Chapter 7: Run, Ephram, Run
There was a Holiday Inn down the road from the hospital. Bright was staying there and offered to get Ephram and Delia a room, too. Delia answered for her brother. She asked if Dr. Abbott and Amy would be there, too, but Bright said his dad slept at the hospital and showered in Bright's room. Amy and Ben were staying with Eve, a friend from vet school. Delia accepted the room and, despite her lack of a license, drove the rental car to the hotel making carefully signaled, white-knuckled turns. Ephram sat in the passenger seat numb and silent.
Their room was on the 5th floor. Two double beds and an office area. A hardbound guide to Denver lay open on the nearest bed with a welcome card encouraging them to save water and reuse their towels. The coverlets were brick red with an overwhelming orange and blue flower print that should have been hideous, but actually lent the bland room some cheer. Delia didn't know which room Bright was in. They'd agreed to meet for dinner if jet lag didn't catch up to her. Ephram agreed to nothing. He didn't notice the covers or the water conservation efforts. He lay on the bed farthest from the door, his back to the room, and went to sleep.
Being careful not to wake him, Delia walked into the hallway with her cell phone. It was 6 p.m. back in New York. Her grandparents would be sitting down to a festive Thanksgiving dinner, with friends and other distant family. Cousins she hardly knew and great aunts who told her she looked exactly like their dear Julia. She'd promised to call when they arrived and give a report. Tell Nonny why she and Ephram found it so necessary to be away from their only family on this important holiday. Scrolling through her phone book to the "N" section, she held her finger over the call button for a long minute. She thought of the tradition they'd started when she was a little girl, of video taping what they were thankful for. It almost faltered the second year, but her Dad resurrected it for her and now, every Thanksgiving, she would replay the tape and mouth her father's words back to the screen.
She couldn't handle this. She needed advice and comfort. In the end, she scrolled back down the alphabet from "No" to "Ni."
"Nina? It's Delia. Hi. Ya. I'm in Denver. I've missed you, too."
***
Of course, Ephram wasn't asleep. He'd remained still until Delia left the room, and when he heard the lock click, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. There was brownish stain on the ceiling from when this used to be a smoking room, and Ephram, a general non-smoker, was struck by how nice a cigarette and a piano would be at the moment.
A son.
One time. The only time. It was an after-school special and Lifetime Movie all rolled into one. Years of high school sex ed, in and out of the classroom, had led him to believe even if he was not a super hero in bed, his innate ability to instantly impregnate a woman was his super power. All teenagers were such walking bundles of hormones that the slightest touch would result in diapers and lost careers. Not to mention the scare with Madison after their brief reconciliation. But college, a little living, and married friends who were desperate and unable to conceive had eroded that image. Until now.
***
"He's a 15 months old. He was born in August. August 29. They thought he was a girl right up until he was born. I had the name all picked out. But he surprised us. He weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces and his hair was blond. Mom says I was blond when I was born. He scared us. He didn't cry right away. But then suddenly…it was like an explosion and he just started wailing. It was amazing. He's in a shy stage right now, but he points to things and can say their name. He loves dogs. Everything with four legs is a dog. He's been walking for about three months. There are baby gates everywhere because he's fast but not too steady. My dad says he's worse than Bright was…"
Amy rattled off the details of Ben's little life as she and Ephram sat side-by-side on the picnic tables outside the hospital. Ephram had walked swiftly out of Rose's room after Amy had revealed their son to him, and she had followed him quietly until he found the courtyard and sunk into a seat. Amy knew her family could see them from the window, but she didn't look. She knew they weren't watching. They were busy with Ben, with nurses, with explanations to Delia. And she was busy with explanations to Ephram. Only she couldn't quite get to the point that so desperately needed to be addressed, so she pointlessly tried to catch him on the ancillary details of the past two years.
"He had pneumonia over the summer. It was terrifying, but he never cried. He was amazing. He loves the garden but hates grass on his toes. If you're not careful he'll steal green beans off the vine to feed the dog. Mom got him his own little gardening set for his birthday so he can dig holes with her, and his birthday cake was chocolate with gummy worms. That was Bright's idea. He taught Ben to stick the worms up his nose. We're all waiting for the day he tries that with a real worm. I've been playing him classical music CDs because the books all say—"
"You have a dog?" Ephram cut into her rambling speech, his voice laced with only the vaguest curiosity.
"I…um…ya." She was unnerved by his interruption. "A golden retriever." It was actually a dog she'd found on the side of the road during her last year in vet school, nearly frozen with a broken hip It was right after Amy returned from her life-altering trip to New York and she'd poured every ounce of torn, vulnerable emotion into saving the dog. Rusty returned the favor with devoted service and love. But she didn't tell Ephram this. It seemed trivial in the scheme of things.
"Oh." Ephram had always liked dogs ever since he took care of Will's for that month while his old teacher's arm healed. He stared at the ground beneath his feet and thought about that dog, wondered if it was still alive. He couldn't remember its name and this bothered him.
Amy floundered to get back on track the only way she could think how: by telling him what she should have said long before now. Knowing she had to say it, and hoping he'd believe her. She turned to him, took his hand and pleaded, "Ephram, I'm sorry."
"What for?" he asked smoothly, looking from the dirt to her hand over his.
She bit her lip, "For not telling you…sooner."
"Oh." His utter lack of reaction was frightening. Not in the way Jeremy had been frightening when he was quiet, with his sharp words and his quick hands. But in a way that meant Ephram wasn't really quite with her. Like he was dreaming. A sleepwalker. And if she woke him too suddenly, he might lash out.
"There were so many times I wanted to. But your life in New York…it was so full. I didn't want to…ruin that." Which wasn't quite the truth, but it's what she'd told herself most of the time. And it's what she chose to tell him now.
And maybe he knew it wasn't the truth because he laughed through a quick exhale of breath that was cynical and telling.
"Ephram, I know this isn't how I should have done this. I should have come to you, before Ben was even born. But there was so much that happened and it seemed impossible."
"Impossible?" he asked, disbelief coloring even his tone.
All her planned speeches and declarations slipped away. Tears sprung to her eyes, pooled and fell down her cheeks in two, single streams. She didn't wipe them away, she didn't gasp or wail, she didn't shake. But still, she cried as she spoke, "I called…once. A few weeks after I knew. I didn't know what to say because of how we left things. But still..."
"You left things. I didn't leave things—" he began, pulling his hand away and rising to go.
But she didn't let him finish and grasped onto his sleeve, tugging him back down. He looked startled at her strength and finally met her insistent eyes. "A woman answered. She said you were out." Amy thought back on that moment, when she'd sat, curled up on her bed in school, wearing the same sweats she'd worn for three days straight while she wandered around in a fog of worry and guilt. "She was out of breath and apologized. She said she had just gotten out of the shower and was late for work. She offered to take a message, but couldn't find a pen. I told her I'd call back. But I couldn't. Not after that."
Her words hung awkwardly in the air, and she realized how unsubstantial her reasoning must sound to his ears. Ears that didn't know the trauma the family went through so soon after she'd made that call. The worry over Bright, her mother's sudden onset of cancer. There was so much more that had made calling Ephram too hard to handle. And by the time it became bearable again, news that Ephram was engaged had reached Everwood and Ben was on his way.
"I'm sorry, Ephram," Amy whispered, not breaking the eye contact he'd finally made. "I'm just trying to tell you that I didn't know what to do at first. And when I finally figured it out, things had changed. So I chose not to tell you. It was wrong, but it was what I decided and I can't go back and redo that. I can only make it right, now."
Ephram stared intently at Amy, who sat miserable but determined, and let the silence grow and thicken between them. She tried to read the searching expression on his face, but failed. And then suddenly, "Oscar."
Amy narrowed her eyes in confusion, "What?"
Ephram unconsciously smiled at the returned memory. "Will's dog was named Oscar." And then, seeing the confusion on Amy's face, his smile went slack and he stood up, shaking Amy's hand off his arm. How had he let her rest it there? How had he let her touch him, with words and with her warm, soft hand? "I have to go," he muttered, turning from her and stalking across the courtyard with strides too long for his normal gait – as close as he could get to running without actually doing so.
***
With Delia out of the room, Ephram quickly showered and changed into fresh, warm clothes that smelled like his apartment. Dashing off a note explaining that he needed to take a drive and clear his head, he placed it on Delia's bed with a $50 bill and instructions to not worry about him. He listened in the hallway, and heard nothing. He opened the door swiftly and quietly, taking note of her voice coming from the stairwell. Delia was still on the phone.
He slipped down the hallway and was gone before she got back to the room.
