C3 Chapter 3

Coma

“How is she?”

“Unchanged.” Chris sighed. “Since she opened her eyes, there haven’t been any further changes.”

Rick and Anita sat down next to Chris at Sabrina’s bedside.

“You need to get some rest, too,” Anita said softly to Chris. “Go home. I’ll stay here.”

“I . . . I can’t,” Chris whispered. She looked into Sabrina’s face, at the open eyes that saw nothing yet seemed as if they were sentient. “I can’t leave her alone.”

“We’ll take care of her.” Rick rested a hand on Chris’s arm. “Everyone in the hospital is doing looking out for her. It won’t do anyone any good if you collapse, too.”

“I already have,” said Chris. “It just doesn’t look that way.”

“I know.” Rick gazed at her with sympathy. “We all believe that she’ll wake up . . . really wake up. It’s just going to take time.”

Rick recalled how Chris had nearly gone crazy when Sabrina had opened her eyes after a couple of weeks. Everyone had thought the ordeal was over. But it wasn’t. The coma had deteriorated into a vegetative state. What Sabrina actually perceived, no one could tell. She barely reacted.

“Yes, time . . .” said Chris. She sounded hopeless. After six months, she could hardly picture what Sabrina had looked like before her accident. The beautiful, desirable woman she’d known had become a lifeless piece of meat.

And yet, Chris couldn’t accept that it might be over forever. She couldn’t imagine a life without Sabrina, even if it had to be this way.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” she said, casting one last look at the bed before she left the room.

“Do you think there’s hope?” asked Anita, observing Sabrina’s pale, haggard face. Sabrina seemed to look back at her, but Anita knew it was just an illusion.

Rick took a deep breath. “Who can say? All we can do is keep supporting Chris, as much as we can.”

The door opened. Rick looked up briefly, expecting to see Chris returning, then did a double-take. “What are you doing here?” she blurted out, surprised.

Anita turned around, too.

“I just found out today,” said Anna. “I had no idea.” She stared at Anita and swallowed. “Hello.” Her voice barely carried across the room.

Anita swallowed, too. “Hello,” she answered weakly. It was the first time she and Anna had seen each other since their breakup.

“May I?” Anna glanced toward the bed.

Rick stood up. “Yeah, sure,” she said. “She doesn’t react, though. You won’t get much out of it.”

“That’s not why I came,” said Anna. She stepped past Rick to the bed and looked down upon Sabrina’s lifeless form. “Sabrina . . .” she whispered.

Anita stood up and walked out.

“You really are tact personified,” said Rick. “Bravo.”

Anna turned around and looked at her. “I didn’t know Anita was going to be here,” she said.

“What are you doing here?” Rick asked again. “You’re making Anita even unhappier than she already was, and Sabrina certainly wouldn’t be overjoyed to see you if she could tell the difference. Not to mention Chris, who’s liable to be back any minute now. She just went to get a cup of coffee.”

“It seems I don’t exactly have a fan club here.” A crooked grin crept into the corners of Anna’s mouth. “But I wasn’t expecting one. I was just so shocked when I heard. I had to come.”

“Well, fine,” said Rick. “But make it quick. You’re not going to get any more from her than this.” She indicated Sabrina’s face. “It hasn’t changed for months. And I don’t want Chris to see you.”

“Yes, Chris . . .” Anna took a deep breath. “How is she coping?”

“As if you were remotely interested,” said Rick. “You couldn’t care less about Chris. You certainly didn’t seem concerned when you took her wife away.”

“You don’t understand,” said Anna. “I –” She broke off. Her eyes rested on Sabrina, taking in her image. She tried to subdue the horror that gripped her. When she heard the news, she hadn’t been able to imagine it. She could never have believed that Sabrina could be lying here like this, with open eyes but absent, asleep, unresponsive.

She bent down and brushed a kiss across Sabrina’s lips, which felt neither cold nor warm, neither living nor dead.

Slowly, she straightened, but her eyes were still riveted to Sabrina’s face. “Apparently, I’m not the prince – and you’re not Sleeping Beauty,” she said quietly.

“What did you expect?” Rick’s remark pulled Anna from her fantasy. “That she would wake up because you kissed her? Who do you think you are? Don’t you think Chris has tried that enough?”

Anna closed her eyes briefly to collect herself; when she turned to face Rick, they were clear again. “I don’t want to intrude any longer,” she said, composed but with difficulty. “I just wanted to see her.”

“And now you have,” said Rick. She pointed to the door. “And I would be much obliged if you wouldn’t upset Anita any more, either.”

A touch of the mocking smile that was Anna’s trademark returned to her lips. “Does she need a big sister that desperately? Or are you speaking as her ex-lover?” She pursed her lips. “Don’t we at least have something in common there?”

“Hardly,” said Rick. “And if you must know, I’m speaking as her friend. Something I still am. Which can’t be said for you.”

“How can you know that?” asked Anna. “She left me, I didn’t leave her.”

“And for good reason, too,” said Rick. “Now please, leave. Chris will be back soon.”

Anna cast one last, long look at Sabrina, then went to the door. As she stepped into the hallway she saw Anita leaning against the wall a little way down. She went over to her.

“How . . . how are you?” she asked softly.

Anita didn’t answer, didn’t look at her.

“I haven’t written one usable word since you’ve been gone,” Anna continued. “I miss you.”

“Not me. Your muse,” Anita replied wearily.

“Are you seeing anyone?” asked Anna.

“I’ve given up on that.” Anita looked at her. “And I’ll spare myself asking you the same.”

“Yes, I

– ” Somewhat embarrassed, Anna shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “But it doesn’t mean anything to me. And it never lasts long. Often just one night, a week perhaps . . .”

“I’ve heard about a few of those weeks,” said Anita.

“It’s a small scene,” Anna replied. “Even in the big city.”

“And even though you’ve tried out so many women, there wasn’t one muse among them?” asked Anita. “I’m surprised.”

“You underestimate your uniqueness. You’re very special,” said Anna. “I thought I’d at least conveyed that to you.”

“How?” Anita asked, resigned. “The way you looked at Sabrina . . . even now, in her condition . . . you’ve never looked at me that way.”

“Well, you’re not her,” said Anna. “My feelings for you were . . . completely different.”

“ Feelings ?” Anita lifted her eyebrows. “You had feelings for me?” She let out a cheerless laugh. “Yeah, okay, in bed .”

“Not just in bed.” Anna propped her arms against the wall on either side of Anita’s head and gave her a beseeching look. “It was much more than that.” She leaned in and brushed a kiss across Anita’s lips. “Much more.”

Anita shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “What do you want?” she asked painfully. “You didn’t come here because of me, you came because of Sabrina. Nothing has changed. All your thoughts focus on her.”

“Not all of them,” said Anna, “but it’s true, some do. I’m in therapy for it.”

“Therapy?” Anita looked at her in astonishment. “Because of Sabrina?”

“Not because of Sabrina.” Anna turned halfway around and leaned against the wall next to Anita. “Because of me . Because of what I did wrong.”

“What you did wrong with Sabrina ,” Anita surmised. “So you think you can make it all better when she wakes up? Do you think she’d still be interested? And Chris? What about Chris? She’s a martyr for Sabrina. She’s here at the hospital all day long, even overnight. She has no other life anymore.”

“That’s awful,” said Anna. “For both of them. Is there any hope at all that Sabrina –?”

“I don’t know,” said Anita. “But you shouldn’t get your hopes up that she’ll ever come back to you.” She lowered her head.

“I hope for Chris’s sake that she does wake up,” Anna said softly. “For Chris and Sabrina, the two of them. Not for me.” She turned to face Anita. “What I really wish for myself is that you’d come back to me.”

“Me?” Anita looked up. “I’m sure you’re not in therapy over me .”

“I am,” said Anna. “I’ve spoken to my therapist about you, too.”

“Is she attractive? Your therapist, I mean.” Anita made a face. “If she weren’t, I’m sure you wouldn’t go to her. You always have to have your fun.”

“Did I really hurt you that much?” asked Anna, still somewhat shocked. She touched Anita’s cheek gently with one finger. “After I read your letter, I wanted to call you. For days,” she continued softly. “But I didn’t dare. I didn’t want to hurt you even more.”

“You didn’t dare?” Anita laughed. “I don’t believe that. I think it’s more likely you were busy with other . . . things.”

“With other women , you mean.” Anna sighed. “Yes, that’s true. What can I say? You left a huge void.”

“Please, Anna . . .” Anita grimaced. “Don’t feed me that kind of a line. That’s too much, even for me.”

“I’m not feeding you a line,” said Anna. “I’m completely serious. Yes, you are my muse. I’ll confess to that. And I miss the excitement, the inspiration.” She leaned in toward Anita once more and caressed her cheek. “When Sabrina was with me, I couldn’t write anything – anything good, that is. But when you were with me, it all just poured out. Who do you think I would want back?”

“It’s not just about writing, though,” said Anita. “And even if,” she swallowed, “even if Sabrina wasn’t your muse, she was still the woman you wanted . You wanted her so badly that you took her away from another woman. I doubt you would’ve gone to that much effort for me.”

“I didn’t just happen to come into your department store that day,” said Anna. “After our conversation at the book fair, I could sense that . . . that I needed you.”

“Sure, like someone needs a computer or a pencil,” said Anita. “Like a tool. To write with.”

“No,” said Anna. “That’s just one side of the coin. I won’t deny it. But you are a wonderful woman. You brought me so much peace, so much strength.” She sighed. “I wish I could’ve given you something like that in return. Apparently, I couldn’t.”

Anita swallowed again. “You gave me . . . a great deal,” she said softly. “But I always had to ask myself whether it was really me you wanted to give it to, or the one you couldn’t have . . . Sabrina.”

“Sabrina was nothing but pain and torture,” replied Anna, slowly and thoughtfully. “You were joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.”

“She was worth the pain to you,” said Anita. “Maybe joy is . . . not as interesting.” She grimaced in mild torment. “But it’s nice of you to say that. I’ve always wondered what it was you wanted from me.”

“I’m sorry you had to wonder,” said Anna. “I know I never gave you a satisfactory answer to that question. Because I didn’t know it myself. It wasn’t until I lost you . . . and went to therapy . . .” She sighed. “My therapist has been helping me get my head on straight, so to speak.” She laughed. “As punishment, I kissed her today. She didn’t like that.”

“I knew it.” A smirk crept across Anita’s lips. “She is attractive.”

“Yes, she is,” Anna admitted, suddenly much more relaxed. She tilted her head to the side. “And I think maybe she did like it; she just won’t admit it.”

“I can’t imagine that your kissing skills didn’t impress her,” said Anita. “With me –”

Anna cut her off by kissing her again, this time less cautiously. “Your lips are the sweetest temptation there is,” she whispered against Anita’s mouth.

Anita enjoyed the kiss, but pushed Anna away. “Therapy hasn’t done you much good, I’d say,” she stated dryly. “You still think you can have any woman any time. Especially me.”

“Have you really gone six months without sex?” Anna asked in disbelief.

Anita laughed softly. “You think I must be starved for it, don’t you?” She shook her head. “No, Anna, it’s not that simple. Those days are over. I’m going back to Sabrina’s room to take care of Sabrina and Chris now. You’re not at the top of my list anymore.”

She smiled at Anna, patted her cheek in farewell, and walked off down the hall.