Chapter 12

It was another nine days before they discharged Sandy from the hospital, during which she was poked, prodded, examined, x-rayed, MRI scanned, CT scanned and had so many tests we lost count. We picked her up on Wednesday of my second week at her mother’s apartment, just after one pm. The bruises were just beginning to disappear, but her leg and arm were still in a cast, her head was bandaged and her ribs strapped up and apart from that, she had some pretty bad scarring to her face. None of the scars was big or deep, but there were quite a lot of them.

We were due back at the hospital on Thursday afternoon, to see an eminent plastic surgeon from Buenos Aires, who specialised in facial reconstruction and scar reduction. She was never going to be the stunning beauty she was before, but I’d spent a lot of time and effort, drilling into her that she was still just as beautiful a person as she was before.

She was alternating between a very depressed state in which she couldn’t see a future and an ‘up’ state where she was going to do great things. Fortunately, so far, her student health insurance, the CBS intern programme’s health insurance and her mother’s family health insurance were paying for virtually all her treatment. I was really beginning to appreciate the wonderful system we had back home.

There was the question of sleeping arrangements. Maria was well aware that on my previous visit to New York, Sandy and I had slept together, but with the two casts and all the strapping, there was no way I could share her bed for a while at least, which left me with the choice of the living room couch or moving into a hotel. Given the extremely small range of hotels close to the apartment, I wasn’t surprised by the lack of vacancies when we enquired.

So, it was the living room couch for me, at least in the short term.

By four-thirty that afternoon, we had Sandy settled comfortably in front of the TV set, her cast raised up on a footstool, with the remote control in her hand, when my phone rang. The caller ID told me it was James in LA, so I answered it.

“Hi James,” I said, as I accepted the call, “what can you do for me today?”

“I’ve had a call from CBS,” he said, “can you be in Vancouver on Monday morning for a week of costume fittings?” he asked.

“I suppose so, if I must,” I replied.

“Good,” he said, “I’ll have them make the necessary bookings and get back to you. Do you want to fly from Manchester or London?”

“New York,” I said.

“New York,” he repeated, “you’re in the States?”

“Yes, staying with friends in Hoboken.”

“Great,” he answered, “I’ll get them on that and get back to you.”

“Fine,” I said, “speak to you soon then.”

We said goodbye and I ended the call.

“Trouble?” asked Maria.

“No,” I replied, “they want me in Vancouver for costume fittings next week.”

“How long will you be there?” she asked.

“All week, fly out Sunday, back either Friday night or Saturday,” I said, “and then I’ll need to go home for a while.”

“We’ll miss you,” she said, “Sandy will miss you.”

“I’ll be back,” I said, “and I’ll have enough clothes for the next six months with me. And I need to find a hotel room.”

“A hotel room?” Sandy queried from the sofa, “why?”

“Because I can’t sleep on your sofa from now until December,” I said.

“Then come and sleep with me,” she suggested.

“Wonderful suggestion though that is,” I said, “your bed isn’t big enough for two of us when one of us has casts on.”

“Mom,” Sandy asked, “can I have a new bed?”

“No,” Maria replied, “we don’t have the money, and before you say anything David, no, you will not buy one.”

“Mom,” Sandy whined.

“That hasn’t worked since you were eleven years old child,” Maria said, “I’ll tell you what we will do. We’ll swap beds, you two can have mine, I’ll take yours.”

“Thank you, Maria,” I said, “but are you sure?”

“I don’t offer unless I’m sure,” she replied, rather curtly, “but I need to have a word with you, privately.”

We left the living room and walked into the kitchen.

“You know that she was raped?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, “I remember.”

“Well, she may be afraid of any kind of sexual activity,” she went on, “it’s common after an experience like she had, so please, sleep with her, but let her make any advances.”

“Of course I will,” I replied.

“And if she does start anything,” she said, “please, if she shows any signs of distress, back off.”

“Maria, I’ve never forced a girl to do anything she didn’t want, I won’t start now,” I replied.

“I just wanted you to be aware,” she said.

“I know,” I replied, “I promise you I am not about to hurt her.”

Then I leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“I promise I’ll take care of her,” I said softly.

Back in the living room, I took out my laptop and looked up the Vancouver weather. It looked like it was a couple of degrees cooler than New Jersey, and a considerable amount wetter, so, I decided I needed a raincoat of some sort.

So, I looked up menswear shops in the area. It looked like I would have to go into New York to find a raincoat, and according to the websites of the shops, pay a stupid amount to buy one. Not something I was entirely happy about.

I mentioned my problem to Maria and Sandy, who thought it funny.

“I’ll take you to Walmart in Jersey City,” she said, “you’ll get fixed up there. And it won’t be expensive.”

“I know,” I replied, “I didn’t know there was one nearby.”

“You know Walmart?” she asked.

“I know ASDA, which is the English part of Walmart.”

I managed to get a light raincoat at Walmart for under forty dollars. It looked good, and frankly, I wasn’t worried about the quality, so long as it kept me dry.

We took Sandy to see the Argentinian cosmetic surgeon and he was great. There was no bullshit. He told it like it was, he wasn’t a miracle worker, there was no way he could restore her looks to what they were, but he would leave her looking like a young girl again.

“That’s probably all I can hope for,” she said sadly, looking at me as she said it.

“You’re still a beautiful human being,” I said, softly, “I don’t care what your face looks like. I’ll always enjoy looking at it.”

“David, that’s such a sweet thing to say,” Maria said.

“No, it’s not,” I countered, “it’s just plain unvarnished truth.”

“But still sweet,” Sandy said, “thank you.”

“Go get me your dirty clothes, David,” Maria said, “I’ll get them all washed for you before you have to leave.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, “I can do it.”

“That’s very true, David,” she replied, “but you don’t have to do what you’re doing for Sandy. I want to do this for you, what’s your excuse.”

I just looked at her dumbfounded.

“Point taken,” I said eventually, “thank you, Maria.”

I went off to collect my laundry.

When I came back from Sandy’s room, where my laundry and hers were sharing a laundry basket, we had visitors.

The two men, both large, were introduced as detectives Samuels and Spontini, of the NYPD, who had come over from the other side of the river to discover whether Sandy had any more recollection of the attack.

“Now Miss,” Spontini began, “we don’t want to distress you, but please, if you can remember anything about that night, please tell us. Help us to catch these thugs.”

“I remember finishing my last lecture and catching the subway towards downtown, where I caught the Hoboken train. I was in the last carriage, and there were only a couple of people in it, who got off at the next stop. Then four guys got on. I think I recognised them, but I’m not sure. I’m sure I said, Hi, to one of them. I wouldn’t do that to a stranger on a train.”

“But you don’t recall, who exactly it was?” He asked.

She shook her head, her brow furrowed in thought.

“No,” she said, “sorry.”

“That’s all right,” he replied, “perhaps it will come to you later. But you’re pretty certain that you knew at least one of them.”

“Well, then,” Samuels went on,” let’s skip forward to after the attack. When you were unconscious you were murmuring the name David, over and over. Could that have been him?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, “no it couldn’t.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because David is currently sat beside me holding my hand,” she replied.

To illustrate the point, she held up our hands with the fingers interlaced, at least, as well as we could with her hand still bandaged.

“I take it that you can account for your whereabouts at the time in question,” Spontini asked me.

“Yes,” I replied, “I was at home with my parents.”

“And where is home exactly?” he asked.

“Castleford,” I replied.

“You live in Idaho?” he asked.

“No, England,” I replied.

“Thank you, sir,” Spontini said, “do you have any ID on you, sir?”

“Passport?” I asked.

“That’ll do it, yes,” he replied.

I walked through into Sandy’s room, retrieved my passport and returned to the living room, where I handed the little booklet to him.

He leafed through it, stopping when he looked at the page containing my original US Visa.

“Oh,” he said, surprised, “you’re an actor.”

“Well, some people think so,” I replied with a smile.

He chuckled.

“You can’t be any worse than some of the ones around today, and they’re pulling in millions at a time,” he said, “so what brings you to the USA at this time?”

“Sandy and I became good friends when I was out here a few weeks ago reading for a part,” I said, “as soon as I heard she’d been hurt I came over to see if I could help.”

“That’s very generous for someone you’ve only just met,” Samuels said.

“Not if you know me,” I replied, “besides in December Sandy will be an employee.”

“In what way?” he asked.

“I’ll be spending six months in Vancouver, shooting a show for CBS, she’s going to be my Personal Assistant.”

“Just how personal of an assistant is she going to be,” he asked.

I thought this was way too personal a question and decided to let him know.