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“Good,” I said. “If you can’t sleep, think. Think about what you need. What you need from me as a thank-you for what you did.”
He nodded, and the cab zoomed off.
People were staring at me. Evelyn Hugo in a pantsuit covered in blood. I was afraid paparazzi would be there any minute.
I went inside. I talked my way into borrowing some scrubs and being given a private room to wait in. I threw my clothes away.
When a man from the hospital staff asked me for a statement about what happened to Harry, I said, “How much will it take for you to leave me alone?” I was relieved when the dollar figure he came up with was less than what I had in my purse.
Just after midnight, a doctor came into the room and told me that Harry’s femoral artery had been severed. He had lost too much blood.
For a brief moment, I wondered if I should go get my old clothes, if I could give some of his blood back to him, if it worked like that.
But I was distracted by the next words out of the doctor’s mouth.
“He will not make it.”
I started gasping for air as I realized that Harry, my Harry, was going to die.
“Would you like to say good-bye?”
He was unconscious in the bed when I walked into the room. He looked paler than normal, but they had cleaned him up a bit. There was no longer blood everywhere. I could see his handsome face.
“He doesn’t have long,” the doctor said. “But we can give you a moment.”
I did not have the luxury of panic.
So I got into the bed with him. I held his hand even though it felt limp. Maybe I should have been mad at him for getting behind the wheel of a car when he’d been drinking. But I couldn’t ever get very mad at Harry. I knew he was always doing the very best he could with the pain he felt at any given moment. And this, however tragic, had been the best he could do.
I put my forehead to his and said, “I want you to stay, Harry. We need you. Me and Connor.” I grabbed his hand tighter. “But if you have to go, then go. Go if it hurts. Go if it’s time. Just go knowing you were loved, that I will never forget you, that you will live in everything Connor and I do. Go knowing I love you purely, Harry, that you were an amazing father. Go knowing I told you all my secrets. Because you were my best friend.”
Harry died an hour later.
After he was gone, I had the devastating luxury of panic.
* * *
IN THE MORNING, a few hours after I’d checked into the hotel, I woke up to a phone call.
My eyes were swollen from crying, and my throat hurt. The pillow was still stained with tears. I was pretty sure I’d only slept for an hour, maybe less.
“Hello?” I said.
“It’s Nick.”
“Nick?”
“Your driver.”
“Oh,” I said. “Yes. Hi.”
“I know what I want,” he said.
His voice was confident. Its strength scared me. I felt so weak right then. But I knew it had been my idea for this call to happen. I had set up the nature of it. Tell me what you want to keep you quiet was what I had said without saying it.
“I want you to make me famous,” he said, and when he did, the very last shred of affection I had for stardom drained out of me.
“Do you realize the full extent of what you’re asking?” I said. “If you’re a celebrity, last night will be dangerous for you, too.”
