by J T Kalnay
Joe
It is so ‘Shannon’ to want to drive down separately so she can leave directly from Wilmington. I get that she wants to save the hour that leaving from Wilmington will give her. These winter days are short and any time spent driving in the dark can be dangerous. Will I worry about her driving? Or will she disappear from my mind the minute she disappears from my bed?
Will I just write her one letter a week and then in March send her the details for April in Costa Rica? Will I adhere to my own bargain? Or will I obsess about her and think of her with each footstep on the beach, with each cup of coffee, with each stirring down there?
I can’t believe Danny is going to meet her. I know Danny met her sister and was very impressed with her cancer research. Danny even suggested that we get her sister to work with the Foundation. And that the Foundation fund her sister’s research. So far we have been able to agree to an outline for funding her research. And so far she has tentatively said that she will spend some time with the Foundation before her vacation in July. But from what I understand Shannon already fully funds everything that her sister is doing. I don’t know how much more funding she needs or how much larger one person’s lab can get. I don’t know what Caitlin’s Foundation can actually do for her. I think that we can only take from her by asking her to work on one of our problems. Maybe we can get her some more people and some more space so she can take on one of our problems?
I thought her scientist sister in Ohio would like to visit Wilmington, maybe in December or February. I thought that spending some winter days in North Carolina would have been appealing to an Ohioan. Though this winter day would count as winter anywhere. The wind is fierce, the temperature is low, and there may be ice on the bridges. Even here in North Carolina the bridges ice before the roadway. I hope she will be careful driving over the bridge. I know she will drive the inland road, not the beach road. I have answered my own question. I will worry about her driving, because I just did.
I have arranged for my same room at the hotel, for my Sleep Number room. I have told them that there will be two guests. I have never told them that there will be two guests, though occasionally Danny has stayed with me. Perhaps they will think that Danny will be staying with me? Oh my there may be some rumors flowing at the Foundation.
Shannon and Joe
They arrive at the parking lot for the hotel nearly simultaneously.
“How was your drive?” he asks.
“Icy. Yours?”
“Windy and icy. I don’t have much practice driving in the cold.”
“I do,” she says. “And I have practice getting out of the cold. Come on, let’s get inside.”
The desk clerk is not surprised to see Joe. He discretely informs the manager that Joe has arrived. He is surprised to see the lovely woman who is obviously his extra guest. He is even more surprised that the lovely guest is not the famous NASCAR driver. The desk clerk recalibrates his impression of the quiet millionaire director of The Foundation for Caitlin.
“Welcome back sir,” the manager says.
“Thanks Bob. This is Dr. Shannon Patrick from Ohio.”
“Nice to meet you doctor. Will you be doing research for the Foundation?” he asks.
“No. I’m a geologist doctor, not a medical doctor. But I will be helping Joe with the Foundation.”
“Shannon’s sister is one of the cancer researchers we support,” Joe adds.
“Two sisters are both doctors? That has to be rare!” the manager says.
“I suppose so,” Shannon says. She is tiring of the conversation, and beginning to overheat in the sultry lobby where the heat has been turned to ‘tropical’ in an over-reaction to the day’s cold and wind.
The manager senses that the conversation is over, and begins to lead Joe and Shannon towards Joe’s suite.
“I’ve got it Bob. Thanks,” Joe says.
Joe and Shannon each shoulder their small overnight bags and roll their wheeled suitcases. Shannon follows Joe out of the lobby. She has never been in a hotel with a man. Ever. Not even on her honeymoon. They went camping and there was no hotel, no wedding night. The feeling is completely alien to her. And starting to be erotic. She decides that maybe surf vacations that involve hotels and light house vacations that involve hotels might have some allure after all. She becomes aroused as they ride up the elevator and then walk towards his suite on the top floor.
Joe opens the door for Shannon, then walks in and closes the door.
“If you aren’t naked and in that bed when I get out of the bathroom I am going to start without you,” she says. She is surprised that words like these have come out of her mouth. Cannot believe that her brain could even conceive of such words.
“Deal,” he answers. He mimics pouring out coffee.
“We’re scheduled to visit the kids who are in residence today,” Joe says.
“What time?” Shannon asks.
“From two to four, then a board meeting from four to six, then drinks from six to seven and dinner from seven until the last donor leaves.”
“Can I skip the board meeting?” Shannon asks.
“Yes. It’ll give you time to get all dolled up for the drinks and dinner. You have no idea how much I am looking forward to seeing you in a dress.”
“Really? It’s nothing special. Just your basic little black dress.”
“On your basic goddess. I can’t wait.”
“I can see that,” she says, taking him in her hand.
Shannon and Joe
“First we’re going to visit the kids who have already had their transplants. One just had her transplant yesterday. Then we’re going to visit some kids who are going to have their transplants in the next few days. Finally, and this is where Danny is going to join us, we’re going to visit a kid who had her transplant, and, well, it didn’t take, so she’s only got a few days to live.”
“Are you sure you want me to do this with you? And with Danny?”
“Yes. This is a big part of who I am. You know me in my coffee shop, you know me on the beach, and you know me in your bed, but you don’t know this part of me at all. And I think if you don’t know this part of me, you don’t know me.”
Shannon considers whether she wants to know this part of Joe. Whether she wants to know any more about him than she already does. She has him pigeon-holed and labeled and catalogued. He is a fifty year old who likes to jog, who makes a great cup of coffee, and when they are in bed a man who makes her world turn colors she’d never even imagined. She considers whether she wants to know anymore, or whether what she knows is enough.
“Come on,” he says, taking her hand, and leading her through the ward doors.
Shannon watches him as he makes each child feel like they are the center of the universe for a little while. She sees how he makes the family members believe for just a minute that if a man this rich and powerful and handsome is taking the time to stop and see their child that there must be hope. She watches him and tries to imagine him going through this with Caitlin, basically alone. Even worse than alone, with an actively hostile Colleen castigating him and telling him that he was being selfish and that he was going straight to Hell for what he was doing to Caitlin.
Shannon says very little. She smiles, tries to follow Joe’s lead, but mostly she stays in the background. It seems that most of the kids and most of the parents know him. None of them know her. She shrinks farther and farther into the background, becoming more and more invisible. Grateful now for her perception that no-one would notice her.
How could anyone notice her when Joe is in the room and there is a sick child in the room? How could anyone notice a short woman who has no idea how to act or what to say? As she goes unnoticed, she begins to notice more. How Joe uses substantially the same opening line with each kid, with each family. How Joe is working from a script. She doesn’t blame him, doesn’t think it is disingenuous in any way. In fact she recognizes that it is the right thing to do. That he has perfected his script ove
r the years and that it is carefully crafted to provide the maximum comfort while allowing the minimum opportunity for any sadness or darkness to drift into the conversation.
“Now we’re going to see Carrie,” Joe says. “She’s going to die. There’s nothing anyone can do about it,” Joe says. “She asked to meet Danny as part of the Wish Grant program. Danny never says no. No matter where NASCAR is or no matter how she feels or what she has going she honors every single request we get here in Wilmington. She’s so good with the kids.”
Shannon sees Joe choke up a little. She wonders if Caitlin asked to see Danny in her final days. She doubts it, doubts that Joe would have asked his former girlfriend, who is certainly his former lover, to visit his daughter in her last days.
Maybe Joe chokes up because he knows that every time he sees Danny with a child that the child is certain to die, and likely quite soon. Shannon now realizes that there is nothing romantic between Joe and Danny and there could never be anything romantic between Joe and Danny. No relationship could reconcile the intensity of granting dying wishes and the intimacy of a romance, especially in a man who has seen his daughter’s dying wish go unfilled.
“Shannon I’d like to introduce Danielle Darlington,” Joe says.
“Hello Shannon. I’ve heard so much about you. Please call me Danny. Joe said you were beautiful, but that’s not nearly good enough. You are stunning!” Danny said.
Shannon extends her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Shannon says coolly.
Danny grasps Shannon’s hand, pulls her bodily towards her and engulfs her in an all-consuming hug.
“I’ve never seen him happier,” Danny whispers in Shannon’s ear. “I think he’s in love.”
Shannon escapes the hug and searches Danny’s eyes. Searches for guile or deceit or anything. All she sees are the genuine eyes of a celebrity turned hospital visitor, an ex-lover turned friend, a woman who, like Shannon, knows what it is like to love Joe.
Shannon
So I love Joe, Shannon thought. This is exactly the wrong time to realize this.
The scent of Danny’s perfume was still on her clothes, mingled with the awful smell of death from the hospital. The last child was certainly near death, and she knew that at least half of the others would soon perish.
And yet in Danny’s eyes, in Danny’s embrace, in the soft words spoken in her ear while Danny held her, Shannon had discovered that women do love Joe, and that one woman in particular loved Joe. Shannon discovered that she loved Joe. She didn’t know how it had happened or when or where. She only knew that it had happened.
Joe had said ‘I love you’ at least a dozen times. Shannon had never responded in kind. Joe had commented on it. Said ‘I don’t need you to love me the way I love you, I don’t even need you to love me, I only need to know that I love you, and that you accept that I love you.”
Shannon had taken that as a license to withhold her declaration. But, there had been nothing to withhold, not until today when she realized that she loved Joe. Had any other woman ever come to realize that they loved a man when in the embrace of that man’s ex-lover? Shannon doubted it, but then rationalized that with billions and billions of people in the world that every possible scenario that could have happened must have happened. And yet it was new to her, and a revelation. A shock.
How can I be in love when no-one would even notice me? she thought.
But Joe noticed me. In every way, she also thought.
During drinks and dinner all eyes were on Shannon. Joe could barely look away from her. Though he had seen her in surfing clothes and jogging clothes and fresh from the shower and naked beside him dozens of times he had never seen her like this. A sophisticated, bejeweled beauty who captivated everyone who came near. A presence and combination of intelligence, education, wit, beauty, and genuineness. The local press had snapped a hundred pictures hoping to have taken one that captured her presence. More than one guest at the dinner had hurriedly turned to their iPhone, Droid, or Blackberry to Google this vision of grace, beauty, and learning. Several men had quickly become engrossed in learning everything they could about Dr. Shannon Patrick. As they learned about the lab and the natural gas and oil they became even more intrigued. There were even pictures of Shannon at her Coast Guard station home and in her new park.
But Joe never left her side, frustrating those smitten few who couldn’t take their eyes off her.
“You were wonderful all day Shannon. Thank you,” Joe says.
“It was my pleasure. But it was a long day,” Shannon answers.
“Not too long I hope,” Joe says.
“Yes I’m afraid it was,” Shannon says. “And I have the race tomorrow. But after the race, I’m all yours, all day,” Shannon says.
She kisses him on the cheek, then tucks herself into bed.
Joe looks at her as she sleeps. As she sleeps in the bed that he and Danny had shared so recently. Shared, but without re-consummating the affair. Shared as friends. Unlike the way he had shared that very bed with Shannon earlier in the day, and then again in the early afternoon.
Outside the window the storm abates, leaving an extremely rare dusting of snow and frozen puddles. Joe turns away from Shannon and takes one last look out the window. While looking at the frozen white landscape he wonders whether there is snow and ice on the beach. Or whether the relative warmth of the ocean has kept the beach snow free.
Is that it? he wonders. Is it just her relative warmth? Her beauty and love in comparison to the empty years since Colleen? Does she love me? Do I love her? Or have twenty years of being essentially alone recalibrated my feelings to where even the fragments of life and love that she shares with me seem like the love of romance novels and sophomoric poetry? No. It can’t be that. I saw how everyone else responded to her. I saw how Danny responded to her. It’s not just me. She is lovely. And I love her. Though it has been decades since I have felt this emotion, I know what it is, I know that it is real.
He turns away from the window and then tucks himself in beside her.
He touches his hand to her shoulder, feels her move away in her sleep as though something has intruded on her solitude. He returns to his side of the bed, puts his hands behind his head, and drifts off to sleep.
Shannon
When she awakens in the morning he is asleep.
She slips into the separate bathroom, dresses in the running clothes she had prepared the night before, and grabs the extra layers she had planned in case the forecast was right, that today would be another unusually raw day in Wilmington.
For a moment she considers skipping the race, returning to bed, making love all day and night and then returning to Ohio tomorrow. But she decides to race after all.
She looks at him in the bed, sleeping soundly, snoring slightly. She decides not to wake him. He was not going to run the race anyway. She leaves a note for him, tells him that she will be back by ten, and that he should make breakfast reservations in the hotel, and then plan to spend all day in bed.
She warms up well, knows that today she will run well, despite the cold and despite the sporadic patches of ice. She has been sizing up the competition and has spied only two or three other serious runners. They are much younger, and she is unsure whether she can beat them. But she is sure that she can try, and thinks that maybe today she will make ‘the big effort’, see what she’s got, now that’s she forty, and Joe is fifty, and Joe loves her, and she is leaving tomorrow. It all starts to jumble up and threatens to confuse her carefully ordered world. She finishes her warm-up and heads to the starting line.
The race begins on time, with a smallish crowd because of the weather. She goes out under control, stays with the two younger leaders. She is near her limit, but not all the way there, knows she has something left. The pavement feels odd underfoot, unlike the sand. Her right foot barks a small complaint. She ignores it, but knows that tomorrow, and maybe for the next week, that the foot will complain. She identifies the pain, rele
gates it to a different part of her brain, and concentrates on the two runners just half a yard in front of her.
First one, then the other looks over.
“Who are you?” the young man drawls. There is no hint of effort in his voice.
“I thought we knew all the good runners around here?” the young girl says to her running partner. There is a trace of effort and annoyance in her voice.
Shannon does not answer. Knows that her voice will betray more information than she is willing to reveal. Instead of answering she ups her pace and passes them both. The young man quickly answers and joins on her right shoulder. The girl slowly drifts back, then is broken and drifts back more quickly once the rubber band holding them together has ruptured.
With a mile to go they are a hundred yards clear of the girl, four hundred yards clear of the next runner. They both know it will come down to them. A twenty one year old boy and a forty year old woman. The boy lifts the pace. Shannon answers. She is at her limit. Knows she can hold this pace but knows she can go no faster. She controls her breathing, makes no sound, reveals no information to the boy. He is working hard. She wonders if he has anything left. The twenty one year old inside her screams to throw in a burst, to leave the boy in the dust. The forty year old beach runner in her accepts that this is all she has. Maybe she has something for the last hundred yards, or the last dozen? Maybe she can surprise him in the last few steps? It is the only hope she holds onto.
