by Tom Bierdz
I nodded. “Life sucks. You doing any better?”
She grinned bitterly. “I’ll never be the same. I love Kevin but I damn him for being so selfish. He not only destroyed himself. He destroyed this family. I’ll go on because that’s what I’m supposed to do, but on my terms. I can’t take you back. Ever.”
“What? Don’t you think that’s a little rash? You’ve been dealt a serious blow. This isn’t the time to make life-altering decisions.”
“Maybe so, but I have no other choice—”
“–You always have a choice.”
“I choose to end our marriage. It’s a sham. I can’t look up to you, respect you, anymore. You didn’t protect us. You let him die.”
I put my hands on her shoulder. “Don’t you think I know that? How do you think I feel?”
She brushed my hands off her. “I don’t hate you, Grant, and I do feel for you. I just can’t live with you anymore.”
Knowing additional pleading or breaking down wouldn’t do any good, make her reconsider, I drained my drink and left, my vision obscured by the tears in my eyes. As I left I passed Bobby, my brother-in-law, who was coming to visit Hanna. Bobby was in his early twenties, a good ten years younger than his sister, born as a surprise to his parents who thought their child rearing years were far behind them. “Hey, Grant. Let’s shoot hoops one of these days. Be good for you.”
With my head down to hide the flowing tears, I waved without answering and climbed into my car.
7
I resumed my work at the office. It never got back to the previous ebb and flow, although it became more comfortable. I frequently felt unworthy, as if I was some kind of faker, a pretender, especially with cases similar to mine. Those were the painful situations. I took Carrie’s offer and stayed at her downtown condo for two days but that arrangement didn’t work out. We had fun and enjoyed each other’s company, but the place was too small. There was no room to get away from one another. Although her sofa had three cushions, it was too short for sleeping, and it was better classified as a love seat. Carrie volunteered to sleep there and give me the bed. I couldn’t accept that. We knew what sleeping together on the bed would lead to, and we refused to ruin a beautiful friendship. Consequently, I was back at the same hotel temporarily.
Two weeks later Mary came in for her appointment. Although she always looked good, she seemed to display a little more glamour in how she arranged her hair and showed a little more cleavage in her dress. After a few minutes, she asked, “Are you back with Hanna?”
I shook my head. “She filed for divorce.”
“I don’t understand how she could do that. You didn’t make Kevin jump.”
“I didn’t stop him either.” I struggled to hide the pain. “Mary, this is your time. Let’s talk about you.”
“Just one more thing. That apartment above the garage is still vacant.”
“You’re not saving it for me?”
“No, I had it rented out to a young couple. Their deposit bounced and their credit was bad.”
I was tired of living in a hotel and it was expensive. Hanna wasn’t going to take me back, and if she did, I could just as easily return from an apartment. “Okay, I’ll take it on a month to month with the condition that you continue to market it. You get a tenant and I’ll move out.”
She agreed and we made plans for me to move in the following day.
She spent the rest of her time telling me that her ex, Dennis, got remarried and wanted custody of their four year-old son, Benjamin.
“You haven’t said much about Dennis.” My only thoughts of Dennis that immediately came to mind was how she complained about his criticism of her. Most had to do with his demands on her time. He objected to her working the night shift when she didn’t have a choice. The hospital set up the schedule. He wanted a wife to be at his beck and call, administer to his every need. He resented her going back to work a year after the baby was born. At the same time he looked forward to the extra income and bought himself a new truck. He was proud to be a father and enjoyed the cute childish behavior, but he did not like the responsibility of caring for Benjamin when Mary was not around.
“That’s because he’s pretty much been an absent father. He comes to visit Benny twice a year.”
“Does he have visitation?”
“Yes, and he pays his child support regularly. I don’t object to his visits. I wish he were more involved, but I’m not going to turn over custody.”
“Based on what you said, I don’t see that happening. Now that he’s married, his lifestyle has changed. Maybe his wife is pushing him. Are there other children?”
“I don’t even know.”
“You have a good attorney?”
“Yes. Dennis seems to think he can use my coming to see you against me. Like I’m unfit.”
I laughed. “That may have worked fifty years ago but I don’t think any judge, today, would automatically hold that against you. Besides, I’d write a report, and testify if necessary, that you’re a good mother and there is absolutely no reason why you should not continue to have custody of your son.”
“That’s reassuring.”
After work I drove to Mary’s place to check out the apartment. It was probably fifteen minutes away as the crow flies, but took me well over a half hour due to the rush hour traffic. The main green, Victorian, Queen Anne house sat on a narrow but deep lot. A blacktop drive led to the two car garage and the one bedroom studio apartment, reached by a staircase inside. Mary had a single car which allowed garage space for the tenants.
Dressed in jeans and a white long-sleeved tee, Mary greeted me and introduced me to Benny, her four-year-old, dressed in bib overhauls and a blue striped cotton tee. With shaggy, dark hair, bright dark eyes, and a winsome smile, Benny offered his hand to shake, “Pleased to meet you Mister…”
“Doctor,” Mary corrected.
“…Doctor. I don’t need a shot.”
Smiling, I shook his hand and bent down to his level. “No, Benny, I didn’t come to give you a shot. I came to see the apartment. Will you show it to me?”
Benny nodded.
Mary hit the garage door opener and we walked inside. The stairs were on the left. I picked up Benny and followed Mary inside. A double bed was centered beneath the back windows and under a peaked wooden ceiling. A complete kitchen with sub-standard size appliances and adequate counter space rested against a side wall. A bath with a shower was cut into the rear corner. Another set of windows in the front looked out at the back of the main house. The apartment was comfortably furnished with old but quality furniture. There was a small table with seating for two.
“Dennis did much of the remodel himself.”
“Obviously, he’s very talented.”
Benny stood on top of the bed gazing out the back window.
“You still want it?”
“Yeah, under the conditions I mentioned.” I wrote out a check for the first month. It was a far cry from our beautiful home but a bit more cozy and cheaper than the hotel. Plus, it was temporary. I thought my apartment living had ended years ago. The future was never guaranteed.
I moved in the next day bringing my toiletries, many of my clothes, a TV, and computer from my office. Hanna chose to be gone to make the move easier on both of us. Mary welcomed me with a card and a small bottle of champagne. A note told me she had been called in to work the night shift that week so we saw very little of each other. Vera, an older lady, came in to care for Benny.
Unseasonably warm weather lured me outside one day when Benny was playing in the yard. Since Mary had sung my praises to Vera, she gave me permission to take Benny to the park in the neighborhood. He remembered me and was a willing companion. I sat on a bench and watched Benny master the playscape. Familiar with the equipment, he would climb the stairs and look to see if I was watching before he slid down through a tube. I’d cheer and clap and he’d laugh. Like stuck in a replay, Benny continued climbing and sliding until he got tired. We
stopped for an ice cream cone then headed home.
Although, I enjoyed myself, I couldn’t help recalling taking Kevin to the park. He was like Benny at that age, full of vim and vinegar, delighted with life and all it had to offer. How sad that he lost his zest for life. Had he been less impulsive I was certain he would have found it again, sometime later. Death wasn’t reversible. There was a time I was sure the Benny I’d be taking to the park was my grandson.
Mary never got back on the day shift which made my transition workable. I needed alone time to get in touch with my inner self. I did hang out with Carrie often. Like old times, we went to happy hours at O’Reilly’s, a local pub frequented by young professionals, mainly lawyers. On the weekends Mary became a companion. The three of us – Mary, Benny, and I– frequently dined out for supper. Occasionally Mary made dinner. She was a good cook and focused on meals that could be made quickly like spaghetti, burgers, and sandwiches. We flirted now and then, but kept an acceptable distance because she was still my patient, and I was, technically, and still emotionally, tied to Hanna.
One night after a few drinks I was feeling sorry for myself. Sitting in my chair, watching TV, I fell asleep. Later, when I awoke, I kept opening and closing my hands because, I thought, they had fallen asleep.
“What are you doing with your hands?” Hanna asked, from her chair in the room.
“They fell asleep.”
She gave me a ‘whatever’ look. “Maybe this time. You’ve been doing that a lot these past few days.”
“Really?”
“Really. I think it’s because you never touched him. He’s lived under the same roof with us for fifteen years and you never touch him. When was the last time you hugged him, let alone touched him? You used to. You held him all the time when he was a baby. You carried and played with him as a toddler.” She fingered away a tear that developed. “Now you can’t get that empty feeling out of your hands.”
Wow!
I heard a knock on the door. Mary walked in distressed, breathing hard. “Dennis called.”
“Sit down.” I stood and motioned her to the couch. “Let me get you a glass of water and you can tell me all about it.” I handed it to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
She wiped the tears away with her sleeve and downed half the water. “I called in. Dennis has a doctor’s report accusing me of child abuse that he’s going to use in court to get Benny.”
“Wait. Slow down. You were charged with child abuse?”
She bent down and stared at the floor as if she was searching for the courage to share it with me. Slowly, she raised her head and looked at me. “A couple of years ago Benny was being a terrible two. I had baked him a birthday cake, spend a lot of time decorating it. I wanted it to be perfect. We had the children’s party. This was for the adults and I wanted it to be special. I placed the cake on the corner of the table so Benny could see it. He swept it off the table and, of course, it landed upside down and was ruined. Angry, I grabbed hold of a fly swatter near me, swung it at Benny’s bottom. He wore corduroys and thick diapers, but at that moment he dropped down and I hit his ear. It reddened and puffed up. Dennis and I rushed Benny into the emergency room where he was treated. The doctor reported it as possible child abuse. I went through several interviews with a social worker and I don’t know who else. Anyway, I convinced them it was an accident.”
“They cleared you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
“Because Dennis said he was going to use it against me. He can be vindictive. He can say he lied during the interviews and that I was abusive and make up other stories.”
I reflected on what she said. “Have there been any similar kinds of incidents?”
“No.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Anyone can see that Benny is a normal, well-adjusted child. You cleared the investigation. I’ll vouch for you.”
She drank some more water, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I feel better already. Dennis sure knows how to work me up.” She sighed, waving her glass. “You got something stronger?”
“Wine or scotch?”
“Scotch…with ice and water.”
“Is Benny alone?” I asked, preparing her drink and making another for myself.
“He’s sleeping. He rarely gets up. Besides, I got the…Oh, shit! In my haste I forgot the child monitor.”
“Should you go get it?” I handed her the drink and touched her back.
She handed me her drink “I’ll be right back.”
I finished my drink and she hadn’t returned. A few minutes later she called. “Benny is fussy. I need to stay here. Want to come over?”
I didn’t think that was a good idea. Our brief talk had eased her tension replaced by a flashing air of mischief in her eyes. In addition, I was feeling vulnerable and needed to examine Hanna’s accusing flashback.
After happy hour the next day I was in a bad way, severely depressed and immobilized. Usually, the few drinks with Carrie boosted my spirits. Not today. I watched Benny playing in the yard, my tears flowing like white water rapids, until I couldn’t take it anymore. Fully clothed, I fell on my bed and passed out. Several hours later when I woke I wanted a drink. There was no scotch in the house. I’d forgotten to stop at the liquor store on my way home from work. I decided to make a scotch run. I arrived at the liquor store shortly before 9:00 pm, just before closing.
As I turned the corner to my apartment I saw dark smoke billowing out from Mary’s house. Mary was at work, but Benny and Vera were in the house. Instead of pulling into the drive I parked in the street and called 911. Then, seizing my suit jacket from the back seat, I sprinted toward the house.
Angry flames burst out from the structure. The sound of crackling glass shivered my spine as thick black columns of smoke billowed out of the windows. My foot slipped into a hole, twisting my ankle, and sending me to the ground. I sprung up immediately. Somebody must have called the fire department before me as I could hear the siren in the distance.
The flames accelerated, licking outward as the roar heightened. I heard a loud, shattering crack of timber as if a wall had collapsed. When I broke through the thick wall of smoke I saw the fire spreading downward, beginning to lick the floor, growing wilder.
Raising my suit jacket up as a hood to protect my head and covering my face with my handkerchief, I stooped low, inhaling the smoky scent, scratching my throat, and blinking rapidly as ash stung my eyes. I could hear faint cries of “Mommy.” I knew where Benny’s bedroom was but his cries seemed to come from downstairs to the left where the kitchen was. Thankful, I said a silent prayer. I didn’t think I could get up the stairs to Benny’s bedroom. He must have gone downstairs to find his mother or Vera. Where was Vera? The firemen were on their way. They’d have to rescue Vera. I needed to concentrate on Benny. The dizzying, radiant heat from the blazes pulled me deeper into the burning abyss. I couldn’t lose another child. Scorching and sweltering hot, the sweat dripped down my forehead. I tried to dodge the violently whipping flames, the ashes burning my eyes. The tingling, putrid smell of smoke ran up my nostrils. I couldn’t see much of anything; it was so hazy. Sparks and burning embers rained down on me. My jacket protected my head, but my hand landed on a fiery fragment nearly causing me to jump straight up. Crawling deeper inside, the heat was suffocating. Sweat dripped down my chest. I couldn’t hold the handkerchief. I needed both hands. I held my breath, fought not to inhale and suck in air when I drew near the fiery, reddish, orange flames. I had to guard against becoming disoriented in the smoke and darkness. I only had to make one short turn to reach the kitchen. My running had enhanced my lung capacity, but if I guessed wrong and Benny wasn’t there my odds of rescuing him were severely diminished. I didn’t think I’d get a second chance.
Deep, wrenching coughs racked my body. How did the fire start? Was it faulty wiring? It was an old house. My head ached and I was nauseous.
&
nbsp; Petrified, a trembling Benny, sat in the middle of the floor, sucking his thumb. When he saw me he clamped his arms around my neck. I could feel his thudding heart against my body. Putting my finger to my lips to stop him from talking and breathing in more smoke into his lungs, I removed his hands, tucked him underneath me, his back to the floor, as I straddled him. I locked his arms around my neck. He seemed to understand he needed to hold on to me. A kangaroo pouch would have come in handy. We needed to stay low. Crawling on my hands and knees I dragged him to safety, gently lowering him to the ground.
Paramedics rushed in covering both mine and Benny’s face with oxygen masks, put us in the ambulance. Firemen rescued Vera and fought the blazing house as the ambulance brought all three of us to the hospital.
I know I lost consciousness for a while. Hours later I was released from the hospital with minor burns. Benny and Vera were released the next day.
Mary was grateful. I moved into an extended stay motel so Mary and Benny could move into the apartment temporarily until their insurance claim was settled. The house was destroyed.
8
After sulking for a couple days I put in a call to Dr. Bud Philistein, my supervisor during my psychiatry residency at the University of Washington. He understood me and that was exactly what I needed now. He had retired to Albuquerque, New Mexico and was delighted to hear from me. My flight was good. I taxied to the professor’s home. I had expected his domicile to be a beautiful old building on acreage somewhere, or in an adobe home. Instead, he lived in a senior living community. We drove through an attractive complex, past a clubhouse and an assisted living building, over winding roads, to an attractive, but modest, ranch-style, single family home.
Katherine Philistein, short and plump with a cherubic face, answered the door. “My Lord, Grant Garrick, a sight for old eyes. Come in. Come in.” As I entered, she yelled, “Grant’s here.” After a full-body hug, she took my hand. “Come, he’s in the study, looking forward to seeing you.”
