Coming Attractions Part 16

She took a deep breath, grasped Helen's shoulder, and shook it slightly. "Helen," she said with a quiver in her voice.

Teresa was stern. "You aren't going to hurt her. Wake her up."

"I can't."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes."

I love you, baby.

"Do you want her out of this bed?"

"Yes."

"Then wake her up."

"Helen." Cory shook her shoulder with more fervor. "Come on."

"Go on. Don't be nice. Tell her you need her. Tell her to stop thinking about herself."

"It's only been five days!"

"Five days that will turn quickly into five weeks. d.a.m.n it, Cory, wake her up! Take her back. Don't let her have her escape."

Baby?

Teresa wouldn't back off. Helen expected her to tell her to tell Cory to stop acting like a child and get on with it. But instead, gentleness returned to her voice.

"It's all right."

Cory grasped Helen's shoulder tightly.

"Listen to me, Helen. Teresa says you're sleeping too much." She shook Helen's shoulder. "Wake up. We have to get you better."

"Come on out, Helen," Teresa said. Helen s.h.i.+fted an arm. "That's it."

Words were Helen's power, and she fought with a.s.sociation.

It...Stephen King...Kingston Trio...Trilogy of Terror...Karen Black...Gail Brown...Another World...Mac Cory...Cory...Cory's talking...Pay attention.

"You have a show to produce. People need you. I need you." Cory rubbed Helen's healthy arm. "Please wake up."

Helen groaned and her eyes fluttered. Cory brushed her fingers across Helen's left palm. The feeling drove Helen crazy in a conscious state and invited reaction now. Helen squeezed her hand shut and she scratched her palm.

"Do it again," Santos coaxed her, and sounded pleased when Helen shook the second tickle away. "Excellent."

Cory reacted more positively. "Come on, that's it. Wake up, baby."

Helen s.h.i.+fted a leg and slowly turned her head toward Cory's voice. She wanted to come out of her sluggishness. She loathed lying there. She wanted bacon. Come on, brain. Do it. Helen opened her eyes enough to see Cory.

"You're baby," Helen whispered.

"Why did she say that, I wonder?" Teresa asked.

"I never call her baby. That's right." She squeezed Helen's hand. "I'm baby."

"Helen? It's Teresa Santos. Can you turn your head to me?"

Helen turned toward the voice and saw the thick, lush hair of her physician silhouetted from the window's light.

"Yes," she said. "b.i.t.c.h." She smiled weakly, and reached toward her. Teresa grasped her hand, smiled back, and nodded.

"I can be. Welcome back, Helen. How do you feel?"

"Stomach hurts. Leg hurts here." She pointed to her right thigh. "Face is itchy."

"I can remove your facial bandages, but you have to keep the nose piece. We can't have you breaking it all over again." Teresa carefully removed the gauze and placed it on the table beside the bed. "Does that feel better?"

"Better." She touched the dressings on her jaw and neck. "These?"

"They have to stay. You have a nasty injury."

"Cory?" She turned her head slowly to find her.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Feed..." She took a shallow breath. "...fish."

Cory kissed her cheek. "I promise."

Chapter Nineteen.

After a week of consciousness, Helen had grown increasingly restless and fed up with patient life. Needles were removed from her arm, which was then stabbed with a replacement. Blood withdrawal or IV, it didn't matter. Whoever poked her experienced difficulty in finding a good vein, and it hurt like h.e.l.l.

Lemon ice was on her list of "get that c.r.a.p away from me." If she saw another paper cup of frozen yellow in her lifetime, it would be too soon. And broth, although she did appreciate the fresh brew and its miniscule flecks of chicken that floated about. It almost tasted like food. It wasn't bacon, but it filled her tummy.

Physicians wanted her to get more rest, but the hospital remained noisiest during the night. There was no serenity for the ill and recovering, and she'd had enough. Although her strength improved daily from her meager meals and catnaps, as did her stubbornness, she wanted to be released.

She glared at Teresa. "I'm gonna pa.s.s out."

"Breathe slowly. You're hyperventilating," she said in a no-nonsense voice.

Translation: If she didn't cooperate and cough up on demand, she would require some serious chest stomping from a nasty head nurse. Clear the lungs or drown.

Reluctantly, she took the plastic piece into her mouth. After three breaths, she coughed and immediately grabbed her hurting stomach. Thick phlegm escaped from her throat. She spat it into a plastic bowl.

"That's disgusting."

"If you don't cough it up, you'll find yourself in deep s.h.i.+t with an oxygen tent."

Helen narrowed her eyes. "Do you talk to all of your patients like that?"

"Like what?"

"'Deep s.h.i.+t.'"

Teresa laughed. "No. You were comfortable calling me a b.i.t.c.h, so I can say 'deep s.h.i.+t' to you, especially if you're headed that way." She put the plastic to Helen's mouth. "Now, breathe."

Helen watched the white cylinder rise and fall through her treatment. The required 1,500 milliliters mark was only half an inch away. Or was it millimeters? How do they gauge air sucking? No matter. Helen could suck air with the best of them.

She filled her lungs, and the cylinder rose to the maximum 2500 mark. A thimble-like gauge to the left shook and shot to the top. Gotta get the prize.

Tinkly sounds of the merry-go-round played in the background as the eight-year-old Helen fired water into her target. The ball moved steadily upward. Gotta have that alligator. Above her target, the furry toy waited.

Wide-eyed with antic.i.p.ation, she stuck her tongue out past her lips and pulled the trigger tighter. She glanced at her compet.i.tors' targets. Number four gained on her, but number seven fell back. The others were nowhere near. She pulled harder. Five was gaining. Three was on her tail. Now neck and neck. Four came up fast.

Helen squeezed with both hands. Zrrring! went the bell. Her heart stopped. She watched the water drain and she looked up at the man who wore a red-and-white ap.r.o.n.

"What'll it be, little girl?" he said to her and waved his cane over the shelves of prizes.

The other kids groaned.

Helen squealed and jumped. "Me? The alligator!" She pointed to the fuzzy reptile and claimed her prize.

Helen coughed and spat another wad of goo into the bowl. Some prize.

"Good." Teresa handed her a gla.s.s of water. "Do it again tonight. I'll have the nurse watching, so don't think you'll get away without doing it."

"She can be bought."

Teresa placed the stethoscope to Helen's chest. "Take a deep breath and hold. Now out, hard. Sounds good."

Helen recovered from a cough and gazed out the window. A blue sky hung over New York. She wanted to smell winter's clean air and feel it chill her lungs. She'd had plenty of friends trooping in and out, stacks of get-well cards, and fresh flowers. Endless attention from a particular female aide amused her. She wanted for nothing, but she was ready for civilian status. A plane pa.s.sed in the distance. Blair flashed in her mind and Helen turned away from the window.

"When can I go home?"

"In about a week."

"Unacceptable. It's already been thirteen days and I'm feeling well enough."

"You've been conscious for only eight of those days." Teresa smiled.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? It's a control thing, isn't it?" Helen's face grew hot and she flung a pillow. "I d.a.m.n near blow up my lungs for you and-"

"And what's this ruckus I heard from all the way down the hall?"

Helen swung her head toward the figure in the doorway. A wonderful sight. Cory joined them at the ringside.

"She won't let me go home," the eight-year-old in Helen huffed.

"Wow. No 'h.e.l.lo, baby' or promises of unconditional love?"

"I'm not in the mood for sentimental sweetness."

Cory raised her eyebrows and glanced at Teresa.

Teresa reached for Helen's nose brace. "Let's see what's behind door number two."

"Am I going to look like a fighter?" Helen grumbled.

"No, but a racc.o.o.n comes to mind."

"Wonderful. Ow. Jesus!" she yelled when Teresa peeled away the tape.

"Sorry. There. All done." She placed the piece on the table. "What do you think, Cory?"

Cory motioned with her hands. "I think it leans to the left."

"What?" Terrified that her nose had healed crooked, Helen crossed her eyes in effort to see the damage.

Cory laughed. "That was lovely."

"That isn't funny," she grumbled. Teresa handed her a mirror. "I do look like a racc.o.o.n."

"You'll lose the discoloration. Other than that, it's straight as can be."

In the mirror, Helen studied the bandages on her neck and jaw. She reached up to her chin. "Can I see what I look like beneath this?"

Teresa removed packaged scissors and tweezers from her pocket. "Yes, and the surgeon has permitted me to remove the sutures. He's done a nice job and the scar should heal smooth, but right now it's not very pretty." She removed the tape and peeled back the white patches.

Helen turned her head to see her injury in the hand mirror. Red and puffy tufts of flesh stretched from her chin, along her jaw, and down to her collarbone. All held together with black st.i.tching. Her personal barbed-wire fence. No, it wasn't pretty. Makeup would cover the injury, but she couldn't wear makeup to bed. What would Cory think of her now?

Teresa proceeded to remove the black knots and Helen grabbed Cory's hand. Cory would be less attracted to her. She'd run off with some other woman. Some other blonde. One without scars. One who would happily feed her fish. One who would cook for her, sniff blindly at her heels, and follow her to Boston. One who would sleep with her. The heifer.

"Hey," Cory said and moved closer.