Blue Like Elvis

by Diane Moody

  “Hi, Dr. Nichopoulos. Nice to see you.”

  He looked up and smiled. “You too, Mindy. How’s baby land this morning?”

  “Busy as usual. Must have been a full moon this weekend.”

  He chuckled and went back to his notes.

  I felt my eyes go wide as I caught Mindy’s attention. That’s him? Elvis’s doctor? I asked, asking by way of facial expression.

  She smiled wide and nodded nonchalantly.

  I stole another peek at the distinguished looking doctor of one of the world’s most famous patients. Sure enough, embroidered in blue there on his white lab coat, it said George C. Nichopoulos, M.D. His thick head of white hair betrayed his age, but overall his Greek heritage had blessed him with a handsome face which was remarkably well-tanned even for July.

  I shook off my distraction. “So, where’d you see Tucker?”

  “He stopped by the office hoping to catch you. He was having a chat with Mrs. Baker when I left.”

  “I wonder why he didn’t just page me?”

  “No idea. I’ll see you later.” The elevator stopped at Sixteen, and Mindy and Dr. Nichopoulos both stepped off. I pushed the button for the lobby, but just before the door closed, another hand stuck in to stop it. The doors opened again.

  “We’ll talk to you later, Dr. Nick,” one of the men said. “We’re gonna head out to the house for a while.”

  “Sounds good,” I heard the doctor reply.

  The doors closed after the three—two men and a woman—joined me in the elevator. I must have been invisible to them because they continued talking as if I wasn’t there.

  “If you’d just stop aggravating him, he might get well. Every time you go in there telling him you won’t go on tour, you just upset him again. His blood pressure skyrockets. You’ve got to stop that. And I mean now.”

  I didn’t recognize the man talking, but I knew immediately who the other two people were—Ginger Alden and Vernon Presley, Elvis’s dad. I smiled casually and looked back up at the numbers above them.

  “Stop badgering me. I’m sick to death of you all running my life,” Ginger growled under her breath.

  Does she really think I can’t hear her?

  “Bud’s right,” Vernon said quietly. “Whatever’s going on between you two, put it aside for now. He’s got to get better. He can’t do that with you aggravating him every time you walk in the room.”

  She turned her back to me, but I could hear every word as she stood only inches from Vernon’s face. “Fine. I’ll just stop coming. That’ll make it easier for everyone, right?”

  “Now, don’t go and do that, honey,” Vernon answered. “It’s even worse when you don’t show up. He starts gettin’ all hot n’ bothered that you’re gonna leave him. You know how paranoid he is. Can’t you just calm down and put it all aside until he’s better?”

  The elevator chimed and the doors opened. They stepped off into the lobby and went the other direction. I couldn’t help smiling, wondering if that might be the closest I’d ever get to Elvis. First, Dr. Nick, then the girlfriend and his dad. Never a dull day at BMH.

  As I approached the office, I could hear Tucker’s voice.

  “But the back nine is rough. Especially eleven. I almost always end up three-putting, no matter how close I get to the hole.”

  “Oh, don’t I know it! Last week I had one of my best rounds ever going, then I took a four-putt on eleven. About threw my putter into the lake.”

  “Well, trust me. It would find lots of company in that lake. I know there’s at least a couple of my Titleists in there.”

  They shared a laugh before Mrs. Baker waved me in. “Tucker and I were just discussing the conditions out at the club.”

  “Hey, Shelby,” Tucker said, turning to see me. “Mrs. Baker gave me permission to borrow you for a little while. Is now a good time?”

  I looked at her, then him, then back at her. “Oh. Okay. If you’re sure that’s all right, Mrs. Baker?”

  Mrs. B smiled. Clearly Tucker knew a little golf chat would grease the wheels. “Go. Just listen for your pages, dear.”

  “I will.”

  As we left, Tucker guided me out the door with his hand on my back.

  “What’s going on? Why did you need permission to meet with me?”

  “I need to talk to you. Let’s take a walk.”

  “Okay.” I felt the strangest sense of apprehension come over me. “Is everything okay?”

  He nodded, directing me toward the Union exit. The warm summer air felt good against my skin as we walked out into the sunshine. Tucker put on a pair of sunglasses and took my hand as we walked.

  “I had a surprise visitor last night.”

  “Oh? Anyone I know?”

  “Jimmy.”

  “Jimmy?” I slowed our pace. “I had no idea he was in town. Why’d he come to your place?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Tucker?”

  “Shelby, I think something’s going on with him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He wasn’t himself. Not even close.”

  I stopped. “You’re starting to scare me. He wasn’t himself? What exactly do you mean by that?”

  “Have you ever known Jimmy to drink?”

  “What are you saying? He was drunk?”

  “Just humor me and answer the question. Does Jimmy drink?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him drink anything alcoholic, but I guess it’s possible. I mean, he was in Vietnam, for heaven’s sake. Who wouldn’t drink after something like that?”

  He started walking again, tugging me along. “I know. I had the same thought. And don’t get me wrong—I’ve had a few drinks in my time, mostly back in college. I just couldn’t remember Jimmy ever talking about it or ordering alcohol whenever we’ve been together. Granted, I haven’t seen him much since you all moved to Alabama. Just now and then, I’d hear from him, or he’d call me up if he was in town. That sort of thing.”

  “Was he actually drunk last night? Or did you just smell it on him?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear more.

  “Oh, he was definitely drunk. Smelled like a brewery, and he walked in carrying two six-packs. I didn’t think that much of it at first, though it caught me a little off guard.”

  “Tuck, I don’t understand. Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because . . . I think it might have been more than just alcohol.”

  I stopped again. Something in the area near my heart began to hurt. “Meaning?”

  He wouldn’t look me in the eye, instead focusing on something off in the distance. “I’m pretty sure he was also high on something.”

  I just stared at him.

  “Look, Shelby, it’s simple enough to understand. The guy’s been through a lot. I don’t know about you, but he never talked to me much about what happened in Nam, but I’m sure it kind of messed with him. And it’s no secret a lot of stuff went on over there. It was a popular topic of discussion in med school, all the addictions that were coming back with those guys.”

  “Did you ask him? Did you ask if he’d taken something?”

  “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t sure what I might be dealing with, so I just acted like it wasn’t that big a deal. He drank more than half the brews he brought in. Kept slipping off to the bathroom, blaming his ‘peanut bladder.’ He got a little miffed that I wouldn’t drink with him.”

  I kept staring at him, not wanting to believe a word he was saying. I even wondered if he might be exaggerating. Though, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why on earth he’d want to do that.

  “After a couple of hours, he started getting really loud. All worked up about something, but I couldn’t follow his train of thought. He wasn’t making any sense so I just let him talk. At one point he kicked over my coffee table and—”

  “Oh, please,” I scoffed, dropping his hand. “You expect me to believe that my brother got upset and started kicking over furniture?” I heard my voice gett
ing louder, but I didn’t care. “Give me a break, Tucker.”

  “Listen to me! I’m trying to tell you! He wasn’t himself. I’ve never seen him act like that. And there was a lot more to it than just drinking too much. I . . . I noticed his pupils were like pinpoints. It’s called miosis. That’s not something caused by mere alcohol.”

  “Tucker, will you stop? Listen to me. You know Jimmy as well as I do. He’s not violent. He’s the kid who’s always the life of the party. Always working on a prank or, or—getting into mischief. Of all people, you should know that! But he’s not stupid. Sure, maybe he had a few drinks. Maybe he’s trying to forget everything that went on over there. But he’s not a druggie. And in my entire life, I’ve never seen him do anything even remotely violent.”

  He grabbed my arm, but I wrenched it away. We stared at each other.

  “Shelby, do you mean to stand there and tell me you think I’m making all this up?”

  “Just tell me one thing,” I said, glaring at him. “Why didn’t you call me? He’s my brother. If there was something wrong with him, you should have called me.”

  “I didn’t want you to see him like that.”

  “What do you think I am, a child? So he was drunk. I’ve been around a few in my time. I could’ve handled it.” I started to walk away from him. “Where is he now?”

  “He was sacked out when I left this morning. I assume he’s still home sleeping it off.”

  “Stop saying it like that! Like he’s some hopeless drunk! Good grief, Tucker. I can’t believe this. I wish you just would’ve called me.”

  “Then I’m sorry. Forgive me for trying to protect you.” His tone grated on my last nerve.

  “I don’t need protection!”

  “Fine.” He turned around, heading back to the hospital. “Then, assuming he’s still at my house, stop by and see him when you get off work. I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you.”

  “Why are you acting like this?” I yelled, rushing to catch up to him. “Jimmy’s your friend. Why are you treating him like some freak who just came home from the war?”

  “I’m not treating him like a freak! I’m worried to death about him, Shelby! You’re not the only one who loves the guy, okay? I think I might have a few more insights—”

  I rolled my eyes. “Give me a break.”

  He stopped, snapped the sunglasses off his face, then folded his arms tightly across his chest. Something along his jaw line pulsed. “What exactly do you want from me, Shelby? I care about Jimmy. I think he’s got a problem. After all, I am a doctor, and I’ve treated junkies before. I just want to help. Why does that make me the bad guy here?”

  I stared at him, so angry I was shaking. “That’s just it, Doctor Thompson. I don’t want anything from you. I never have and I never will. And for your information, my brother is not a junkie!”

  I stormed off, rushing into the hospital while trying to bite back the fury that was consuming me. Of all the ridiculous, absurd things I’d ever heard . . . To think I had fallen for someone so . . . so self-righteous and pompous. Give a guy a stethoscope and he thinks he’s some kind of god with all the answers.

  By the time I rounded the corner near our office, I could hardly breathe. I took a sharp right and dove into the nearest public restroom. I slammed the stall door and kicked the toilet lid down so I could sit on it. It took a good five minutes before I caught my breath enough to think straight. And when I did, all I could think of was what a fool I’d been to think a grown-up Tucker Thompson was any different from that fat little kid that used to hang around our house and drive me out of my mind.

  With my jaw clenched tight and my heart pounding, I thanked God for helping me see Tucker for what he really was before it was too late . . .

  Before I fell in love with him.

  Chapter 32

  Before I left the hospital that afternoon, I called Tucker’s house hoping to reach my brother. He answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hi, baby sister! I was figuring I’d hear from you. Tucker tell you I popped in on him last night?”

  He sounded fine. Perfectly fine.

  “He did. But I’m jealous you didn’t come stay with me. What’s he got that I don’t?” It wasn’t easy to keep the conversation light, but I knew I had to.

  “Well, for starters, I know where he lives. Imagine my surprise when I knocked on the door of your townhouse and some dude answered your door.”

  “Oh, Jimmy! I’m so sorry! Didn’t Mom and Dad tell you I’d moved?”

  “Huh? Oh. Well, no. I haven’t been home in weeks. It was great and all when I first got back, but then I got really restless. They wanted me to enroll for classes at Samford or apply somewhere else, but I needed some time. And some space, I guess. Decided to get on the road and chill out for a while.”

  “Well, that makes sense. You’ve probably got a little culture shock going on,” I added, trying to test the waters. “I think a road trip or two is just what you need.”

  “Yeah, it’s been good. I don’t really have a plan or anything. I just get in the car and drive.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here. But come stay at my place.”

  “You got an extra bedroom?”

  “No, but you can sleep on the couch. It’s nice and big and really comfortable.”

  “Why would I want to sleep on your couch when Tucker has a guest room? I’ve got my own room, my own bed, my own bathroom . . . Besides, he’ll be gone a lot. Guy works like a horse. I’ll just stay here. But you’re welcome to come see me.”

  Not gonna happen. I’m not about to step foot in Tucker Thompson’s house ever again.

  “No, I’d rather cook for you tonight. I’ll give you my address and you can meet me at my place.”

  “What’s for dinner?”

  Men and their stomachs. Apparently it’s true what they say. But for now, at least I had a chance to see what was going on with my brother—IF anything was going on—without having Tucker’s hyper-suspicious presence.

  An hour later, I welcomed Jimmy into my house.

  “Hey, big guy! Come on in.”

  He wrapped me in a hug and I inhaled, trying to discern the trace of any alcohol. I didn’t catch the slightest hint. Nothing. I smiled.

  “Whoa, this is nice, Moonpie.”

  “Jimmy, please don’t call me that.”

  “What?” He took a seat on the sofa. “Oh, that. I forgot. You’re the big grown up now. Can’t tolerate the silly nicknames anymore. Right?”

  “Something like that.” He had it partially right. He didn’t need to know I was also avoiding all reminders of Tucker Thompson I could possibly manage. “I’d just rather not hear it any more. What can I get you? The lasagna will be ready in a couple of minutes. Would you like some tea? A Coke?” I held my breath.

  “Coke sounds great. Lots of ice. I’ll never understand why other countries never give you ice. It’s barbaric. So where’s Chiquita, your feisty little roommate? Or do you live here alone?”

  “Sandra’s working the late shift tonight.” I stepped into the kitchen to get his drink. “They’ve just started having us work the ICU, ER, and surgical waiting rooms, so we have to have someone there around the clock. She’s thrilled about it. Loves all the action that happens in the ER after hours.” I handed him the iced glass of Coke and took a seat across from him. “Me? I’d prefer to keep my day shift, but we’ll see.”

  “You like working at the hospital?”

  “I love it. We’ve had a lot of stuff going on, some conflicts—that sort of thing. But overall, I love it. I enjoy helping my patients and meeting new people all the time. Which reminds me, Elvis is staying with us again.”

  “Again?”

  “Well, he’s a bit of a regular, I guess you’d say. He’s apparently got a lot of health issues and checks in now and then to get checked out.”

  “Or cleaned out, from what I hear.”

  I just looked at him while trying to choose my words carefully. “There’
s a lot of rumors about him, that’s for sure. But I’ve never heard anything to substantiate it.”

  “Don’t be naïve, Sis. Everybody knows he’s doing all kinds of stuff.”

  I looked him in the eye. “Define ‘stuff.’”

  He laughed. “I have no clue. I just see the headlines, hear things. Is he really as fat as those pictures show?”

  “How would I know?”

  “You said he’s at Baptist right now. Can’t you go up and see him if you want to?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. I told him about the whole botched attempt to sneak up on Sixteen with Donnie. He got a big kick out of my misadventure. Jimmy didn’t know Donnie, but he’d heard me talk about him before.

  Over dinner we talked a mile a minute. I kept checking his eyes, looking for those pinpoints Tucker alleged he’d seen, but saw only my brother’s beautiful brown eyes. I could still see the fatigue in them, for sure, but nothing out of the ordinary. He shared some of his experiences over in Vietnam and in the Philippines, but only when I asked. I could tell he really didn’t want to talk about it, so I didn’t push.

  Later, we watched some television and made fun of the actors like we always used to do, adding snide dialogue to the script. I was careful to observe Jimmy without him knowing it. No shaking hands. No twitching. No munchies.

  He was clean.

  “What are you smiling at?” Jimmy asked, tapping my foot with his. “You’ve got a really weird grin on your face.”

  I debated whether or not I should say anything, then decided I had no reason not to.

  “I wasn’t going to tell you, but Tucker and I had a big fight this morning.”

  “About what?”

  “You.”

  “Me? Why on earth would you all fight about me?”

  I couldn’t help analyzing the way he responded, which was complete innocence, of course. Then I chided myself for doing so. “He told me you were plastered at his house last night.”

  “What?”

  “Can you believe it? I mean, c’mon, Jimmy. I realize you may have a drink now and then. And that’s your business. You’re an adult. You can do whatever you like. But he said you walked in carrying two six-packs, and you were already smashed before you stepped foot in his house.”