At the Seams

Chapter 13: Day 3 - 3:42 pm

Chapter 13: Day 3 - 3:42 pm

The Rabbit Hole looks different, now; everything does.

When Sam arrived home on the first night of Mary's illness, he was, indeed, unable to coax Jay from the bedroom, even with the offer of food. In the end, Sam brought Jay's dish to the bed so he could eat—the Dobie, so far as Sam knew, hadn’t eaten since the previous evening. Though listlessly, Jay ate, much to Sam's relief, but wouldn't move, and Sam could not abide the bed. Every time he tried, a phantom ureic reek bombarded his nose. After that, Sam slept in the living room on the mauve sectional. Jay remained in the bedroom, leaving only to do his business, until Mary returned home earlier today. Then, Jay moved just long enough to rejoin his Mama in the Rabbit Hole, and not since. Vikki, Mary's live in nurse, and Simon—still a shameless skirt chaser into his sixties—commandeered the master bedroom.

Once placed, Mary's equipment occupied most of the Rabbit Hole, her giant hospital bed and collection of machinery against the wall where the bistro table once sat. Sam didn't remove the stepchildren, only rearranged them; he couldn’t take them from Mary entirely, and even adjusting them aggravated his heart. Sam knew how unhappy she would be to see his hands on her things.

With the bed and equipment in place, Sam and Simon moved Mary back into her home. Subdued, but prancing just slightly, Jay met the home comers at the door. At Jay’s apparent joy, Sam's heart melted, then immediately clenched hard; Jay's joy was to be short lived.

Sam and Simon oversaw Mary's placement into her humungous hospital bed and her connection to multiple devices. While he watched, Sam despaired; Mary was being installed, not coming home. She was now so much useless machinery.

The minute Mary was settled, Jay leapt onto her bed, nuzzled Mary's arm onto his neck, and laid his chin on her chest. Sam glanced at Simon. "You see? This is why I paid twice as much for the oversized bed. Would you want to be the asshole who keeps those two apart?"

Simon smiled and patted Jay (who paid Simon no mind), murmuring what a good, loyal boy he was.

Now, after much movement and noise, Mary and Jay lie in the bed, amidst the beeping, belching machines. Sam and Simon sit together on Mary's Nanna's disgusting yellow chaise, a small fire crackling in the previously pristine fireplace. It is spring time and warm outside, but Mary likes fire. Each man savors memories of a fire-impassioned Mary. Sam remembers camping deep in the Colorado mountains, Mary's flame-kissed face fussing happily over camping food and, later, contorting blissfully during camping sex. Simon remembers a little girl in red pigtails and blue gingham, roasting marshmallows on his private beach, listening contentedly as Simon and her father discussed politics and medicine. Sam and Simon gather comfort from their memories, courage to brave the conversation they need to share. Each man wields three fingers of Scotch as his only weapon.

"Have you looked at Mary's file, yet?" Sam asks.

"Yep."

"Anything?"

"Well, she has brain damage. I want to talk to Dr. Olivette about the location of the injury, though."

"Does it matter?"

Simon pauses. "It can. For now, I agree that Mary is in a coma, based on her EEG remaining consistent."

"What about the flash on the first night? Didn't it change?"

"Sam, maybe I shouldn't say anything. I don't want to hurt you, here, or give you false hope or even false doom—"

"Simon—just give it to me. You're my friend, and Mary’s. You don't have to bullshit either of us."