CORINA’S SECOND LAW
That, second, of Lizzie's letters I answered with much joy. I was bursting with happiness. I was proud of her. For her moral sense and humanity. For her courage and even her negotiating skills, which were not used to cheat or gain her advantage but to ease her conscience. I wrote all my news, my work, my meetings with Pavlos and Jack, the books I read, the exercise I was taking and that I would be starting to plan my trip to Boston as of now. Right now. This minute. I expected it would take two to three weeks for me to reach Boston, perhaps, even a month, for I would spend a week in Athens to see my mother on the way there. I sent her my love, my devotion, my passion, mentally, in thought, by airmail and telepathy, until I arrived to deliver them in flesh and blood, in kisses and smiles, in caresses and erectile tissues.
Three weeks went by and I was thinking that in a few more days I was due for a letter from Lizzie. Meanwhile I was completing my arrangements for the trip and for an absence of some two months. After getting the necessary exit and re-entry visas from the Egyptian authorities, I went to Judith Swann for an entry visa to the US and had to give her the second installment of our cock and bull story. Lisa's aunt had supposedly temporarily recovered and Lisa was still there and I would go for a short holiday and we would return together. I had to look very cheerful and happy, which in any case I was. It was a classical case of a lie needing a whole series of supporting lies. A week later, I was granted a one-month tourist stay and I booked my ticket but kept on changing the departure dates. It had become a standing joke at the TWA offices. As usual things drag longer than one anticipates and a month later I was still in Cairo but finally about to leave. I had not received a letter from Lizzie and this troubled me. Then three days before my scheduled departure I received a telegram. As I opened it, I wondered what it could possibly be about.
I read it over and over again hoping that perhaps my eyes were playing tricks on me. That perhaps the message contained another secret message, a hidden meaning I did not see. LIZZIE INJURED IN AUTO CRASH. YOUR PRESENCE IMPERATIVE. CABLE ARRIVAL DETAILS. CORINA.
No, the shock, the blow, the dread was there in black and white. Succinct, enigmatic, concealing more than it revealed. What was obvious was the urgency. How bad a state was my Lizzie in? When did it happen? How did Corina find out? In the middle sixties, we were still in the stone age of international telephone communications and that was the reason that neither Corina nor I had each other's phone numbers. I just had to endure a two-day agony until I reached Boston. Luckily, I was all set with the formalities; I had over five thousand dollars left from Lizzie's rescue operation and all I had to do was switch my departure date to tomorrow. I rushed out of the house, considerably upsetting Mohammed who had laid the table for lunch and walked to the TWA offices for yet another adjustment of my departure. The employee at the desk smiled.
'Tomorrow, then? I guess that's final! We shall miss you.'
'Yes,' I replied. 'This is the last time.'
On the way to my office, I sent a cable to Corina giving her the date, flight number and approximate arrival time in Boston. At work, I told them that my mother had been suddenly taken ill and I had to leave unexpectedly. That I might be absent for some time and in such an eventuality I would try to reach them by telephone now and then. They mumbled unhappily and I said that this enterprise was the breadwinner for all of us and they had better take good care of it while I was away. When I returned home, I ate the meal Mohammed had prepared for lunch and left in the dining room and, after a short rest, packed erratically two middle-sized suitcases with the clothing I would need to face Boston weather. My mind kept drifting to Lizzie and I could not think what to pack in the suitcase, I could not think what I left out. Of course, Corina did not purposely omit details on Lizzie's condition but had she meant to torture me, she could not have done it any better. I was constantly mulling over worst-case scenarios of the accident and was unable to stop this useless speculation. At nine, I took a sleeping pill and went to bed.
The journey to Boston was interminable. Not for a moment did Lizzie spare my thoughts. Nor my aching heart. I prayed to the God I did not believe in. Then scorned myself for my weakness and the futility of prayer. I tried to cheer up by rationalizing that Corina would not have asked me to go if the situation was hopeless. Or would she? That perhaps Lizzie asked for me. That perhaps it would be my last chance to see her alive. On and on without respite until after about thirty hours of propeller airliner flying and anxious airport stops at the major European cities, I arrived in a freezing and cloudy Boston hoping the gloomy atmosphere was not a portend of bad news.
It was noon local time and Corina was waiting for me. She stood out in the crowd as I left the customs, tall and statuesque. She waved and smiled. My God, that smile gave me hope. I had forgotten how she looked. Well, in a manner of speech. She was taller than I remembered and not as handsome. She had the same short hairstyle and seemed tired. I chased away comparisons with Lizzie that crept into my mind. They were not fair. Lizzie was a Goddess, Corina just a superwoman. I was very happy to see her and we embraced tenderly. She would not let me go. It worried me that endless embrace.
'Lizzie? How is she?' I asked turning my face to hers even before she released me from her clasp.
'Not well, Michael, but seems to be improving. She was in a coma for a week but appears to be gradually inching out of it these last two days. The doctors think she will recover. They think your presence might be decisive and that's why I urged you to come. Give me one of your bags and let's go to the car. I'll tell you what happened on the way to the hospital.'
We walked rapidly to the car. It was snowing lightly and my hands were starting to ache from the cold. Corina kept turning to look at me and we smiled because her initial inference was one of hope. My two-day torture was largely over. I remembered the way I felt on arriving in Arabia. The thrill I felt that I would see Lizzie again. It was the same now. More precarious perhaps but I breathed deeply and with each breath my optimism increased. We would fight it out and we would either emerge victors or die together. It was not a manner of speech. I did not want, had no use for a life without Lisa.
As we entered the car, Corina said she would stop a moment on the way to buy me a pair of gloves.
'No, my sweet Corina. That can wait. Please tell me what happened.'
'Well, let me start at the beginning. Five days ago, by chance, in my office at the university, I picked up the local morning paper, which had been lying two or three days unread on a table and idly looked it over. On the front page were details of a freak accident that happened the previous evening. A car, a sports car, was trying to pass one of those huge, extra long vehicles. Half way along the vehicle, the driver of the sports car noticed another car coming in the opposite direction and braked to return to the rear. Ordinarily there would have been no problem. But there was frost that day and the roads were slippery. The tiny sports car skidded, collided on the side of the long vehicle, spun around and was slammed by the oncoming truck. The driver was a young woman by the name of Lisavetta Baccini, who was taken unconscious but alive to the emergency section of the Massachusetts General Hospital. I was about to turn the page when that name struck a chord in my memory. Could that be Lizzie, I wondered.
Luckily, I had just received your letter two days earlier and had her mother's phone number. I called. Somebody, probably a member of her family, answered and confirmed the accident.
'In the afternoon I went to the hospital and located the intensive care unit where Lizzie was treated. Outside, in the waiting room, I met her mother and a younger brother. They told me that Lisa was in a coma ever since they brought her to hospital. Already four days had gone by and the doctors were doing all they could to bring her around to avoid any permanent damage to her brain or even to prevent her sliding into the so-called vegetative state. Aside of the head injury, Lisa had broken an arm but that was of minor importance. The seat belt prevented further damage. I asked to speak to the doctor responsible for her case but he had just left and I was told to meet him in the morning.
'I was there at eight the next day, before my university classes and I met Dr Markus who was in charge of the neurological emergencies. He told me Lisa suffered a brain concussion, which is a brain injury with transient loss of brain function and can cause a variety of physical, cognitive and emotional symptoms. This is a relatively mild head injury and had neither a brain hemorrhage nor a brain herniation, that is, the blow did not cause a shift of some areas of the brain within the skull that would exert pressure on surrounding tissue and structures. Consequently, there was no increase in intracranial pressure and because the breathing muscles were not affected, there was no risk of asphyxiation and no need for a respirator. On the other hand, he cautioned me that people may emerge from a comma with a combination of physical, intellectual and psychological difficulties that need special attention.
'I have been going to the hospital every day. Well, it's only been these last three or four days in a row. The good news is that three days ago, Lisa responded to her mother's voice. She opened her eyes and looked at her for a few moments. Only that.
She did not respond to anyone else but she repeatedly opened her eyes when she heard her mother talking to her. I told Dr Markus that Lisa was engaged to be married and was deeply in love with her fiancé. Did he think your presence might help? He said it would without a doubt and I went down at once and sent you the telegram.'
'I really don't know how to thank you, Corina. I cannot express in words the admiration, friendship and love I feel for you.'
'Let's leave that for later. The good news continues. Yesterday Lisa managed to keep her eyes open for a few minutes while her mother talked to her. Dr Markus told Mrs. Baccini to talk to Lisa and explain to her how she came to be there because most people emerging from a coma are usually confused and do not remember the circumstances of their hospitalization. She kept looking at her mother and seemed to understand what she was told. It is a slow process and we must be patient.'
'Did you see her, Corina?'
'I saw her yesterday for the first time for just a moment. She is a very beautiful young woman. I had seen her, of course, four years ago at Logan airport but had forgotten how exquisite her face was. Let me warn you, however that her eyes are bruised and are blue-black all around but her nose luckily was not broken. Oh yes, the beauty despite this comes through. Another lucky break with Lisa was the fact that although most traumatic brain injuries are accompanied by spinal cord injuries, her spinal cord is intact.'
We reached the hospital quickly enough. Mass General, as it is known, is only four miles from Logan airport. My heart was beating madly. I could no longer return Corina's smiles. Parking space is limited at the hospital and Corina had some trouble finding a free spot. Finally, we were inside almost at a run. Long corridors, elevators, nurses, doctors, trolleys with patients, solutions dripping in their veins. Then, the waiting room.
'There's Lisa's mother,' Corina told me.
She walked up to her and shook her hand. A grey haired woman in her sixties who must have been beautiful in her youth. Perhaps because I knew she was Italian, I thought, yes, she could be nothing else. She had the Mediterranean sweetness that Anglo faces usually lacked, the appeal and mellowness that Lizzie inherited.
'How is she today?' Corina asked.
'Much, much better. Wonderful. Today I talked to her for quarter of an hour before she went to sleep again. I told her Michael was coming and she opened her eyes wide. She understood.'
'Here he is,' said Corina.
She looked at me as I came forward to shake her hand.
She held my hand with both of hers and said, 'Thank you.' She kept looking at me and I did not know what to say.
I turned to Corina. 'Can I see her?' I asked.
I followed her down the corridor to a small reception desk with two nurses. Corina told them that Mr. Makris was to visit Miss Baccini and that Dr Markus had authorized the visit. One of the nurses looked at a typewritten sheaf of papers and then asked me to follow her. There was a door behind the desk. She opened it and entered. I followed in a daze. I could not breathe normally. My heart clobbered my chest at an astounding rate. An invisible hand gripped my throat and choked me. On just two other occasions in my life did I feel such agony. When I left Lizzie at Logan airport and when I met her three years later at the Cairo Hilton casino. We entered a tiny vestibule and the girl picked a folded white gown from a pile, undid the plastic wrapping and asked me to wear it over my clothes.
'Please do not touch anything and do not touch Miss Baccini,' she told me.
We entered the intensive care unit. Four beds on one side of the room and four opposite. Between each bed electronic monitoring equipment and pipes and tubes descending from the ceiling. Right opposite the door was a large window whose light dazzled me momentarily and prevented me from focusing on the patients. Two nurses moved around purposefully and two of the patients were reclining, awake, on the upraised beds and pillows. The rest were on their backs, motionless with just blinking little lamps indicating they were alive. I followed the nurse to the bed furthest away and I saw Lizzie. The hand at my throat tightened. Her bruised, blue-black eyes were closed and a tube was up her nose. Her face was thinner and though peaceful, it seemed like the peace that comes after torment. The chain that held me prisoner, her beauty, was intact. She wore a white hospital gown with short sleeves, her lovely arms lay over the sheet that covered her, right arm in plaster and a serum tube attached to the other. The nurse went up to her and spoke to her loudly.
'Lisa, you have a visitor. Mr. Makris is here to see you.'
'Michael.'
'Michael is here to see you.' There was no reaction.
'She only responds to her mother's voice.'
I stood looking at her. She was in a coma and I loved her more than ever. I would die for her. I would give her my life, if it could be done, to save her.
'Talk to her,' the nurse said.
'In a moment,' I managed to utter. 'Okay. I'll leave you. Try talking to her.'
I stood looking at her for a while to collect myself. I looked at her arm, at the hands I knew so well. It was a terrible instruction this prohibition to touch her. And that face!
'Lizzie,' I said quietly. 'Lizzie darling.'
The eyes opened slowly, unfocused, looking straight ahead. 'Lizzie. It's me, Michael.'
They turned on me those lovely green eyes with the almost imperceptible cross- eyed aura, and with a small movement of her head, she looked at me. I waited for a reaction but she just kept looking.
'I have come to you, my darling. I am here and I shall never leave you again. Do you understand?'
She looked at me intently. Did she recognize me? Was she thinking? Did she understand?
'I am not a doctor my darling but I have come to cure you. I shall cure you with my love. You shall be well very soon. But you must help me, Lizzie. You must make a big, a great effort. For both of us. Both of us need to be resurrected.'
I smiled at her. The warning not to touch her was almost an ordeal. I bent over her while talking, looking at her face, her eyes, her mouth. I wanted her to look at me too.
'Will you make the effort? You are a strong and brave person and if you put your mind to it, we shall succeed. We have a life in front of us. Many, many years of happiness. Will you do it for me?'
She was so beautiful, my baby. So utterly beautiful as she looked at me in thought. I was sure it was thought. I was sure her mind was unharmed. A few of her faculties were temporarily disabled and would soon be restored.
'Do you still love me, Lizzie? Remember how unsure I was of your love?' She kept looking at me and then she smiled. She smiled!
'Oh Lizzie, my darling, this smile was the start of your healing. We surely are on our way. From now on, you shall refer to me as Dr. Michael. Forget all the other doctors. Well, okay, we shall consult them from time to time. But love is the medication just now.'
Her eyes did not leave my face.
'Now, I want you to try to say two words that are very important. Yes and no.
Okay?'
My Lizzie kept looking at me, the smile fading and reappearing as our conversation progressed. For it was an exchange, not a monologue. I hoped that in her infirm and battered brain she was building up hope, that there was a glimmer of happiness, an intention to make an effort. That the neurotransmissions between the 100 billion neurons via the 100 trillion synaptic connections would start functioning normally once again.
'Lizzie, my love, say yes.'
It took a few seconds and it came out softly. 'Yes.'
A smile.
'Now say, no.'
'No.'
'Thank you my dear. Now we can get on with our talk.' Another smile.
'And the most important question of all, which you answered with a smile but I want to hear in words. I need to be sure. Do you still love me, Lizzie?'
Her voice barely audible. 'Yes.'
'Do you still want to marry me?'
'Yes.'
'Do you think we shall be happy together?'
'Yes.'
'I am not allowed to touch you, my darling. I am not allowed to kiss you. It's torture. But I am so utterly happy. As happy as we were on the plane returning from Arabia because once again we are returning from Hades. As happy as we were in Pavlos's flat in Garden City with the same dreams of a happy life together. As happy as we shall be when we make love on a midsummer's night on top of the great pyramid.'
She smiled.
'I was coming to you anyway, but do you know who sent me a cable to tell me of your accident? To tell me to hurry?'
She thought and then, softly again, 'No.'
'Corina. She read about your accident in a local paper and cabled me immediately. She has been coming here every day to see how you are. Are you annoyed?'
'No.'
'I'm only asking because you used to sulk whenever I mentioned her in Cairo.'
'Yes,' she said and smiled.
I smiled too and we looked at each other in silence for a moment. I wondered what was going on in her mind. How much of our fiery love affair and frenzied lovemaking she remembered. Was there no memory loss?
'Do you remember your accident?'
'No.'
'Are you in pain?'
'No.'
'Move your arm.'
She was silent for a few moments. She looked away and then looked at me. 'I can't.'
'Yes you can.'
She smiled at me. Again, she looked away for a short while. 'I really cannot.'
'Try again.'
She looked away and was silent for a longer time. 'Maybe tomorrow,' she said.
The invisible hand tightened on my throat. Her speech was coming back. 'Yes, my darling.'
She smiled the lovely smile that was always prompt to qualify her nature, to throw me into new fits of love and emotions that overwhelmed me. Suddenly I was aware that one of the two nurses was standing just behind me. A pleasant-looking woman of about forty. When I turned and looked at her, she smiled.
'I am very glad to see Lisa is out of dysphasia, that is, she has started talking. It won't be long now. I think that in another two weeks she will be fully reestablished. We were a little worried in the past week when she was completely out. In one or two days she may be moved out of intensive care to a looser environment where she will start eating normally and may also undergo mild physical rehabilitation just so that her muscles and skeleton regain their tone. Of course, Dr Markus will decide that.'
'Is there no further treatment?'
'Usually, in concussions which are a milder form of brain injury, symptoms go away without treatment and no treatment exists. Traditionally sufferers are prescribed rest including plenty of sleep at night and rest in the morning. Sleep and rest are the only remedy that heals the brain. For that reason, I must ask you to let her rest.'
'I thought that perhaps love was equally important in the healing process.' The nurse laughed.
'Perhaps it is,' she said. 'I am sure it is.' She turned to Lizzie. 'Lisa, do you love this young man?'
Lizzie smiled. 'Madly,' she said.
'Did I say two weeks?' the nurse said laughing. 'Lisa, you'll be out in seven days.'