The Wave by Kristen Crusoe (ebook reader online txt) 📗

the outside of the small glass window insert. He wondered if it was meant for Clair. A metal intercom instructed visitors to press the button. He did. A woman, identifying herself as Sandra, unit secretary, asked for his name and the name of the patient he was visiting. He felt naked and vulnerable standing there, wearing the same clothes he had been found in, lying on his kitchen floor, unconscious, two days ago. Claudia’s question came back to him. So why was he here now, coming to Clair, like a supplicant? Seeking what? Absolution? He had done nothing wrong. She was the one who had tried to poison him. Jamming his hands deep into his pockets to stop their trembling he leaned forward, into the metal disk.

‘Adam Gage, here to visit Clair Mercer, my wife,’ he said, his voice tenuous, uncertain. He felt eyes on him, and looking up, saw the security camera mounted on the ceiling above his head. Glancing around nervously, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw there were no other staff or patients down the hall. He didn’t want to be seen or recognized.

‘Wait. I need to find out if we have this person here on the unit,’ Tonya said.

‘What? I know she’s there. What do you mean? She’s under hold orders. My nurse just called to check it would be OK for me to visit.’

‘Sir, you have to wait. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Adam looked around. The hallway behind him was empty. Feeling weak, he leaned against the side of the door. What would he say to Clair? Maybe she wouldn’t see him. What would he do then? He had to talk with her, find out why she tried to kill him, and herself. It was crazy. Maybe she really was crazy and now he would add this to his long list of miseries. How had it all gone so wrong?

‘Open the door when you hear the click. Wait in the sallyport for the second click. Then you can come through,’ a different voice said.

He was met on the other side by a short woman wearing black scrubs. Adam followed her down the hall. Large photographs of local scenic sites covered the walls, along with art work done by patients, he assumed. Positive affirmations were written on every available flat space reminding patients and staff that ‘Everything is Temporary’ and to ‘Be in the Moment’. It was hard to tell staff from patients. Everyone wore scrubs. It seemed patients were uniformly dressed in blue whereas staff wore a variety of colors. And there were the eyes. Patients’ flat, restricted gazes held no joy, no eagerness for the next moment. Or in a few cases, eyes were wild, drifting from side to side, looking for what? Adam wondered. A way out or a way in?

They stopped at a door directly across from the nursing station where several men and women sat at computer monitors. Glass walls and locked doors kept them safe and isolated from the outsiders.

He heard his escort speaking through the small opening in the doorway, her head leaning through.

‘Clair, you have a visitor. Do you want me to let him in?’

‘Who is it?’ Adam heard Clair ask.

‘Says he’s your husband,’ Belinda answered with a doubtful tone. Several seconds passed.

‘He can come in.’

Adam was surprised at hearing Clair’s voice, usually soft, lyrical, but today, hoarse, flat. He stepped inside, half afraid of what he would find.

The room was dark. He could make out her form sitting cross-legged on the twin bed, closest to a set of windows. Curtains were pulled tightly together but a sliver of light pushed its way through, scattering dust mites in the air.

‘Clair, you look well,’ he said, remaining in the doorway.

‘No, I don’t and you don’t have any right to bullshit me. So, stop. Why are you here?’

Adam walked into the room, sat on the side of the second bed in the small room, resting his elbows on his knees. He leaned slightly forward, his gaze focused, intense.

‘Clair, it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t your fault. It was a natural disaster. An act of God, if you will. A goddamn sneaker wave took Devon. There are signs up warning people about them everywhere. It happened. Every year it happens. You have to accept this and move on.’

‘How dare you even mention him in my presence!’ she cried. ‘You have no right.’

Adam felt a rush of anger, so strong he had to stand, to move. He walked towards the window, then back to the bed again. He sat, not wanting to hover over her. Taking in a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth, lips pursed, he clenched his fingers, pressing his nails into the soft flesh of his palms.

‘He was my son too. I have a right, as much as you.’

‘No, you denied yourself that right, after you realized he wasn’t your perfect little mini-you. Once you learned about the autism, you disengaged. You know you did – from both of us.’

He did know. And it shamed him.

‘Clair, I didn’t come here to fight. I came to see you. How are you?’

She looked so bereft sitting there, on the narrow single bed. Her hair, usually well groomed, was oily, hanging down in shards along her thin jawline. He felt an overwhelming ache in his heart, wanting to enfold her, erase all the pain and terror of the past few months. Frozen in place, he held her eyes in his gaze, willing her to answer.

‘Oh God, Adam, I am so sorry.’ She cried, dropping her head into her hands. I didn’t want you to die, not really, well maybe I did at the time. But I had just wanted a way out. You were my way out.’

‘I’ve never had anyone love me enough to want to kill me before,’ he said, with a crooked smile.

She looked up at him. ‘Love. I can’t speak that word with you. I loved you. Devon loved you. And you squandered it, on your affairs,