by Thomas Scott
As soon as he sat down he knew it was a mistake. The couch was lower than he thought—going down was not too bad—but once seated he knew he wouldn’t be able to get back up without help. The nurses’ station was at the other end of the hall, so he’d have to either yell for help or wait until someone happened by who could help him.
Smooth, Jonesy, he thought. He closed his eyes for a while and when he opened them back up his dad was sitting next to him and the look on Mason’s face told Virgil they were thinking the same thing. “This place will kill you, you know that?” Mason said. “You remember your Uncle Bob?”
“No, not really. I might remember the name, but that’s about it.”
Mason nodded. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. You were pretty young when he died. He was your mother’s uncle, your great uncle. He was a mortician. Had his own funeral home up in Kokomo. After he passed, his family sold out to a conglomerate, but I was talking to him one time, this was years ago, before you were even born I think, and you know what he told me? He told me that in the funeral home industry, they call it death care. I always thought that was the damnedest thing, death care.
“I’d sit up here with your mother, just one floor above this one while they pumped that poison into her veins trying to kill the cancer, and in the end all they did was make the last few months of her life more miserable than they already were. Every time we’d come in here I’d think about that conversation with Uncle Bob. They might call this health care, Virg, but it’s really all the same thing sometimes.” Then, like the concept of a segue was foreign to him, he finished with, “So, when they letting you out?”
“Tomorrow, I think. Want to help me back to my room?”
“You bet,” Mason said. “You bet I do.”
They took their time going down the hall. “Delroy and Robert are going back to Jamaica for a week, so I’m going to close the bar to sand down and refinish the bar top.” When Virgil said he’d stop by to help if he could, Mason laughed and told him not to worry about it.
When they finally made it back to the room, they stood next to the bed for a moment, and Virgil looked at his dad and said, “I can’t explain it Pops, but it was her. She was standing right behind him and her hands were over the top of his. She helped him untie me and get me down. She was smiling at me, Dad. What do you think of that?”
“You were bleeding out from the inside, Virg. The doctors said you had about two and a half minutes left by the time they got you here. The mind can play tricks on you when you’re in that kind of shape.”
“I’ve been in that bad of shape before, you know.”
“I know. You saw what you saw. Was it real to you?”
“Yeah, it was.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Then he did something he hadn’t done in almost forty years, an act that brought tears to his eyes.
He helped his son to bed.
__________
A short while later the nurse came in and Virgil thought the nature of the conversation that followed must have made her think he might be suffering from brain damage.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked her.
She had her hand on his wrist, checking his pulse. She held up a finger in a ‘wait a minutes’ gesture and then said, “Sorry, I was counting. What was that you just asked me?”
“Never mind,” Virgil said, but then he asked her something else. “I keep hearing this muffled little happy birthday tune. Is anyone else hearing it, or is it just me?”
The nurse laughed. “That’s from the maternity ward. It’s one floor below us. Every time a baby is born the new father gets to push a button behind the nurse’s station and it plays the first few notes of happy birthday over the loudspeaker on that floor. You can hear it on this floor because they’re right below us.” She wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm just above the elbow and pumped the bulb, the needle on the indicator bouncing back and forth. He waited until she was done before he spoke again.
“I was wondering. Is there any way that I could move one floor up?”
“What?” the nurse asked. Why would you want to do that? That’s the cancer ward.”
“I know,” Virgil said. She stared at him, a look of confusion on her face, and then walked out of the room.
24
__________
The next morning when he woke, Virgil wiggled his toes a little and the pain led him from the clutches of sleep like a demented tour guide with a cruel agenda. His mouth tasted like at some point in the night he’d sworn off hospital food and eaten his pillow instead. And he had to pee.
Sandy showed up, said hello, then went to check with the nurse’s station to see when the doctor might stop by to release Virgil and when she came back into the room, she told him that the nurse said the doctor was going to be delayed. “He got called into an emergency surgery.”
“Ah man. Any idea how long?”
Sandy shook her head. “They didn’t know. Listen, I talked to your dad this morning. I’m going to go pick him up and we’re going to get your truck from the station and get it back to your house. I’ll be back to take you home after I drop him off. That okay?”
“Sure,” Virgil said. “Grab my case notes off my desk will you?”
“Virgil…”
“What? I’m just going to be sitting around. Might as well do the paperwork. By the way, how’d my truck get back to the station?”
“Rosie drove it over there and put it in the lot.”
“Oh man, you let Rosie drive my truck?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Have you ever seen his car?”
“You worry to much, Jonesy. Hey, you’re going home today. Treat me right and maybe I’ll dress up in a little nurses’ uniform for you, make you forget all about the paperwork. You know, show you what a real sponge bath is like.” She winked at him. “See you in an hour or so, boyfriend.”
Boyfriend. He liked that.
__________
Later that same afternoon Sandy was back and the doctor came in with a list of instructions for his release. The nurse who was with him scheduled an appointment for a follow-up visit the next week and after another hour and a half of preparations and paperwork, Virgil was informed he was free to go. Forty-five minutes later they were back at Virgil’s place.
Sandy turned on the lights and generally woke the place up while he settled onto the couch and tried to get comfortable. “What can I get you?” she asked.
The time had gotten away from him and the ride from the hospital had taken its toll. “I’m getting behind on the pain. I could use a couple of pills.”
She brought him the medicine then slipped her hand into mine and said, “So, what’s next?”
“Is that a big question, or a little one?”
“What do you think?” she said.
“I think it’s a big one.”
“You’d probably be right,” Sandy said. “If it were a little one, I say something like, ‘how about a pizza.’ And then you’d say, ‘sure, what do you like?’ And I’d say—”
“Okay, I get it. The truth of it is, I don’t know what’s next. But you know what?”
“What?”
“I don’t want to know. I know where we’ve been, I know where we are, and I know what I want. You’re here…we’re here, and we’re together. That’s what matters to me right now.”
Sandy pulled her feet up under her and laid her head on Virgil’s shoulder. After a few minutes, she lifted her head and said, “You know, for a while, you’re going to need someone here to help you.”
“Yeah, I was kind of thinking the same thing.”
They sat there with that for a little while, then Sandy said, “You could ask Donatti.”
“That won’t work. He’s married, remember? His wife won’t let him come over anymore.”
“Well, what about Rosie?”
“Naw, he’d just drink all my beer. Plus, he’s kind of a slob. I’ve got a certain stand
ard I like to maintain around here.”
“Hmm. Guess you’re out of luck, then,” Sandy said.
“Yeah. I guess so. Too bad there isn’t someone, you know, that could sort of move in for a while and keep an eye on me. Help me around. Like that.”
“Yeah, that is too bad,” Sandy said.
“Just about anyone would do, really.”
“You know, I’m pretty busy and everything,” Sandy said. “But if I moved some stuff around on my schedule, I bet I could do it. And look, I don’t want to seem too forward or anything, because I’m not really that kind of girl, but I went ahead and put a bag together thinking you might want me to stay for a few days or something.”
“You put a bag together, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Is it a big bag?”
“Well, it’s big enough that I’ve got options.”
“A girl’s gotta have options.”
“Yep, options are good.”
Virgil tried to look serious. “Well, the closet is pretty full. I guess I could give you a drawer, though.”
“Really? A drawer? You mean I’d get my very own drawer?”
“Well sure. That’s just the kind of guy I am.”
Sandy grabbed his pants at the top by his waist and bunched them up in her fist. “I’ve got your drawers, mister.”
And with that, Virgil forgot all about his past, both the distant and the recent and for a while, even the pain in his leg. It all melted away against the warmth of a place where no one is judged, where the mind, body, spirit, and soul are all one and the same.
__________
When he woke the next morning, Virgil was alone in bed, the throbbing of his leg in time with the beat of his heart. Sandy came in a few minutes later carrying a tray with coffee and juice, her robe open in front of her body, its edges barely covering the swell of her breasts.
“How you feeling, cowboy?” She set the tray down on the night table next to the bed and leaned over and kissed him good morning.
Virgil looked at her in the robe, the curve of her hips, the little space between the tops of her thighs when she stood with her legs together, the dangled jewel of her belly ring, her hair tangled from sleep. He took her hand and guided it to his stomach, then gently pushed her further down. “This is how I’m feeling,” he said. “Since you asked, and all.”
“You know, the doctor said you are supposed to take it easy for a while.”
“Fuck the doctor,” Virgil said.
And then the morning was mostly gone too.
__________
Later, after they’d both gotten cleaned up and dressed for the day, they sat across from each other at the kitchen table, Virgil’s leg propped up under a pillow on the chair next to him. It felt good to have it elevated for a while, but then it’d start to bark at him and he’d have to set it down on the floor. Then that would become uncomfortable too, so he’d prop it back up again. The back and forth was already driving him nuts.
“Wait till it starts itching,” Sandy said. “That’ll drive you mad. Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”
Uh-oh.
“Yesterday, when I went to your office to get the case notes you wanted I ran into Cora. We had an interesting conversation.”
“Is this about us?”
“Yeah, it is,” Sandy said. “I know we didn’t have a chance to talk about it—what she said to you a few days ago on the phone, but she laid it out pretty clear for me. We have to choose.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her.”
She reached across the table and took his hand. “Let me finish, okay. It’s not all bad. You probably don’t know this, but about six years ago, and every year since, I’ve been trying to get on with the Indiana law Enforcement Academy over in Plainville.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. And guess who greased the wheels for me.”
“Who?”
“The governor.”
“What? You asked the governor to help you?”
“Well, I sort of mentioned it in passing.”
“Sandy, this is a pretty powerful guy. Are you sure you want to get in bed with him?”
“You’re the only one I’m getting into bed with, Virgil.”
“You know what I mean. So I take it there’s an opening at the Academy?”
“Yep. Director of Training. He says it’s mine if I want it.”
“Just like that?”
“Well, he said they’d have to keep the posting up, let others apply, all that business, but other than maintaining appearances, yeah, it’s mine. I just have to say the word.”
“What kind of timeline are we talking about?”
“The current director leaves in thirty days. They’d want me in time for that.”
Virgil took his leg from the chair and placed it back on the floor. Things were moving faster than he thought they would. He and Sandy had something though. Something strong. Still, could he ask her to leave her current position for something completely new and different just so they could be together as a couple? It didn’t seem fair.
Then, as if she could read his mind, she said, “It’s just a job, Virgil. I know it might feel like things are moving pretty quick right now, but you and I both know that’s nobody’s business but our own. If I have to take this job so we can be together without the headache of hiding our relationship or dealing with someone else’s bullshit bureaucracy, then that’s what I think I should do. I won’t do it unless you say you want me to though. But I hope you do.”
Virgil nodded, and the words were out of his mouth almost before he realized it. “I do.”
“Say that again, would you?”
He smiled at her. “I do.”
“I like the way that sounds. Big words though for a guy that only gives a girl one drawer.”
“Yeah, well, about that. I was kidding about the closet. It’s mostly empty you know.”
“Yeah, I know. I looked.”
“So there’s probably something I should tell you,” Virgil said. “I knew you applied for the job.”
“What? How?”
“Well, I know quite a few people over at the Academy, and when they saw your paperwork come through one of them called me. I think you wasted a favor with the governor. From what they told me, unless you blew the interview or something, they were going to hire you anyway.”
“Virgil…”
25
__________
The next day, late in the morning Virgil was back at the kitchen table, his case notes and files spread out around him. He’d tried working at his desk, but there were two problems: one, there was not enough desk space for everything he wanted to look at, and two, he just couldn’t get comfortable. There wasn’t a good way to prop his leg up. Sandy helped him move everything to the kitchen, then kissed him goodbye before she left to go downtown and hammer out the details of her new position with the academy.
Two hours later and halfway through his reports the phone rang. He followed the ringing and saw the phone on the end table in the other room. Should have thought about that. The machine was turned off, and by the time he got the crutches under him and over to the phone the ringing had stopped. He brought up the caller I.D., saw who it was, and punched the number back in.
“Marion County Prosecutor’s Office. How may I direct your call?”
“Hi, Detective Virgil Jones, for Preston Elliott, please.”
“One moment, Detective, I’ll see if he’s in.”
Virgil started to tell the receptionist that he knew Elliott was in because he’d just missed his call, but she had already clicked off. But then she clicked right back on, again. “I’m sorry, did I cut you off? I think you were saying something.”
“No, no, that’s fine. I was just saying I just missed his call, is all.”
“Very well, sir. One moment.”
Virgil thought he could hear her eyes rolling on the other end of the phone. A few seconds later, the line clicke
d again and Elliott picked up. “Jonesy, thanks for calling back.”
“Sorry I didn’t get to the phone. Takes me a little longer to get around than I’m used to. How are you, Preston?”
“I’m doing well. The question is, how are you?”
“Pretty good,” Virgil said, then winced at his grammar. “Behind on my paperwork, though. I’m guessing that’s why you’re calling?”
“I knew there was a reason they called you detective. We want to get everything filed and get this one off the books. How much time do you need for your reports, you being crippled and all?”
Instead of answering, Virgil said, “How many times have you watched the tape?”
“The one with Pate where he takes the back of his head off, or the one with the Governor tossing his lunch?”
“The one with Pate,” Virgil said, hoping the sarcasm was not as obvious as it sounded in his head.
“Only twice, unless you count the nightmares I’ve been having.”
“Anything jump out at you.”
“Like what?”
“That’s what I’m asking you, Preston. Anything at all?”
“Nothing other than the obvious,” Elliott said. “He cried a river, admitted he was not only a sexual deviant but a pedophile as well, admitted torching his Houston church and then, well, I guess you know the rest of it. He punched his own ticket. Case closed.”
“Yeah, I guess we’ve seen the same tape, then.”
“What is it, Jonesy?” Some impatience.
“It’s not what he admitted. It’s what he didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why pack every seat in the house, go on TV and confess your sins then pop yourself without telling it all?”
“You’re speaking of the fact that he didn’t mention his connection with the Senior and Junior Wells?”
