“Be that as it may, I’m well enough to continue,” I say, turning back to Judge Horton.
“Overruled,” Horton says. “We will resume at nine in themorning if you’re up to it. If not, we’ll resume at nine on Wednesday.”
He nods at Katherine Welsh. “I assume that’s acceptable to you, counselor?”
“You know something, Your Honor,” she says, “I feel a touch of the stomach flu coming on, and I’m the one who needs to take the rest of the day, something of which I’m sure you can inform the jury, right before I inform the media.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I tell her.
“I know I don’t,” she says. “But I just did.”
She is the first one to head toward the door. Before she leaves, I say, “Quit trying to make me like you.”
She stops, turns around.
“I’m a cancer survivor, too,” she says, and leaves.
SIXTY-SIX
JIMMY REFUSES TO LEAVE me alone in the house, meaning alone with only Rip the therapy dog as company, and stays until Dr. Ben arrives from his office.
Jimmy reluctantly gave Norma the keys to his own car for the short trip to her Airbnb, then drove us in my car back to Amagansett. Along the way, and over my objections, he placed a call to Dr. Sam Wylie to tell her what had happened.
When Sam was on speaker, she asked if I’d eaten anything before court. I told her I’d had an energy bar. So she asks what I had to drink and I tell her two cups of coffee and a Red Bull, does that count?
“Oh good,” she says. “The breakfast of champions.”
Then she says, “You know you’ve gotten weak like this before when you got yourself to the brink of dehydration.”
Jimmy says, “Her boyfriend’s an animal doctor. Is there a way for him to stick an IV needle in her ass to get her attention?”
“Just make her drink about a gallon or so of water when she’s back at the house, get her to bed as soon as you can, and call me in the morning,” Sam says, before adding, “Idiot.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say to Jimmy,” I tell her.
“We all know who I meant,” Sam says.
When we’re in my living room Jimmy sits next to me on the couch and watches as I put away two plastic bottles ofwater, making me promise that I’ll eat something after Ben arrives. I promise.
When Ben does walk through the front door, Jimmy puts his arm around me, kisses my hair, and says, “I love you.”
“Hey,” Ben says. “Hands off my girl.”
Jimmy stands. “Fine,” he says. “You can have her.”
Ben takes Jimmy’s place next to me on the couch. Rip is at our feet. Then Ben pulls me close to him.
“Hey,” he says. “You okay now?”
“No,” I say.
I start to cry. It all comes out of me in a rush, the kind of crying I usually try to keep to myself. But tonight I can’t stop myself.
Ben doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. We stay where we are, barely moving, for what feels like a long time, as I just let it go.
When I do finally try to say something, he gently puts a finger to my lips.
“Hard as this might be to process,” he says, “sometimes the best thing for you is tonottalk.”
