chapter 52

word count 1211

Trudy served her last table for the day and ripped off her apron, slamming it into her locker like a fast ball. Taking a generous gulp from her paisley flask, she grabbed her purse and headed out of the diner. No way she was going home! She was in no humor for John and  his goody-goody lectures or to see Buzz's kid who was staying there. Buzz! She'd spent all day thinking about him. That only made her feel worse. All day in her misery she would sneak another drink from to feel better. She shook the flask now. It was almost empty after being filled that morning.

A bright idea hit her! Why should she keep being so miserable? She should fix things, and the only way to do that was to go and see Buzz and make things right. Yes, that's what she should do. Go and see Buzz.

Twenty minutes later, she ambled through the ICU double doors and stumbled to the desk. It was unoccupied. She proceeded with caution to Bed 2A. It was still open to 1A for Buzz and Jeannie to share the space like before.

"Shit! Aren't they ever goin’ to close them off from one another?" Trudy mumbled. There was nothing to do but just barge straight in anyway.

"Buzz, hon! How are ya?" She asked, peeking around the curtain, holding onto the wheeled contraption on for balance. The whole partition moved with her when she stumbled. "Oops!" she said, looking around, wondering what caused the thing to take off like that.

"Trudy?" Buzz's face drained of color. "W-w-what are you doing here?"

"Who is this, Buzz?" Jeannie asked in a pleasant voice. It was apparent she had no idea of the role Trudy played in Buzz's life.

Buzz looked from Trudy to Jeannie, then from Jeannie to Trudy. Finally he took a breath. "Jeannie, this is Elliot's mom. Adam is staying at her house for the weekend."

"Oh, well, thank you for taking care of our boy!"

Trudy appeared dumbfounded. If there was one way she wouldn't choose at this moment to describe herself, it would be as Elliot's mother. Her blood bubbled up to a slow simmer. "You sonafabitch! That's how you describe me to your wife? Why don't you tell her THE TRUTH!  Now you're pretending I'm nobody? I'D LIKE TO KILL YOU RIGHT NOW!"

Doctors, nurses, and security guards crowded into the cubicle at full gallop. Security had Trudy in hand before she knew what happened. They held her back as she flailed and clawed to get at Buzz.

"I'M GONNA KILL YA! I'M GONNA KILL YA!"

Two uniformed officers arrived, and taking her, one on each side, they dragged the screaming woman away. The cops looked amused, but determined.

"Looks like you're going to jail for the night. Let's see--issuing terrorist threats. That's not good, lady!"

When the room was cleared and peace restored, Jeannie asked Buzz, "Buzz, who was that woman?"

The directness of the question startled Buzz, so unlike his mousy wife. Many inclinations rushed through his mind, some to run, to lie. But his latest promise to make good on his marriage took center stage. His heart leaped in his chest. He wasn't certain if the emotional jolt was from love or guilt, perhaps a little of both.

"Look, Jeannie, I'm not gonna lie to you, babe! I was having an affair with her. But I promise you, it's over. I'll get rid of her. Both of us being here like this, all pretensions pushed aside, looking at each other from hospital beds, seeing what is important in this life and what is not, I see the light. I only hope you can forgive me and start again!"

Tears rolled down Jeannie's cheeks. And her heart filled with new courage, new resolve. The doctors had told her the tumors were shrinking, she could make it if she kept fighting. And her dear Buzz was back. This man in the next bed, he was the one she married, the brusque guy with a big heart and a gentle soul. Somewhere along the way that dear fellow had gotten lost. The rigors of his job hardened him, wore him out. He worked hard and along the fringes, and he played just as hard and with equal abandon. Today he was renewed, and so was she. She was beating the cancer, and she would continue to fight. And she'd fight for him him, too. Because through it all, she loved him.

"Of course, I forgive you, Buzz! I love you and I always will. By the way, that crazy lady who was here, do you think she might be who burned down our house?"

***

Gil downed the last of his coffee while whittling down his stack of work late at night in the squad room. Hank sat across from him doing the same. They'd been so busy with Buzz and his concerns, the workload had gotten behind.

"I'm gonna make more coffee. You want some?"

"Yeah, hey, did you see this one?" He waved a paper at Gil.

Gil took it and read. "I'll be damned. Another abduction, when did this come in?"

"This afternoon."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say this sounds like our man's MO."

"That's what I was thinking," Hank replied. He went to get a drink from his cup, then remembered it was empty. He put it down. "Looks like we're back on the trail again."

"We gotta get this SOB if it's the last thing we do. Any descriptions in this bulletin? We still don't know what he looks like these days."

"No. Oh by the way, did you hear Brenda is missing? She never reported to work. Her apartment shows no sign of her being home. Peculiar! Stevens and Jones and checking with her family and friends."

"I think I know why!" Gil said. He'd returned to his desk, forgetting the coffee entirely, and held up another paper. “That license plate from the driveway at Buzz's house. Her car!"

***

Adam and Elliot sat together on Elliot’s bed with crayons and drawing paper. Elliot had drawn a house with a sun and a flower while Adam’s paper remained empty.

“Aren’t you going to draw anything?” Elliot asked while laying the green crayon on its side to fill in a grassy area in long, sweeping strokes.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Dude, you let your parents bug ya too much! Just pretend they’re not there!”

“Is that what you do?”

“Yeah! It’s a lot easier that way. Parents are a lot of trouble.”

Adam looked affronted. “My mom is okay! It’s just my dad. He’s mean to her.”

Elliot gave Adam a studied glance. “That’s weird. For me it is the opposite. My mom is mean to my dad.”

“Does she hit him?”

Elliot paused to consider the question. “Wel-l-l  no. She doesn’t hit exactly. She just sort of smacks his shoulder once in a while. Mostly she just yells at him all the time.”

“My dad yells, but he hits, too.” The boy paused to pick up a blue crayon and study it. “It’s not cool.”