by Joyce Armor
They didn’t say anything, waiting for her to go on. She was rubbing her hands, as if they were cold. They probably were.
“You have to understand, Roger has been so thrilled about this move to France and selling “Muskman” Number One. I’ve never seen him so pumped. It was like we were 25 again with all the possibilities ahead. I was uncomfortable with him putting off the surgery, but he was so sure it would be all right. He can be very stubborn when he wants to be.”
“Did he have a heart attack?” Ellie dreaded the answer.
She nodded. “Yes, not exactly a minor one but not a major one either. They’re doing quadruple bypass surgery now, the surgery he was going to have next week. They wanted to wait but said they couldn’t, that he was in danger of having a major heart attack.”
“How long will it take?”
“Several hours. I guess it depends on what they find when they get in there. And any surgery is a risk, of course.” Her eyes filled up with tears, and one lone tear rolled down her cheek, wrenching Ellie’s heart, and she could see Russell fighting to keep his composure. Ellie placed a comforting arm around on her shoulder.
Spencer rose and tossed his cup in a trash can. “Roger will outlive us all,” he said. “And we did get the comic back, so his future is secure.”
“The comic,” Ellie gasped. “Where is it?”
“We put it in a safe deposit box until the check clears,” Bonnie said. “We weren’t going to take any chances with Sludge.”
Just then, Wesley and Chantella stepped off the elevator. They looked down the hallway, saw the Full Court Press group and waved as they approached. Chantella was wearing a floating black thing with a shimmery blue tank top underneath. She almost always wore a black something. Wesley, who always looked like he should be wearing a leather jacket, had on faded jeans and a Caesar’s Palace T-shirt. No jacket, of course, since it was summer and Las Vegas.
”How is he?” Chantella asked.
“He’s having heart bypass surgery. It’ll be a few hours.”
“Where Tiffy?” Spencer asked.
“Oh, she’ll be here. She stopped in the gift shop to buy Roger a balloon.” Chantella smiled. “I think the only ones they had left were bar mitzvah balloons, but I’m sure she won’t let that stop her.”
That got Bonnie laughing so hard, Ellie thought she was probably on the edge of hysteria. That didn’t bother her, since she figured she was pretty close to the edge, too. Bonnie had jumped up when Wesley and Chantella arrived, and there was definitely comfort in numbers. Now Russell had his fuzzy arm around Ellie’s shoulder, which brought another layer of comfort as well as a measure of warmth. Don’t get too cozy, even if you love him. Russell’s a fly-by-nighter, remember?
She remembered, all right, but who was here now, when she needed steadying? And then a strange thought occurred to her, and she turned to Russell. “You have Tarzan boxers? Is Jane on them?”
“No, but you should see Cheeta.”
Chapter 19
Was he in France? No, he was in pain. Big pain. Wait, did that even make sense? And who was groaning so mournfully? Was there a dying animal in the room? A moose, maybe? Or maybe it was a moose in labor. And why did it hurt to breathe? If he could just get his eyes open maybe he could get his bearings. Were his eyes sown shut? They felt like it. Or crusted shut. Yuck. Had he smoked something funny? No, he hadn’t done that in years and years. Why try to mellow out when you were already mellow? Breathe. Ow. But at least he could breathe. That must be a good thing. Think. Ow. And scratch. Why was his head itchy? Oh, no. Bonnie. Where was Bonnie? Were they in an accident? Was she all right? Could he even breathe without Bonnie?
Then he did manage to get his eyes open just a slit, and there she was, his wondrous Bonnie, sitting in a chair next to his bed. He slowly looked around. Yes, he was in a bed. He looked back at Bonnie. Her head was lolling to the side, utterly relaxed, her mouth open in slumber. And she had never looked more beautiful to him. Then it all came back to him. His damn heart. They were sitting at the bar when he’d started feeling funny. Then he was gasping for breath and seeing weird dots. Yes, definitely the heart thing. God, he hurt, but that meant he must have had the surgery, didn’t it? Surely he’d had the surgery. He felt a moment of panic. The comic! Where was it? Then he remembered they had secured it at the bank. So he’d had the surgery. This was a good thing. Now he didn’t have to dread having the surgery anymore. And he didn’t have to hide his fear from Bonnie anymore. And he didn’t have to put off the surgery anymore because he dreaded it.
“You’re awake.” She smiled. Then she frowned at him. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. I mean it, buster.”
He decided to play the weak-patient card. It wasn’t much of a stretch. “Water?” he croaked feebly.
She poured from a pitcher, adding a bendy straw to the glass, then raised his head gently and helped him drink. It was more difficult than he would have thought and left him exhausted.
“Thanks,” he almost whispered. He laid back. “Sigh. I guess I waited too long.”
“Yeah, you did. But the doc said they got all the blockage.” She patted his arm. His beautiful, surprisingly toned, hairy arm. “You’ll be as good as new before you know it.”
He shifted a little and groaned. “I’m sorry, Bon.”
She patted his hand. “You’re a pretty sorry mess right now, all right, but a few weeks from now you’re going to be eating Dove Bars in France, where you’ll become a god.”
“Ow. Christ. Don’t make me laugh. Do I have a catheter?”
“This too shall pass.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Yeah.” She smiled as she adjusted his blanket under his arms. “I haven’t called the kids yet. I thought I’d wait to see how you’re feeling.”
“Yeah, well…Let’s not worry them. We’ll tell them when I’m back to doing bench presses.”
“Like you’ve ever done a bench press in your life.”
“Hmph. I could’ve if I’d wanted to.”
She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “No doubt. I think you could do anything you wanted to, Roger Neff. But whatever it is, you won’t be doing it without me.”
By the end of morning visiting hours, Spencer, Wesley, Chantella, Ellie, Russell and even Tiffy had stopped by to see Roger. He recognized the worry in their faces, well, all except Tiffy, who seemed ill at ease and not her usual bubbly self. The patient tried to look healthier than he felt to put his visitors at ease, but he was sure most of them saw through his façade, especially when he looked in a hand mirror Bonnie had brought and saw his pasty white complexion.
The visitors were all so different in their approaches, Ellie chatting as if he hadn’t just had major surgery, Wesley bringing him up to date on convention sales, Spencer making fun of his hospital gown and Russell cracking a joke about him having a heart after all. Chantella busied herself rearranging the large bouquet of flowers the convention management team had sent as she shared a little convention gossip. A Last Gasp writer had eloped with a Bite Me artist, and the brothers who owned Cherrytopia had sold the comix publishing company for a reported $1.5 million. When Wesley asked Roger why they weren’t selling Full Court Press, he just shrugged and said they weren’t ready. The others had a feeling some new publications might be originating in France in the near or distant future.
Bonnie was very territorial and shooed each visitor out after about 10 minutes. By late afternoon Roger wasn’t feeling that much better, but he was getting antsy. As calm a guy as he typically was, Roger had never been one to sit around doing nothing; he liked to be busy, whether it was puttering with a computer, writing new programs or building a table. He was a talented woodworker. Bonnie had set the TV to a Bruce Lee movie and was midway through a game of chess with her husband.
“Sigh.”
“What is it, your grumpiness?”
He moved a knight, taking one of her pawns. “How long am I going to be a prisoner her
e?”
She smiled. “I forgot what a crappy patient you are. Several days, at least. Suck it up, bucko.”
He moved his last remaining rook. “Check.”
“You were just trying to distract me.”
“Sigh. I don’t feel immortal anymore.”
“I concede.” She moved the chess board over to the table and carefully climbed in bed with him. “I don’t either. It sucks getting old, doesn’t it?”
He painstakingly, painfully put his arm around her. “Yes, it does. And it seems once you reach the age of 50, time speeds up. Though I think we have a few good years ahead of us, my love.”
She kissed his cheek. “Oui, oui, monsieur, and to make sure of that, we’re going to talk about your diet.”
He grimaced. “Yes, ma’am.” He looked at her, this woman who had been through every high and low of his adult life, the partner who had never had anything but his best interest at heart. Ignoring the pain, he leaned over and kissed her forehead with all the love he held in his heart. “Dove bars are nonnegotiable.”
* * *
Before she left the hospital, Ellie did visit the maternity ward, while Russell wandered off to the children’s ward. She was surprised to find Wesley, of all people, looking through the glass at several infants. He had such an expression of wonder in his eyes. It’s almost mystical looking at new life, isn’t it? Such tiny infants. So much potential. Potential to change the world really. Awesome in the true sense of the word, filling one with awe.
“I didn’t know you were into babies, Wesley.”
“I like babies,” he said, sounding almost defensive. “Who doesn’t like babies? Babies are good.”
She studied him for a minute while he continued to look over the infants. “Oh, my God.”
He stepped back, startled. “What?”
“Chantella’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
He sucked in a deep breath. “This is the worst-kept secret in town. I don’t know how everybody keeps guessing. She doesn’t look pregnant at all yet.”
“Well, it’s not a big leap if you’re looking at babies. Not a lot of 22-year-old guys are fascinated by babies.” She placed a hand on his arm. Yes, she was definitely an arm-grabber. She had never noticed that before. And she kind of talked with her hands, too. You must have some Italian in your DNA. Ignore extraneous thoughts. “Is she all right?
“You know Chantella. She can handle anything.” He went back to looking at the four babies, three wrapped in pink blankets and one in blue.
“How are you handling it?”
He looked back at her, smiling. “I was kinda shocked at first, but the idea has grown on me. It’s a little scary, starting a new life. A big responsibility. But I feel happy. And proud, I think.”
She chuckled. “Yes, you are much man.”
He broke into a grin, and looked incredibly handsome. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant I’m proud to be her man and share this experience with her.”
“That’s a great way to look at it. Will you get married, or is that me being the cheerful elf?” The arm grab again. “And just tell me if I’m being too nosy.”
He tapped on the glass to see if he could get a reaction from any of the babies and then glanced at Ellie. “No, you’re good. We’re still negotiating on that. It’s pretty much up to her.”
“As it should be, since women rule the world.”
He snorted.
Ellie looked at the babies again and then back at Wesley. “If you or she needs anything, I’m your girl. Call me day or night.”
He suddenly reached out, grabbed her and hugged her soundly. His happiness was practically contagious. “Thanks, Ellie. It’ll be wild, that’s for sure.” He stepped back. “Uh, we’re not ready to share this with anybody who doesn’t already know yet.” He hesitated a moment and then added, “If there is anybody who doesn’t already know.”
She laughed. “Got it. You might want to not hang around the maternity ward then. Just saying.”
He smiled and went back to gazing at the babies.
She looked up at him and a thought occurred to her. “You’re thinking of names, aren’t you?”
His eyes lit up. “I like Lancelot and Guinevere.”
“Good luck getting those by Chantella. Not to mention, do you really want your kids to get beat up in school?”
* * *
As planned, Wesley met Chantella in the hospital cafeteria a few minutes later. They grabbed turkey sandwiches and lemonades and chose a table in the corner where they would have some privacy. They chatted about the convention, the upcoming weather and their extended families, ignoring the elephant in the room until they finished eating.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then methodically folded it and put it on his plate. Then he looked into Chantella’s eyes with all the love he felt in his heart. “Have you made any decisions about the baby?”
She picked up a piece of turkey on her plate and studied it for a moment before popping it into her mouth while he thought he couldn’t wait another moment for her answer. Then, calm as could be, she said, “I want to have the baby, and I’m going to keep it,” and he felt such joy, it was all he could do not to leap over the table and squeeze her until she screamed.
And then he remembered she said “I’m going to keep it,” not “We’re going to keep it.”
“What about me?” It was out before he could think about how pathetic he sounded.
He looked so forlorn, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’m going to keep you, too,” she smiled. “You’re not getting out of this, my love. We’re in this together.”
He sighed a happy sigh. “I’m…I don’t know what I am. Honored, I guess. Do you want to know what I think we should do?”
She told him she did, although she was a little afraid of what he would say. But what could he say? They’d be together through this or they wouldn’t.
He reached over the table and took her hand. “Since I have the bigger apartment, I think you should move in with me.”
It was almost a moot point, since they spent most nights at his or her apartment. She had resisted moving in together in the past, not because she had anything against it. It was more that she was reluctant to give up her independence.
“You want us to live together?” She felt a stab of disappointment under the circumstances but tried not to let it show. She realized she hadn’t exactly given out marriage vibes in the past year. Or 12.
“Yes,” he smiled. “Right after you marry me.”
Her disappointment turned to borderline elation, tempered with borderline caution. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she would love him forever. She had no doubt that she would. Maybe it was that marriage was so traditional, and she had fought so long to do the unexpected. But this was Wesley.
“I don’t know, Wesley. It’s a big step. Are you absolutely positive?”
He leaned back, crossing his arms, tipping his head back. “You’re not philosophically opposed to marriage, are you?”
She wasn’t and she told him so. She didn’t admit that she had thought of it as a rather archaic institution right up until she met and fell and love with him. Then all bets were off.
“Then I couldn’t be more sure. You know we’ve talked about having children someday. This is a little sooner than we planned, but I was always hoping you’d marry me. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Chantella. You’re my lady fair, and you light my path. We’re a team, now and forever.”
She offered him her pickle.
He took it and took a bite. “Aren’t you supposed to like pickles?”
“You’re not asking me to be normal, are you?” Her eyes were twinkling.
He leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “Never.”
She bent down and kissed his hand reverently. “You know we’re both about to lose our jobs,” she couldn’t help pointing out.
“I have some ideas about that, too,” he said.
Ah, the inventiveness
and resilience of youth.
* * *
“It was difficult seeing Roger so…so weak and…and little,” Ellie said to Russell as they drove back to the convention center. “Didn’t you think he looked littler? He’s always been larger than life.”
Russell looked amused.” Littler?”
“Yeah, in a not-a-Superman kind of way.”
“Well, maybe, but people look different when they’re horizontal.” He tamped down an image of her horizontal. With a tongue the size of that tongue on her t-shirt. Stop it! “He seems to be handling it well.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m thinking those life-or-death situations can really change you, but he seemed his old self, in a weakened kind of way. Tiffy was weird. Did you notice that?”
Russell took a swig of his bottled water. “Oh, she hates hospitals. Her mother died in one after what was supposed to be routine surgery on her knee. I think it was a blood clot. And she spent a lot of time visiting her grandmother in the hospital when she was a kid, back when hospitals smelled a lot worse.”
“Wow.”
“What?”
Ellie buzzed down her window to let some of the Las Vegas oven wind in. “I don’t know, I guess I’m kinda surprised that you listened to her long enough to know all that.”
“I’ll try not to be insulted by that.”
“I just mean, I thought you two were busy doing…uh…other things.”
“You might be surprised.”
Ellie was smiling as she pulled into the convention center back parking lot. After trolling the rows, she found a parking space only four rows from the ramp. Russell had just stepped out of the truck when he felt a hard object in his back.
“Ouch.”
“Well, just the rodent I wanted to see,” Sludge said ominously. Still, his voice conveyed his telltale smirk.
What was he doing here? Was he still drunk? No doubt he was pissed. Russell could hear it in his voice. That was a given, though, since they’d gotten the comic back.
