“I’m here to visit my daughter,” said Margaret to the receptionist in the hospital’s lobby, whose name was Olivia. “Her name is Clarissa Miller,”
“She’s staying in room B505,” said Olivia after consulting the computer. “Go up the elevator, turn left, and follow the signs to the room.”
“Thank you,” said Margaret, who walked to the elevator, bearing flowers. It did not take too long to reach Clarissa’s hospital room. It was very sad to see her in a cast and stuck in bed, which made her all the angrier at the thoughtless driver who had crashed into her. Don’t people know enough to watch where they were going? Clarissa was awake, and Margaret could see that she had a black eye.
“I got you flowers, dear,”
“Thank you,” she said sullenly. “It’s the thought that counts,”
“Meaning they weren’t a good gift? Ottawa’s nice and all, but the drive here is very boring and long,”
“Sorry, it’s just… you know.”
“Yeah. It’s been a tough year for you. Have you heard what happened to Belinda?” Eunice had been emailing and phoning Margaret since the wedding, and Margaret, as a result, saw the city from Eunice’s vantage point.
“I would prefer not to hear this. I don’t particularly like Belinda; she has loose lips, she’s alcoholic, she has a decidedly blasé attitude about other people. I think she views them as characters in a novel or something. It turns out that those things she did at the garden party last June––you know, those lurid, provocative moves made at David, and such, didn’t really happen. She had a large part to play in the spreading of gossip, and I think her and a few others like playing broken telephone. Anyways, I would prefer to hear about what Belinda does from Belinda herself, if at all.” Clarissa was unaware of the connection between Margaret and Eunice, and was not pleased that her mother wasn’t more choosy in her friendships, as what she had told her implied some sort of contact with the woman.
“Oh, I’m sorry honey,”
“How do you know her?”
“Through Eunice; she’s quite a nice person, Eunice,”
“Don’t worry about that; I haven’t exactly been innocent in spreading these perceptions. It is very funny how these perceptions can get projected onto people and become almost as real as the people themselves,”
“Yes, I know,” said Margaret, only half understanding.
“Well, please do get better. I love you, Clarissa,”
“I love you too, mom,”
“Do you know what’s so ironic about me being in the hospital right now?”
“What?”
“Today was supposed to be my due date; today was supposed to be a joyous occasion after labour,”
“Did you find a new boyfriend?”
“After much barhopping, fishing on dating sites, and making eyes at as many handsome men as I could see, I found somebody,” said Clarissa, referring to Ken.
Clarissa, after receiving the flowers from her mother, reclined, and slept, as the doctors said she needed rest, and then she would be wearing casts for a while; she did this for the next several days, and received visits from Eunice and Mario, Nicolas, who came from Place du Portage after work was done, accompanied by Vilia. Clarissa reflected that she was lucky to have such caring friends, whose presence would make the hospital stay more bearable.
On Friday afternoon, Ken visited Clarissa at the hospital. He had a drink to steady his nerves, as he needed alcohol as a means of doing this, as well as in celebration, commiseration with friends, and drowning his sorrows, as well as loosening his inhibitions. He had his daughters in tow, but they were looking bored. Annette was fidgeting with her shirt, while Venesse was reading a book, though she appeared not to find it engaging, as she kept staring at other people in the waiting room, patients, nurses, and the receptionist.
“Why are hospitals such nasty places?” asked Venesse. “There’s nothing to do here. I’m
bored,”
“It should only be a few minutes; then someone will tell us where to go,” said Ken as he approached the receptionist.
“I’m here to visit a patient,” he said. “Her name is Clarissa Miller.”
“Are you family?”
“I’m her boyfriend,”
“She’s in room B505. Enjoy your visit,”
He returned to the upholstered bench where his daughters were waiting.
“Where’s your new girlfriend? You didn’t get her injured already?” asked Annette.
“No, that was a car driven by some horrible man, honey. She’s in room B505.”
The family, after taking many turns through the labyrinthine corridors, arrived at Clarissa’s room, and Ken knocked on the door.
“Come in.” Ken recognised Clarissa’s voice.
“Hi Clarissa,” he said as he entered the room, which was painted a pale green colour, and had a view of the Rideau River.
Clarissa exclaimed, “Ken! You didn’t tell me you were a father!” That he was a father made her happy: she could finally be a mother, which was her dream.
“I’m so happy to see your kids. What are your names?” Clarissa was smiling as she asked the question. Her wide smile showed all her teeth; she hadn’t smiled that way since October.
“I’m Annette,”
“I’m Venesse,”
“It’s very nice to meet you. I hope we can be friends,” said Clarissa.
“Daddy said you were in a car crash.”
“Where were you driving?”
“I wasn’t; I was walking home, and somebody crashed into me.”
“That’s terrible; the driver must be a horrible man,” said Venesse.
Clarissa agreed. “I think the car has something to do with it, Venesse. Sometimes, people are perfectly reasonable and nice people when you meet them; when they get into a car however, they turn into something base. Let’s leave it at that.”
“What do you do when you drive?”
“I don’t, but I don’t think I would be very different from the person who hit me.”
“Will you get better soon? Daddy wants you to, he really likes you,” said Annette.
Ken said, “I also hope you get better soon,”
“I hope so, too.”
Things would work out; there would be a new beginning, after all.
The End
