Tessa's Escape to Athena's Ground(2)

                Tessa wiped a second tear and brushed away her thoughts. If she didn’t do it now, she wouldn’t do it. “One last song for me Kitty,” Tessa said, as she found the turnkey and wound her precious music box.

                The sweet, somewhat melancholy, song played. Kitty White twirled. And Tessa Donovan shook the contents of her pill bottle into the palm of her hand. It took five or six swallows, each followed by a large sip of water, but she got them all down. When she was finished, she settled into the softness of the bed and placed the music box next to her, on the pillow where Mark’s head should have been. The last thing she heard was Kitty’s song. The last thought she remembered was that she’d forgotten Maria’s wallet. But by then, it was too late.





-2-

                The first thing Tessa saw when she opened her eyes was not Mark, and she felt cheated.

                “How are you feeling?” The speaker was a gray-haired woman in scrubs. She looked tired, but her eyes were kind.

                Tessa pointed to her throat and said, “Sore.”

                The woman nodded. “Endotracheal tubes are no fun.” She handed Tessa a small cup with ice chips. She pointed to the IV bag hooked to Tessa’s arm. “You don’t need the fluid, honey, so go easy on the ice chips. Just enough to soothe your throat, okay?”

                Tessa took a small piece of ice from the cup. Her hands were shaking so badly she nearly missed her mouth. After the ice softened the ache in her throat, Tessa spoke.

                “Where…?”

                “Emergency Room. You were brought in by paramedics.” The nurse gave Tessa a steady look, hard but not unkind. “Your cleaning lady found you. You’re lucky she was fast. Gastric lavage doesn’t work past sixty minutes.”

                Tessa’s brain was nearly as dry as her throat. What did Maria have to do with this hospital? Why were paramedics…and then reality hit Tessa like a sharp jab to her tender belly: she’d decided to end her pain with a bottleful of sleeping pills. It was the oldest escape in the world, Tessa thought, but in her case, not the most reliable.

                “The doctor will be in shortly,” the nurse said.

                Tessa had a hard time picking out her words over the noise of beeping instruments and the sounds of other people’s pain. If God collected all the pain in the emergency room tonight, she thought it would fill the Grand Canyon. A tear slipped down her cheek. Mark had wanted to take her to Arizona and she’d refused to go. “Too hot!” she’d told him, so instead they spent two weeks in London. She shopped Harrods and dined at Gordon Ramsay’s while Mark swore he was thrilled to be in London instead of a rustic B & B in Sedona. In hindsight—long distance hindsight since it had been three years now, Tessa wondered how Mark had stood her self-indulgence. She closed her eyes, half exhaustion and half shame.

                “Mrs. Donovan?”

                The voice distracted her from the view. She was strolling the streets of London, hand in hand with Mark, until they boarded a long, beautiful boat. When they passed Anne Frank’s House, Tessa realized they had gone on to Amsterdam. Mark was at her side, nuzzling the sensitive spot behind her ear, whispering that the canals were only half as beautiful as she.

                “Mrs. Donovan?” The voice was louder. Closer.

                Tessa opened her eyes. A man in a white coat was leaning over her. She could feel his breath on her face as he spoke.

                “Are you awake?”

                Tessa’s eyes were wide open now and she wanted to tell him that obviously she was, except maybe she wasn’t. Maybe the emergency room was a dream and Amsterdam was real.