Insomnia

“No thanks,” Ralph said, smiling faintly trying to quit smoking, “Don’t blame you. Lousy habit, but the thing about guys “which is an even worse that they’re too goddam smart for their own good. If you get high side, hurt someone… and then they pull back. Like you did, Ralph-you can there soon enough after the blo almost see them standing there with their heads cocked, listening to the music and trying to get back on the beat.”

“What was,” Ralph said. “Exactly how it was.”

“That’s just how ite awhile-they appear “It’s a trick the bright ones manage for qu to make remorseful, appalled by their own actions, determined amends. They’re persuasive, they’re charming, and it’s often all but ath the sugar coating they’re as nutty impossible to see that underneath is like Ted Bundy some. fruittcakes-Even extreme case as Christmas fru, look normal for years.

The good news is that there times manage it, In spite of all the psycholike Ted Bundy out there, there aren’t many guys killer books and movies.”

Ralph sighed deeply. “What a mess. ok on the bright side: we’re go

“you Iyup,” Leydecker said. “I gave Deepneau the second-degree assault stuff because it do sound fearsome, but in the state of Maine, lumping up Your wife is only a misdemeanor. 1) inkle in the law,” Chris Nell said, “Still, there’s a nifty new law joining them-“If Deepneau wants bail, he has to agree that he’ll have absolutely no contact with his wife until the case is settled in the street, or court-he can’t come to the house, approach her on even call her on the phone. if he doesn’t agree, he sits in jail.”

“suppose he agrees and then comes back, anyway?” Ralph asked.

“Then we slam-dunk him,” Nell said, “because that one is a felony… or can be, if the district attorney wants to play hardball.

In any case, violators of the Domestic Violence bail agreement usually spend a lot more than just the afternoon in jail.”

“And hopefully the spouse he breaks the agreement to visit will still be alive when he comes to trial,” McGovern said.

“Yeah,” Leydecker said heavily. “Sometimes that’s a problem.”

Ralph went home and sat staring not at the TV but through it for an hour or so. He got up during a commercial to see if there was a cold Coke in the refrigerator, staggered on his feet, and had to put a hand on the wall to steady himself. He was trembling all over and felt unpleasantly close to vomiting. He understood that this was nothing but delayed reaction, but the weakness and nausea still frightened him.

He sat down again, took a minute’s worth of deep breaths with his head down and his eyes closed, then got up and walked slowly into the bathroom. He filled the tub with warm water and soaked until he heard Night Court, the first of the afternoon sitcoms, starting up on the TV in the living room. By then the water in the tub had become almost chilly, and Ralph was glad to get out. He dried off, dressed in fresh clothes, and decided that a light supper was at least in the realm of possibility. He called downstairs, thinking McGovern might like to join him for a bite to eat, but there was no answer, Ralph put on water in which to boil a couple of eggs and called Derry Home Hospital from the phone by the stove. His call was shunted to a woman in Patient Services who checked her computer and told him yes, he was correct, Helen Deepneau had been admitted to the hospital. Her condition was listed as fair. No, she had no idea who) was taking care of Mrs. Deepneau’s baby; all she knew was that she did not have a Natalie Deepneau on her admissions list. No, Ralph could not visit Mrs. Deepneau that evening, but not because her doctor had established a no-visitors policy; Mrs. Deepneau had left that order herself.

Why would she do that? Ralph started to ask, then didn’t bother.

The woman in Patient Services would probably tell him she was sorry, she didn’t have that information in her computer, but Ralph decided he had it in his computer, the one between his giant economy-size ears. Helen didn’t want visitors because she was ashamed.

None of what had happened was her fault, but Ralph doubted if that changed the way she felt. She had been seen by half of Harris Avenue staggering around like a badly beaten boxer after the ref has stopped the fight, she had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance, and her husband-the father of her daughter-was responsible. Ralph hoped they would give her something that would help her sleep through the night; he had an idea things might look a little better to her in the morning.

God knew they couldn’t look much worse.

Hell, I wish someone would give me something to help me sleep through the night, he thought.

Then go see Dr. Litchfield, you idiot, another part of his mind responded immediately.

The woman in Patient Services was asking Ralph if she could do anything else for him. Ralph said no and was starting to thank her when the line clicked in his ear. “Nice,” Ralph said. “Very nice.” He hung up himself, got a tablespoon, and gently lowered his eggs into the water. Ten minutes later, as he was sitting down with the boiled eggs sliding around on a plate and looking like the world’s biggest pearls, the phone rang. He put his supper on the table and grabbed it off the wall. “Hello?” Silence, broken only by breathing. “Hello?” Ralph repeated. There was one more breath, this one almost loud enough to be an aspirated sob, and then another click in his ear. Ralph hung up the telephone and stood looking at it for a moment, his frown putting three ascending wave-lines on his brow.

“Come on, Helen,” he said. “Call me back, Please.” Then he returned to the table, sat down, and began to eat his small bachelor’s supper. He was washing up his few dishes fifteen minutes later when the phone rang again. That won’t be her, he thought, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and then flipping it over his shoulder as he went to the phone. No way it’ll be her. It’s probably Lois or Bill. But another part of him knew differently.

“Hi, Ralph.”

“Hello, Helen.”

“That was me a few minutes ago.” Her voice was husky, as if she had been drinking or crying, and Ralph didn’t think they allowed booze in the hospital. “I kind of figured that.”

“I heard your voice and I. I couldn’t… “That’s okay. I understand.”

“Do you?” She gave a long, watery sniff, “I think so, yes.”

“The nurse came by and gave me a pain-pill. I can use it, too my face really hurts. But I wouldn’t let myself take it until I called you again and said what I had to say. Pain sucks, but it’s a hell of an incentive.”

“Helen, you don’t have to say anything.” But he was afraid that she did, and he was afraid of what it might be… afraid of finding out that she had decided to be angry at him because she couldn’t be angry with Ed.

“Yes I do. I have to say thank you.”

Ralph leaned against the side of the door and closed his eyes for a moment. He was relieved but unsure how to reply. He had been ready to say I’m Sorry you feel that way, Helen in the calmest voice he could manage, that was how sure he’d been that she was going to start off by asking him why he couldn’t mind his own business.

And, as if she had read his mind and wanted to let him know he. wasn’t entirely off the hook, Helen said, “I spent most of the ride here, and the check-in, and the first hour or so in the room, being terribly angry at you. I called Candy Shoemaker, my friend from over on Kansas Street, and she came and got Nat. She’s keeping her for the night. She wanted to know what had happened, but I wouldn’t tell her. I just wanted to lie here and be mad that you called 911 even though I told you not to.”