“When is Daddy Barry coming to see me? Did you see him? Did you ask?” Lindy blurted out.
The question froze her blood. “Yes. I saw him.” She didn’t know what else to say. She chewed her lip and thought she could taste blood this time. “He’ll be in. Very soon. You know Lindy, your father has a very busy schedule during basketball season—like Paul does during baseball. He has to juggle things and he’s not used to that. You have to be patient with him. I know he loves you very much…”
“He does? Did he tell you that?”
“Yes, he did.” She gritted her teeth with the white lie. He would pay for this. She then pushed him from her mind and concentrated on not crying in front of this little angel. She stayed only a short while to tell all about her trip and when it was time to go, she promised to return the next day as usual.
The first message Roxanne found on her cell phone when she finally had a chance to check after a quick meeting with Harry was from Laura. She listened.
“Rox, I’ve been talking to the TV people to get us air time and they seem to be very interested in who the spokesperson is before they make a commitment to the ad campaign. You’re going to have to lock in Barry Dennis now so we can proceed.”
Roxanne grimaced, not at the message, but at herself for not asking Barry that morning when she had the chance. Somehow the time hadn’t seemed right. Now she’d have to suck it up and call him back. The thought caused a queasy feeling in her gut. Her hands felt clammy. She had a lot she’d like to say to the man. She puzzled over that as she tapped in his number. It was none of her business how he handled his daughter. She kept forgetting that. She didn’t feel like Lindy was none of her business. She didn’t feel like anything about Barry was none of her business. That made no sense. She must be losing her mind.
Getting his voice mail as she expected, she left the message to call her back without saying why. After spending the rest of the afternoon making phone calls for the CMH league and studying the material the research people at channel seven had come up with on the talent for her interview the next day, she still had to read the book the guy wrote. She ended her day at home, settled down to read at the kitchen while she ate her solitary late supper. It was Bonnie’s night out.
The knock on her back door startled her, but when she looked up she saw Laura through the window.
“What gives? Something important drag you this far away from home or are you bored?” Roxanne let her friend in and went back to her chair and her book, gesturing for Laura to take a seat. Her plate was still full and had cooled to an unappetizing jelled mass. Laura grimaced at it.
“Hello to you too. I’m wondering what the story is with Barry Dennis being the spokesperson?”
Roxanne snapped the book shut and lifted her chin. “He never did call me back.”
“So what. You never called me back,” Laura complained. “What are you doing anyway?” Laura took a seat at the table and glanced at the book.
“Homework for tomorrow’s show,” Roxanne explained. “I wonder why he hasn’t returned my call yet?” She chewed her bottom lip, placed her elbow on the table, her chin in her hands. Laura laughed at her and sat back.
“Well, let’s see now. Retrace your steps. What did you do or say to him when you last saw him? Knowing you, the man could be destroyed by now.”
She remembered their parting that morning and what she did and said to him was far from devastating. “If Barry Dennis is not returning my call because of what I did and said to him this morning, then he’s not the man I thought he was and I don’t want anymore to do with him.”
“So it was that kind of meeting was it? That can scare men away too you know, for different reasons. Don’t be too hard on him. He’s a different kind of man.”
“How’s that?”
“He’s on another level. He leads a different kind of life.” Laura shook her head as if she were an expert.
“You shouldn’t let yourself be so impressed with his superstar status, Laura. I don’t think that makes him different.”
“No, but whatever made him a superstar, that’s what makes him different.”
“Oh and what’s that?” Roxanne asked although she had her own theories.
“I don’t know, but I imagine it took hard work, determination and dedication like we couldn’t even dream of. He doesn’t even let his own daughter being in the hospital distract him. Maybe you’re just another threat to his career.” Laura pointed at Roxanne.
“Oh, that’s good.” Roxanne smiled, but she was disturbed by her memory of Barry’s description of himself as a basketball robot. Then she decided it didn’t matter. The bottom line was that he was human and he was a man and that’s the way she was going to continue to treat him.
“Roxy, I’m serious.” Laura looked concerned. Roxanne shook her head at her friend as her cell phone rang.
“That’s probably him now.” She felt confident as she picked up the phone, clicked it on and said hello. She expected to hear Barry’s familiar New York accent.
Instead, the man’s voice was unfamiliar. “Roxanne, this is Kevin Moroni, sports writer with the Globe. We met briefly at a charity golf tourney a while back…”
“I remember. What can I do for you?” There was a pause on the other end while Roxanne wondered what he wanted and how he’d gotten her number. But she supposed reporters had their ways.
“Barry Dennis gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind. I was wondering if we could get together. Maybe have dinner …”
She cut him off. “Of course I mind. The only one I want giving out my number is me.” Roxanne stabbed the end button and tossed the phone down.
“What’s the matter? Your good humor seems to have left in a hurry,” Laura asked.
“I don’t think Barry is going to return my call. He’s given away my phone number.” Roxanne compressed her mouth, stood and paced around the kitchen. Laura didn’t speak.
Why on earth would he give her number away like that? She was truly puzzled. She didn’t expect his undying loyalty, but they had definitely left on good terms. Then she decided it didn’t matter. She had said before that their relationship would have no bearing on getting him to be the spokesperson for the Dr. Oki Fund and she meant it. She only hoped it was true.
She finally stopped pacing and let out a sigh.
“What if we can’t get him for spokesperson?” Laura asked the obvious question.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do it. Today’s Friday? We’ll have him by Monday morning. You’ll be back in business next week.”
“But what if you can’t?”
“I’ll think of something.” Roxanne felt she was pushing it with all the Scarlett O’Hara channeling she’d been doing of late. But it couldn’t be helped. She swept her plate from the table and dumped its contents down the garbage disposal. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Let’s go to a party,” Roxanne said and walked toward the back door.
“A party? Were you invited or are we crashing?” Laura rose from her chair.
“I have an open invitation. It’s at my neighbor’s down the street—the musicians.” Roxanne grabbed a jacket and continued out the door, knowing Laura would follow her. Laura stood in the door, reluctant to cross the threshold.
“Musicians? That’s what you call that rock group? You’re too kind. I don’t know, Roxy. I’m not dressed for this,” Laura said, shaking her head as she looked down at herself. Roxanne laughed.
“Probably not. But they have a very lenient dress code.” Roxanne eyed her friend with a smirk. Laura wore her typical weekend attire. Navy blue corduroy pants, white blouse and a green cable knit cardigan with a polo player logo.
“That’s the problem. Look at you—you’ll fit right in,” Laura quipped back.
Roxanne laughed again. “No, I don’t think so. My shirt’s not ripped and my jeans aren’t studded with spikes.” Roxanne looked at herself. She was dressed for hanging around the house, but it didn’t matter. She was going to the party
strictly to be neighborly—and to have fun. She always met new and interesting people at those parties. Of course the last one she went to she and Don had had a fight. He never liked going. But that was a long time ago. Roxanne smoothed the legs of her snug jeans. Maybe she should change her top. She was wearing an oversized Celtics sweatshirt with a denim jacket thrown over it and low boots. She glanced back at the kitchen table at the stack of unpaid bills she had left there.
“What is it?” Laura asked.
“Nothing. I was supposed to stay in and pay bills tonight.”
“If you want I can go home.”
Roxanne laughed. “That’s all right. I have no money to pay them with anyway.” She continued to stare at the stack. Anxiety began gnawing from deep inside. Her stomach clenched.
“But you’re working again—I thought your money worries were over.”
“Not even close. This house costs massive amounts of money to keep up. The job pays well, but I’m not a millionaire anymore. That’s the kind of money I’d need to stay here.”
“What about selling jewelry—you have tons of it.”
Guilt sliced through her at Laura’s words. She had never truly appreciated the jewelry—or Don, who’d given it to her. She wished she had.
“I sold a lot of it, but I wanted to save the rest for a real emergency.”
“I know Bonnie is like family to you and you would never turn her away. And selling the house is still not possible?”
She nodded her head. “No. I can’t rent it either. I got a price on the Corvette recently and it turns out a used Corvette isn’t worth a fraction of its original value. God, I wish Penelope would just leave me alone.”
“I don’t know how the judge let her tie you up in court like this over the house. It seems so unfair.” Laura came over and touched her arm.
“I got notice to appear in two days, but Al says don’t count on anything happening. Their strategy is to continue to stall. They know I’m in trouble.” Roxanne sighed and smiled at her friend. “Let’s go.” She dismissed everything with a wave of her hand and a locked door in her mind. She strode out of the house, across her deck to the stairs. She needed the party to distract her from her money troubles and, if she were honest with herself, from thinking about Barry Dennis. She reminded herself they were only playing games. There were times she sensed it could be more, like she could reach out a bit more and make a connection. Sometimes she wanted to. The wanting scared her.
The instant he walked in, Barry knew his timing was bad. The doctors and nurses were there at Lindy’s bed, the BCNU was open and they were examining her.
“One minute, sir, you can’t go in there right now.” A nurse tugged on his arm. Dr. Oki glanced over.
“That’s all right, let him stay.” Dr. Oki said. Recognition registered on the nurse’s face.
“Sorry Mr. Dennis,” she murmured and let go of his arm.
“Come on over. I’m sure this little lady will be delighted to see you.”
“Daddy, is that you?”
He heard Lindy from beyond the line of attendants. When he approached the bed they stepped away. He zeroed in on his little girl’s face before he could take in the ugly unhealed burns and skin grafts on her bared limbs and body. He almost convulsed with the discomfort caused by the mere peripheral vision of her wounds and the overpowering smell of antiseptics. He concentrated hard on her eyes and forced a smile. He was sure he looked more like the big bad wolf than her loving daddy.
“Hi, angel.” He went to touch her face.
“You really shouldn’t—touch. We’re just finishing up the exam here then sealing her back in the BCNU.”
“Dr. Oki, please just one kiss? Please?” Lindy begged.
Even Barry could sense she was on the verge of tears. “Of course, angel.” He bent to kiss her before Dr. Oki had a chance to respond. They could wash her again with the antiseptics if they had to. But he knew the doctor wouldn’t protest. He was a man who knew where to draw his lines. Barry used to be that way.
“You don’t look ready to play basketball yet, angel.” Barry stood straight and looked at the doctor—right at his eyes. “When do you think she’ll be ready, Doc? I need her help.” Barry winked at her and she smiled weakly.
“Another month or so for her hospital stay. She can take physical therapy as an outpatient. What kind of plans do you have for her care when she gets home?”
“Only the best. We can talk about the details another time,” he said.
“I’ll have my secretary call you to set up an appointment.” The doctor nodded toward Lindy.
One nurse injected Lindy with a shot. The girl cried out in anguish. Barry felt every muscle in his body contract. He looked at her eyes and they were closing but tears streamed out at the same time. Another nurse bathed the wounds. Barry knew Lindy was suffering unbearable pain. His gut twisted like barbed wire.
“She’s going to fall asleep now. The shot was a sedative,” Dr. Oki said. “She can’t have an IV sedative yet.” The doctor put his hand on Barry’s arm to turn him aside. “These examinations are always painful, but she’s really doing well. Why don’t you come with me now.” Dr. Oki nodded to the nurses.
Barry took one last look at Lindy. Her lids were almost closed. He was sure she wasn’t aware of him. “Bye, angel. I’ll be back.” He saw her faint smile of acknowledgement, a slight parting of her lips. Then her lids closed completely. He turned.
His back stiff, Barry walked with the doctor out of the room and down the corridor to a lounge area. The doctor didn’t sit, so neither did he. He glanced out the window overlooking the Longwood Medical District. All he could see were blocks of big brick hospitals, one after another.
“Mr. Dennis, we haven’t had much of a chance to talk with you about Lindy’s progress in detail, or about her recovery therapy and what her prognosis is …”
“Roxanne keeps me informed.” He turned to face the doctor.
“Yes. She’s been very helpful with Lindy’s care—not to mention her morale. She comes in often to feed Lindy and keep her company.”
“Yeah.”
“I just thought you should know.”
“I know all about it, Doc. Look, I don’t know what you think of me. But I sense an undercurrent of disapproval. I didn’t come here to be judged…”
“Not at all. I know you’re in a difficult situation. There is no question that you love your daughter. I would never begin to judge a parent for their reaction to such a trauma. And believe me, I’ve seen a lot.” Dr. Oki sat then.
Barry took a nearby chair and put his feet up on the laminated wood and metal coffee table and slouched back into the industrial strength seat. He eyed the doctor and figured, what the hell. The man said he wasn’t here to judge. Barry could put that to the test. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his pack of Marlboros and lit one up, watching the doctor the whole time. Dr. Oki remained implacable. His eyes followed every move; from when Barry struck the match until he took the first long drag. Still Barry saw not a hint of decree.
“Will she be able to walk, Doctor?” It was a hard question to ask. His pulse pounded in his head with the effort. He wasn’t sure he could handle the answer.
“It’s too soon to give you more than a fifty-fifty estimate of probability. A lot depends on physical therapy.” The doctor paused. “Frankly, a lot depends on you.” This time when the doctor looked him in the eye, Barry could see exactly what he thought. The doctor thought he ought to get his act together or Lindy was going to suffer for it.
“For the sake of argument, let’s assume that I’m actually capable of giving her the support she needs.” Barry noted the slight smile on the doctor’s face then. It was the kind of smile that only the Japanese and Mona Lisa could pull off.
“Even with maximum support, there is still a good twenty per cent chance that she will need a wheel chair. Mr. Dennis, I have to put it to you straight. She will never be able to run and jump and play normally. There will a
lways be some degree of restriction in her mobility. There’s been too much damage to the muscle tissue. She will never walk like you or I—or play basketball.” The doctor never took his eyes off his. The look was intense.
Barry finally turned away and put his hands to his face. He could feel the tension in his jaw and wanted to scream to release it. He fought the urge to punch something. “Shit,” he finally said. He’d known the answers. None of them were surprising. But the impact hit him again hard, like the first time he’d seen her after the accident.
“Why the fuck did this have to happen to her?” He wasn’t asking the doctor. He pushed himself to his feet and jabbed his cigarette in a tray until it was crushed into pieces.
He could feel the glaze of emotion in his own eyes. He knew the stark, raw look of terror and helplessness showed in every feature of his face. Even the implacable Dr. Oki could not help react.
The doctor stood and moved toward him. Barry turned aside.
“You’ll handle it. She’ll be a happy child again.” The doctor turned and walked toward the door. He paused on the threshold. “You should give Roxanne a call. She’ll make you feel better.”
Barry looked at the man and laughed as he ran the doctor’s words through his mind. “In more ways than one,” he said, half to himself. He wasn’t prepared for the wounded look that instantly appeared on the doctor’s face. A flush of color lit the man’s cheeks. He turned and left without another word.
“What the hell?” Barry muttered to himself. The sickening, leaden feeling settled in his stomach. The doctor felt protective toward Roxanne, Barry thought.
It didn’t matter one way or another. He wouldn’t call Roxanne. He wouldn’t see her again except professionally. She could make him feel better all right. But he couldn’t afford to feel that good.
“Thanks a lot for nothing, buddy. Roxanne Monet is the only one authorized to give out her phone number according to the lady herself,” Kevin said to Barry. Dave McCall approached the bar in Houston’s at Faneuil Hall Market Place. Barry glanced around over the heads of the crowd. They’d picked a lively night for their so-called hunting trip.
Playing the Game Page 17
