of yesterday's deadly shoot-out." After a brief shot of flowers, candles, and cards on a sidewalk, the reporter appeared, standing next to a man. Christie saw him out of the corner of her eye and did a double-take. For an instant, she thought she was seeing Jim on the screen. Then she noticed the bags under his eyes, his blotchy red face, and his graying hair. She realized who it was at the same time the reporter was saying, "With me is Jack Dunbar, the brother of Detective Jim Dunbar, the hero of yesterday's shoot-out."

"No," Christie whispered, thinking with revulsion of the last time she and Jim had seen his older brother – their mother's funeral two years before. She had died suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 63. Jim blamed Jack for his mother's premature death. The last few years of her life were filled with worry about her older son – his drinking, his failed marriages, his inability to hold a job, the "loans" he never repaid. Then he showed up drunk at her funeral and delivered a maudlin, rambling eulogy, talking more about himself than the woman who had borne and raised him. Christie still remembered anxiously watching Jim during his brother's performance. He'd had to use all of his considerable powers of self-control to keep himself from throwing Jack bodily out of the church.

After they returned to their mother's house following the service, Jack became more and more obnoxious as he continued to drink. When Jack loudly asserted that their mother's death was "Jimmy's fault," caused by her fears for his safety on the job, Jim finally snapped. He went after Jack and had to be restrained by Walter and Terry. Walter called a cab for Jack while Terry stood next to Jim, keeping a close watch on him. When the cab arrived, Jim, Terry, and Walter wrestled Jack out of the house and into the vehicle. After paying the driver and slamming the door behind Jack, who lay sprawled across the back seat, Jim returned to the house, as angry as Christie had ever seen him. "If I never see him again," Jim had told her, "it'll be too soon."

Now that same brother was smugly telling the reporter, "Yes, I'm his big brother. Jimmy – that's what we call him in the family, Jimmy – he always looked up to me, you know, as a role model." Unable to stomach the sight of Jack, Christie looked away from the television in disgust.

When she turned her attention back to the interview, Jack was saying, "Yeah, I'm heading over to the hospital now, gotta make sure they're taking good care of Jimmy."

Sensing a story, the reporter quickly followed up, "Are you saying your brother isn't getting the proper care?"

Jack looked disconcerted. "Wha – ? Oh, no, I didn' mean nothin' like that. I'm sure they're doin' their best. I just mean, I haveta see for myself, you know. He's my little brother, so I'm his next of kin."

"Isn't Detective Dunbar married?" the reporter asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, he is," Jack confirmed. "But I'm his only blood relative, you know what I mean?"

The reporter quickly wrapped up the interview, and the studio anchors replaced her and Jack on the screen. "Turn it off, please," Christie said to her father, who immediately got up and turned off the television. She couldn't believe it. The interview was bad enough, but now Jack was coming to the hospital. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Jim didn't want his brother here.

She and Walter exchanged looks. She didn't have to tell him what she was thinking. "Don't worry," Walter said, "I'll take care of it."

It was an hour and a half before Jack arrived in the waiting room. It was obvious he'd stopped for a drink – or, more likely, several drinks – before coming to the hospital. He spotted Christie and headed directly toward her, his arms outstretched. She stood up and started to move away, but Walter intercepted him. "Hello, Jack," he said coldly.

"Who – ?" Jack began, then stopped, attempting to focus. After a moment he seemed to recognize Walter. "Hey, Walter, how ya doin'?" he said.

"I've been better," Walter replied, frowning.

"I went to see Jimmy," Jack said, "but they wouldn' let me in, they said I had to wait here."

"That's right," Christie said, standing behind Walter. "Jimmy's in the ICU, you can't just barge in there any time you feel like it."

"Not right," Jack protested. "My little brother – I should be able to see him."

"Well, you're not going to," Christie told him. "Jimmy doesn't want you here."

"Whad'you mean?" Jack demanded. "He's my little brother, I have a right – "

"You have no right, not where Jimmy is concerned," Walter told him.

"I want you to leave," Christie said. "Right now."

"Not leavin', you can't make me," Jack insisted.

Walter nodded to Gordon, who stood up and walked toward him. They each took one of Jack's arms. "You don't want us to call security, do you?" Gordon asked.

When Jack didn't respond, Walter and Gordon began walking toward the door, pulling Jack along with them. Halfway there, Jack stopped and jerked his arm out of Gordon's grasp. He turned back toward Christie and snarled, "You stuck-up bitch! I told Jimmy he never shoulda married you."

"Get out," Christie snapped. Gordon grabbed Jack's elbow again, and he and Walter dragged Jack through the door. Christie sank wearily into a chair, thankful that part of the ordeal was over. She glanced over at her mother, who had looked on in horror, one hand over her mouth, as Walter and Gordon removed Jack from the room.

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Walter left at about five o'clock, promising to return in the morning. Two hours later, Adele and Gordon went home. Adele pleaded with Christie to come with them, but she refused, telling her mother she needed to be there when Jim woke up. She'd just returned from speaking with Dr. Jaffrey, who told her they'd begun decreasing Jim's sedation. It might only be a few hours until he woke up. She wanted him to see a familiar face when he did.