Page 37 of Ward D
“I’m sorry Dr. Beck wouldn’t let you leave yesterday, Nicole,” Mary says. “That must have been so upsetting.”
“No,” I correct her. “My name isAmy. I’m a medical student.”
“Oh!” Mary puts down her knitting needles and claps her hands together. “Oh, how absolutely lovely! Adoctor—your parents must be so proud!”
I settle down on the bed next to her, crossing my legs. “Actually, yes.”
She tilts her head to the side and sighs. “How nice for you. Do you have a beau?”
I get asked that question a lot, but never before exactly in that way. “No, I don’t.”
“Well, that’s a shame!” She clucks her tongue. “A pretty girl like you? You should have a million beaus.”
“Um, thanks.”
“I know!” Her eyes light up and she leans forward so that I can see a little bit of what could be toothpaste in the corner of her lips. “You should go out with that nice Dr. Beck. He issucha nice man. And so handsome. And distinguished!”
“Uh,” I say. After Will Schoenfeld (and Spider-Dan), Richard Beck is thenextmost inappropriate person for me to be hooking up with on this unit. Hooking up with attendings is definitely frowned upon, even if they have sexy dimples.
“Of course,” she adds, “you can’t tell him that you’re interested. That would lookdesperate. But you could flirt with him. Maybe put on a little makeup. A nice dress that shows off your bosom. And if you wear the right pair of shoes—”
“Mrs. Cummings,” I interrupt her. “I actually wanted to ask some questions aboutyou.”
She clutches her chest. “About me? Oh, I am so boring. My life is over.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I’m almost eighty, for one thing!”
“But life expectancy is growing.” Mary needs a pep talk and I’m good at that. “They say eighty is the new seventy! You could easily live to be a hundred.”
“Between you and me…” Mary drops her voice. “I’m not even sure if I’m going to make it through the night.”
The way she says it sends a chill down my spine. “Why do you say that? “
“Oh, I don’t know.” She smiles at me. “Just a feeling I have. That my time might be up.”
I don’t know exactly what she’s talking about, if this is crazy talk, or if she has some sort of premonition. I clear my throat. “Don’t you want to live for your family?”
“My husband died ten years ago.” She goes back to her knitting, the needles tapping together once again.Click click click. “Harvey and I never had any children. The only family I’ve got left is my sister, and she’s an old battle ax.”
“What did Harvey die from?” I ask.
“Why?” She narrows her eyes. “Do you think that I killed him?”
At first, I think she must be joking, but there’s an edge to her voice that makes me think she’s not. “Of course not,” I say.
“Because Ididn’t.” She frowns. “People fall down the stairs, you know. All the time!”
“I’m sure…”
“And Ilovedhim.” She tugs some of the yarn from the ball on her lap. “Even though he used to see other women, I still loved him. I would never have killed him.”
Okay, now I’m starting to think that Mary definitely killed her husband.
“Anyway,” Mary says, “now that Harvey is gone, there isn’t much to do. I just work on my garden mostly. That’s the only thing I enjoy.”
“And knitting,” I add.
