Looking Glass (reposted)

Chapter Fourteen

2005

“I adore you.”

Deirdre laughed with pleasure at Thomas’s vivacity. It was a welcome change from the past few days, when he had been quiet—withdrawn into himself to escape the pain. Still, that pain peeked through for Deirdre’s horrified inspection every so often, when he coughed. She wished she could bring him relief. She had to settle for pizza.

Still, Thomas seemed pretty pleased that she had gone to the effort of sneaking it in—he wondered how she had gotten the awkward box past Nursezilla, as he almost-fondly called Nurse Vivian. Actually, the dumpy, middle-aged woman was starting to grow on him; she had a dry, ironic sense of humor that he did his best not to show that he enjoyed. After all, he had worked hard to establish his reputation as a troublesome patient. Just to let them know he was still alive and kicking.

The pizza smelled like nirvana. It would give him heartburn, he knew, but that was a small price to pay to eat decent food. When Jell-o was something you looked forward to on a daily basis, things weren’t looking too good.

Deirdre’s hands looked good, though, he noticed as she closed the door and set the pizza and some paper plates on the cart/table thing by his bed. There was clay imbedded in her cuticles, marring her pretty French manicure. Thomas thought it was wonderful, but didn’t dare mention it until she did. He knew that his request had thrown her into close contact with Noah again, and neither of them appreciated it.

He wanted to ask, Deirdre knew. She also knew that he was a little wary of her reactions these days. It saddened her, when they were once so close. Her instinct was to let him wonder. It was her business what she was or wasn’t doing for art.

Except that it wasn’t. She was taking this project on for him—not only to finish his self-imposed quota, but as a way to atone for walking all those years ago. She owed him.

“I pulled out the pottery wheel today,” she said quietly. “Didn’t achieve anything much; I was just messing around.” Actually, she hadn’t achieved anything at all. She once believed that she knew her materials so well that she could use them with her eyes closed. Apparently, though, she had been wrong—she couldn’t do it by feel alone. The simple vase she had attempted had fallen over into a muddled, irregular mess. She had bruised her hand when she smashed the artless lump.

“And?” Thomas pressed gently. There was such anguish in her, radiating off her in waves. He could see it in the set of her jaw, the stillness of her posture. Deirdre, happy, was never still. He wondered how long it had been since she moved, just for the sake of it, like when she used to dance across his kitchen in the morning sun.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Thomas,” she admitted bluntly. “I’m sorry. I have lots of contacts, I’ll introduce you to some fine artists who could help, and who could use the publicity of being shown with you.”

Thomas let out a string of vicious curses as his temper, always quick, flared.

“God-fucking-damnit, Deirdre. No! I asked you to do this for me because I want you to do it. You didn’t used to be a quitter.”

Once upon a time, Deirdre would have met him curse for curse, would have let him know in no uncertain terms that she was offended. Now, she stayed quiet and still as she searched for an appropriate response.

“You’re right. But I’m not the same woman I was then.”

Guilt immediately flooded Thomas, lacerated his conscience. Who was he to needle her about the past, when it was still obviously such a sore subject?

“Tell me about her,” he urged. He knew that she’d gone through a lot of trauma those years ago, but surely not enough to push her to this point, where all her natural passion was buried so deeply beneath icy walls that she didn’t even know it was still there.

“She was scared,” Deirdre began, with a small sneer of contempt for the woman she was. “She was happy, but she was so desperate for Noah to be happy with her—and pretty certain he didn’t want the responsibility. And too young to just say what was troubling her.”

She laughed a little, humorlessly, at her immaturity, her neediness that day. A few weeks after she didn’t go to Nashville, she asked what Noah would say to the idea of getting a dog. When he said he didn’t like dogs and neither did she, that they were a lot of responsibility, she had burst into tears. Baffled and alarmed, Noah capitulated.

“The truth was, I didn’t want a dog. But I thought that if Noah was so against getting a dog because it would be too much responsibility, he couldn’t possibly be happy to hear that I was pregnant.”

Thomas smiled a little, feeling a little pity for Noah that day. He remembered that Deirdre had been surprisingly emotional throughout her pregnancy. Once Noah had become accustomed to it, however, Thomas thought that the younger man had kind of enjoyed being needed that way.

“He pulled through all right, though, didn’t he.” It was a statement, and Thomas was right. After the initial shock and confusion—did that mean Deirdre still wanted a dog? —Noah had been pretty excited. He had immediately started planning to turn the second bedroom, which Deirdre had originally inhabited, into a nursery, and had enlisted Thomas to help. They had spent that winter looking at bassinets and mobiles while Deirdre attended classes. It had been a good time, Thomas remembered fondly; the three of them hunched over USA Baby catalogues and arguing over wallpaper borders.

None of them had wanted to know the baby’s gender beforehand. It was a girl, born on a windy day in June, five weeks early. She had been so tiny; they all worried terribly until she came home. But so beautiful—even purple-faced with outrage, as she so often was. Rather like her mama, Noah had liked to joke as he held his little girl as if she were as fragile as glass. Thomas thought he had never seen a baby girl as beautiful as Elspet. His eyes filled with tears that he refused to let fall. He cleared his throat and forced himself back to safer ground.

“You can still see, though, can’t you? With your other senses.”

“Well, I suppose,” Deirdre hedged. Thomas marveled that the discussion about her daughter could discompose her so little. He wondered just how deep she had buried it all, and if anyone would ever be able to reach her now.

“And I can see light, a little. Blobs of color, sometimes,” she added.

Thomas recalled her comment a few weeks ago that there was no color in her life. Apparently, she refused to acknowledge what little color there was, at least most of the time. How could she, as an artist, do that? He squelched his rising anger once again, and suggested that she use those other ways of seeing to sculpt.

“Give it a try, anyway,” he urged.

She sighed, and he knew she would do it. She smiled tentatively at him, to show that she wasn’t angry.

A brisk knock sounded at the door, and Noah swept into the room.

“Do I smell junk food?” he thundered. “Now, how the hell did you smuggle that into the hospital? Oh.” He had spotted Deirdre. He grabbed her wrist and hauled her to the far side of the room.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Pizza? You know that stuff’ll kill him. He’s in the hospital, for chrissake, Deirdre.” His voice was a fierce whisper, a little unnecessary since the room was so small that Thomas, who was comforting a distressed Josie, could hear them anyway.

She jerked her hand away.

“I beg your pardon. I did not realize that you would be interrupting our meal.” She ignored the comment about killing him. She knew as well as Noah did that the cancer would kill him faster than a few slices of pizza could. He was looking for a fight, and she refused to oblige him. She patted her thigh, and Josie trotted to her side, anxious to see that Deirdre was all right after being manhandled. Deirdre drifted a soothing hand over the guide dog’s head, and said a quick goodbye to Thomas. She hadn’t had the chance to count steps or note direction when Noah had pulled her away from her chair beside Thomas’s bed; she had to depend upon Josie to lead her to the door. As much as she loved Josie, she hated having to depend upon the dog any more than necessary. That she did now was Noah’s fault, and she wouldn’t be forgetting it any time soon.

“You’re a dick,” Thomas announced when she was gone.

Noah knew he’d been out of line. He’d had the food here; it was bad, even for hospital food. But he wasn’t about to admit it. “For telling her off? She should know better than to bring crap like that into a hospital. You’re here to get well, not to clog your arteries.”

“Bullshit, Noah. I’m dying, you moron. What does it matter now, a bite of pizza? Be angry with her if you have to be, but be honest about the cause of it. And don’t you roll your eyes at me, boy. Now, you get out there and apologize to her, or you’re no son of mine.”

Noah sighed, but accepted that his father wouldn’t be too pleasant if he didn’t do as he was told. And if Noah upset Thomas, Vivian the Nurse Nazi would have his head. That woman was terrifying. She was the only reason Noah followed Deirdre out into the hall.

He watched the fingertips of her free hand tap her thigh, as if she were counting her steps. He wondered suddenly how she got along on her own, not being able to see. How did she get from place to place? Could she bring that dog anywhere? How did she do her grocery shopping? How did she use that computer he had seen in her office? Why had he never wondered before? And why did he care so much now?

He put the uncomfortable questions aside as he caught up with her while she was waiting for the elevator.

“What do you want, Noah?” she asked, weary.

“How did you know it was me?”

“You have a distinctive gait. And no one else snorts quite so disgustedly.”

“Well. Whatever, I guess I deserved that. If you wait around a few minutes, I’ll drive you home...if you need a ride, I mean,” he finished uncertainly. Maybe she already had a way to get home. He could see her resenting him for offering, as if she couldn’t fend for herself.

However, she didn’t take offence. Instead, she just seemed resigned.

“That would be nice; it would save me the cost of a taxi. Thanks. If you’re sure that you won’t mind a dog in your car.”

He shrugged, and then realized that response wouldn’t do.

“No, he’s fine.”

“She.” The ice was back in her voice.

“She,” Noah accepted. “I’ll be just a few minutes.” He hurried back to his father’s room.

“Are you all right, Dad?” he asked perfunctorily. “Anything you need?”

“A cigarette.”

“Are you serious? Fuck you.” Noah turned to leave.

Thomas called, “Just a second. She’s pretty fragile right now, okay? Watch out for her, since I can’t. Do that for me?”

Noah stared. “Have you seen her? She’s about as fragile as concrete. After all that happened between her and me, you want me to coddle her? You ask too much.”

He stormed out of the room. Nurse Nazi would have his hide the next time he came in. She’d probably blame him for the pizza, too. Well, fuck her anyway. And fuck Thomas. And Deirdre could fall in a manhole with that damn dog, for all he cared.

He found her waiting on a bench across from the reception desk.

“Look,” he said shortly, “I don’t know how this works. Do I have to lead you, or what?”

“I think Josie and I can handle it, if you want to walk beside us,” she answered in icy irony.

“Right. Well then, come on.”

As they walked to the parking lot, Deirdre admitted to herself that she was actually satisfied that Noah had asked—many people simply assumed that she couldn’t walk anywhere on her own. And at least he spoke to her, instead of her dog.

The ride was quiet, as each respected the other’s desire for silence. When he stopped in front of his shop and the apartment she was using, she turned to face him. She knew the sight of her blue-tinged pupils made some people uncomfortable, but she thought, a little rebelliously, a little impressed, that Noah could deal with it. She wanted to see him, even if he was just a gray blur against the afternoon sun shining through the open window. Beyond her capacity, she thought. For sometime during the drive, the sun had hidden behind the Chicago high-rises, and she could see nothing but darkness. Foolish woman.