Dr. Gastil recovered and said, “Mr. Embers, I don’t know what platitudes you want me to say. I made the call to save the life I could.”
Platitudes? How about a little grief for the unborn life which was lost? “Was the baby a boy or a girl?”
While Dr. Gastil began looking through my wife’s chart to give me the answer, Dr. Hazer chimed in immediately with, “A boy, Mr. Embers.” I could hear some pain in this man’s voice.
I turned to look into Dr. Hazer’s eyes. “I know he was in charge, but tell me truthfully, doctor. Would you have tried to save my son’s life?” There was a pause, then Dr. Hazer’s eyes darted to Dr. Gastil. “No, doctor. You look at me. Don’t look at him for guidance. I don’t care if you are a first-year resident. You tell me the truth of it. Would you have tried?”
Dr. Hazer’s took a breath and said, “Yes, I would have tried. But Mr. Embers, it would have done no …”
I lifted my hand to interrupt the man. I said, “Thank you, doctor, for your honesty. I can hear in your voice the truth of it,” I turned back to Dr. Gastil, “You’re fired. Dr. Hazer will be in charge of my wife’s case from here on out.” I took a deep breath and exhaled trying to expel my anger with my breath like the relief valve on a pressure cooker about to boil over.
“Mr. Embers, I don’t think you understand. While Dr. Hazer is not a first-year resident, he is not yet, with all due respect, ready to take on a case of this magnitude. If you will allow me to recommend a …”
I interrupted this man, I won’t call him a doctor and said, “I don’t give a rodent’s rectum what you have to say from this point on. I have no respect for any physician who would not even try. I want a doctor who will take a one in a million shot. I want a doctor who will sweat, work, and bust a gut trying to save the life of my wife. Frankly, Gastil, I want a healer, not only a doctor. You are dismissed, sir,” I refused to watch his reaction or listen any further to the man. “Dr. Hazer, please tell me about my wife’s condition.”
“She is in I.C.U. She has not yet regained consciousness. The bullet penetrated one wall of her heart and lodged itself in the other side. We repaired the damage to her heart, but she is still weak from the surgery. She crashed twice on the table. We brought her back the first time in less than two minutes, but the second time she was gone for seven minutes. We are not sure yet the extent of any brain damage she may have suffered. All we can do is wait and see.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“I have a question, Mr. Embers. What made you think of plugging the hole in your wife’s heart with your finger? It was a gutsy move.”
“In truth, it was the story of the little Dutch boy. He plugged a leak in a dike with his finger until help arrived. I figured she was dead if I did nothing. I would rather live with trying and failing than wondering and regret.”
“Well, I’m not so sure you did your wife any favors. The true kindness might have been to let her pass. She may never wake up, and it’s an outcome I don’t believe you would have wanted for her.”
“She’s a fighter, doc. Don’t count her out yet.” I wasn’t sure who I am trying to convince. Is it him or myself? “May I see my wife?”
“Of course, you can, and you can stay with her as long as you want. Check-in at the nurse’s station in the I.C.U. and they’ll show you to her room.”
“Thanks, doc.” I went back to the waiting room to give Char’s father an update on her condition. John is staring off into the distance, and Mo is asleep leaning up against his arm. I looked at the time on my cell phone. It is later than I thought. Time sure flies when you’re in mental anguish. I gave John the news about Charlene’s condition. I can see some of the worry fade from his face, but not all of it. I could not, however, tell him about the baby. I had not yet come to grips with the news myself. I think he will understand my not telling him before Char knows.
“John, could you take Moiraine home with you? I want to stay here a while longer. I’ll call you if there is any change.”
“It’s always a pleasure to have my favorite granddaughter spend the night,” John said with an amused look.
Without opening her eyes and with a yawn, Moiraine added, “I’m your only granddaughter.”
I picked Mo up out of the chair. She snuggled into the crook of my shoulder. I could carry her forever this way. John stood slowly. A grimace flashed on his face. The chairs must have played a holy terror on his back. We started to make our way to John’s car.
We had not gone half a dozen steps before Mo said, “I love you, Daddy and you too Grandpa.” Those words made me feel as if a mule kicked me in the heart. In the space of a few minutes, I had been sunk to the bottom of despair only to be lifted to the heights of joy. Who knew four words could have such power. Nations have fallen, and dynasties have risen with less power.
We walked the rest of the way to John’s car in silence. I put Mo down in the backseat. John opened up the trunk, and I pulled out a spare car seat and installed it. Having two car seats had made life a little easier when it came to Mo visiting her grandpa. Switching one car seat back and forth is a pain in the patootie. I maneuvered Mo into the seat and buckled her in. She is out. Poor thing had to deal with things a child should never have to deal with. No wonder she is so tired.
I gave John the key to the house, “Here. Get whatever Mo needs for the sleepover, and if you can do me a favor, feed Blossom for me while you are there,” he took the key and put it on his keychain. “Thanks for all your help, John,” we shook hands again. I started to walk back to visit Charlene.
“Nate, wait a moment. Right now is not the time to say what I have to say, but when you have finished seeing to my dau… umm, your wife, and you get some rest. I want to talk with you. It’s important,” I could see it in his eyes what he has to say has great meaning to him.
“Sure thing, John, as soon as I can.” I turned and started the long lonely walk to my wife’s room. I have had a myriad of tasks to keep my mind preoccupied but with nothing to distract my mind, my thoughts drifted. Memories came flooding in. I am afraid of one memory. It is a memory all too close to the present reality. The past is looming over me. It is breathing down my neck. It is threatening to overwhelm me, to drown me, to destroy me utterly. And though this memory would indeed destroy me someday; right now, it only wanted to drive me mad.
I managed to make it to my wife’s room without being washed away with the tide. She is laying there motionless with tubes and wires attached to various body parts. She is breathing. Her heart is beating. She is alive. I hadn’t been sure until just this moment. She looks a mess and beautiful at the same time.
There is only one chair in the room. I pulled it over to Char’s bedside and sat down. As I am sitting there, it occurred to me they must have bought the chair as surplus from the inquisition. I can sit in it till the rapture if it means Charlene will be fine. I leaned over to give Char a brief kiss. I told her everything would be okay, and I love her. I sat and watched her for a few moments hoping to see any kind of reaction. Nothing. I guess it is too much to hope she would awake with a kiss from her prince charming. Okay, it is too much to hope she would awake with a kiss from her frog.
Since she is out of surgery and on the mend, the day’s weariness is overwhelming me. I placed my hands on the railing of her bed and rested my head on them for a moment. I fell asleep before I knew it.
I dreamed. I nightmared. Over and over, it repeated the same nightmare which has been plaguing me. Each a variation on the last, but never could I beat Mark Galos. No matter how I fought, he beat me. No matter if I ran, he would find me. And in every dream, my family suffered my fate alongside me. After about a gazillion reruns, I woke with a start.
I lifted my head. “This crap is getting old.”
“What’s getting old?” I heard Char say behind me. I about jumped out of my skin. What’s this? Charlene is still in the bed with all the gizmos attached, but it is her voice I heard. I stood and turned around. Char was there looki
ng at me. Okay, call a shrink. Put me in a rubber room. I must be madder than a spring hare. Or I want my wife better. Something is wrong with wife number two. She is slightly blurry and a bit translucent. “Are you real?” I blinked and shook my head to clear my vision.
She smiled at me. “I think I’m real. Are you?” She reached out to touch my cheek.
I know she is touching me, but I didn’t exactly feel it. I feel its warmth in my soul. It is the warmth I always feel at her touch. But my cheek feels nothing. It is like I had been shot up with Novocain. “What do you mean, am I real? Whose wonderful delusion is this anyway?” She pointed at the chair I had been sitting in. There I am sitting in it with my head resting on my hands. “What the, lose my PG rating, is going on?” I turned back to look at my see-through wife. She smiled. I swooped in and pulled her close to me. The feel of her filled me. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up. I heard my cell phone go off, and with a start, I woke up. This time there is no dreamy see-through wife. Only the all too real nightmare of my wife in a hospital bed clinging to life.
I read the text from John. It said Moiraine is well and in bed with the teddy-bear in a chokehold. I check the time. I had been here longer than I should have. I made my goodbyes to Char and headed home. I was halfway to the elevator when I realized my keys are not in my pocket. I headed back to the room to look for them. As I walked in, I saw a nurse leaning over my wife.
The nurse is in one of those old-fashioned uniforms with the all-white dress and matching hat. Nowadays, you only see those at Halloween time when women wanted to fulfill a man’s fantasy with a sexy costume. This, however, is not a costume. This is real and old school. If someone is still wearing one of those, she must be older than dirt. “How’s she doing?” I said as I started looking for my keys. The nurse jumped with a start. She turned and looked at me. She is not older than dirt. I would put her at somewhere in her late twenties. She is an attractive woman with a figure to rival my wife’s, not that I noticed. She also has a perky upturned nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. So, how is she doing?” She didn’t say a word. She looked around the room like she is trying to see who I am talking to. “I like the traditional uniform by the way. With everyone wearing scrubs, it makes it hard to tell a nurse from a doctor or an orderly,” I found my keys. They were under the chair. When I straighten back up after retrieving my keys, the nurse was gone. She was a little rude, not answering me.
Well, with my keys in hand, I headed back home to catch forty winks. When I arrived, the house was dark, cold, and felt empty. The house is empty except for Blossom. The only sound I can hear is the thumping of her tail. It is unnatural to have the house this quiet. I stripped off my clothes and put on my jammies. I looked at our bed. We have slept every night of our marriage in this bed. Moiraine was conceived in this bed. Char and I whispered dreams and hopes to each other in this bed, and now it is empty. Somehow it doesn’t feel right to sleep in our bed without Charlene next to me. I grabbed a blanket and pillow and headed for the recliner in the living room.
I made a silent vow to myself. The next time I would sleep in our bed, it would be with Char. I sat down in the recliner and leaned the chair back, put my feet up, and spread the blanket over me. Everything is copacetic and cozy. Blossom began to whimper. “All right girl,” I patted the side of the chair and Blossom slowly stood from her bed and ambled over to me. I reached down and picked her up and placed her on my lap. She yawned, thumped her tail a couple of times, and went to sleep. I followed her fine example soon after.
Chapter Eight
The alarm on my cell phone went off, and I opened my eyes to behold my empty house. I had slept without dreaming. I felt relief to have a night free of mental turmoil. Blossom’s tail began to wag a mile a minute. I guess she liked cuddling. In a way, it had been comforting for me as well. I opened the back door and let Blossom attend to her business while I attended to mine. I decided to turn on my internal iPod. It started up with “Ain’t No Sunshine” by Al Jarreau.
“Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone and she’s always gone too long anytime she goes away…”. The song fits my mood.
I went to the kitchen, opened up the chill chest, and pulled out the last of the Diet Pepsi there. I popped it open and took a long deep swallow. It slightly burned the back of my throat as it went down. It felt satisfying.
I am in a state of shock and disbelief. My biggest enemy is my mind. If I dwell on the events of yesterday, I know I cannot function. I have to go on. I have to purpose myself with what has to be done. I have to start my day like any other day. It seems wrong. With soda in hand, I turned the shower on, made it as hot as I can stand, and got in.
The drops of water are hitting me like shards of liquid glass slicing into my skin. It feels agonizingly sweet. I stood there under the hot blast and took another deep swig of my soda. Caffeine and a hot shower, God bless America. It invigorated me better than a few more hours of sack time would. I skipped the razor. I have more pressing matters than to look “Oh so pretty today.” I dried off, brushed my teeth, and finished dressing by putting on a pair of comfortable old blue jeans and a tee-shirt which said, “I’m a legend in my own mind.” There is no point dressing extra snazzy since I have no time for job hunting today.
Scratching at the backdoor told me Blossom is done with her routine. After I opened the back door, she moseyed over to her bowl. Her kibble is waiting for her, along with a doggie treat. She is moving slower these days. It won’t be long until she leaves us. I hope she has strength enough to hold on until Charlene is well recovered. It would send Char into an emotional tailspin if she weren’t here when it happened.
I grabbed the phone and called for a relief crossing-guard for the day. Next, I dialed the number of someone I had no interest in talking to. After a few minutes of making arrangements on the phone, I am ready to head out the door. But, before I left for the day, I spent some time and attention on Blossom. She is going to be alone most of the day. I felt sorry, but I had important matters to see done. I turned on the television and set the channel to the “Animal Planet.” I hoped it would grab Blossom’s attention and keep her company.
I locked up the house and started to get in my car when a tan sedan pulled to the driveway and blocked my car from leaving. Two men got out of the car and approached me. One I recognized as Detective Frank Hawkins, who worked the original robbery case and the other gentleman I am unfamiliar with.
“Detective Hawkins, how are you doing?” I said as I stretched out my hand. The detective ignored my hand. Frank Hawkins is a nondescript man of average height and weight. The most distinctive feature about him is he had no distinctive features. He is the kind of man one would not recognize after a casual meeting. My eyes seemed to slide off his face and hardly registered what they had seen. This fact, most likely, worked well for him during stakeouts or undercover work.
Detective Hawkins left my hand hanging there with my offer unanswered. The passive-aggressive crap always cheeses me off. What is he about today? I kept my hand out for a moment more before I turned toward the other gentleman and offered my hand to him. “So, who is your partner here? I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“I am Detective Joe Houser.” He glanced at my hand then back to my eyes. Twice I was left hanging? I wonder who pissed in their Cheerios this morning. What can I say about Joe Houser? He is built like a fireplug, a short man and nearly as wide. His stance didn’t say he had a chip on his shoulder like most short men with a little power. No, he carried himself like a man confident he could handle whatever came his way. His blue eyes betrayed an intensity which could burn a hole to the back of your skull.
It always feels awkward when another man leaves you hanging. Now two men had given me the brush-off. I tried not to take it personally. I failed. “Have you picked up Mark Galos yet?”
“We have some questions about the events of yesterday, Mr. Embers,” Detective Hawkins said.
“You’ll have to come with us,”
Detective Hauser added.
“I have a few errands I have to take care of along with seeing to my wife and daughter. Can we set up a time this afternoon when I can come in and give a statement?”
“No, Mr. Embers. You need to come with us.” Joe grabbed my arm in a vise of a grip. He wasn’t trying to hurt me, but he would leave a bruise if he squeezed any harder.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No, Mr. Embers. You are not under arrest, but there are some matters about the shooting we need to clear up. So, if you’ll come with us,” Joe said in a mockingly polite manner as he started to pull on my arm.
“If I am not under arrest, then let me focus on my family, and I’ll see you this afternoon. I will answer any and all questions you may have.”
“Sounds like he’s trying to avoid talking with us, Frank. Maybe he has something to hide? Mr. Nathan Embers, I am placing you under arrest for obstruction of justice. You’re going to be rotting in a holding cell for a while. Then maybe you’ll be willing to talk with us.”
I am becoming angry, and I don’t have time for this crap. I tried to pull my arm free, but Joe swung me around, slammed me into the car, and started putting cuffs on me. “Oh, you saw it, Frank. He tried to keep me from putting the cuffs on him. He’s resisting arrest. We’ll have to add it to the list.” He whipped me back around and got in my face. He must have been standing on his toes like a ballerina. “Try to resist again, and I’ll make sure to lose the paperwork. You’ll rot for a couple of days instead of a few hours.” Joe needed a Tic-Tac in the worst way. No, make it three.
“First, you’ll never make those charges to stick. B, you take me in now, and I swear to you I’ll lawyer up and refuse to say a word. Third, Detective Hawkins sir, I would like to point out if you look right up there,” I motioned with my head, “My landlord, Mrs. Blake, is a rather paranoid, but a sweet old woman. She has video cameras with microphones all around her property here. She is an agoraphobic. I’m sorry I should use smaller words for you guys.” Whoops, there goes my mouth again. I’ll have to talk to it later. “She is afraid of everything and everyone. You see, she hasn’t left her house since her husband died. She, no doubt, is watching and recording what is happening. She looks on me as the son she never had. No doubt, she is on the phone with your fellow officers. Telling them how a couple of crazy guys are attacking her tenant. I think it would be wise if you rethink what you are doing here. So, why don’t you save us all a great deal of trouble, time, and, in your case, paperwork. Let me do what I need to do. I give you my word I will come in, and you can question me to your heart’s delight.” It is a real effort not to start mouthing off more at these idiots in cheap blue suits, but I don’t have time for a game of ‘Ring Around the Rosie.’
The Forging Page 11
