Cards and Hospitals
The end of July came quickly and the first week of August passed before they knew what had happened. Mary moved into her own apartment, in the same building that Tim had lived in before he'd moved in with Arleen. Her divorce proceedings were clicking along with textbook efficiency.
Tim was seeing a smaller number of new patients, turning over more and more of them to the other two doctors at his practice. He was contemplating taking another month or so off, once October rolled around and Arleen's case load dropped to zero, and taking them both back to Ireland. His excuse was that if they were going to be married over there, they needed to look at it more closely. They still watched the sunrise every morning, holding hands, and that's where they were on the morning of August 9th, when Tim's left arm started to feel numb and his chest got tight. His 40th birthday was in five days.
She was nestled against his right side today. Some days she just had to be against his scar, had to remind herself how important he was, what a miracle he was still here with her. Her empty mug settled in the sand where her bare feet would be if they weren't tucked under her. Trouble bounded up onto the bench suddenly, pulling a sharp "Oof" from Arleen as he bounded right over her lap to get to the empty space on Tims left. He pushed his nose hard into his side. It was unusual and Arleen tried to shoo him off.
Tim had been absently flexing the fingers of his left arm, shaking his hand, not really noticing the numbness, when Trouble jumped over him abruptly and he looked down. "Hey, Troublemaker, what are you -" He cut off, gasping, his face going pale, right hand pressed to his chest. Oh god, it hurt, why did it hurt, and he couldn't feel his left arm and his eyes widened as Trouble pawed at his chest. "Arleen," he gasped out, his voice tight with pain, "I think I need a doctor." Then a wave of pain hit him, blackness flickered against the edges of his vision, and he slumped along the back of the bench.
His gasp had startled her, making her tense and the way he said her name... it made her lose all her air. She curses and more or less vaults from the bench and into the house. She returns with her phone to her ear and holding out aspirin and setting water down next to him, talking in a sharp, professional voice into the phone. How in the world she manages to look intimidating in PJs, tousled hair and barefoot was a mystery. She is spouting codes and orders, while at the same time testing his left hands fingers and reflexes, trying to keep him there and awake and assess just how bad this is.
His face is very pale, but his eyes are still clear. He is keeping his mind surprisingly well, staying lucid, taking the aspirin easily and keeping his eyes on her. Some feeling has come back into his arm and he winces as pins and needles shoot into his hand. She's talking too quickly for him to follow anything but the general idea and some part of him swells with pride at her clear-headedness and confidence in a crisis situation.
She raises her head a bit to the wind as it carries the sound of sirens. She looks back to him instantly, still barking into the phone. As soon as the sirens are loud enough to drive Trouble into the house she ends the call. The whole time she is keeping contact, a few times asking him questions that he can nod or shake his head to.
As soon as the EMTs are there she is spouting off what she knows to the one taking information, knowing it's easier for them to work than to be asking Tim questions around trying to work on him. She's clear and calm and professional. Once they're both in the back of the ambulance she just falls silent, holding his hand, still barefoot and in her PJs. She wouldn't leave his side long enough to change that. She actually hisses at one of the EMTs for getting too close to Tims scar, telling him his business was on the other side of Tims chest. He recoiled from her.
Tim keeps his eyes on her the entire time, holding her as something to focus on, to push past the pain and shove aside the looming blackness. He is hustled into the ambulance and he almost loses his grip on her hand and for the first time a hint of panic enters his eyes, but she's right behind him. He is lightheaded now, losing his focus on anything but her face and the feel of her fingers tightly wrapped around his.
"Stay here, Tim." She says, her voice still calm, though it's taken on a very soft tone. She kisses his hand and touches his scar and keeps their eyes locked. She bends and nuzzles his cheek with her nose, whispering. "You owe me. You totally have to be calm and cool when I'm in labour. You know that, right?" She's smiling, trying to keep humor.
He looks at her, a bit confused. He hadn't realized she was pregnant. Then he remembers she isn't, she's talking about when she is. "Seen worse things than that," he manages to smile a bit at her, meeting her eyes. There is still pain in his gaze, some confusion, but he knows where he is, he knows who she is, and he has a pretty good idea of what's happening. He's pretty pissed-off about it, especially considering his birthday is in only a few days. He hadn't wanted to spend his 40th in a hospital.
"When it's your wife it's different." She informs him. She knows because she's dealt with heart attacks. More than a few as some people get far too worked up in court and they just go over. And she has never been more scared than she has this morning. Right now. She's holding it in, keeping face and staying strong and waiting for them to get to the hospital.
Once they are there he's taken off and she finds a clipboard in her hands. She's doing great until she writes the words 'heart attack' and she loses her cool. Some how, she manages to finish up the paper work, though not with the steadiest of hands. And then she is calling Mary and Cynthia, because she doesn't know what else to do.
"I'm on my way, Arleen. Wait right there, don't move an inch." Mary is already out the door as she's speaking, bypassing the elevator and running down the stairs to the parking lot and sprinting to her car. As she drives, she calls her mother for the first time in almost five years.
Cynthia gets the worst of it. Arleen had managed to keep her cool better for Mary than for Cynthia. But she manages to understand the words 'Tim' and 'heart attack' and she is out the door in 5 seconds, talking to Arleen to calm her down and help her settle. She never drives fast, but she is speeding a bit.
Arleen is now fully aware of herself, the sand between her bare toes, the slightly too big for her PJ bottoms and the tank top that does nothing to fight off the freezing cold air of the hospital. She wraps her arms around herself, and it's not because of how badly she is starting to shiver from the cold.
Mary pulls up to the hospital and barely puts the car in park before she's out and heading to the entrance, tossing the keys in an easy, familiar motion to the valet out front. It's a fairly new thing, valet parking at a hospital, but right now she couldn't be more grateful.
She finds her way quickly to the ER and spots Arleen sitting on an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair, clad in pajamas, no makeup, shaking even from this distance. She kneels down in front of her and takes her hand. "Arleen, I'm here. What do you need? What can I get for you?" From her confident tone, she sounds as if she could get anything under the sun. It's her publicist voice.
She makes an 'I have no idea' gesture and face and is trying to calm herself down.
Not even 5 minutes later Cynthia is there. She smiles to Mary. "Maria, it's been a while." She says in a kind voice. She sits next to Arleen, awkwardly rubbing her back.
Arleen calms and pushes her messy, strewn hair out of her face and rubs at her cheeks to rub away the trails the tears left.
"Mary," she replies softly. "It - it's Mary, now. Again." She gives Cynthia a look that says she'll explain later as she stands and snags a passing orderly by the sleeve of his scrubs, glaring at him and demanding to know where the nearest source of espresso was. He scurried off with orders to bring back three double-tall skim lattes. Mary knelt in front of Arleen again. "It's going to be all right," she whispers, setting her hands on Arleen's knees. Her tone is kindly, sincere.
She nods to show she knows and she pats the chair next to her, cringing for Marys knees as she watched her kneel. When the half an hour mark hits panic is starting to creep up her spine. Cynthia gives her a bit of a confused look but nods. Arleen needs something... anything to do with her hands. She's currently tugging at a string on her pants, 5 minutes ago she was close to dismantling the pen. Her hands are still shaking a bit.
Mary has dealt with nervous waiting many times, although usually the nervousness is from excitement rather than fear. She sees Arleen's hands shaking and thinks to herself that Arleen does seem the type who would need something to do with her hands. Mary produces a deck of cards and hands them over. "Let's see your shuffling skills, then we can play for these." She pulled a bag of Skittles out of her purse. There is some of Dr. Murphy's same confident, matter-of-fact air in her brisk tone.
She shuffles in a fairly pathetic fashion due to her shaking hands, but it is obvious that given a normal situation, she would have no problem shuffling and shuffling well. She asked. "What are we playing?" in a soft, almost meek tone. Cynthia smiled at Marys manner of giving Arleen something to focus on.
"The only thing three gorgeous women in the corridor of a hospital would. Five-card stud, queens wild." She'd spent many an hour sitting at a card table backstage with security. She keeps her tone brisk. "One hand for practice, then the game gets going."
She nods instantly, dealing. Cynthia is obviously digging through her memory banks for this one and is coming up a bit short. Their coffees are there, the orderly looking a bit apprehensive of the red headed woman. Arleen desperately wants to beg him to get her information, and it's fairly clear. She's staring at him as if he'll produce the current happenings out of thin air.
Mary takes the coffees and passes them out, then glares at the orderly. "Timothy Murphy. Find out how he is. You have five minutes." The orderly rushes off, panting a bit. Mary smirks, amused that he has no idea what might happen at the end of that 5 minutes. What would happen, of course, is that they'd have to wait longer. "Right. Simplest version of poker. Best hand wins." She scoops her cards up and fans them expertly with one hand, sipping her latte with the other. It's not bad. So hospitals now had valet parking and half-decent espresso? Times were changing.
Arleen doesn't complain as Mary demands the orderly find her information. In fact, as she stares after the man, she wishes more force had been put into the words just so he would run faster. She keeps her head turned long after the man disappeared.
"Arleen." Mary catches her eye. "I'll take two." She slides her two rejected cards over to Arleen, already keeping a mental countdown.
She jerks at her name being said, but does as asked and at her turn she turns in one for another. Cynthia knows what she is doing fine and trades 3. Arleen isn't focused and she wished she was.
It is only three minutes later when the orderly turns up again, panting and skidding to a halt. Mary doesn't even look at him. "Well?"
"He's...he's stable. They're keeping him for obser...vation, for another half-hour, then y...you can see him."
Mary nods absently. "Thanks." The orderly doesn't move, just stays watching them, and she turns her head to glare at him. "What do you want, a cookie? Get outta here. Get."
Arleen could faint, relieved he was stable but wanted desperately to see him right now. Cynthia gasps a little. "Oh crud, I should tell Niamh." She started digging into her purse. The color drained from Arleens face.
"I already called her," Mary said briskly. "She's on her way. Said she'd text me her flight info, I'm picking her up when she gets in. It won't be for several more hours, though. Even Niamh Murphy has to travel at the speed of commercial air travel."
Arleen dropped her cards. "She's on her way?!" She asked, now really pale. And she panics. "Christ I look like this and I'm not taking care of Tim with the whole heart attack thing and oh my God.. What am I going to do?" She asks, putting her hands of either side of her face.
Mary drops her hand - a full house, kings high - and puts her hands over Arleen's. "Arleen, look at me. Listen to me." She catches her gaze and Timothy was not the only Murphy child with the ability to cause a silence with a calm, quiet look. "She won't be here until tonight. You'll see him in 25 minutes. You'll see that he's fine, he's fine, then we'll get you something to change into, something to eat...Arleen, we'll take care of you. You're family. We take care of family." She glanced up at Cynthia, drawing her in and marking her as family as well.
She stops her whimpered list of things she needs to do before Niamh makes it in instantly at the look she knew all too well. She nods shakily at her words, still pale, her freckles standing out stark against her skin. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Cynthia looks rather surprised by the look she received, but she also looks extremely grateful,
Mary nods smartly. "Good. I had to give up a killer hand just now, so let's play." She moves back to her chair and takes the deck, shuffling quickly and redealing. "We have 23 minutes to fill, girls." And she intended to see her brother at exactly 30 minutes after they'd gotten the news. God help anyone who got in her way.
They played, Cynthia kicked some ass for not being that good with the game and Arleen was just too distracted to win more than two hands. It's 2 minutes til and she's not even paying attention. She's bouncing her legs and craning her head to see where she knew the doctor would come from, biting her lip hard and just barely feeling the cold anymore. The coffee Mary had gotten was a bit fancy for her taste, but it was gone now, she had needed something.
Mary didn't look at the clock as she played, but she'd always had a good internal timer, and at 30 seconds till, she folded and looked around. "Where's my pet orderly?" she muttered. 20 seconds left and she stood. "Let's go." She started for the door and a doctor appeared and headed their way. Satisfied, she stopped and folded her arms. "Well?"
The doctor was a little older than they were and he knew trouble, so he just gave a quick rundown on Tim's condition. "You can see him now," he finished. "Through this door, third room on the right."
She pushed past the doctor, cringing at the cold floor on her feet and almost running down the hall. She managed to catch what room he was in and she was in there fast as lightning, drawn to him like a magnet. Cynthia hangs back to give Arleen a moment, and Mary as well, feeling them more deserving of rushing ahead and having time with Tim. She wants the lowdown on what happened so she stays with the doctor to get all the information. Arleen carefully sets her left hand over his scar.
Tim is awake, though a little stunned, eyes dilated from the morphine drip. He is alert enough to cover her hand with his immediately. "Arleen," he whispers, and his throat is dry, and he doesn't like how it comes out. He frowns a bit but doesn't try again, pressing on her hand.
She presses her face into the crook of his neck, shaking again even though she is trying to hold it in. She tries, desperately, but no, she's lost it at him pressing on her hand and she cries against his neck.
Her pain sharpens his mind and he pushes through the drugs, lifting an arm and placing his hand against the back of her neck. "Don't cry, love," he whispers, and whispering works better, he can't tell how hoarse his voice is. "I'm all right."
"Don't scare me like that again or I'll kill you myself." She threatens, moving her hand from his scar so she can hold him.
He laughs for a brief moment, sadly. "Won't happen again, ma'am," he says softly, leaning into her touch and kissing the side of her head.
"Better not. You're taking aspirin from now on." She whispers, raising back a bit and wiping her away the tears on one side of her face by pushing her cheek into her shoulder. "No more alcohol and we're going to start taking walks on the beach. And whatever else we need to do. Maybe change your diet. Something. Anything." She tries to pull his tough doctor voice when telling him how it's going to be.
He can't help but smile as he recognizes himself in her forceful tone. "We'll talk to him," he promises. "But your no-nonsense lawyer voice is much more effective."
She laughs and has to push off another tear before it got too far down her cheek. "How would you know? I've never used my no-nonsense lawyer voice on you... And Cynthia and Mary are here and your mom is coming. I think she might already be on the plane by now..."
"I've heard it, and I wouldn't want it used on me." He wants to kiss her, but he doesn't have the energy even to lean up enough to reach her. Then his eyes widen. "Cynthia and Mary are here? And my mother is -" He sighed heavily. "Dammit, Cynthia, she doesn't have to know everything..."
"Mary called her" She whispered, pushing his hair out of his face.
He meets her eyes, startled. "Mary hasn't talked to her in five years. Are you sure?"
"...Yeah..." She blinked at him. "Why is that weird? I mean, you're their blood.." She whispered, not sure why he was startled by this and it confused and interested her. She wondered what happened that made Mary speaking to Niamh odd.
"Mary and Mam never got along. She was the rebellious one. They had a fight five years ago and haven't spoken since." He didn't know all the details, but he knew it had been over Josh.
She frowns a bit but hopes maybe they can figure out things here. She bent and kissed him. She can't help but realize how scary it is to see him in a hospital bed. He is strong and secure and steady, to see him in the hospital, in the bed more so, just scares her more than she is willing to admit.
Mary is quietly watching from the door, waiting for a time to go in. Tim kisses her back and brushes her hair back from her face. "Are you all right?" he asks, concerned.
"I didn't have a heart attack you dumb bastard. I'm fine.." She whispered, completely unaware of Mary, too focused on Tim. "Though I think I left the backdoor open..."
"Don't worry, the guard cat is off his chain and loose," he teased her, eyes studying her face. "Did you say Cynthia and Mary are here too? Did you call them?"
She nodded "I didn't know what else to do.. I was ... I was scared."
He smiled, touching her face. "I know. So was I. I thought you were alone out there." He glanced past her and spotted Mary. He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
She smiled back wanly, terrified herself now that she didn't have to be strong for Arleen anymore. She hesitated at the door, not wanting to interrupt them yet.
She spotted him smiling and she looked over her shoulder and backed off a bit, her hand unconsciously finding his scar and settling there. She gives Mary a look that seems to be asking if she wants time alone with Tim, and shows she's totally willing to leave them be for a while.
Mary walked forward hesitantly, stopping at the foot of the bed. "Are you all right?" she asked in a small voice, all traces of the woman who had demanded lattes vanished.
Tim smiled. "Yes, Mary." He glanced at Arleen, pressing her hand over his scar again. "You look so tired, love. Get something to eat?" He met her eyes, assuring her that he wasn't sending her away. Far from it. He would miss her until she returned.
"Yes.. I should... yeah. I think I might.. go get food and not look like this" She touches her PJs. She doesn't want to leave, as if deathly scared he would suddenly have a far worse heart attack once she left. She slid her hand away from his slowly, cringing a bit once they were no longer in contact. She had to kiss him before she left, she told him she loved him, and then she left.
Tim kissed her back, fingers tightening on her hand. "I love you," he said, and watched her until she was out of sight. He sighed a bit before looking at Mary and patting the bed beside him. "Mary, I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry about?" She asked, smiling and shaking her head, moving into the room and very carefully sitting in the spot offered to him. She wants to know what is up with Arleen getting the ability to touch his scar when he ran away from anyone else who ever got close to it. She doesn't ask this, though, she merely ponders it.
"I'm sorry I didn't get you away from him before he hurt you like that," Tim whispered. He's been wanting to apologize, but he remembered what Arleen said about sometimes, all men are the enemy. Now, of course, he was too weak to crush a fly.
"That isn't your fault. At all." She said, setting her hand over his. "I thought you were just being overprotective..."
"There must have been something I could do. But I gave up. If I hadn't, maybe..." He sighed, looking at her. "I never want to see you hurt, Molly," he said, using the nickname he'd had for her when they'd both been children. He hadn't called her that since he'd entered high school.
"No, Paddy, there wasn't. Every time you or Mam said anything about him that I thought he didn't deserve it just made me cling to him more. Like he was misunderstood and I was the only one that saw the real him." She presses her lips into a thin line. Slowly she shook her head. "We're not kids anymore and you can't threaten to beat people up after school if they look at me cross.."
His lips twitched. "God, poor Paolo. Did he ever say another word to you?"
"No. He didn't. I liked him too." She pouts at him. "But seriously, Paddy.. And now you really can't get all worked up about anyone I see... You take Da's words too seriously."
"He meant them seriously, Molly. You were his little girl. You'd still be his little girl."
"You don't need to be my hero, Paddy. That's not your job." She said, frowning, her voice soft and barely above a whisper.
He glanced down and sighed. "I can't help it sometimes," he said quietly. He looked up at her again. "Even though I didn't want it to happen like that, I'm glad you're away from any him.
She gave his hand a squeeze, but she has to change the topic. It's too soon and hitting her too hard. "You let her on your right side." She observed, trying to shift his mind off of Josh, who made him angry, onto Arleen, who made him happy.
He looked startled, then nodded a bit warily. "Yes. She...knows."
"Knows? What, that you have a scar there? I would assume so.." She said, giving him a look.
"She knows how I got it," he elaborated, feeling oddly calm. His family believed he'd been too busy saving lives in Cambodia to call or write, and that after he'd gotten back he'd been in a car accident.
"What, the crash?" She asked, looking utterly stupefied.
He watched her for a moment, taking in how tired she looked, how spread out over the room she was, how disorganized. "Yes," he says at last.
She gave him a look and for the first time, she is starting to doubt his car crash story. She doesn't say anything, though.
He gave it away, he can tell, after all these years. He closed his eyes. "Not now. I'll tell you what happened, Mare. Only you. But not now."
"Okay, now I am concerned..." She whispered.
He shook his head, covering her hand. "It's all right, Mare. It was a long time ago. But it wasn't a car accident, and it isn't something you need to hear now. But I will tell you. You have my word."
She sets her jaw but nods a bit. "I'm holding you on that." She says, giving him a look. She knows the subject needs to be changed again, but she tried Arleen and that backfired, so she had no idea what to say.
"Trouble likes you," Tim observed, smiling again. "He didn't like me when I first showed up. He's taken to you a lot faster."
She blinked. Odd jump but she welcomed the change. "Is that...weird?" She asked.
"Trouble doesn't like anyone except Arleen. She raised him from a kitten, bottle-fed him and everything." He laughed. "He hated me when we first met, because I was taking valuable time away from his snuggle time."
She laughed. "Really? How long it take for him to warm up? Or did you do something special like offer him some great treat?" She asked. She had no clue about Chris showing up. Arleen had figured that it would do nothing but scare her and had made sure to never tell her about that.
Tim was prepared for that question and made no mention of Chris, nor even hinting at it. "He just warmed up to me one day. Cats are strange that way. Took me a couple weeks. You, of course, first day and he let you into the club."
"Well.. some animals can sense things and I was upset that day. Maybe he felt my pain and wanted to make me feel better?" She offered in explanation.
Tim nodded. "That's possible. He knew about this. Came running out of the house before I even really realized what was happening."