by Brian Bakos
6. The Plan Disclosed
Henry stood by the doorway and observed his older sister from across the gift shop’s narrow expanse. She had her face smothered in a bouquet of roses and was enjoying some kind of reverie. That was just like her, he thought, an artistic junkie always appreciating the ‘beauty of the world’ whether it was oil paintings, clothes, the scent of flowers – or attractive women.
He knew of her many lesbian relationships; hell, she’d even phoned him more than once to commiserate when one of her affairs went south. But otherwise, they never discussed their mutual imbroglios – especially not within earshot of their father. The old bull was very conservative when it came to sex, and he didn’t take kindly to any hint of unseemliness. He’d stuck it out with Mom, hadn’t he? That must have a tough row to hoe toward the end.
Except for Patricia’s flexible moral code, she was lot like Dad. She was forceful, determined to have her own way – a very masculine person, despite her feminine beauty. Henry had chafed under her domineering attitude when they were kids. He still felt it, and he resented it a great deal.
He began walking toward his sister with as much authoritativeness as he could muster. But despite the power suit covering his moderate paunch and the Rolex strapped to his wrist, he lacked any trace of his father’s aggressive persona. He stopped beside her, still unnoticed.
“Hi, Patricia,” he said, rather too loudly.
She jerked her head up, startled, from the depths of the bouquet.
“Oh ... hi, Henry,” she said. “I-is Debbie coming?”
“She’ll be stopping by later with the boys,” Henry remarked casually. “They’re on their way to soccer practice.
“That’s nice,” Patricia said.
She primped the bouquet, closing their ranks where her face had pressed in. She was irritated at herself for jumping the way she had. It was obvious that her brother was enjoying the payback from the phone call, judging by the smug expression on his face.
“Nice roses,” he said.
“Yeah, I hope Dad likes them,” Patricia replied.
“Good luck with that, Sis,” Henry said. “Appreciation is not his strong point.”
“Thanks for reminding me of that, Henny.”
Henry looked around the card display and pulled a sentimental Get well soon, Dad card from it. The thing was all white and flowery with a piece of ribbon attached to it. After a moment’s consideration, he shook his head and put it back.
“We’ll just say the flowers are from both of us,” Patricia said.
“Good idea.”
Henry reached for his wallet.
“It’s all right,” Patricia said, “I’ve got it.”
Henry smiled, for a moment he looked like the obnoxious little brother from years ago.
“Thanks, Sis, I’ll owe you one.”
“No problem.”
They shared a brief moment of semi-intimacy. It almost seemed like ‘old times’ again, whatever that was supposed to mean. Then Henry’s manner turned serious.
“I imagine the cocktail waitress is here, too,” he said.
“No doubt,” Patricia said. “She’s probably hoping that Dad never gets out of this place, unless it’s in a box.”
“I’m just wondering if she didn’t push him off that ladder herself,” Henry said.
“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Patricia said.
They silently chewed their resentments. Patricia’s angst was supercharged by the knowledge that Laila was younger and more attractive than herself ... and unobtainable.
“That couldn’t be it, though,” Henry said. “Debbie told me there were witnesses; Laila was nowhere near the ladder when it happened. It was just Dad’s bull-headedness again.”
“To think he tossed over Mom for her!” Patricia said.
“At least Mom’s not around to see it, any more,” Henry said.
They were quiet again, recalling their mother’s solo crash into a bridge abutment ten years before. It was her third drunk driving accident – three strikes and you’re out.
They began walking together toward the gift shop door. The sales clerk watched them go with a sigh of relief.
Rich people!
“You’re a lawyer,” Patricia said. “You know there isn’t any justice in the world.”
“Yes, well ... maybe there is some justice,” Henry replied.
“Oh?”
They were outside the gift shop now and heading for the elevator bank.
“You see, there have been some interesting changes in the law that could work to our favor – to Dad’s favor,” Henry said.
“So, tell me about them.”
They walked slowly across the lobby conferring in low voices. They had to move aside for a couple pushing a wheelchair with a severely disabled child in it. This interrupted Henry’s train of thought, and he shot an annoyed glance at the people. Patricia merely looked on, unmoved.
They stopped briefly at the visitors’ desk, then on to the elevators. Henry had completed the thumbnail sketch of his ‘reorganization plan’ by then.
“So, what do you think about it, Sis?” he asked, pushing the Up button.
Warning signals were going off in Patricia’s mind, but she decided to play along. Henry would go ahead with his plans, anyway, she reasoned, and she might as well appear to be on his side. She’d find out more that way, and maybe the plan Henry was advocating would be the best thing. Now was not the time to object, in any case.
“You’ve really got something there,” she said. “Dad might just go for it.”
They got onto the empty elevator car. As the door began to close, two people rushed to get on. Henry and Patricia watched indifferently as the door slid shut, blotting out the nobodies.
They ran into Dr. Keating as they got off the elevator. The poor man was hustling down the corridor with his clipboard, like a frightened rabbit escaping a fox. Patricia couldn’t resist the temptation.
“Hello, Doctor,” she said, rather too loudly.
Keating flinched and looked up from his clipboard.
“Oh ... hello Patricia ... Henry,” he said.
Patricia smiled, somewhat malevolently. It was fun to watch somebody jump out of their skin, wasn’t it?
“How’s Dad doing?” she asked.
“The wrist fracture isn’t too bad,” Dr. Keating said. “I’m a lot more concerned about his blood pressure.”
“Aren’t we all?” Patricia said.
“Maybe you could talk to him about it?” Dr. Keating said. “I’m afraid he takes my advice with a very large grain of salt.”
“Okay,” Henry said. “We’ll pass on your concerns.”
“Good luck with that, Bro,” Patricia said.
“Yes, well ... good day, then,” Dr. Keating said.
He hurried away down the hall.
“The doc looked scared of his own shadow,” Henry said.
“Yeah, only Dad’s no shadow,” Patricia said.
