by Brian Bakos
7. Tense Visit
Frank’s unrelenting grouchiness surprised even himself. Pain and insecurity were getting the best of him, taking him far outside his comfort zone. He was lashing out at people without understanding why. He’d had a bad scare, especially the ‘out of body’ experience part, and he simply didn’t know how to handle it. All of his defense mechanisms bristled.
Then Henry and Patricia arrived.
Frank looked up testily from his bed as his two offspring entered the room. Laila got up from her chair and smeared a, hopefully, pleasant smile across her face.
“Hello, everyone,” Henry said with mock heartiness.
“Henry, Patricia,” Laila said, “how good of you to come.”
Patricia also pasted on a smile and gave Laila a perfunctory clasp with her free hand.
“Nice to see you again, Laila,” she said. “You’re well, I hope?”
Before Laila could answer, Patricia moved over to Frank and, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, kissed his leathery cheek.
“How are you feeling, Dad?” she asked.
“Like warmed over crap,” Frank said.
“Oh, things can’t be all that bad,” Patricia said. “Are those the pajamas I got you last Christmas?”
“Yep.”
Frank wrinkled his nose and shied away from the flowers his daughter was holding in her other arm. His frown deepened.
“Jesus Christ, Patricia,” he exclaimed, “I’m not dead yet!”
Patricia placed the flower arrangement on the side table. Her face bore an annoyed, though resigned, expression.
“You’re welcome, Dad,” she said.
She noticed a little tent card on the table. It sported a picture of a smiling woman in a blue-flowered top standing next to some sort of machine that looked something like the R2D2 robot from the Star Wars movies. A message accompanied the photo:
You have been admitted to a thoroughly disinfected room. This will reduce the possibility of getting a hospital acquired infection.
What’s that about? Patricia wondered.
“It smells like a god damn funeral parlor in here!” Frank said. “Are you going to wheel in a coffin next?”
Patricia tossed the card in the waste basket, then turned to her father and studied him with mock seriousness.
“Mmm ... no,” she said. “You still seem plenty chipper.”
“Not if the doctors get their way,” Frank said. “They’ve already snagged me for another 24 hours in this lousy place.”
“The rest will do you good, Dad,” Henry said.
“Rest?” Frank said. “They’re going to run a bunch of tests on me tomorrow – probably stick me full of needles like a voodoo doll.”
Henry plopped down into the extra chair and loosened his necktie. He always wanted to loosen his tie when his father was around; it seemed harder to breath at such times.
“So, how’s the ‘politician’ doing?” Frank inquired sarcastically. “Out canvassing for votes? You’d better make it quick; half the people in this joint will be dead by tomorrow.”
Henry feigned a good-natured chuckle.
“Nope,” he said, “I’m all done with those Party people. You can’t talk sense to them.”
“Well, at least there’s some good news today,” Frank said. “Now I can die happy.”
“Oh, Dad,” Patricia said, “don’t talk like that.”
She sat at the foot of the bed while Laila resumed her chair. An awkward silence descended as Laila and her two ‘step children’ sized each other up like kids on a playground.
“Don’t everybody talk at once,” Frank said.
Henry’s wife, Debbie, mercifully broke the stalemate by entering the room just then. Frank’s face brightened at the sight of her, and a smile crossed his lips for the first time that day.
“Well, hi there,” he said.
“Hello, Dad,” Debbie replied.
She was quite pretty in a wholesome ‘girl next door’ way, and her casual, though expensive, soccer mom clothes complemented her appearance well. Only the harried look on her face presented a distraction.
Laila stood up and embraced her warmly.
“I’m so glad you could make it, Debbie,” she said.
“Hello, Laila,” Debbie said. “You’re looking great, as always.”
The couple’s two boys – Jeff and Ronny, ages 11 and 12 respectively – bounded into the room wearing their soccer uniforms. The uniforms were bright yellow with black accents. One could get the impression that two large, venomous bees had suddenly forced their way in.
“Hi Grandpa! Hi Aunt Patricia!” they said in unison.
Debbie nudged them.
“Oh ... hi Laila,” they said, without enthusiasm.
Debbie moved to the bed and gave Frank a hug.
“How are you, Dad?” she asked.
“Not too bad, thanks.” Frank patted Debbie’s hand affectionately. “Wonderful to see you again.”
Patricia and Henry shifted in their seats, irked by this obvious show of preference their father was making for Debbie. Laila looked toward Henry, but he made no move to get up. She then gestured to her own vacated chair.
“Won’t you sit down, Debbie?” she said.
“No thanks,” Debbie said, “we can only stay a minute.”
Henry leaned around the obstruction of his wife and addressed Frank directly.
“The doctor’s right, Dad,” he said. “You’ve got to slow down a bit. Keep the old blood pressure in the ball park.”
“Ach!” Frank replied.
“Yeah, no more taking on the whole world by yourself,” Patricia said.
“Somebody needs to take on this lousy world,” Frank said. “It may as well be me.”
Henry and Patricia exchanged a weary glance. Arguing with their father was always a losing game, they knew from experience. Henry soldiered on, though.
“You know, Dad,” he said, “those roofers would have probably got on well enough without your input.”
“Bunch of slackers!” Frank grunted.
“Sometimes I think you hire people just so you can give them a hard time,” Patricia said. “I wouldn’t want to be on your payroll.”
Frank grunted again, but he seemed to enjoy the remark.
“Who was that fat landscape guy you had the run in with last summer?” Henry said. “You know, when he messed up the flower garden.”
“I wish I could have seen that!” Patricia said.
“Bert Nagy,” Frank said. “I would have fired his ass long ago if it wasn’t for my wife. She’s got a soft spot for all losers.”
Again, Laila was stunned and embarrassed by Frank’s insensitivity. Debbie gave her a sympathetic look; nobody else did.
“Do you still carry that nine millimeter automatic in your pocket, Dad?” Henry asked.
He turned toward Patricia.
“Remember back when we were kids and he pulled it on that snotty mechanic?”
“Yeah, the poor jerk turned white as a sheet!” Patricia said.
“Then he threatened to call the cops, remember?” Henry said.
Henry, Patricia, and the boys all laughed. Frank sported a malicious grin. Debbie and Laila did not share the mirth.
“How much did you pay the guy to shut him up, Dad?” Henry asked.
“I don’t remember,” Frank said. “But it was worth it just to see the look on his face staring down that gun barrel.”
Frank mimed a gun with his fingers. “Pow!”
His various offspring roared with laughter. Debbie and Laila merely looked alarmed.
“How many people have you killed, Grandpa?” Jeff asked.
“Oh, not that many,” Frank said, “only when I had to.”
“Well – I think we really ought to be going now,” Debbie said.
“I want to hear about Grandpa’s killing spree!” Ronny protested. “Back before he got old and stuff.”
“We’re already late for soccer practice,” Debbie said. �
��You want to be ready for the playoffs, don’t you?”
“Listen to your mother, boys,” Henry said.
“Okay, Dad,” Ronny said with obvious disappointment.
“It’ll have to be some other time, Ace,” Frank said. He also sounded a bit disappointed.
Laila stood up.
“I think I’ll be going, too,” she said.
“Not on our account, Laila,” Patricia said with thinly veiled insincerity.
“It’s been a very long day for me,” Laila said. “I’ll just let you three catch up on things.”
“Bye, Grandpa!” the boys yelled and took off into the hall.
Laila and Debbie bid farewell to Frank and his crew. Then they left together.
