He must see Grandma Myrena. She must be told. With her terminal illness, he must bring yet another pain into her cancer shortened life. This pain just might accelerate her end.
Jason left the hospital through the front lobby entry doors, his mind still swirling with apprehensive thoughts.
In the ER lobby, Jenny became increasingly concerned with the passing time.
Chapter Twenty-one
Myrena Wimsley took another pain pill. The current sequence of pain overwhelmed her with its intensity. It was a blend of spasmodic ache and fiery steadiness, like the worst toothache or earache she ever had, or, like a deep cut which had festered with infection.
The pain sequence was coming now with more regularity, and she was losing weight. Myrena had never been a big woman. Her work regimen over the years, her active lifestyle, had kept her body fine-tuned and resilient. Even with aging she was able to keep her firm figure. She had all her life subscribed to the notion that a sound body equated to a sound mind. Myrena believed that if a person were consistently involved in honorable pursuits, did not overuse alcohol or abuse their bodies with drugs and idleness, he/she would likely have good health and achieve some success in life.
Now, this strange sickness had come upon her, this abominable sickness from hell called cancer. The disease had curbed her normal routines, had made her conform to its immutable ways. She had basically little volition left to her, no real compass to direct her. When she looked in the mirror she could see the emaciating effects of her cancer, could see the darker and deeper set of her eyes … a stranger's eyes, they seemed to her, staring at her from some remote spot of her soul. She had always been a gourmet of sorts but now food was tasteless and obligatory. She had no appetite but she forced herself to consume bird like quantities.
Oh, she would have shown her aging in any event. The cancer had merely increased the speed of its inevitability. She had no fear of death. Her life was full, with some burdens, but mostly rich with love and sensate wonders. Death would only hasten her meeting with John. She was convinced that there was indeed an afterlife, a dimensionless time and space of incredible beauty, a time for reunion and cosmic revelation. In these days of so much pain she would gladly welcome the final journey.
The pain diminished into apathy. It was not an altogether unpleasant place to be for Myrena. She picked up the family photo album she had started to scan before the pain hit. The late morning light poured through the skylights in the large parlor, her favorite room in the entire house. It was in this room where she felt John's presence the most. She could look at his portrait and feel him embracing her. At this time of day, the great room offered the most dazzling play of light and shadow. The spines on the books which lined the western wall would ripple with the play of sunlight, like gems encrusted into the wall of a cave.
Myrena turned the thick album pages and smiled as the sweet faces of youth stared up at her. This was her most cherished album of the many tucked away in a lower drawer along the library wall. This album traced the preteen and teenage years of Carlton and Jason. She could remember every camera shot taken, every little byplay scene before and after the shutter was snapped. The album gave her a vicarious pleasure to relive again those soft, sometimes poignant, memories which had begun shortly after her daughter's and son-in-law's deaths.
Myrena heard peripherally the front door chimes and Wardley's welcoming salutation.
When Jason entered the parlor she closed the album with a surprising slam. She was shocked to see Jason looking so haggard and disheveled. She put the album aside and stood to greet him.
“My word, Jason! What in the world has happened? You look terrible.” Myrena walked to meet him in the middle of the room.
Jason wrapped gentle arms around Myrena and held her close for some seconds. When they parted Jason looked sadly into her eyes. “I need to tell you something, Grandma Myrena. Let's sit down.”
They moved to the old leather sofa and sat side by side. Wardley lingered in the doorway. Jason looked fondly at the man who was so much a part of his life. “Please, Wardley, come and sit with us.”
The butler, more family to Myrena and Jason than servant, came and sat directly across from them.
There was a tense and dark expectancy hanging on the air of the grand parlor. Nervous eyes and hands searched but found no comfortable place to rest.
Myrena broke the deep silence. “What is it, Jason? Something has happened to Carlton?” It was as much a statement as it was a question.
They sat, angling to face each other. As if to watch the foreboding moment, a thin cloud passed before the sun, causing a dim shadow to settle in the space in front of them.
“Yes, Grandma.” Jason swallowed hard, lowered his head for a moment and continued. “He's dead, Grandma. He ...”
The old woman's hands began to tremble. She fought against tears in her eyes. She tried to absorb the devastating news, had even in some remote part of her mind expected it. Her thoughts kept shifting from a youthful photograph of Carlton she had just seen in the family album back to Jason and the reverberating words still ringing in her ears, 'He's dead, Grandma.'
“Oh, no!” she weakly chanted, “Oh, no!” over and over, again and again.
Jason softly embraced her. Even at this time of awful truth he could see before him the slowly receding ebb of her life. She had lost weight and her face was so much more sunken and fragile than he could ever remember. Her skin had a dry, paper thin, almost translucent cast, the blood veins so very near the surface. Jason worried that this news might literally break her heart and rupture those veins. His own heart beat wildly within his chest.
Jason held her there on the sofa for several minutes of silence. Wardley moved to the sofa to be near her, his face a drawn and pale mask of sadness. No one spoke and the old room was a giant overpoweringly stifling chamber.
Then, tears came, not in great heaving sobs but in quiet, aching drops of remembrance, an acknowledgment of death, of words and embraces that could never again come in this life. The three people gathered there, shared their grief and their tears.
Myrena's mind played back the memories in a fast reel of flashbacks:
A tear-streaked, frightened face of a young boy, not accepting the deaths of his father and mother; a fall from his first bicycle; a broken dinner plate and a contrite face; bedtime stories with goodnight hugs and kisses; eyes dancing with joy at winning a prize during carnival time …
On and on the memories came, but she was still in the moment, still aware of where she was, aware of the whole impossible moment of grief.
Jason could not find the words for his Grandma Myrena. He could only hold her and stroke her hair, his tears flowing freely. He was fearful of his own memory flashbacks, that he might be consumed by them. He knew they would come later when he was alone in the darkness. They would have to come, and he would have to get through them and all the emotions they would evoke. Now, he had to be strong for his Grandma Myrena.
Wardley stood and went to the arched entry area of the grand room, his hands clasped in front of his large body, his heart aching with his own parade of memories of Carlton Prince. He, too, felt the awful weight of loss. He stood there in the archway for some seconds, looking back at the grieving grandson and grandmother, his tears still flowing down his cheeks.
Finally, Myrena wiped her eyes with a tissue, leaned back into the sofa. “How did he die, Jason?” Her words were clear and precise.
Then she noticed Wardley standing in the parlor's archway, aggrieved, looking confused and uncertain of what he was to do or where he was to go. “Please, Wardley, you wonderful man, come sit with us. You are family and you need to grieve with us.” She held out her arms to him.
Wardley came again and sat with them on the sofa. Jason and Myrena touched him warmly on the arm as they pressed their bodies against each other.
After some seconds, Jason spoke. “Are you sure you want to hear the details, Grandma? They're not easy to relate a
nd they won't be easy to hear.”
“Yes, we need to hear them, Jay-boy, and you need to let them get out of you. We need them to keep us sane.”
Jason rose and reseated himself in the chair that Wardley had vacated earlier. He sat, wiped his own eyes, breathed deeply several times trying for some composure. With a long sigh, he began.
“Carlton was beaten and robbed. He died in the hospital earlier this morning. He seemed to know that he was dying. He was very lucid in the end, and his eyes had a prescient glow, a happiness ...” Jason fought back tears. “He said … he said that he was sorry, Grandma. He said to tell you that he loved you.” Jason ended, sobbing.
“Oh, my!” Myrena softly murmured. “How sad life can be. He was really a good boy, Jason. He just ...”
Tears flooded Myrena's eyes as the memories came again. She wanted to talk about Carlton, about his inherent goodness. She felt that she needed to talk about him, to give his life meaning and purpose, to validate his tortured time on earth. But the constricting tears would not give her space to speak.
Jason started to come to her again, but she waved him to stay where he was. She reached over and touched Jason's cheek as he leaned toward her. She then touched Wardley's hand and stared into his sad watery eyes. “You must share your grief as well, dear Wardley. You have been a part of us for so long. You must know how much we've grown to love you, as well as depending so much on you. You are part of our family.” A wan smile came to her face and mixed with the tears.
Wardley was moved, announced by more tears. He stood, through a broken voice thanked Myrena, and embraced her gently. He moved to Jason and embraced him. Then he excused himself and left the parlor, unable to handle the mounting tide of sorrow within him and unable to share it all.
“Bless him,” Myrena said, “he truly cares for you boys.” She sighed, took a deep breath, and spoke again. “Will you make the arrangements, Jason? I don't think I could handle that ordeal.”
“Of course, Grandma. I'll handle it all.”
As they talked through sporadic tears about the uncertain days to come, the telephone rang. It was Sheila Broward, Wardley announced.
“Oh, Jason, Sheila needs to be told. Would you talk to her? She loved Carlton very much.”
“Yes, of course.”
Jason left the parlor to speak to Sheila on another phone. He did not want Grandma Myrena to hear the awful news again.
Alone in the big parlor Myrena felt the weight of the years. Her great dignity and resolve deserted her. She wept quietly until the tears appeared spent. Then the pain came again, the cancer pain, and she longed for death as she had never longed for any mortal thing. “Oh, Jason,” she moaned to herself, “I love you so much. Don't hate me for wanting so much to leave this world.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Jenny had finally gone unnoticed to the small treatment room off the ER and confronted a young man in light green garb who was moving equipment around. Under a slight pretense, Jenny was able to get the information about Carlton's death, and it had devastated her. She had just seen him earlier, and the doctor had indicated he would recover.
What had happened? The young man in green gave her no further details, and, after talking to several other hospital personnel, she still had no idea as to the cause of death.
Where was Jason? No one knew. Someone thought he had left the hospital after handling some paperwork connected to Carlton's death. After having Jason paged on the hospital paging system, with no result, she had no other options. When it was ultimately clear to her that Jason was not at the hospital, she left.
Not only was she devastated with the news of Carlton's death, she was also deeply troubled by Jason's abrupt departure from the hospital without a word.
He was emotionally crushed by Carlton's death. He was in pain, devastated in a way she could not know. That had to be the reason for his leaving without speaking to her. His grief had simply been too much for him, overriding rational thinking. It must be that. Surely, it must be that. Yes, he had seemed remote earlier, but that could be explained away and easily understood. He was worried about his brother.
Now his brother was dead, and Jason must be under a terrible stress. Jenny must try not to think so much about herself and think more about Jason's feelings. She would be unreasonable if she expected predictable behavior at a time like this.
No matter how many times she turned it over in her mind, a persistent niggling continued. Their relationship had a special beginning, had traversed a most romantic course, their time together a lovely promise for their future. All the signals were obvious and pure. They were in love. Sure, it would be quite natural that each would be careful not to rock their love boat with a negative action or silly utterance. Their past relationships had taught them much, the pitfalls to avoid, the subtle moods into which they should not intrude, the terribly wasteful emotions of jealousy and selfishness. Jenny was sure: they were careful in the handling of their love.
That is, until now. Jason's recent behavior was baffling to Jenny. Despite the tragic loss of Carlton, she would have expected that Jason would come to her for succor and compassion. Jenny should be his port in the storm, his soul mate and comforter. She was confused, hurt, and disappointed by his behavior. She wanted desperately to be there for him in his time of need, to understand his pain, but he was pushing her away, keeping her out of his space.
Jenny did not go to work. She took some sick leave that was owed to her. She stayed home, did the menial chores, read books, and hoped the phone would ring.
She could only do chores and read books for so long, waiting, hoping, praying, that Jason would call her and explain away her past few days of doubt and insecurity. She was beginning to think that she had only imagined the depth of his feeling for her. She even considered the fact that she had inadvertently done something to push him away from her, but, with all of her soul searching, she could not think of what it could be. She began also to question the miracle she had found in the lightning strike.
Finally, she called Jason at his office. She was told that he was out on business. She had left a message. She called again. The results were the same.
It appeared more and more to Jenny that Jason simply did not want to talk to her or see her. She felt more alone and desperate than she had ever before felt in her life. When the telephone rang and it was a co-worker or a wrong number, she felt that fate was playing cruel games. The pain piled up inside, and she did not know what to do.
Jenny read the newspaper accounts of Carlton's death, the highlights from his life, the fact that he was to be cremated, and that a memorial was to be held in a Scottsdale church.
She called Grandma Myrena to give her heartfelt condolences and to offer her services in any way they might be needed. Grandma Myrena seemed remarkably in control of her emotions and assumed that Jason was in touch with Jenny. She was so sorry to hear that he was not in touch. Grandma Myrena told Jenny that she was very worried about Jason, that he was acting very much out of character; was, in fact, not around very much during this crisis.
Grandma Myrena asked that Jenny join them at Carlton's memorial services. Jenny had deferred, saying that she would not feel comfortable being at the memorial service if it was not Jason's wish that she be there.
A few days after the memorial service Jenny called Grandma Myrena again. Jenny had to know that Jason was all right. Grandma Myrena was glad to hear from Jenny but seemed subdued and troubled, emotionally drained and weak from the ordeal of Carlton's death. During the brief telephone conversation, Grandma Myrena invited Jenny over to visit. There was an urgency attached to her request, tacit but readable.
When Jenny arrived in the afternoon, her thoughts were confirmed. Grandma Myrena looked so much older and frail since Jenny had last seen her. The strength of character that Grandma Myrena had shown at their last meeting was missing. Even the old house gave off an aura of pain and foreboding.
It was a partly cloudy day and Grandma Myrena
chose to sit in the sun room. It appeared to Jenny that the wise matriarch was putting up a brave front and was trying very hard to be hospitable and civil through some terrible pain.
“You're looking too pale, young lady,” Myrena suggested, after Wardley had left them tea, cookies, and finger sandwiches. “You need to get out more in this Arizona sunshine, my dear. Gracious, just listen to me, telling a grown lady what she needs to do. You must forgive an old woman's meddlesome ways.”
Jenny smiled gently. “I don't mind one bit, Grandma Myrena. I'm flattered you think enough of me to be concerned.” It suddenly occurred to Jenny that she had taken a liberty by referring to the grand old lady as 'Grandma Myrena.' She flushed a bit with embarrassment. “You must forgive me for acting so familiar with your name. Having heard Jason say your name that way, it just came so easily for me.”
“Oh, nonsense! I'm very fond of you, Jenny, and I'm just as flattered that you would call me what Jason calls me.” As Myrena mentioned Jason she lowered her head as if a sudden ache had hit her.
“I'm so very sorry about Carlton, Grandma Myrena.” Jenny was going to add more but instead let her words fade.
Myrena lifted her head and looked into Jenny's eyes. “Thank you, my dear. Thank you, too, for your nice card. You're very thoughtful and considerate. You would have been more than welcome to join us at the memorial.”
“I wanted to come, would have come but just wasn't sure Jason wanted me to attend. Jason hasn't called. He has not talked to me since Carlton's death.” Jenny stopped when she felt that tears might fall.
Myrena slowly shook her head in some vague acknowledgment and refilled their cups with more tea. The cookies and finger sandwiches on the lovely silver tray lay untouched.
“Jason has not been himself, Jenny, and I'm quite worried about him. He has taken Carlton's death extremely hard. Much harder, I must say, than I would have thought possible. For a while I really was not aware that you two were out of touch. That bothers me even more. I know my grandson and I know that he has deep feelings for you. I'm positive of that. In fact, he's in love with you. He's in some kind of fog, and I've not been able to disperse it.
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