I went back to the hospital. Because of her private room, visiting
hours were less restricted. I waited while the nurse went to her. The
nurse came back. Each time I was afraid the nurse would say I couldn't
see her.
"She'll see you in five minutes, Mr. Howard."
"Thank you."
I waited. They told me when it was time. I went to her room as before
and pulled the chair up to the bed. Her face was not as swollen, but
it was still badly discolored. As before, she turned her face toward
the wall. She had looked at me for a moment without expression before
turning away. She had not yet spoken to me. But I had spoken to her. I
had talked to her for hours. I had told her everything. I had told her
what she meant to me, and had received no response at all. It was like
talking to a wall. The only encouragement was her letting me see her at
all. The doctor had told me she would recover more quickly if she could
recover from her listlessness, her depression.
As on other days, I talked. I could not tell if she was listening.
I had told her all there was to tell about the things that had
happened. There was no point in repeating it, no point in begging for
understanding or forgiveness.
So I talked of other things, and other days. Places I had been. I told
her about Tokyo, about Pusan, about the hospital. I told her about the
work I used to do. I conjectured out loud about what I could find to
do in Hillston. I still had seven hundred dollars left. I was careful
not to ask questions. I did not want it to seem to her as though I were
angling for a response.
She lay with her face turned toward the wall. For all I knew she could
be asleep. And then suddenly, surprisingly, her hand came timidly from
the cover of the hospital blanket. It reached blindly toward me and I
took her hand in both of mine. She squeezed my hand hard once and then
let her hand lie in mine.
That was the sign. That was enough. The rest of it would come. Now it
was just a matter of time. There would be a day when there would be
laughter, when she would walk again in that proud way of hers. All this
would fade and it would be right for her and for me. We both had a lot
of forgetting to do, and we could do it better together. This was the
woman I wanted. I could never be driven away.
This was treasure.
* * * * *