Happy Birthday: A Novel

“I’m fine. Just a little shaky. It was a terrifying day. I came to thank you for helping to get me out. That was a brave thing for you to do and I’m sorry you got shot.” She said it admiringly, and he smiled. He had been hearing it all day, and all the nurses on the floor had been fighting to take care of him. He was in good hands.

“That’s okay. I’ll be fine,” he said, trying to sound light-hearted. He changed the subject then. “The day I saw you in the elevator, I didn’t know it was your birthday till I saw it on the news. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself that day. It was my birthday too, and I was a mess with my herniated disk.”

“Your back looked pretty bad. I felt really sorry for you. How is it now?”

“It’s fine. I’m going to be on crutches for a while for the leg. Shit, ever since my birthday, I’ve been falling apart.” He laughed again. “I hit fifty, and it’s been downhill ever since.” He had heard how old she was on the news, so he knew she was older, but she didn’t look it. He thought she looked great, and not nearly her age, and old enough to have a daughter as grown-up as April. Even after the events of the day before, and with very little makeup on, he thought Valerie looked terrific.

“Don’t talk to me about birthdays. I’ve always kept mine quiet, and they had it all over radio and TV this year. I nearly had a heart attack when I heard it.” And then she sighed. “Somehow after yesterday, it doesn’t seem important. We’re lucky to be alive.” They were both sobered by the reality that so many others hadn’t survived it. “Today I don’t even care how old I am.” And she meant it.

“Yeah, me too, and I figure if I can survive a sniper, I should be okay from now on. The night of my birthday, I figured I was all washed up.”

“So did I.” She smiled. “I don’t want to wear you out,” she said politely, and he looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, two IVs going into his arms, and a machine next to him to self-administer pain medication. He was no longer on the critical list, but he was by no means recovered yet, and he had nearly died the night before. “I just wanted to thank you in person.”

“I really appreciate that, Valerie,” he said, saying her name for the first time. And as she stood up, she realized how long his legs were in the bed. He was a tall, powerfully built man. “Thanks again for the food. Why don’t we have dinner at April’s sometime? They’re sending me home in time for Christmas, in a few days.”

“I’d offer to cook for you,” she said, as she approached the bed, and he smiled at her, “but I set a great table, and I’m a rotten cook. April is the chef in the family, I’m not.”

“I’m a pretty good cook, if I can stand up when I get out of here. I think April’s is our best bet. I’ll call you in a few days. Thanks for coming by.”

“Thanks for saving me,” she said, with a serious expression and tears in her eyes. “I thought we were going to die.” He reached out and took her hand and held it in his own with an equally serious expression.

“I wasn’t going to let that happen to you, or the others, if I could help it, once I had you in my sights in the lobby. You’re all right now,” he reassured her, and she nodded and brushed the tears off her cheeks. She was still very emotional after the day before, and the death of her assistant. And Jack was upset about Norman, the young assistant producer of his show, who had been one of the eleven who died. It had all hit very close to home. To them, the casualties weren’t just names, they were people they had cared about and known.

“I’m sorry. I’m still kind of shaken up after yesterday,” Valerie said with a trembling voice.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, and smiled at her again. There was something about him that was very reassuring. “Take care of yourself,” he said, sounding genuine and concerned.

“I will. You too. Would you like more food tomorrow?” It was all she could offer, although there were flower arrangements everywhere. Dozens of others had been sent to other wards and rooms.

“I’d love it. I’m addicted to April’s apple pie, if she has any. Waffles, fried chicken.” His appetite was healthy, and he was smiling at her. “Thanks for coming, Valerie. Take it easy. Don’t go back to work too soon.”

“Are you kidding?” She laughed. “I’m taping again tomorrow. I have another Christmas episode to do, for my evening show.”

“I’m off till the Super Bowl now. Dead or alive, they want me on air for it in Miami.” It was always the high point of his year as a sportscaster, just as it had been when he played football.