Part 8 - Raindrops
~~~~~
"If I seem bleak
Well, you'd be correct.
And if I don't speak
It's cause I can't disconnect.
But I won't be burned by the reflection
Of the fire in your eyes
As you're staring at the sun."
~~~~~
Andrea turned the ring on her thumb round and round. Toby's wedding band. She'd had no idea she was still down as his next-of-kin until her secretary had put the hospital's call through.
She hadn't realised how much she missed him until then either.
After they'd returned his ring to her she had gone up to the attic and opened the little box, buried deep beneath winter blankets and old clothes.
She hadn't touched her ring once since their final fight.
If he responded at all, Toby's explanation of the failure of their marriage was, "She wanted my soul - and I don't have one," but Andi didn't buy it for a second.
Just about the only thing she'd ever been sure of in their relationship was what had ended it. What her mistake had been. She shouldn't have apologised.
She'd been in a foul mood; they'd fought; she'd apologised.
It had been over there and then.
An apology was an admission he was right and she was wrong. It also made her 'the reasonable one' when their relationship had always been based on a complete lack of reason. It threw the balance off entirely.
For them to be equals again he'd have had to apologise too and she had known full well he wouldn't do that.
And after all that time they'd taken his arm off before he'd take his ring off.
The woman who'd married him wept silent tears of relief that he was going to live.
* * * * *
She called me after they called her.
They called her rather than me. I'm his brother; she divorced him!
I wonder why he kept her as his next-of-kin. We'll have to get that changed.
She didn't have my cell number; it took hours for her to track me down. Why would she have it? I'm her ex-husband's brother, not exactly top of her contact list.
The thing is, after she, slowly and shakily, told me all this, I realised I don't have Toby's cell number either.
The President of the United States is closer to my brother these days than I am.
He got ill over this, so they say. The papers have been full of wild stories since this happened but from what I've heard from the constant stream of people who're visiting Toby and this other woman at least some of it seems to be true.
Guess it can't be too serious or they'd have made some kind of announcement.
That's one trait I share with my brother. We're not inclined to believe much until we see the evidence.
I don't know much about this woman who was in the car with him. We've met before I think, at the occasional dinner party Andi and he had, but I never paid all that much attention to my brother's friends. I certainly didn't know that she was a particularly special friend.
I guess I didn't pay all that much attention to him.
My first instinct is to not give a damn about who she is and just hate her for driving the car that almost killed my brother.
It's all very well her sitting at his bedside holding his hand and trying to hold a conversation with him. It's too late now. Look what she's done to him.
But then it's not like she got off lightly. She can't walk now; they don't think she ever will again. She's lost the sight in one eye. It's going to be hard for her to get around without being able to walk or drive.
It occurs to me to wonder if she'll gain weight, what with not being as active as she used to be. Probably not, she doesn't look like she has much appetite right now, for food or life.
Like Toby, the most insignificant details plague my mind.
They've told me the accident was no-one's fault; it was a combination of unfortunate circumstances. A horrible coincidence. No charges are going to be brought. The bridge has been closed until the state installs more safety barriers.
I'm still angry at her.
Maybe it's not because she was the driver. I like to think I'm logical enough to accept that anyone can get into trouble on the road.
I think it's possible that I'm angry at this woman, this 'CJ' – what the hell kind of a name is that? – because she's in my brother's life, from what I've seen here she's an enormous part of my brother's life, and I didn't even know she existed.
I meant to call. I did. It's just that I'm a busy man, you know? My job places a lot of demands on me – just like Toby's.
When he woke up he didn't seem to know me.
He's been changed, really changed. Because it's been so long since I've seen him I don't know if it's the head injuries or the shock of it all or if it's something that's been growing for a long time, but these past few days when I look at him I don't see the guy I grew up with.
I wonder how well I know him.
I stand in his hospital room and I watch this woman I don't know stroke his hair and kiss his cheek and squeeze his hand and strangest of all to me I watch him squeeze back.
Yet he barely seems to recognise me.
They seem to be drawing the energy they need to survive from each other. Or maybe it's the will to survive they're drawing from each other.
I don't understand what's going on with my brother.
Visitors come and ago and he receives them with something close to gratitude, which just isn't Toby, but she's the only one he seems to be connecting to at the moment.
His speech is sporadic still, as is his understanding of others. They say it should pass with time.
But the two of them seem to be able to communicate on a deeper level. I suppose it's natural. They've just shared a very intense experience.
Still, it puzzles me. It scares me a little.
You can see it, if you watch them. Sure, when he's up to it they talk to each other, saying it's going to be okay, that it is okay, that what they've lost is nothing compared to what they still have. But when he can't hold a sensible conversation they look at each other and you can *see* it. They're still talking, just not in words.
Toby's life is words! How is it possible that I've never spoken to the person who's changing the very fibre of my brother's being?
Right now I'm taking a break, having a walk around the city. It got to be too much for me, being the outsider – it's like when the other people in an elevator are talking in a foreign language and giggling.
Their boss, Leo, is with them just now. He doesn't seem to mind or think it's strange. He's just wonderfully happy that they're alive and seem set to stay that way for a while longer.
It's cloudy overhead. I hate this city. I don't know how Toby can live here. He once said he doesn't know how I can live anywhere else.
It looks like rain. I should have brought an overcoat.
Apparently some people like to walk in the rain – a woman I once dated said it helped clear her head. If you ask me, all it does is give you pneumonia and one Ziegler in hospital is more than enough.
I'm a practical person. I don't have a poetic soul, the same woman once told me.
I'm walking along wondering if Toby has a poetic soul. I would never, ever have said so... until maybe now.
He can paint any picture he wants with words. I've listened to his speeches since he got Graham Hemingway elected class president in the sixth grade.
I suppose I thought he had a lot of brain but not much of a heart.
I've been looking at it all wrong.
I think my brother does have a poetic soul, a remarkable soul.
The rain starts. Shit. I duck inside the nearest store which happens to be a Barnes and Noble.
While I'm here I think I'll buy him a soppy romance novel, just to hear him roar about the bad grammar.
Also because I think the happy ending will appeal to the new, reborn Toby that I've been given a second chance to get to know.
I guess I should also get to know this CJ he thinks so much of.
First of all I should swallow my pride like my brother seems to have done and express my gratitude.
They are going to recover. Thank you.
~~~~~
"There's more to living than only surviving
Maybe I'm not there –
But I'm still trying."
~~~~~
With shaking hands William Eastman signed his Last Will and Testament. It was a brief document, a poor resolution to a life, consisting of a small legacy for Karen and a few instructions relating to his funeral. His lawyer asked if he wished to specify an epitaph for the gravestone. Eastman replied that he didn't want one.
* * * * *
CJ awkwardly folded up her copy of the Washington Post and smiled at Toby. Danny's byline was a moving piece of writing and a remarkable tribute. She didn't expect him to comment on it. He didn't have to.
A few blocks from the hospital a young mother laid down her copy of the paper. Politicians had always seemed somewhat inhuman to her. She'd never really thought too much about who she voted for. She usually voted for a minority party because it didn't seem to make much difference who got in.
Now, however, she was starting to think that maybe Bartlet had more going for him than most Presidents.
Toby shifted in his sleep. He half-woke and was aware of CJ's hand on his cheek. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he slipped back into oblivion, secure in the knowledge that they really were going to be all right.
* * * * *
In the White House Margaret told another caller that Mr. McGarry was unavailable. Josh took a ten-second break to share a joke with Donna. Charlie fought to get the President to stay in bed while the First Lady rearranged the trip to Elizabeth's.
The sun set, the world turned, and the entire staff needed their alarm clocks to wake them up the next morning.
The End
First posted May 2001
The beginning of chapter quotes are from:
1. "Intimacy" by the Corrs
2. Philippians 2:14-15
3. John 1:5
4. "Remember" by Christina Rossetti
5. Pass on the origin of the prayer, sorry
6. "Bar Italia" by Pulp
7. "One and One" by B.Steinberg, R. Nowells & M.C. D'Ubaldo
8. "Staring At The Sun" by the Offspring
~~~~~
"If I seem bleak
Well, you'd be correct.
And if I don't speak
It's cause I can't disconnect.
But I won't be burned by the reflection
Of the fire in your eyes
As you're staring at the sun."
~~~~~
Andrea turned the ring on her thumb round and round. Toby's wedding band. She'd had no idea she was still down as his next-of-kin until her secretary had put the hospital's call through.
She hadn't realised how much she missed him until then either.
After they'd returned his ring to her she had gone up to the attic and opened the little box, buried deep beneath winter blankets and old clothes.
She hadn't touched her ring once since their final fight.
If he responded at all, Toby's explanation of the failure of their marriage was, "She wanted my soul - and I don't have one," but Andi didn't buy it for a second.
Just about the only thing she'd ever been sure of in their relationship was what had ended it. What her mistake had been. She shouldn't have apologised.
She'd been in a foul mood; they'd fought; she'd apologised.
It had been over there and then.
An apology was an admission he was right and she was wrong. It also made her 'the reasonable one' when their relationship had always been based on a complete lack of reason. It threw the balance off entirely.
For them to be equals again he'd have had to apologise too and she had known full well he wouldn't do that.
And after all that time they'd taken his arm off before he'd take his ring off.
The woman who'd married him wept silent tears of relief that he was going to live.
* * * * *
She called me after they called her.
They called her rather than me. I'm his brother; she divorced him!
I wonder why he kept her as his next-of-kin. We'll have to get that changed.
She didn't have my cell number; it took hours for her to track me down. Why would she have it? I'm her ex-husband's brother, not exactly top of her contact list.
The thing is, after she, slowly and shakily, told me all this, I realised I don't have Toby's cell number either.
The President of the United States is closer to my brother these days than I am.
He got ill over this, so they say. The papers have been full of wild stories since this happened but from what I've heard from the constant stream of people who're visiting Toby and this other woman at least some of it seems to be true.
Guess it can't be too serious or they'd have made some kind of announcement.
That's one trait I share with my brother. We're not inclined to believe much until we see the evidence.
I don't know much about this woman who was in the car with him. We've met before I think, at the occasional dinner party Andi and he had, but I never paid all that much attention to my brother's friends. I certainly didn't know that she was a particularly special friend.
I guess I didn't pay all that much attention to him.
My first instinct is to not give a damn about who she is and just hate her for driving the car that almost killed my brother.
It's all very well her sitting at his bedside holding his hand and trying to hold a conversation with him. It's too late now. Look what she's done to him.
But then it's not like she got off lightly. She can't walk now; they don't think she ever will again. She's lost the sight in one eye. It's going to be hard for her to get around without being able to walk or drive.
It occurs to me to wonder if she'll gain weight, what with not being as active as she used to be. Probably not, she doesn't look like she has much appetite right now, for food or life.
Like Toby, the most insignificant details plague my mind.
They've told me the accident was no-one's fault; it was a combination of unfortunate circumstances. A horrible coincidence. No charges are going to be brought. The bridge has been closed until the state installs more safety barriers.
I'm still angry at her.
Maybe it's not because she was the driver. I like to think I'm logical enough to accept that anyone can get into trouble on the road.
I think it's possible that I'm angry at this woman, this 'CJ' – what the hell kind of a name is that? – because she's in my brother's life, from what I've seen here she's an enormous part of my brother's life, and I didn't even know she existed.
I meant to call. I did. It's just that I'm a busy man, you know? My job places a lot of demands on me – just like Toby's.
When he woke up he didn't seem to know me.
He's been changed, really changed. Because it's been so long since I've seen him I don't know if it's the head injuries or the shock of it all or if it's something that's been growing for a long time, but these past few days when I look at him I don't see the guy I grew up with.
I wonder how well I know him.
I stand in his hospital room and I watch this woman I don't know stroke his hair and kiss his cheek and squeeze his hand and strangest of all to me I watch him squeeze back.
Yet he barely seems to recognise me.
They seem to be drawing the energy they need to survive from each other. Or maybe it's the will to survive they're drawing from each other.
I don't understand what's going on with my brother.
Visitors come and ago and he receives them with something close to gratitude, which just isn't Toby, but she's the only one he seems to be connecting to at the moment.
His speech is sporadic still, as is his understanding of others. They say it should pass with time.
But the two of them seem to be able to communicate on a deeper level. I suppose it's natural. They've just shared a very intense experience.
Still, it puzzles me. It scares me a little.
You can see it, if you watch them. Sure, when he's up to it they talk to each other, saying it's going to be okay, that it is okay, that what they've lost is nothing compared to what they still have. But when he can't hold a sensible conversation they look at each other and you can *see* it. They're still talking, just not in words.
Toby's life is words! How is it possible that I've never spoken to the person who's changing the very fibre of my brother's being?
Right now I'm taking a break, having a walk around the city. It got to be too much for me, being the outsider – it's like when the other people in an elevator are talking in a foreign language and giggling.
Their boss, Leo, is with them just now. He doesn't seem to mind or think it's strange. He's just wonderfully happy that they're alive and seem set to stay that way for a while longer.
It's cloudy overhead. I hate this city. I don't know how Toby can live here. He once said he doesn't know how I can live anywhere else.
It looks like rain. I should have brought an overcoat.
Apparently some people like to walk in the rain – a woman I once dated said it helped clear her head. If you ask me, all it does is give you pneumonia and one Ziegler in hospital is more than enough.
I'm a practical person. I don't have a poetic soul, the same woman once told me.
I'm walking along wondering if Toby has a poetic soul. I would never, ever have said so... until maybe now.
He can paint any picture he wants with words. I've listened to his speeches since he got Graham Hemingway elected class president in the sixth grade.
I suppose I thought he had a lot of brain but not much of a heart.
I've been looking at it all wrong.
I think my brother does have a poetic soul, a remarkable soul.
The rain starts. Shit. I duck inside the nearest store which happens to be a Barnes and Noble.
While I'm here I think I'll buy him a soppy romance novel, just to hear him roar about the bad grammar.
Also because I think the happy ending will appeal to the new, reborn Toby that I've been given a second chance to get to know.
I guess I should also get to know this CJ he thinks so much of.
First of all I should swallow my pride like my brother seems to have done and express my gratitude.
They are going to recover. Thank you.
~~~~~
"There's more to living than only surviving
Maybe I'm not there –
But I'm still trying."
~~~~~
With shaking hands William Eastman signed his Last Will and Testament. It was a brief document, a poor resolution to a life, consisting of a small legacy for Karen and a few instructions relating to his funeral. His lawyer asked if he wished to specify an epitaph for the gravestone. Eastman replied that he didn't want one.
* * * * *
CJ awkwardly folded up her copy of the Washington Post and smiled at Toby. Danny's byline was a moving piece of writing and a remarkable tribute. She didn't expect him to comment on it. He didn't have to.
A few blocks from the hospital a young mother laid down her copy of the paper. Politicians had always seemed somewhat inhuman to her. She'd never really thought too much about who she voted for. She usually voted for a minority party because it didn't seem to make much difference who got in.
Now, however, she was starting to think that maybe Bartlet had more going for him than most Presidents.
Toby shifted in his sleep. He half-woke and was aware of CJ's hand on his cheek. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly and he slipped back into oblivion, secure in the knowledge that they really were going to be all right.
* * * * *
In the White House Margaret told another caller that Mr. McGarry was unavailable. Josh took a ten-second break to share a joke with Donna. Charlie fought to get the President to stay in bed while the First Lady rearranged the trip to Elizabeth's.
The sun set, the world turned, and the entire staff needed their alarm clocks to wake them up the next morning.
The End
First posted May 2001
The beginning of chapter quotes are from:
1. "Intimacy" by the Corrs
2. Philippians 2:14-15
3. John 1:5
4. "Remember" by Christina Rossetti
5. Pass on the origin of the prayer, sorry
6. "Bar Italia" by Pulp
7. "One and One" by B.Steinberg, R. Nowells & M.C. D'Ubaldo
8. "Staring At The Sun" by the Offspring