Chapter 21

She was happy, so I guess I was happy too. I was also concerned that other men would be hitting on her and that she would feel pressured to reciprocate. Well, as they say, the die was cast. She was going to get the operations. I was figuring out the funding of it. Doctor Hardy was doing his part gratis, but the hospital and support stuff was on me, all on me: ten thousand plus on me, all of my savings and a sizable loan as well. But, if it fixed her up; well, I would be glad that we, I, went for it no matter what.

We were slated to meet with the Hardys a little later in the day. The man would be explaining to us the procedures and costs and all of it. And, I was told it would be the Hardys, plural. Penelope had let it be known that she was supporting the move. Why? Well, I had my suspicions, but in truth my suspicions had no bases in fact, not as far as I knew, not now as things stood at the moment at any rate.

“So, 3:00?” said Glory.

“Yes, we’ll know where we’re at after we meet with him,” I said.

“And her,” she said. I shrugged.

“She’ll be there, but more as an observer, supporter, as he told me, than anything else. I mean, she is a nurse, but she’s not part of the decision-making process; that is strictly the province of the man with the knife,” I said. Glory Wyatt nodded. She was nervous, but also confident that the operation would at the least make her normal looking again. That was the minimum goal.

It was 2:53. They were early. Glory went to the door to let them in. I was at the table, my usual place to hang when I was home. The coffee was on and it was fresh; nothing but the best for the good doctor and my ex-wife. I just had to hope that this operation was not a prelude to me having yet another ex-wife. Secretly, I feared that it would be such a prelude.

“Greetings,” I said, smiling. The reciprocations from the Hardys seemed sincere and appropriate.

“So,” I said. “How? When?”

“As per the how. It’ll be my team, and it’ll be at MG of course. As for the when, I’ve gotten admin to clear a slot for me to get the biggee done on the twentieth, just two weeks hence,” said Grant. There will be some follow up, kind fine tuning, to be done after that, but I do not anticipate any problems in that regard.

“And before you ask, you’ll see results almost immediately, but the final result will depend on a few things. The usual time line would be a few months for everything to come to fruition,” he said. I nodded.

“Can I ask how much better... ?” said Glory.

“A lot,” said Grant.

“Glory, I’ve worked with my husband many times over the past several years. He’s the best,” said Penelope. She looked over at me when she called the man her husband. She’d done so before, but there was a sense that this time it was a little bit different. It was a matter of the obvious pride that she had in her man. I didn’t comment.

We were all there as she was wheeled into the elevator that would take her to the operating room: me, Liz, Lance, Milt, Penelope and her friend Cherry.

“Well, Mister,” said my ex-wife, as the elevator door closed on her husband and my wife, “I guess now we wait.”

“Yes,” I said. “He said it will take several hours. But even he wasn’t predicting exactly how many hours.”

“No, it’s his thing. He never predicts. I think he actually has a pretty good idea each time, but he never says one way or the other. Don’t know why,” said Penelope.

“Hmm,” I said. And we did wait. We waited nine hours. There had been problems, challenges, but he had overcome them as I would find out later. They, the problems, were the reasons why the Army hadn’t fixed her up better in the first place. That was something else I would find out later.

She slept. I was in the room with her, but behind a plexiglass shield. She would be out of it for at least a full day. Almost her whole head was wrapped in the usual gauzy bandage material.

Our friends had all left after the operation but would return, maybe in shifts over the next couple of days, mainly to sit with me, go figure. Lance was with me now: it was 9:00 p.m.

“So tomorrow?” he said.

“Yes, but the doctor will not let her talk, so it is still kind of a problem, but she will be able to blink her eyes, so maybe—something,” I said. Lance nodded.

“Come on,” he said, “I’ll drive you home. You need sleep as much as she does.” I just nodded, and followed him out.

Yesterday, the big day, the day of her operation was February 20th. Today, obviously, was the 21st. I was at the nursing station waiting to find out when I could go in to be with her. It was at that moment that she came up to me, Penelope.

“Lee, how are you doing?” she said. I looked around, surprised, but not really. She was smiling.

“Okay, just trying to get in to see her,” I said. Penelope was in her whites. She was working, working the floor that I was standing in; had to be by special request. But maybe not.

She nodded toward the charge nurse that had been talking to me. “You can go in, Mister Wyatt,” she said, acceding to my ex-wife’s unspoken request.

“Okay,” I said.

“Lee, before you go in, can I ask, could we have lunch; I mean you and me at well, lunch time, noon?” she said. It was 9:00 a.m. I couldn’t think of a good reason to turn her down, and I did have to eat. So, I didn’t, turn her down that is.

“Okay,” I said. “Noon.” She nodded and disappeared down the corridor. I went in to see my soon to be pretty young wife; well, she was only twenty-nine.

The next hours I sat with her, and she was conscious. But she wasn’t allowed to speak. I did hold her hand a lot; well, there were bathroom breaks. She could eat, not regular food for sure; just whatever liquified calories came out of the tubes she was attached to. I felt guilty that I had eaten before I came to see her.

Her doctor, my ex-wife’s husband, came in right at 11:45. It had to be Penelope that sent him. It, the time, was just too coincidental. But I was hungry. I headed for the cafeteria. She was waiting for me. I smirked.

“Yes, okay, I didn’t know if you’d need an excuse, but...” she said. I nodded. I hadn’t taken a seat yet.

“Yes, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m gonna get me a burger. Be right back.”

“I’ll have the same,” she said, her brow wrinkled. I nodded. I’d be getting her one too.

Five minutes later we were eating and drinking coffee—my eighty-sixth cup of the morning. Then done, it was time to talk. It was her show.

“She’ll be released in a few days,” she said. “I got the word from Grant this morning.”

“Oh?” I said. I hadn’t thought it would be that soon. But it was clear that she knew what she was talking about. “That’s good news.”

She smiled. “Yes, she’s responding well to the protocols. A fast healer. We get ‘em from time to time. Some folks are just pure lucky.”