Coming Out

“Poor kid, he looks awful. He's covered with calamine. I didn't think that many spots could fit on one child. He even has them inside his ears, nose, and mouth.”

“Poor thing. How's your cold?”

“Miserable,” Olympia admitted. “I hope I get rid of it by Saturday night.”

“Yes, so do I,” Frieda said, sounding vague. And for the first time ever, Olympia had the impression that her mother-in-law was drunk. She hadn't noticed it at first, but she was definitely slurring her words. For an instant, Olympia was afraid she'd had a stroke. She'd had a heart attack five years before, but had been fine ever since.

“Are you all right?” Olympia asked, sounding worried.

“Yes…yes…I am…” She hesitated, and her daughter-in-law could hear a tremor in her voice. “I had a little mishap this afternoon,” she said, sounding embarrassed. She loved her independence, managed well on her own, and never liked to be a burden to anyone. She rarely told anyone when she was sick, but only reported on it days or weeks later.

“What kind of mishap?” Olympia asked, blowing her nose.

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Olympia was afraid she'd fallen asleep. She definitely sounded drunk.

“Frieda?” Olympia roused her, and heard her stir at the other end.

“Sorry… I'm feeling a little drowsy. I went to get some groceries before the storm got worse. I slipped on the ice. But I'm fine now.” She didn't sound it.

“What happened? Did you get hurt?”

“Nothing serious,” Frieda reassured her. “I'll be fine in a few days.”

“How fine? Did you see a doctor?”

There was another long pause before she answered. “I broke my ankle,” she said, sounding chagrined and feeling foolish. “I fell on a patch of ice on the curb. It was such a stupid thing. I should know better.”

“Oh my God, how awful. Did you go to the hospital? Why didn't you call me?”

“I know how busy you are at work. I didn't want to bother you. I called Harry, but I couldn't get through. He was in a meeting.”

“He still is,” Olympia said, obviously distressed over her mother-in-law's accident, and that she hadn't been there to help. “You should have called me, Frieda.” She hated the thought of the older woman negotiating the emergency room alone.

“They put me in an ambulance and took me to NYU.” It had been quite an adventure, and she had been there all afternoon.

“Are you in a cast?” Olympia was horrified. What had happened to Frieda was far worse than Max's chicken pox, Ginny's cough, or her cold.

“Up to my knee.”

“How did you get home?”

“I'm not.”

“You're not ? Where are you?” The story was getting worse by the minute.

“I'm still at the hospital. They didn't want me to go home alone. I'll be on crutches for a few weeks. I'm just lucky I didn't break a hip.”

“Oh my God! Frieda! I'm coming to get you. You can stay here with us.”

“I don't want to be a burden. I'll be fine tomorrow. And I'm still coming to the ball!”

“Of course you are. We'll get you a wheelchair,” Olympia said, suddenly thinking of the logistics of getting her there. Nothing in life was easy, particularly at this time of year.

“I'll walk,” Frieda said staunchly, although they had already told her that she wouldn't be able to put weight on her left foot for several weeks. She was going to have to hop around, with the crutches. But she was still determined not to be a problem for anyone. As always, she was sure she could manage on her own.

“You can stay here tonight. You've had chicken pox, right?”

“I think so. I'm not worried about that.” Olympia knew that for elderly people, exposure to chicken pox could sometimes result in shingles. But they couldn't leave her alone at home. She might fall and break something else. She had to stay with them. “I don't want to bother you and the children,” Frieda said, and as Olympia listened, she realized they must have given her something for the pain.

“You're not a bother, and there's no reason for you to stay there. Will they let you leave tonight?”

“I think so,” Frieda said vaguely.

“I'll call and ask the nurse, and call you back.” Olympia took down the details of her room number, the section of the hospital she was in, and the nurses' station that was nearest to her. Although she had obviously been sedated, she was remarkably coherent, and kept apologizing for being a pain in the neck. “You're not,” Olympia assured her, and hung up. She tried calling Harry at the office, but his private line was on voicemail, and his secretary had left. It was after eight o'clock.