from the park to the real city on any day when the New York Marathon is not being run.
I sat down on the bed and considered my options. The most sensible was to get out of my clothes, climb into my hospital nightgown, and ask the nurse to bring’ my pocketbook. Then I could get back into my clothes and, armed with my bank card, my American Express card, my Visa card, and (if I remembered correctly) forty-five dollars in cash, go looking for a cab. It was a wonderful plan. Unfortunately, it would take too much time.
It was quarter after ten. Visiting hours started at quarter after eleven. If there was any delay finding a nurse, or any delay in the nurse finding my bag, or an argument, I was going to run into Phoebe coming in. If I ran into Phoebe coming in, I might as well give up.
I lit a cigarette. I told myself I was giving myself a chance to think, but I was really wasting time. I always waste time when I don’t know what I’m doing.
I was halfway through when there was a knock on the door and the nurse—my first nurse, she of the neuralgia and the corrected harelip—came sidling through the door.
“If you’re going to escape,” she said, “you’re going to need help.”
ELEVEN
I HAD TO STOP at three Chase Manhattan branches before I found one with an instant cash machine. I had been unusually optimistic about how much money I had in my wallet. Credit cards I had. Membership cards I had (Museum of Natural History, Whitney Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution). Money I did not have.
I did, however, have something new to think about. There were advantages to be gained from too much newspaper publicity. My nurse had been proof of that.
“I’ve read all about you in the papers,” she’d said. “And I know what’s been going on around here.”
“What’s been going on around here?”
She was contemptuous the way only soap opera heroines can be contemptuous. “They think you’re hallucinating,” she said. “Well, that’s what they thought the last two times, didn’t they?”
That wasn’t quite accurate—the second time they thought I was hallucinating, the first time they thought I was guilty —but I didn’t correct her. She was bustling me down the hall, talking out of the corner of her mouth in a low-whisper imitation of Bogart doing a dying Sam Spade.
“We’ll say you insisted,” she said. “When we get to the desk, act like you’re insisting. Say things like ‘If you attempt to restrain me, I’ll sue this hospital for illegal imprisonment.’ Things like that.”
“I’ve never said a sentence like that in my life.”
“Well, say it now. Then sign the form—sign out, it doesn’t mean anything. I’ll call Dr. Heilbrun and you walk out. Just like that.”
“I have to wait for Dr. Heilbrun?”
“No, no, no,” she said. “You walk out without waiting for Dr. Heilbrun. I can’t stop you.”
I said “Oh” and decided to go along. I was worried about her self-satisfaction level (very, very high), but it seemed a workable plan. I couldn’t find any reason not to go along with it. She thought she was making herself part of a great adventure.
“Wait’ll I tell my sister Maisie about this,” she said. “Old cow. Thinks you don’t get any excitement outside the emergency ward.”
I found a cab fighting its way north on Third and got into it. It was going to take forever to get uptown, but I didn’t care. Phoebe had to be on her way downtown, to the hospital and (she thought) me. Since Phoebe hasn’t taken public transportation since her sales first topped two hundred thousand, I figured she was stuck. All I had to do was get to my apartment, feed the cat, and start on my rounds.
We stopped for a light at East Seventy-ninth Street, and I started rummaging in my bag for something to read. I usually carry at least three magazines and a book when I have to take cabs, but I hadn’t taken anything when I went to see about Verna, and I hadn’t been back to
I sat down on the bed and considered my options. The most sensible was to get out of my clothes, climb into my hospital nightgown, and ask the nurse to bring’ my pocketbook. Then I could get back into my clothes and, armed with my bank card, my American Express card, my Visa card, and (if I remembered correctly) forty-five dollars in cash, go looking for a cab. It was a wonderful plan. Unfortunately, it would take too much time.
It was quarter after ten. Visiting hours started at quarter after eleven. If there was any delay finding a nurse, or any delay in the nurse finding my bag, or an argument, I was going to run into Phoebe coming in. If I ran into Phoebe coming in, I might as well give up.
I lit a cigarette. I told myself I was giving myself a chance to think, but I was really wasting time. I always waste time when I don’t know what I’m doing.
I was halfway through when there was a knock on the door and the nurse—my first nurse, she of the neuralgia and the corrected harelip—came sidling through the door.
“If you’re going to escape,” she said, “you’re going to need help.”
ELEVEN
I HAD TO STOP at three Chase Manhattan branches before I found one with an instant cash machine. I had been unusually optimistic about how much money I had in my wallet. Credit cards I had. Membership cards I had (Museum of Natural History, Whitney Museum of American Art, Smithsonian Institution). Money I did not have.
I did, however, have something new to think about. There were advantages to be gained from too much newspaper publicity. My nurse had been proof of that.
“I’ve read all about you in the papers,” she’d said. “And I know what’s been going on around here.”
“What’s been going on around here?”
She was contemptuous the way only soap opera heroines can be contemptuous. “They think you’re hallucinating,” she said. “Well, that’s what they thought the last two times, didn’t they?”
That wasn’t quite accurate—the second time they thought I was hallucinating, the first time they thought I was guilty —but I didn’t correct her. She was bustling me down the hall, talking out of the corner of her mouth in a low-whisper imitation of Bogart doing a dying Sam Spade.
“We’ll say you insisted,” she said. “When we get to the desk, act like you’re insisting. Say things like ‘If you attempt to restrain me, I’ll sue this hospital for illegal imprisonment.’ Things like that.”
“I’ve never said a sentence like that in my life.”
“Well, say it now. Then sign the form—sign out, it doesn’t mean anything. I’ll call Dr. Heilbrun and you walk out. Just like that.”
“I have to wait for Dr. Heilbrun?”
“No, no, no,” she said. “You walk out without waiting for Dr. Heilbrun. I can’t stop you.”
I said “Oh” and decided to go along. I was worried about her self-satisfaction level (very, very high), but it seemed a workable plan. I couldn’t find any reason not to go along with it. She thought she was making herself part of a great adventure.
“Wait’ll I tell my sister Maisie about this,” she said. “Old cow. Thinks you don’t get any excitement outside the emergency ward.”
I found a cab fighting its way north on Third and got into it. It was going to take forever to get uptown, but I didn’t care. Phoebe had to be on her way downtown, to the hospital and (she thought) me. Since Phoebe hasn’t taken public transportation since her sales first topped two hundred thousand, I figured she was stuck. All I had to do was get to my apartment, feed the cat, and start on my rounds.
We stopped for a light at East Seventy-ninth Street, and I started rummaging in my bag for something to read. I usually carry at least three magazines and a book when I have to take cabs, but I hadn’t taken anything when I went to see about Verna, and I hadn’t been back to
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