The time traveler's wife(142)
"Help me," I say. "I'm in the Monroe Street Parking Garage. It's unbelievably fucking cold down here. I'm near the guard station. Come and get me."
"Okay. Stay there. We'll leave right now."
I try to hang up the phone but miss. My teeth are chattering uncontrollably. I crawl to the guard station and hammer on the door. No one is there. Inside I see video monitors, a space heater, a jacket, a desk, a chair. I try the knob. It's locked. I have nothing to open it with. The window is wire reinforced. I am shivering hard. There are no cars down here.
"Help me!" I yell. No one comes. I curl into a ball in front of the door, bring my knees to my chin, wrap my hands around my feet. No one comes, and then, at last, at last, I am gone.
FRAGMENTS
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, September 25, 26, and 27, 2006 (Clare is 35, Henry is 43)
Clare: Henry has been gone all day. Alba and I went to McDonald's for dinner. We played Go Fish and Crazy Eights; Alba drew a picture of a girl with long hair flying a dog. We picked out her dress for school tomorrow. Now she is in bed. I am sitting on the front porch trying to read Proust; reading in French is making me drowsy and I am almost asleep when there is a crash in the living room and Henry is on the floor shivering, white and cold—"Help me," he says through chattering teeth and I run for the phone.
Later:
The Emergency Room: a scene of fluorescent limbo: old people full of ailments, mothers with feverish small children, teenagers whose friends are having bullets removed from various limbs, who will brag about this later to admiring girls but who are now subdued and tired.
Later:
In a small white room: nurses lift Henry onto a bed and remove his blanket. His eyes open, register me, and close. A blond intern looks him over. A nurse takes his temperature, pulse. Henry is shivering, shivering so intensely it makes the bed shake, makes the nurse's arm vibrate like the Magic Fingers beds in 1970s motels. The resident looks at Henry's pupils, ears, nose, fingers, toes, genitals. They begin to wrap him in blankets and something metallic and aluminum foillike. They pack his feet in cold packs. The small room is very warm. Henry's eyes flicker open again. He is trying to say something. It sounds like my name. I reach under the blankets and hold his icy hands in mine. I look at the nurse. "We need to warm him up, get his core temperature up," she says. "Then we'll see."
Later:
"How on earth did he get hypothermia in September?" the resident asks me. "I don't know," I say. "Ask him."
Later:
It's morning. Charisse and I are in the hospital cafeteria. She's eating chocolate pudding. Upstairs in his room Henry is sleeping. Kimy is watching him. I have two pieces of toast on my plate; they are soggy with butter and untouched. Someone sits down next to Charisse; it's Kendrick. "Good news," he says, "his core temp's up to ninety-seven point six. There doesn't seem to be any brain damage."
I can't say anything. Thank you God, is all I think.
"Okay, um, I'll check back later when I'm finished at Rush St. Luke's," says Kendrick, standing up. "Thank you, David," I say as he's about to walk away, and Kendrick smiles and leaves.
Later:
Dr. Murray comes in with an Indian nurse whose name tag says Sue. Sue is carrying a large basin and a thermometer and a bucket. Whatever is about to happen, it will be low-tech.
"Good morning, Mr. DeTamble, Mrs. DeTamble. We're going to rewarm your feet." Sue sets the basin on the floor and silently disappears into the bathroom. Water runs. Dr. Murray is very large and has a wonderful beehive hairdo that only certain very imposing and beautiful black women can get away with. Her bulk tapers down from the hem of her white coat into two perfect feet in alligator-skin pumps. She produces a syringe and an ampoule from her pocket, and proceeds to draw the contents of the ampoule into the syringe.
"What is that?" I ask.
"Morphine. This is going to hurt. His feet are pretty far gone." She gently takes Henry's arm, which he mutely holds out to her as though she has won it from him in a poker game. She has a delicate touch. The needle slides in and she depresses the plunger; after a moment Henry makes a little moan of gratitude. Dr. Murray is removing the cold packs from Henry's feet as Sue emerges with hot water. She sets it on the floor by the bed. Dr. Murray lowers the bed, and the two of them manipulate him into a sitting position. Sue measures the temperature of the water. She pours the water into the basin and immerses Henry's feet. He gasps.
"Any tissue that's gonna make it will turn bright red. If it doesn't look like a lobster, it's a problem."