Chapter 2: Upstairs

Independent, capable Bonnie can take care of herself... until fate strikes and she must rely on others. Can Bonnie accept the help she needs? Can she find the key to freedom from her loneliness?

Chapter Two

Upstairs

Bonnie blearily opens her eyes and looks at the ceiling. It's all she can do. She can't sit up or turn her head. She hears muffled clattering, then darkness falls.

When she opens her eyes again, she finds she can look around. The light is dim, revealing a hospital room. The nurse notices her and quietly asks, “Are you in pain?”

The place where the agonizing pain had been is now stiff but not painful. She feels woozy, and has the urge to urinate. She manages to sit up a bit and tells the nurse of her need. As she tries to struggle out of bed, the pain comes back and she passes out.

This time, she knows exactly where she is when she wakes. The blinds are closed but daylight shows around the edges of the window. Pete is absorbed in a music journal. She moves a little and he looks up. A smile lights his face.

“Pete...” Her voice is scratchy and small. “What happened?”

“You had appendicitis. They had to operate.”

“Why are you here?”

“I didn't know how to contact your family.”  When she looks at him, puzzled, he explains, “You were really bad. I couldn't leave you here alone.”

“Exactly how bad?”

“They say you got here just in time. You were very lucky.”

She is too tired to pursue this line of conversation and sinks back into the pillows. They are so soft and warm.

“Hey there, lady. Before you fall asleep again, can we call your family?” Pete's voice pulls her back. With his help, she dials her mother and Elaine to leave messages with them both.

As she finishes her phone calls, a nurse comes in to check her incision. It's quite ugly and a bit frightening. She guesses those are staples.

“I'd like to know when I can leave,” she tells the nurse.

“Don't worry, you don't have to go anywhere any time soon.” The nurse smiles benignly.

Bonnie grits her teeth. She hates hospitals and she especially hates cheerful nurses.

“I would like to speak to the doctor.”

“He'll be in to check on you in just a bit.” The nurse bustles away.

Just a bit turns out to be an hour, an hour in which she discovers the extent of her weakness. She needs assistance to use the bathroom and is exhausted after such a small task.

Dr. Waterson is a neat, portly gentleman with capable hands. After a second inspection (she has been robbed of panties and finds this thoroughly embarrassing), she asks the doctor, “When can I go home?”

“You've been through quite an ordeal. You'll need to be here for at least another day while we see how the antibiotics do.”

“Then I can go home?”

“Barring complications, yes. You should be able to return home tomorrow. It will take about three weeks for the incision to heal enough to allow full activity.”

Bonnie gasps as the staples pull in response to her sudden movement to sit up. “Three weeks? Before I can go back to work?”

“I'm afraid so. You're going to have to learn to relax. Bed rest for a week and no work for three weeks. Now, who will be taking care of you while you recover?” Dr. Waterson looks expectantly at Pete, who shifts about uncomfortably.

“Er... Well... I had to say I was your fiance to stay with you.”

“You're not related to this young lady?” Dr. Waterson frowns. “Well, I suppose we can't kick you out now. Miss Trent, do you have someone who can stay with you? Or someone's home you can recuperate in?”

Bonnie draws a blank. Her parents live in New England. Could Elaine? But she has to travel so much for the magazine.

“I don't really know anyone who could help... I can't manage on my own?”

“At the very least, you'll need someone to run basic errands and do household tasks. You won't be up for grocery shopping or doing laundry for at least five days.”

Bonnie stares at the TV without seeing it. Then Pete comes into focus.

“Bonnie lives on the third floor of a building with very steep, long flights of stairs. Can we get her up there without harm?”

We? How is this Pete's concern?

“With help she can probably make it. But no going up and down! Running up and down could pull the incision open.”

“Bonnie, will you let me help you? It would be no problem for me to check on you once or twice a day, do some shopping, maybe cook a meal or two.”

She sees no alternative and tries to put on a grateful face. The idea of being so dependent on someone makes her curdle inside.

“Thank you Pete, I'd appreciate that.” Turning to the doctor, she asks, “And I can return to work after three weeks?”

“If all goes well, yes.”

The interview with the doctor leaves her wrung out. She calls for a pain med and falls asleep not long after.

She wakes in the afternoon and finds Elaine paging through a copy of Paris Vogue. A huge bouquet of peonies is arranged on the tiny sink top.

“Pete's gone?”

Elaine looks up, a big smile on her face. “Pete's gone but he says he'll be back tonight. How did you manage to get him involved in this?” 

“I didn't manage anything. He called the ambulance for me.” Bonnie looks daggers at Elaine. “Don't you try to turn this into some romance-novel fantasy.”

“Pete tells me you will need tender nursing for weeks. You couldn't have a cuter assistant.”

“I'd rather have you.”

“I have to go back to Chicago, then Miami. You know I would, if I could.”

***

Aided by both Elaine and Pete, Bonnie makes it up the stairs to her apartment. The trip leaves her wobbly and exhausted. Elaine settles her in her bed, water and pills comfortably in reach, a book to read and the TV remote at hand, phone on the bedside table, with Pete's number written out in large numerals. The three of them brainstorm easy foods for Bonnie to prepare for herself and decide when Pete will come to help. Then she is left alone as they depart for the grocery store.

She shoots out of sleep, shaking and sweating, the same nightmare in her head. Turning on all the lights saps her of energy, and she is lying in bed with her eyes closed when Pete and Elaine return. They give her detailed instructions on foods she can eat, how much exertion she is allowed at this point, and how to contact either of them if need be. She feels like she is being given instructions on how to house-sit herself. Pete locks the door with her spare key.

***

Although Bonnie has been moving about a bit by herself, the next day she grudgingly admits it feels good when Pete helps her out of bed and assists her to the living room couch.

“Hey, you're good at this.”

His face clouds. “I helped my mother when she was pretty sick, before she had to go into hospice.”

“Oh Pete, I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“Thanks.”

They sit quietly for a while, Bonnie with her eyes closed from fatigue.

“You need some music in here. To keep you company.” He finds the stereo remote and turns on the radio. It is set to the jazz station, some Wynton Marsalis playing quietly. “Do you want your book?”

***

The first two days all Bonnie does is sleep, except when Pete comes to check on her. The third day she takes less Percocet and is more awake. An actual interest in food returns and she shambles into the kitchen. Pete made some Jell-O and suddenly that sounds great. Bending over and stretching up pull on her staples uncomfortably, so she does a strange little dance, levering the container of Jell-O to the counter. Keeping her body as neutral as possible proves challenging. She never knew she had so many muscles in her abdomen.

Lime Jell-O in hand, she settles on the couch. It is as cool and delicious as she had imagined it would be. The exertion tires her, though, and she falls asleep while trying to read The New Yorker.

The scrape and rattle of the front door opening bolts her out of her dream of the darkening house into the darkness of her own house. She cries out as the sudden motion pulls on the incision, adding to her disorientation and fright. Pete reaches her side quickly. His soft hands and quiet voice calm her. Coming back to reality, she finds herself leaning against Pete's arm around her shoulders. She pulls away.

“Those pills can give you weird dreams,” he says as he turns on the lights, allowing her to collect herself.

“No, it wasn't-- I mean, yes, it must be the Percocet.” She almost blurted it out. Elaine knows about the recurring dream, but not about its frightening intensity and how much it affects her. Or how often she has it. Her weakness embarrasses her. She's glad Pete has offered an explanation.

“Is this all you've had today?” He indicates the Jell-O bowl. She nods.

“Well, no wonder. Are you hungry now? Can you eat something?”

“I think so. I don't know. This stuff,” she gestures towards her pill bottle, “makes food seem uninteresting.”

“Yeah, it'll do that. Let's order some Chinese.”

She manages some egg drop soup and a bit of rice. Being waited on and coddled and catered to feels ridiculous. Pete's unobtrusiveness helps her accept it gracefully. When he says goodbye for the night, he gives her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

Later, when she puts on her walkman and prepares to give herself up to her nightly fantasy, she finds herself thinking of Pete, instead. Of his arm around her shoulder, how it felt to lean into his soothing presence. Lying on her back, tears slide down her cheeks and to her neck. She wants to curl around her pillow but can't because it would pull the staples, so she comforts herself the best she can.

***

Elaine is all rowdy fun when she shows up the next afternoon. She has Cuban rum and cigars and Wisconsin cheese to share with them. Bonnie nibbles some cheese and crackers, then Pete and Elaine go out on the balcony to share one of the cigars with their rum. Elaine returns looking smug. Something obviously pleased her and Bonnie thinks she knows what.

Elaine has also brought back some Afro-Cuban funk albums, which she puts on Bonnie's turntable. Elaine is a force unto herself and a portable party. Bonnie finds herself laughing so hard her incision hurts as Elaine shows Pete some Cuban dance moves.

Eventually Bonnie tires, and her abdomen starts pulsing with pain. Pete notices her creased brow and fetches her some water for another Percocet. Elaine suggests moving their party downstairs, but Pete begs off, having work tomorrow. They leave Bonnie comfortably tucked up in bed and Bonnie can hear Elaine laughing all the way down the stairs.

The day after is her appointment to have her staples removed, which is about as much fun as she expected it to be. Elaine is her chauffeur, and she saucily asks Bonnie how well Pete has been caring for her.

“Nope, I won't do it. I won't feed your romantic fantasies. Pete is good with invalids but nothing more is going on.”

“Oh, he's good with invalids, is he? A gentle touch?”

“There's been no touching, gentle or otherwise.” As she says this she realizes that isn't true, but does not correct herself.

***

Day six after her release from the hospital finds Bonnie able to sit up on the couch rather than lie stretched out on it. Feeling energized, she takes a shower and does her hair. She figures she might as well put on some decent clothes, not the slouchy clothes she's been wearing since coming home from the hospital. This tires her but she feels content as she watches A Fish Called Wanda again. Just as she is dozing off, Pete taps on the door.

“Hey, Bonnie. You look great. No more sweats?”

“Pete, you have the dubious distinction of being the only man who can see me in my bum-around-the-house clothes.”

“I feel privileged. But it's good to see you back in your native garb. That's a nice dress.”

Like all her clothes, it is simple, an unbleached linen dress.

“Thanks. I don't think I need anything today, Pete. I'm feeling much less tired and woozy now that I am taking less Percocet.”

“How is the incision doing?”

“Healing beautifully.”

“And your appetite?”

Bonnie laughs. “Are you my doctor? I hope you are not going to inquire about the state of my bowels.”

“I'll definitely leave that to the medicos. I'm just happy to see you recovering so well.”

“Pete, how can I ever make this up to you? You've been so good to me.”

“Let's just say you owe me one. I'll bank my favor.”

“Fair enough. But you have to let me take you out to dinner once I can manage the stairs.”

Bonnie senses Pete shift almost imperceptibly. His blue eyes seem bluer and there is the faintest flush in his cheeks. Oh no. Is he thinking that it would be a date? She'll have to find some tactful way to let him know she's not interested. Man, that makes her feel s****y. After all he's done for her. Well, she has plenty of time to set him straight; it will be a while before she is ready to tackle those stairs.

***

The next day Pete has off and he promises her fettuccine alfredo for dinner. Elaine is in town, so she is able to join them. She brings a nice white wine. As usual, having Elaine over feels like having a half dozen people over; she fills the apartment with life and excitement. Elaine decides the loud, monotonous feedback of The Jesus and Mary Chain is appropriate music for dinner, and pours the wine liberally for herself and Pete.

“None for you, you junky.” She sets a glass of water in front of Bonnie. “What kind of junk did they give you? Oooh, Percocet, score! Can I have one?”

Bonnie firmly removes the pill bottle from Elaine's grasp.

After dinner, Pete vetoes coffee for Bonnie, which is much more of a sacrifice than the wine. She insists on making a pot for the other two herself. She measures out the shiny dark beans into her Braun grinder. Pre-ground coffee is a blasphemy she will not commit. She finds a package of biscotti in the back of a cupboard.

Elaine and Pete have launched into a discussion of an obscure branch of punk music. Bonnie sleepily observes, having nothing to say on the subject. It's shop talk for them. Pete promises to set aside a rare 7 inch single of some band or another for Elaine the next time she comes in the record store.

“They released on cassette too, but you know how that goes...” Pete's voice trails away as he notices Bonnie nodding off. Elaine helps her into a sleep t-shirt and tucks her into bed. Bonnie feels like a child when Elaine gives her a kiss on the forehead.

***

Bonnie begins getting bored after eight days of lying around, but can't go out to amuse herself as those stairs are impossible. She can't imagine trying to handle them even with help. She is almost done with Women Who Run with the Wolves, is getting bored with Moby Dick, has run out of New Yorkers, and watched just about every old movie she has. She doesn't have cable so there isn't that much to see on TV. Just the three networks. She begins a craft project, painstakingly gluing individual beads to a board with a glue gun, but gets frustrated and gives up. She lives for visits from Pete and Elaine. Jean and the others at the coffee shop have sent a card by way of Pete, which is sweet of them. She is looking idly at the card when Elaine knocks.

“I'm heading out to Arizona tomorrow, so I wanted to drop by. Pete is on his way up, with Trivial Pursuit.”

“Thank god! I was beginning to pull my hair out. This convalescence thing is the pits.”

“How do you feel?”

“Stir crazy! I know I can't manage those stairs, but I would trade my left kidney to go to Fast Taco.”

“We can have some Mexican delivered. We could send Pete out for sushi. Your wish is our command.”

“Sushi sounds great.”

When Pete comes back with the sushi, Elaine bemoans the lack of sake, but there is nothing to be done for it. She finishes the white wine she brought for their pasta dinner. By the time Pete beats them at Trivial Pursuit, Bonnie is ready for a pill and a good night's sleep.

Purple Rain, her steady companion for so long, is losing its magic. Her dream man is becoming more ephemeral. Instead she finds herself thinking about mundane things: Pete, Elaine, Adam, the coffee shop, what to wear tomorrow. Tonight she takes off the headphones before she gets to the grand finale, lets the Percocet carry her away.

***

The next couple of days pass slowly without Elaine to liven things up. Pete replenishes her supply of magazines, books and movies. Monday night she is stretched out on the couch, re-watching The Princess Bride. She spends some time washing dishes and cleaning the bathroom, her first foray into housework post-surgery. It leaves her tired and achy. She takes a Percocet and unsurprisingly falls asleep. 

She wakes up to the sound of wind lashing rain against the windows. She listens as the lightning comes closer. Then a huge bolt of lightning strikes very near, a transformer blows with a flash and a boom, and the lights go out. The street lights that normally provide a glow are gone too; the darkness is complete. There is no sound but the wind and rain.

Pete finds her on the floor, backed up against the couch, crouching in a ball, despite her incision. He abandons his flashlight on the coffee table, comes around to kneel by her.

“Bonnie, where does it hurt? Are you OK?”

“I'm OK, Pete. I'm not hurt. I just hate this weather, hate the dark, hate being alone.”

Pete tentatively puts his arm around her. “You're not alone now.”

She turns toward him, curls against his warm body, shuddering. He gently brushes her hair back.

“Why do you hate storms?”

“My father died in a storm.”

“What happened?”

“His car went out of control and he hit another car head on. The power had gone out, and we waited for him to come home." She begins crying. "He never came home.”

“How old were you?”

“Ten.”

He holds her close, stroking her hair. “I'm sorry, Bonnie. I'm sorry you lost him.”

When the lights come back on, they awkwardly separate, the anonymity of darkness gone.

“You OK?” Pete asks. She nods, wiping her face, not meeting his eye. He gives her a quick hug that she returns stiffly, and departs. Bonnie locks the door behind him, locking out more than the night.     

Reviews

[Cathy Sipprell]

I love the way Bonnie's life is unfolding before the reader's eyes. Finding out why she was afraid of the dark and storms was a great facet to her character building. I would love to hear more about the other characters, too. Pete is a very likable character, and I am hoping that he and Bonnie get together.
Great job!

[SweetNutmeg]

Thanks again for reviewing. :) I'm glad you like the storm thing. It is interesting how writing works... that scene came out of nowhere, it was not planned, but it turns out to be very important. Go figure.

[The dark Hydra]

I lied, I read chapter too. It got much worse

[Samuel Dickens]

Another interesting and well-written chapter. A good bit of it is dialogue, which I like. Perhaps you're not making any changes to it, but I did notice that Pete just sort of "appears" in the room when Bonnie is in a ball.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you again. Pete does just appear, but my thinking was, she's so absorbed in her distress she doesn't notice him entering. Perhaps not the best thinking, but it is what went through my mind at the time.

[Samuel Dickens]

I didn't find much on a second reading, but here are a couple of things.
"Instead she finds herself..." should have a comma after instead.
"crouching in a ball despite her incision" should have a comma after ball.
“I'm OK Pete" comma after OK.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you so much for your nitpicks. I have addressed them in a master document. Your help is always appreciated.

[Blazing_Heart]

I am totally fan-girling over your story. I was really engrossed in the chapter. Bonnie's character has been defined very well.
These are the kind of reviews that you'll be getting from me because I don't think that I have any suggestions to give you as your level of writing is way above mine :)

[SweetNutmeg]

Thank you for reviewing. :) I'm glad you like it. I hope I can live up to your praise as it is far beyond what I have earned.

[Jason van Dongen]

I enjoyed reading your work. I like how you avoided using the cliches of a suave, dashing hero and a pining heroine. Bonnie's gentle descent into love - if that's where your story is going - reads so much better than a headlong dive into forbidden passion. In my opinion, it would benefit from a little more action, but that would be difficult to do when your heroine is incapacitated. Keep writing. I would like to see where this story goes.

[SweetNutmeg]

Action, eh? I am not sure that is a direction I can really go in. As you say, she is incapacitated and that hampers things. But I will mull this over. Thank you for your review, it's given me something to think about.

[crystalandra]

Wow...That was a fantastic chapter--it had me on the edge of my seat, what a way to build anticipation. I hope Bonnie and Pete do wind up getting together and Bonnie just admit that she likes the guy! Really looking forward to reading more since you've got me hooked.

[SweetNutmeg]

Thanks for reviewing!