Chapter 15: Lost, and Found

Thursday, February 2, 2023.

Melanie decided to skip her work day in order to track down Jacob.

Amy went into daycare, and then Melanie began searching. The third hospital she checked had admitted a Jacob Katz, but they wouldn’t give her any details over the telephone.

He WAS in trouble! That’s why he didn’t call: he never got home on Monday evening to pick up the flyer, or to make our telephone call. What happened to him, to put him in the hospital? It’s been DAYS!

Shit, that place shows as the “Regional Trauma Center” and that’s where the highway patrol sends cases by helicopter airlift.

Selfishly, she thought: this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to starting a relationship, and now it could be over before it could even get started!

For answers, she jumped into her car and drove hastily to the medical center, parking in the visitors’ lot.

He was in a so-called “semi-private” (i.e., not private at all) room. Melanie checked at the nursing station and identified herself as Jacob’s cousin, and next-of-kin, so they gave her a summary of his condition and injuries.

Jacob was recovering from two broken ankles, facial injuries, hand and arm injuries, hypovolemic shock (blood loss, they explained), and from exposure.

All consequences of a severe automobile accident.

One thing they needed to tell her. Jacob’s facial injuries meant that his jaw was temporarily immobilized. He could not speak.

He had been coached to hold up one finger for “Yes” and two fingers for “No.”

As “next-of-kin” they put no time limitations on Melanie’s visitation. And, finally, she was told that they expected he would be discharged in three or four days, once they were sure his face was stable enough and his jaw could be freed. His broken ankles would be in plaster casts, and he would need a wheelchair.

Seeing her expression, the supervising nurse told her, “You have to confirm this with the orthopedic surgeon, but I’ll bet she will tell you that eventually he’s going to come out of this walking normally. But be prepared for at least twelve weeks before Mr. Katz can even try bearing any weight on his ankles. And that schedule might be optimistic; you should be talking with Dr. Winslow to get the best information.”

When Melanie walked in to Jacob’s room, he was dozing with his eyes closed. She moved carefully and silently into a chair next to his bed.

“Hello Jacob. It’s Melanie.”

His eyes flew open, and he focused on her immediately. But she could see only part of his heavily-bandaged face. “Do you recognize me, Jacob?”

One finger up. Then he used his fingers to draw letters on his blanket. “HOW?”

“I will tell you later, I promise. But, are you happy to see me?”

One finger up. Then he shook his hand and put up two fingers. What was visible on his face must be misery.

Melanie thought for a minute. “You wanted our meeting to be different.”

One finger up.

“You wanted to be looking nice, and able to speak.”

One finger firmly up.

“You’re afraid this is the end of us.”

One finger up, slowly.

Melanie looked crossly at him. Then she stood up. Jacob, thinking she was leaving, was wide-eyed with alarm.

Then she bent over and kissed him, tenderly, on his unbandaged right cheek.

Relieved, emotional, Jacob was teary.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Two fingers up, instantly.

“All right, I will stay for a while. But you need to rest and recover, so you can get out of here as soon as you can. If you had a tablet, an iPad, do you think you could work it so we could communicate better?”

One finger up, enthusiastically.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have one of those. I’m sorry. Amy would love to have one, but I can’t afford it.”

Jacob tapped the blanket, urgently, and spelled out eight letters: VISA CARD.

“No, Jacob, I am maxxed out to my limit. If it weren’t for you, I would have only bought one or two tires. And I was not sure that, for two tires, the bank would allow that much money to be charged on my card.”

Jacob held up two fingers (“no”), then spelled out: MY VISA.

“Your credit card? You want me to take your card and buy you an iPad with it? Can I do that?”

One finger up.

“They have your wallet here?”

One finger up.

“OK, let me get your card and we will go on from there.”

There was a complicated process, and Jacob had to verify with his “YES” finger that Melanie’s request was valid. But after about an hour, Melanie had the credit card in her hand. It was black, and heavy, and was marked with “VISA Infinite” and the logo of Pelle Marco, a major bank.

“OK, Jacob, now what?”

He put his thumb by his ear, and his index finger by his mouth, in the universal “telephone” gesture.

“Telephone, who? Oh, obviously, the bank.”

Melanie used her cell phone to call the 800 number inscribed in gold on the back of the credit card.

“Concierge Services, may I have your card number please?”

In the following conversation, the bank’s agent was extremely polite, but clearly suspicious, since the cardholder’s name was male, and Melanie’s voice was, obviously, not. Eventually, the agent came to understand what Melanie was asking for.