Just Yesterday Read Free Page A

seeing. A large, square patch of skin is exposed on the top of Connie’s head where it has obviously been shaved. What appear to be two metal screws are implanted in her skull. Secured to the metal screws is a kind of braided wire, which is threaded through some sort of contraption behind Connie’s head. I follow the wire and feel my stomach drop as I realize that it is attached to two large weights that hang just behind and below the head of the bed.
    “She broke her neck.” Her mother’s voice is weak. The flash of pain that racks my insides is so complete that I cannot identify what hurts the most. My head is exploding, my heart aching, my stomach dropping. I wasn’t prepared for any of this.
    “You know the rules, Mrs. Kaplan,” a voice booms behind me and I jump, turning to see the stern face beneath a nurse’s cap eyeing each of us separately. “Only two visitors at a time. Family only.”
    “This is Connie’s sister, Elizabeth.” Mrs. Kaplan lifts her chin defiantly.
    “Uh-huh.” The nurse’s tone makes it clear that she doesn’t believe a word of it. “Just like she’s her sister, too.” She nods in Wendy’s direction and I almost smile. Wendy is clearly as dark African American as Connie is pale-white Caucasian.
    Connie’s sister, Charlene, appears from behind the nurse and reaches me in two short steps, wrapping her arms around me in a quick hug. She is a younger, shorter image of Connie. Her long blond hair isn’t as fine or light as Connie’s, but Charlene is far more attractive in the traditional sense.
    “That’s it.” The nurse draws herself up indignantly. “Two of you. Out. Now.”
    We all look at each other until I catch the pleading in Charlene’s blue eyes and I remember our conversation from the day before.
    “Come on, Mom.” I tuck my arm under Mrs. Kaplan’s elbow and try what I hope is my most charming smile. “Let’s go get a cup of coffee and catch up.”
    She hesitates, and I give her a small nudge. “You won’t be gone long, I promise. I want to spend some time with Charlene while I’m here, too.”
    Her eyes move from Charlene to the closed eyes of her other daughter as she lies on the bed. She is so fragile. So indecisive.
    “It’s okay, Mom,” Charlene says softly. “Go with Liz. Connie will be okay while you’re gone.”
    I watch the emotions flicker across the older woman’s face and feel my heart constrict again. The fear on her face is plain. She is afraid that Connie will die and that she won’t be there when it happens.
    She stares up at me and I flash a reassuring smile. I’m rewarded with a curt nod, and then we are ushering each other from the room.
    I remain at the hospital for most of the day, alternately walking the hallways with Charlene and her mother, then standing motionless at Connie’s bedside. As the day progresses, I am able to look at her for longer periods of time.
    She remains unrecognizable to me. Everything except the blond hair and the left hand that lies at her side. My eyes trace each finger and I am grateful for the familiar blunt fingertips that somehow validate my being there in a room of near strangers.
    It is those fingers that I recognize. How many times had I lovingly watched those fingers hover over a photograph as it came to life on paper? Connie had swished the chemicals around in the tray, eyeing the image until it reached perfection. Then those fingers would dip down and sweep up the print, only to submerge it quickly in yet another solution.
     
    Silently, I stand over Connie. Apologizing for all those things unsaid. For all of the mistakes we have made. Foolishly, I will her eyes to open, frustration rising as she resolutely lies still. The fear of her death is suddenly very real to me, our mortality something I’d rarely given thought to before this morning.
    Just before I leave to return to my hotel, I speak to her silently. I say good-bye, even while I don’t want to believe that’s what I’m doing. But