“The drawings, Marilyn.”
“Do you want some more pain stuff ?”
I grunted.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
I’ll spare you further details of my reemergence. Suffice it to say that I had a wretched headache, that the busyness of the emergency room made my headache worse, and I was glad when they determined me well enough to leave. Marilyn didn’t want me going home, though, and through money or influence she secured me a private room on the inpatient floor, which she told me I’d have as long as I felt unwell.
They wheeled me upstairs.
“You look like Etienne,” Marilyn said.
“How long have I been here?” I asked.
“About sixteen hours. You know, you’re very boring when you’re unconscious.” Underneath her sarcasm was genuine terror.
I was not too confused and miserable to wonder how she had gotten there.
“Your neighbor came back from walking his dog and found you on the front step. He called the ambulance and the gallery. Ruby called me this morning. Here I am. Incidentally, she’s going to try to come by again this evening.”
“Again?”
“She was here. You don’t remember?”
“No.”
“She and Nat both. They brought a box of eclairs, which the nurses took away, I believe for themselves.”
“Thank you,” I said to her. Then I thanked the intern pushing me. Then I fell asleep.
THE NEXT VISIT I REMEMBER CLEARLY was from the police. I told them as much as I could remember, starting from the moment I left the gallery and up until I set the box down on the sidewalk. They seemed disappointed that I couldn’t given them even the thinnest description of my assailant, although my account of dinner at Sushi Gaki seemed to interest them particularly. Even in my semi-addled state, the idea that someone from the restaurant had assaulted me for a box of drawings struck me as outlandish. I tried to convince them of this, but they kept harping on my “showing the stuff around.”
“I wasn’t advertising anything,” I said. “The hostess asked to see it.”
“Does she know what you do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I might have mentioned it at one time or another. She’s ninety-five pounds, for God’s sake.”
“It didn’t have to be her, necessarily.”
They continued to pursue this line of questioning until my headache forced me to close my eyes. When I opened them next, the police were gone and Marilyn was back. She’d brought eclairs to replace the ones the nursing staff had filched.
“You don’t deserve me,” she said.
“You’re right,” I said. “Marilyn?”
“Yes, darlin boy.”
“I’m feeling something on my face.”
She took out her compact and pointed the mirror at me.
I was aghast.
“It’s not that bad,” she said.
“It looks bad.”
“It’s just a big bandage. It won’t even scar.”
“Am I missing a tooth?”
ce-n ť
Two.
“How did I not notice that?” I poked my tongue around in the gaps.
“You’re on a lot of drugs.” She patted her purse. “I’ve got some myself.”
Ruby came. “Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier, things’ve been crazy. We’ll be ready, don’t worry.”
“Ready for what?” I asked.
“You have an opening tonight,” said Marilyn.
“We do? Whose?”
“Alyson.”
I sighed. “Shit.”
Ruby said, “She sends her best. She’s going to visit tomorrow.”
“Tell her not to come,” I said. “I don’t want to see anyone. Shit.”
“It’ll be fine. We have everything under control.”
“I’m giving you a raise,” I told her. “Nat, too.”
Marilyn said, “Ask for a health plan.”
“They already have a health plan.”
“Then ask for a company jet.”
“Actually,” Ruby said, “we could do with a new mini-fridge. The old one’s been making noise.”
“Since when?”
“A few weeks.”
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Ruby shrugged, the meaning of which was clear enough. Of course I hadn’t noticed; I hadn’t been around the gallery.
“Go ahead,” I told her. “Get whatever you need. And call me after the opening.”
“Thank you.”
She left, and I said to Marilyn, “I hope they’re okay.”
“They’ll be fine. In fact, as far as I can tell, your absence is serving only to prove how irrelevant you are.”
THE COMBINATION OF A SEVERE CONCUSSION and all-you-can-eat painkillers doesn’t do wonders for your ability to gauge the passage of time. I think it was on my third morning when I woke up and saw that Marilyn, sitting in the purple vinyl chair, reading Us Weekly, was no longer Marilyn but Samantha.
I considered this a fairly nasty joke on the part of my subconscious. I said, “Give me a break.”
Samantha/Marilyn looked up. She put down the magazine and stood by my bedside. “Hi,” she said. Her warm hand made the rest of me feel cold. I began to shiver.
“Are you okay?” she said.
“Give me a break… .”
“I’m going to get the nurse.”
“That’s right, Marilyn! Get the nurse!”
I expected the nurse to have Samantha’s face, as well. But she was black.
“Very funny,” I said.
“What’s he talking about?” Samantha/Marilyn asked.
“I don’t know.”
Then Marilyn herself came in, carrying two cups of vending-machine coffee. She saw the nurse checking my blood pressure and said, “What’s going on.”
“He called me your name.”
“Well,” said Marilyn/Marilyn, “that’s better than if he called me your name.”
I fell asleep.
AN HOUR LATER I woke up feeling clearheaded. Both Marilyn and Samantha were still there, engaged in a lively conversation that, thankfully, had nothing to do with me, Marilyn in the middle of one of her Horatio Alger stories about when she was penniless and used to steal fruit from the lobby of the Plaza Hotel. I groaned, and they both turned to look. They came and stood by the bed, one on each side of me.
“Did you have a good nap?” Marilyn asked.
“I feel much more awake now,” I said.
“There’s a reason for that. I was noticing that you looked a little glazed over. Then you started to call everyone Marilyn, so we brought the doctor in and he scaled back your drip a tiny bit. Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I have to admit: I found it rather flattering that it was me you saw everywhere.”
I smiled weakly.
“Samantha was telling me about your case,” said Marilyn. “There’s so much more to it than you shared with me, so many lovely little details. Oatmeal?”
I said, “It’s just a theory.”
“Well, I’ll let you two do your sleuthing. I’m going home. I need a shower. Nice to meet you. Take care of him.”
Samantha pulled the chair up to the bedside. “You didn’t say anything about having a girlfriend.”
“Our relationship doesn’t work that way,” I said.
“What way would that be? Honestly?”
“It wouldn’t bother her if she knew,” I said. “I’ll tell her right now, if you’d like. Catch her before she gets in the elevator and bring her back.”
Samantha rolled her eyes.
“What did you two talk about?” I asked.
“Clothes, mostly.”
“She’s got plenty to talk about.”
“So I gathered.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “Clothes.”
“I didn’t tell her, if that’s what you’re getting at.” She shifted around, straightened up. “Are you surprised to see me?”
“A little.”
“You should be. I’m a little surprised to be here myself. When do you get out?”
“Soon, I hope. Maybe tomorrow or Friday.”
“Okay. In the meantime I’m going to finish up collecting DNA from people who were in the apartment. I found the list you made. I also spoke to the lab. We’ll have results on the semen and bloodstains within three weeks. Anything else I’m missing?”