Still Life by Joy Fielding Read Free Book Online Page B

silently. “It can’t be real. Please, somebody help me. Get me out of here. I can’t live this way. I don’t want to live this way. Just pull the plug. Disconnect the machines. Do something to end this torment. Please. You have to help me.”
    “Careful of the tube in her neck,” Patsy said.
    “What’s that for?”
    “Something they put in to help her breathe.”
    Okay, calm down. Calm down, Casey told herself, realizing the doctors must have performed the tracheostomy, and finding it almost comic that even now, a quarter of a century removed from her childhood, she was still getting most of her information from adults talking above her head, as if she weren’t there.
    “It’s not the most attractive thing in the world,” Donna said.
    “I don’t think anybody’s too concerned with the way it looks,” Patsy admonished, managing to sound as if she really cared.
    Was it possible, Casey wondered, that she’d imagined the earlier scene with Patsy, that the young woman hadn’t said any of those hateful things?
    “She’s in pretty good shape, considering what she’s been through,” Donna remarked. “Look at these biceps.”
    “Very impressive.”
    “She must lift weights.”
    “Wish I had the time to work out,” Patsy said.
    “You don’t need to work out. You have a great body.”
    “I have a great body?” Patsy repeated, a smile in her voice. “You really think so?”
    “You look fantastic, and you know it.”
    Casey imagined Patsy spinning around in a small circle beside her bed. “Thanks.”
    “No thanks necessary. Okay, I’m almost done on my side. How are you coming along?”
    A door opened.
    “I’m sorry, but you can’t come in here right now,” Donna said sharply.
    “Can I help you?” Patsy asked in the next beat.
    “I’m looking for Warren Marshall,” a man answered, as Casey tried—and failed—to place the voice. “I was told I might be able to find him in here.”
    “I haven’t seen him today,” Donna said.
    “I can leave him a message,” Patsy volunteered.
    “No thanks,” the man said brusquely. “I’ll wait a while. See if he shows up.”
    Who was it? Casey wondered. What was so urgent?
    “Visitors’ lounge is down the hall,” Patsy instructed.
    “Nice dimples,” Donna commented after he was gone.
    “Tell me,” Patsy said. “Is there any man on earth you don’t find attractive?”
    “Not too many, no.”
    Patsy laughed. “Wonder what he wants with Mr. Marshall.”
    “None of our business.”
    “He just looks like trouble. You know what I mean?”
    “Can’t say that I do.”
    “I wouldn’t want to see him upsetting Mr. Marshall.”
    “You’re too sensitive.”
    “Nurses are supposed to be sensitive,” Patsy reminded her.
    “We’re not nurses,” Donna corrected. “We’re nurses’ aides.”
    “Same difference.”
    “Tell that to the man signing our paychecks. Okay, I’m finished here. What about you?”
    “Give me another few minutes.”
    Was Patsy preparing to whisper more poisonous confidences in her ear? Casey wondered, counting down the seconds. She stopped at eighty-five.
    “Okay. All through,” Patsy said as someone knocked on the door. “You can come in,” she called out. “We’re done.”
    Casey wondered if it was the man with the nice dimples, and what he wanted with her husband, why he’d come to the hospital. What did Patsy mean when she said he looked like trouble?
    “Oh, hi, Mr. Marshall,” Patsy said, her voice suddenly soft and low. “How’re you doing today?”
    “I’m fine, thank you,” Warren replied, approaching the bed. “How’s my wife?”
    “About the same.”
    “She seems more comfortable,” Donna said, “since they put that tube in her throat.”
    “Yeah. Hopefully, she’ll start breathing on her own soon, and they can take it out.”
    “We’re rooting for her,” Patsy said.
    Yeah, sure.
    “Thank you.”
    Casey felt the women gathering up their things and heading for the door.
    “Oh,