Maggie watched in terror as her husband of four years compressed himself into a twisted quivering ball.

“Alex” Maggie shrieked, “this isn’t funny, you’re scaring me!”

She brushed a sandy curl from his sweat soaked forehead.

 No fever she thought, that’s good. His unblinking eyes were unresponsive as she waved her hand frantically in front of his brow. His expression vapid, lifeless.

“That’s it, I’m calling an ambulance”

Trembling she dialed 911 sputtering out her husband’s symptoms….can’t move…staring…catatonic, yes he’s breathing.

 Alex was rocking back and forth, the crown of his head beating a steady rhythm into the ornate carved pine headboard.

She tried to follow his line of his gaze. Nothing seemed out of place: there was the antique armoire they had purchased in Vermont, a pile of clean folded laundry waiting to be stowed neatly away, his bear in a football uniform…the bear, which had been a subject of great debate when they had first moved in together five years prior.

“Our bedroom is French country” Maggie insisted through gritted teeth, “he just doesn’t go…”

“I’m pretty sure they have bears in France…” Alex grinned.

“Not in football uniforms” Maggie hissed

“Purrhaps weee can dress heem in Yves saint Laurent, no?” he mocked her in a marginal rendition of a famous Parisian cartoon skunk.

“Please mon amour! Si’l vous plait?” He chased her around the bed, lips puckered “kieeessss, kieeeesss”

Maggie threw her hands in the air in resignation. In marriage as in life she had to choose her battles. The bear won.

“They’re on their way” the operator responded dryly, after Maggie struggled to remember her own address and relay it to the voice on the other and of the phone.

The ambulance wavered through the morning traffic, with Maggie driving behind, eyes fixated on the beacon of revolving red lights.

They had spent an hour in the ER, before the doctor on call had Alex transferred to Green Hills Psychiatric Center.

“There is actually nothing physically wrong with your husband Mrs. Martin.” The lead psychiatrist informed Maggie, his tone condescending. “It says here he was scared by the alarm clock?” Why had she said that?

“Well he was saying something about the alarm clock, hearing something on the radio…?” Maggie went on.

 “Sometimes certain visual disturbances can bring on a catatonic state, less so with auditory stimuli…no…tell me, has your husband been under any unusual stress lately? Maybe at work? He’s an….” The Dr.s gaze followed the intake questionnaire to the line reading occupation.

“Yes, Maggie offered, “He’s an astrophysicist”

Yes, he’s a rocket scientist…OK you lab rat?…and a hell of a chili chef…and I want him back…she wanted to scream but didn’t.

 “He did say there was something at work, he didn’t…couldn’t share much with me, and his sister is sick,” She didn’t mention that she had been badgering him to start a family. Had her nagging contributed to this?

“We’ll admit him for observation and start some medication. If you would like to bring a few things from home; that can sometimes help trigger a response”.

Maggie raced home and looked about the bedroom for something comforting. Something that would say, remember me?..us? The candles from the night before had hardened into solid pastel pools, a scent of lavender still lingering in the oddly silent air. She would not cry. She grabbed Alex’s favorite college sweatshirt, the football bear, their wedding photo and placed them into a duffle bag with a few other items she thought might make a barren room in a psychiatric hospital more palatable, even for someone in a catatonic state.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Martin”, the nurse touched her gently on the arm. Her eyes resonated with genuine warmth against her flawless coffee colored skin. “He’s in good hands. I’ve seen this before” her voice hushed now “They always bounce back just fine”. That was the first time that day, that Maggie felt some sense of relief.

Candice led them down a bright wide hallway, festooned with grotesquely cheery paintings of flowers and seascapes.

“Hey Candy” a raven-haired orderly flirted, leaning on his broom handle. “New customer?”

Candice flashed him a look of disdain and continued on.

“Sorry about that guy.” He watched as they wheeled Alex down the corridor.

The orderly slipped into a broom closet and dialed a cell phone concealed in a stack of towels.

“Hey, its 459…yep, he’s here…about ten minutes ago.”

Suddenly Maggie heard a Star wars theme playing. Alex’s cell phone was in her pocket. She had grabbed it along with her own to get any contact numbers she may need.

A cartoon yoda appeared on the tiny screen with “Leonard Ivanov” underneath.

“buuuudddy! Playing hooky?” the thick Russian accent hadn’t waited for a response.

“Leonard?’ this is Maggie, Alex’s wife. “Alex is really…sick…he’s in the hospital…something’s very wrong”

 There was a brief silence then “I’m so sorry I’ll be there right away.”

The phone beeped off. He didn’t need to come here. Anyway the fool had no idea where they were, she thought. She was all too familiar with the ironic absentmindedness of the genius mind. He’ll call back any moment.

The hospital room contained a single bed with a window overlooking the manicured entryway and parking lot. It was washed in fluorescent light adorned again with the obligatory cheery artwork. The two women were able to help a still paralyzed Alex into the high narrow bed with surprising ease. Maggie draped the felt blanket over his shivering body and kissed his forehead, cool under her dry lips. Would he do this to her? Leave her in a mental institution if the roles were reversed?

Suddenly she caught sight of Leonard, getting out of a charcoal gray sedan in the parking lot. How on earth had he tracked them down? Maybe he wasn’t so absentminded after all.

“I bought some things…from home.” Maggie told Candice as she unpacked his few belongings.

“That will help a lot…oh cute” Candice smiled as she set the bear gently on the bureau. “Oooh I’ve always wanted one of these” she exclaimed as Maggie unwrapped the electrical cord from around the white plastic body of the sound machine.

“We just got it, he teased me about it but I thought it might be relaxing.”

“That’s great, we’ll put it on before he goes to sleep…maybe ocean, Mr. Martin?” she addressed the motionless man gently “or rainforest…?”