***
I’d made it back to the room and slid back into bed. I was shaken by what had happened in the corridors of the hospital and tried to work out what was going on. Nothing came of course because nothing could, at least not while I was there. But I didn’t know that and I don’t know if it would have made it any easier for me if I did. Instead I shrugged it all off, lying to myself that it was nothing, only imagination and stress and painkillers working together in fun new ways.
Less than five minutes later my parents came through the door. I tried my hardest to suppress the fear I experienced, not wanting them to ask questions about what was bothering me, I would have had no answers to give anyway. I looked over to the door. The curtain was pulled away again and Price continued his slumber. As much as I was disgusted with the man in the other bed I was also slightly envious of him at that moment because at least he could sleep through the visit of my parents. I would have to be awake for every last second of it.
When mom saw me she shuffled toward me with her arms out before her, her palms upturned and an expression of pity on her face: a supplicant in the ancient rites of motherhood. Behind her my father stood in the doorway all business and leaning against the frame. His face housed a controlled and unreadable expression which suggested he was somehow impervious and detached from the things happening around him. The two couldn’t have been more different from each other.
“Oh my poor little boy,” Mom exclaimed. She reached my bed and leaned down engulfing me in her arms. “I’ll never let you go again.” I knew better than to protest this action. It came as I knew it would and I was wise to let it come and pass on its own.
“Mille,” Dad said in a way which said he was exhausted of his wife’s overreactions. “The boy’s fine. Leave him alone, you’ll just embarrass him.” For once I was thankful for my father’s advice. His criticism was usually directed at his sons and had a way of making us squirm. I imagined his use of this skill in board rooms was what helped him move forward in life so quickly. An unfortunate side effect was that he transferred this strategy to his family, treating us like employees, too.
When she finished her smothering, my mom stood and turned to my father. “Oh, Charles,” she chided, “I’m his mother. It’s my right to embarrass my boy every once in a while. And I don’t get to see him now, so I’m overdue.” I would have found this little exchange comical except for the fact that I knew from personal experience that my mom was only half-kidding and my dad wasn’t kidding at all.
“Guys,” I said throwing my head back on my pillow already exasperated with them. It hadn’t taken long but I wasn’t surprised by this. “Could we not do this here? I’ve had enough wrecks for one week, thanks, and I’d just like to get out of here as soon as I can.”
“Sorry, Stevie. You know we don’t mean it,” my mom said. My dad just rolled his eyes. Whether or not my mom meant it I couldn’t say for certain but I was pretty sure dad did.
Dad ignored mom and went straight to business demanding a report. “How’s the leg? How long until you’re up and around and back to normal?” That was the one thing I did really appreciate about my father. You always knew where you stood with him because he was very direct and told you exactly what was on his mind. However, on the flip side I sometimes got the feeling that when he was looking at me he didn’t see a son but instead a spread sheet to be analyzed and corrected where necessary.
“Leg’s fine,” I said, “it’s the ankle that’s the problem. But it’s just sprained. The doc said I’d be back to normal in a little over a week. I’ve got crutches so I can get around for now, I should be fine.” I knew this would please my father, just like I knew that if I’d said I would be bedridden for a week that he would be disappointed. I wouldn’t be able to pound the pavement looking for jobs or, heaven forbid, be able to work if I got one. Anything that halted production was suspect to my dad.
“That’s good. Wouldn’t want you to be lying around and not get anything useful done.” His comments weren’t surprising but still I was a little hurt. That’s right, dad, never mind the fact that one of your sons was involved in a deadly car accident, perhaps traumatized by the event. But as long as he’s able to do something useful it must be all good. Thanks dad, that’s a real boost for my confidence. I thought all these things but would never say them to him. I thought if I did say them it would only make things worse.
“Actually I’ve already been up and practicing on the crutches. I made a few loops around the halls here just before you guys showed up.” I tried to sound nonchalant about it all, though inside I was pretty geeked about the whole thing. Some of it was the knowledge that I had come through a severe wreck basically whole and intact. More of it was the sense of accomplishment at being able to walk after said accident.
“And we’re so proud of you, too, aren’t we Charles?” Mom beamed, dad remained in the doorway, indifferent.
“Sure,” he said. He may have even meant it but the man might as well have been a book written in Chinese: I’m sure I could figure him out if I applied enough time and effort, but for all intents and purposes I just wasn’t going to be able to read him. Then as an after thought he asked, “How long will you have to be here?”
“Oh I’ll be out of here today. You guys did bring one of the spare cars, didn’t you?”
“Of course we did,” dad said sounding a little offended as if I’d implied they would have forgotten. “But we expect you to get it back to us as soon as you can. Your mother mentioned something to me about you maybe getting a job?” I could see a glimmer of something in his eyes. I didn’t know if it was pride that I was finally working again or relief that his son wasn’t a total loser. I latched onto this and began to feed it, hoping for something resembling genuine emotion for me from my dad.
“Yeah, I just got a job at a data processing building. It’s a good company. I was supposed to start Wednesday but I called my boss and she said I could start a week later.”
“That’s generous,” my father remarked. “They can’t fault you for something unforeseen like this but they didn’t have to keep you. You be sure to thank your boss for the extension. What kind of work will you be doing?” I could tell he was much more interested in the conversation now that it had turned to work.
“I’ll be doing custodial stuff for them.”
“That’s good for now. It won’t support you forever but there’s nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty,” he said. A smile touched the corners of his mouth when he said this, I was sure of it. It lifted my spirits. A smile from my father was like sightings of Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster; reports of them were rare and couldn’t always be believed and when they did show up the pictures of such events were curiously all blurry. But this one was for real and it was for me.
After this we sat around and talked for about an hour. We mostly discussed inconsequential things and some of the things my brothers were up to. Mom asked if I was seeing anybody and I told her I wasn’t which was technically true from a certain angle. Katie and I had not yet been out together on a date and I didn’t know if it would go anywhere. I wanted to avoid the topic anyway for the time.
What I really wanted was to save it for another time not only because there was little development in that department but because I wanted to spread out my personal “achievements.” With my parents you had to introduce these things slowly and periodically so as to draw out maximum satisfaction. This may not make sense to most people but in the world I come from it’s as logical as presents at Christmas.
Near the end of the visit Eddie came back in and showed me a few of the exercises that I needed to do every day. Mom and dad watched silently during this part, not liking to talk about family matters when strangers are around. We have always been a very private family. When he had finished he made sure I was comfortable and had everything I needed. I said I could use some water and he left to get it. After Eddie was gone my folks opened up again to say their goodbyes.
“We’re going to get going, son,” dad stated. “I had to miss an important meeting to be here today.” Every meeting was an important meeting to my dad and he didn’t miss them for nothing. Without coming right out and saying it I knew what the text beneath the text was really trying to communicate: I love you. He knew no other way to say it and I was fine with that. I’d take whatever I could get.
Then he reached into his pocket and fished for something. He pulled out a set of car keys and tossed them to me. They sailed through the air and I caught them. “Go get them champ,” he said. Then he added, “Make sure to take it easy on the leather. I just had it reupholstered.”
“We’ll call you later this week to see how you’re doing,” mom added and then they were gone.
A Ghost of Fire Page 14
