The Seat Beside Me (25 page)

A distraught woman appeared on the screen, her face drawn, her eyes filled with tears. Reporters surrounded her.

“Look at those vultures,” George said. “The poor woman comes to town to claim her husband’s body and is assaulted by those—”

“But she should be happy. He’s dead, but at least he died a hero.”

George swung in his daughter’s direction. “He survived the crash, Suzy. He had the same chance we did, and he gave it away. I’m sure she’s torn between being proud of him and being furious.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“Well … you should.”

George knew all about mixed feelings.

Sonja felt like a guest in her own living room. She sat in the armchair while her parents took the other points in the triangle: one on the couch and the other on the love seat. Although Sonja had wanted to go to bed first thing—for numerous reasons—her father had made that impossible within three seconds of entering the apartment.

“Let’s sit down,” he said.

And so they sat. And so started the dialogue, or rather two monologues that shared equal billing. Her parents didn’t talk
to
each other or even about each other. They talked about themselves and their own concerns, assuming other people in the room would be as enraptured by the subject matter as they were.

Sonja was polite for the first fifteen minutes—after all, her parents had come all this way to see her safely home—but after her mother shoved a stray newspaper to the edge of the love seat as though it were a defiled object, Sonja had enough of polite. This was
her
apartment and she needed to regain control. Blocking out her mother’s rambling about the J. C. Penney’s decorator who had presumed to suggest burgundy for the redecoration of their dining room, Sonja planned her strategy.

There were three ways to handle the elder Graftons. The easiest way was to ignore them. But Sonja had tried that, and her silence only increased their preoccupation with themselves.

The second way was to fight. Sonja wasn’t sure if she felt up to it.

Which left the third way, the method Sonja most often employed: She would cajole them—or at least give it a good shot.

She interrupted her father’s monologue. “Daddy, would you like some hot tea? Or maybe I could run to the store and get some of that brandy you like?”

“No thank you, dear. We’re fine.”

A laugh escaped. Sonja clamped a hand over her mouth to keep it contained. Were they totally clueless as to who should be doing errands for whom?

Apparently, Sonja’s mention of libations made her mother think of the kitchen because she migrated to the edge of the linoleum and peered in. “Oh dear.”

“Sorry, Mom, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Obviously.”

Her mother moved on to the doorway to Sonja’s bedroom. Various Phoenix rejects littered the bed and floor. “Sonja, you know it doesn’t take you any more time to hang up—”

So much for cajoling
. Sonja pushed herself out of the chair with her good arm. “Okay. That’s it.” She winced as a pain shot through her midsection.

“Are you all right—?”

Sonja pointed a finger at her mother. “Don’t suddenly act as if you care how I feel, Mother. It’s been over an hour since we left the hospital, and not once have you or Daddy asked me about the crash or about my experience in living through it.”

“Now, now, dear—”

Sonja’s voice broke. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to fall from the sky? To experience that
moment
when you know that all
your thoughts of such things always happening to the other guy are a lie? Do you know what it’s like to hear people screaming all around you and then realize you’re screaming with them?”

Her mother came toward her, but she waved her away. “Get away from me!”

“Sonja, I won’t have you speaking to your mother that—”

“Shut up, Daddy!”

He drew back and put a hand to his chest as if he’d been assaulted. She didn’t care—and she found that knowledge both terrifying and wonderful.

A deep breath calmed her, yet Sonja still found herself fueled to say what was bursting from her heart. “The plane cracked in two beneath us. Do you understand that? I was holding on to the hand of the man seated beside me, and then suddenly he was gone. Everyone was gone! And I thought I was gone too.” She shook her head, staring at the ground. The solid, carpeted, neutral ground. How could anyone take for granted such an important element of life?

When she looked up, her mother had found solace under her father’s arm. Two against one. So be it.

“Those of us who didn’t dive-bomb into the river, who weren’t crushed by the collision of plane and water, were hurled free—through the ice. Think of the coldest you’ve ever been in your life and triple it. Quadruple it.” She shook her head, unable to come up with an example cold enough. “We plunged into that water
without
taking a deep breath to hold. We went in with only the air in our lungs that instinct told us to grab. And pain … such pain.” She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking.

“I hurt from the impact. I hurt from broken bones and cuts. And I hurt from the cold. Yet I didn’t have time to think of any of that. I had to get to the surface or die, but I was still strapped in my seat, held prisoner at the bottom of the river. I had to make my body move through all that—or die right there. Somehow I got
free and broke through the water. I sucked in the air, such as it was. It was cold and snowing and the water was doused with jet fuel, and it tasted awful and was in my eyes …”

“Honey …”

She shook her head, once left, then right. “Let me finish this.” She was surprised to hear how calm her voice had become. Oddly calm. “Getting to the top of the water was just the beginning. I found myself by the section of the plane that I had been sitting in moments before. It was now ripped to shreds, sticking its awful tail out of the water.” She laughed softly at the surreal memory. “And there was a man
—the
man. The hero, though we don’t even know his name yet.” She swallowed hard. “He called me over and told me to hold on to the plane, even though just to touch the cold metal hurt my hands and ripped at my skin.”

“But then you were saved,” her father said.

Sonja caught a breath and then laughed at his succinct summary. “Yup, I guess that’s it. And then I was saved. After all, everything always works out for the Graftons, doesn’t it, Daddy? Life wouldn’t dare outsmart one of us, would it? It better not, not unless it wanted to feel the full wrath of the Grafton anger.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, dear.”

Sonja stared at her parents, huddled together in their oblivious block of ignorance. “You want sarcasm, Mother? I shouldn’t have been on that flight at all. In true Grafton fashion, I forced my way on. And also in true Grafton fashion, I didn’t die. Do you get the irony of it? I shouldn’t have been there, and yet I was one of the five to live. Did Sonja Grafton have to pay the consequences of doing whatever it took to get what she wanted? No way. Sonja lived! Sonja was even the fourth one saved—right after a mother and child and an old man.” She pointed to her father. “Even you would agree that, in the case of a rescue, a Grafton should let mothers, children, and the elderly go first, wouldn’t you, Daddy?”

He cleared his throat.

“You should be proud of me for letting them go. But then, when the hero handed me the line
—his
line—I acknowledged the fact that I was special and worthy to be saved, and I took it.”

“Certainly you’re not implying you should have died?”

“Oh, heavens no. I have too much ego for that.” She looked her parents straight in the eyes. “But just because I won’t admit it doesn’t mean it isn’t so.”

Sonja suddenly realized her energy was gone. Her reserve was gone. She nodded toward the door. “I’d like you two to leave now.”

“What?”

“We came to help—”

Sonja shook her head. “You came to fulfill a duty so you wouldn’t suffer guilt later. Now it’s done. You’ve gotten poor Sonja home safe. But poor Sonja is tired and wants to be alone so she can maybe, possibly, but probably not, deal with all this.”

“You want us to go home? We just got here.”

“I don’t care where you go—to a hotel, or home. Just go.”

She turned her back on them and was relieved when she heard them put on their coats and open the door.

“Call if you need us, dear.”

It was too late for that.

Anthony didn’t know if his temperature had gone down because he was truly better or because of an act of will. He didn’t care. All that mattered was that he had been discharged. Since it was so late in the day, they said he could stay until morning, but Anthony wouldn’t hear of it. He was going. Now.

He tucked his shirt in, minding his sore ribs. The shirt they’d bought him was slick to the touch. Polyester city. And the pants did not hang right at all. But what could he expect from a blue-light special?

He turned toward the sound of a wheelchair only to find Lissa
in the doorway. “Your chariot awaits, sire.”

He was alarmed to find himself smiling with genuine pleasure at the sight of his head nurse. He pulled the grin back to its proper place in storage. “Lissa. Finally a visit.”

“Yeah? Well, I got stuck in traffic for a few days.”

“But I’m checking out.”

She moved the wheelchair forward an inch. “Duh. I called to check on your condition, and that’s what they said. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t want you taking any cab home.” She grinned. “So I brought my ’67 Impala with the leopard-fur seats.”

He stared at her. Certainly her taste wasn’t that bad.

She laughed at his expression. “Give it a rest, Doctor. I’m kidding. How’s a honeybee yellow VW sound?”

He raised an eyebrow.

She let go of the wheelchair. “Hey, I refuse to have my mode of transportation disparaged in any way. Especially from someone whose last mode nearly killed him.”

“Touché.”

She angled the wheelchair for him to sit. He eased his way into it, and she expertly flipped the footrests into place. “Care for a seat belt, Doctor?”

“I think I’ll skip it. I like to live dangerously.”

“I’ll remember that.”

She pushed him into the hall. Anthony looked around for the nurses who’d taken care of him. He remembered the chatter and good-byes the other survivors had received upon their discharge. Nurse Double Entendre looked up from her paperwork at the nurses’ station.

“Bye, Doctor.” She went back to work.

That’s it?

The elevator door opened immediately, and Lissa pushed him inside and punched one. They had the elevator to themselves.

“You alienated them too, huh?”

He tried to see her face, but she was behind him. “What are you talking—?”

“You know what I think I’ll do for you, Doctor? As soon as you’re well, I’m going to sign you up for a Dale Carnegie course: How to Make Friends and Influence People.”

He stopped trying to see her. Now she was being disrespectful. “I influence people plenty.”

“Ah yes, but in what way? And what about the making friends part?”

The elevator doors opened. Just in time.

“You’re quiet,” Lissa said as they neared his house.

Anthony shrugged. What was there to say? Nothing was working out right. He’d expected some kind of fanfare when he left the hospital but barely got a nod. Then for Lissa to imply it was his own fault? Perhaps it stemmed from his asking those reporters to come to his room. In retrospect that had been a mistake. And perhaps he shouldn’t have been so open regarding his true feelings about living when others had died. Definitely a miscalculation. And the press was pouncing on the fact that he’d taken the lifeline, citing all that “it wasn’t yours” bunkum. But he could handle that. He was okay with that.

But to have no recognition at all, to anonymously slip out of the hospital and back to his house—riding in this absurd lemon drop of a car. What had he done to deserve such treatment?

They neared his neighborhood, and he did a double take as a TV van drove by. Maybe they heard he was coming home and were camped in his yard? Maybe—?

“My, my, what brightened your day so suddenly?” Lissa said. “You look positively hopeful. You remember some socialite who might be available for dinner tonight?”

He was in no mood to have her harp on his love life. “This
seems to be a reoccurring theme with you, Lissa. What’s so wrong with my dating a lot of women?”

“Nothing. Not a thing. I date a lot myself.”

He started to laugh, then caught himself. “Sorry.”

She glanced at him while driving. “You think you’re the only eligible single person on the planet?”

“Fighter, take your corner!”

She wagged her head. “You infuriate me.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“I came to take you home because I thought you might need a little sympathy, a home-cooked meal, and some nursing.” She looked at him. “I
am
a pretty good nurse, you know.”

“I know.”

Her look was suddenly pitiful. “You do?” She caught herself and was cocky again. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“An oversight to which I humbly apologize.”

She sniggered at him.

“What’s that sound supposed to mean?”

“The great Dr. Thorgood? Apologizing? You just cost me ten bucks.”

“Excuse me?”

“I bet Candy that you would never apologize to anyone, for anything.”

The gall
. “But Candy bet
for
me?”
I’ll have to be nicer to the girl
.

“Yeah … well … she’s new. And not too bright.”

He laughed. “You are a piece of work, Nurse Conklin.”

“It’s about time you noticed.”

She turned onto his street. He could see his house. The street was empty. So much for reporters. Yet maybe it was a blessing.

She pulled into his driveway, and a question surfaced, “How do you know where I live?”

She shrugged and got out of the car. “It’s about time you realize I know everything.”