The Pinecone Apothecary
Page 2
“I’m telling her that we’ll be home in an hour.”
“What, what?” we got to the front of the line.
“Never mind. I told her we’ll update her soon,” she said and grabbed two plates and two set of silverware rolled in white napkins, “What do you feel like having?”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel like anything right now. Help yourself babe,” I stroked her back.
“Alright, should I put something for you on my plate?” she turned to me, “Maybe you’ll feel like it in a bit? Because you’re not having any of my food, I’m warning you. Actually, it’s better if I serve us on separate plates.” She kissed me, “So no one can say your wife is stuffing herself with food even after giving birth.”
“No, it’s fine Ali,” I laughed, “You know what, I’ll wait for you over here,” I took a few steps back.
“What’s up with you?” She left the buffet and came closer to me.
“I don’t know, I don’t really have an appetite, I’m feeling a little nauseous,” I glanced at the exit which led to the hotel lobby.
“I’m stressed too. It’s our first time leaving Tom, I feel awful about it, but there’s no point in both of us worrying.”
“No, no, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it? You gave a short and concise speech, you did it like a pro,” she waved her silverware around and smiled.
“I don’t know. I’m a bit suffocated in this hall, it’s too crowded with all the people here.”
I stood at the entrance to the conference hall and stared at the extravagant chandeliers hanging from the tall ceiling of the lobby. “Excuse me sir,” a waiter appeared behind me with a tray of dirty glasses, went out to the lobby and walked around the sofas and chairs, collecting trash and used dishes from the tables near the bar, then disappeared into the distant corridor.
“Jule? What’s happening with you?”
“I just need a bit of air,” I said breathlessly.
A white Mercedes drove into the parking lot and stopped in front of the lobby just as we had come out through the revolving doors. The security guard smiled at us and I was busy avoiding the looks I was getting from George and another colleague who were standing outside and smoking. An older man with silver hair and a goatee who was waiting outside by the door passed by us, stubbed out his cigar and got into the Mercedes. He left a strong scent behind him. We took a few steps and sat on a corner bench near the little fountain.
“Want some water?”
“No, I’m fine, just a little nauseous.”
“I’m getting you some water—”
“Wait, wait, don’t go.”
“You’re sweating,” she put her hand on my forehead.
“I don’t know, it burns a bit, it’s nausea, or heartburn, I don’t know what it is,” I tried to overcome the ache, “What are we going to do Ali?”
“Say a polite goodnight and go home. You’re not feeling well,” she got up and gave me her hand.
“No. Not what are we going to do right now. What are we going to do in general?” My breathing became faster and shorter. I held her hand, “I need to get a job, start all over again at another place.”
“Is that what’s bothering you right now?” she stood in front of me. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” she caressed the back of my neck, “You got a pretty big payout that will last—”
“Which won’t last for more than six months with the bills we have,” I turned my head away from her and thought about all the extra expenses we had, “Even with your salary. And we’re planning on Tom having siblings close in age.”
“Jule, you’ll find a job easily. And even if we wait a few months, it won’t be that bad,” she grabbed my head and turned it back to her.
“I don’t want to wait for anything! I’ve spent nearly three years sleeping four hours at night for a measly payout! Ouch! Ow…”
“Jule! Julian?! You’re coming with me right now. We’re getting out of here!”
“Wait… wait… ouch… ow… there’s a couple of colleagues there…” I put my hand on my chest and pressed where it hurt, “I don’t want them to see me like this… ow…”
“I don’t care about them! You’re stressing me out! Get up right now!” she pulled me.
I took a few deep breaths, Alex grabbed my right arm and we went back to the entrance. “Can we get our car? It’s urgent!” she told the security guard as she felt around in her bag, “We’re going to the emergency room, please hurry!” Her phone started ringing and the noise from the cars passing by was unbearable, “Damn it, I don’t know where the ticket stub is!”
“Is everything alright?” George turned to us.
I couldn’t manage to say a word, I doubled over in pain and leaned on Alex, who was answering the phone hysterically, “Is he awake again?” I felt like I was going to vomit in a minute. I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. I felt a sharp pain from my chest all the way to my back, like a sharpened iron rod, I moaned from the pain. She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder and grabbed me with both her hands, “I’m really really sorry, we’re going to be late and I’ll make it up to you for the late hour and the trouble,” she said while trying to help me stand steadily, with George supporting me from my other side, “Can you please get him an ambulance!”
“I’ll take him, this is my car,” George pointed at the Toyota that the valet had just driven over from the parking lot.
I woke up all of a sudden from a sharp pain, a doctor was standing in front of me, the walls were spinning.
“Can you sit up?” he asked.
“Blood pressure is a hundred and eighty five over a hundred and twenty,” the nurse released my arm.
“How much pain are you in on a scale of one to ten? Pressure or burning sensations? Where is the pain located? Is this the first time you’ve experienced this sort of pain?” he continued asking questions but I couldn’t answer.
“Let’s order Troponin, a CBC panel, electrolytes, kidney and liver function survey, also serum lipase and urinalysis. I want an EKG right now and a chest X-ray.”
I closed my eyes again.
Another doctor woke me up, Alex was standing next to her. She said I had an infection in my esophagus, which was a common thing, and that she’d give me intravenous medication to lessen the pain, and pills for after. “you can get them in any pharmacy,” she gave Alex the prescription. “Take it for two weeks, twice a day before meals.” She said that the pain should pass within a day or two, and if it didn’t then I should go to my family doctor, and recommended that I stay at home and rest.
Pain is Only the Messenger
I rested at home for two days. The medication I got at the hospital really helped, I felt better and returned to work for a few arrangements, to vacate my office and hold a few final meetings. I found a few old thank you letters in one of the drawers, as well as an old contract for an investment fund we had been offered. I threw them all away and made sure I left nothing behind. During the ride home I thought about the two job interviews I had coming up, both were already planned for the coming month. I hoped that at least one of them would offer a worthwhile and long-term position. The phone rang, Alex called to remind me to pick up a few things on the way home.
“Oh, and get me some vitamin C as well,” I could hear Tom crying in the background, “And diaper cream too. Weleda. The one with the orange tube.”
“Alright, I was planning on stopping to pick up the prescription anyway.” Actually, I should have already picked it up yesterday.
“Oh, and Similac Advance too, I need to start using it, you know what, I’ll send you a message with a list.”
I parked at the big shopping center near our house. I went into the supermarket and got a shopping cart. The list was longer than usual because we hadn’t managed to go shopping while I was sick. We usuall
y bought healthy products, and I more or less knew where everything was, but still I walked through all the isles patiently, making sure not to miss anything off the list. Bio yogurt enriched with good bacteria, smoked tuna without preservatives, wholemeal bread, tomato sauce without MSG. I continued on to the baby food section. Wait, where is it? I glanced at the list again, which formula did she want? I didn’t know there were so many different types of baby food. I added a post-bath vitamin E cream for babies, a few ointments and a special soap for baby skin, recommended by the saleswoman. After I filled the cart with organic fruit and vegetables I went to the other side of the supermarket, the over-the-counter medication and supplements section. Centrum is always good, it said it contained twenty nine vitamins and minerals, and there was vitamin C for Alex too. On the other side of the isle I picked up Advil and sore throat lozenges, just to have at home, as well as an immune system strengthening herbal syrup. I got to the checkout and stared at the cashier, and then at the items she was scanning. Beep, beep - maybe I had forgotten something? No. I didn’t forget anything. I gave her my credit card, and when I signed the receipt I felt a slight pang in my chest.
I put the shopping bags in the trunk of the car and felt the pangs again. A slight shiver ran through me for a moment. I straightened up, stretched out my chest and took a deep breath, but the more I thought about the pain, the stronger it became. I locked the car, breathed heavily and walked quickly to the pharmacy at the other side of the shopping center. I tried not to think about the pain, but I was scared of what I had experienced at the night of the party, and that enhanced the pangs with every step I took. A sharp pain cut through me. My heart was racing. A wave of fever washed over me as I entered the florescent lighting of the pharmacy. There were two people in line before me. I cleared my throat and put my hand on my chest. There’s no way I’m going to vomit here!
When it finally got to my turn, the pharmacist looked at me, took the prescription, read it and looked at me again, “Are you in pain right now?”
“A little bit, yes,” I grinded my teeth and got my wallet out of my pocket.
“This should help within a few minutes,” she said as she clicked on the computer.
“Yeah I know,” I breathed through my mouth and continued clearing my throat, “I took it for a couple of days, but I already felt better yesterday, so I thought-“
She looked up at me. Her face was tanned. Big brown eyes. Hair pulled back, a black rubber band holding a long braid which hung down onto her left shoulder. She looked at the screen again, glanced at the credit card I gave her, both sides of it, and kept clicking the mouse. A narrow sheet of paper with tiny print came out of the printer which was at the side of the screen. She handed me back the card and walked over to one of the dozens of drawers behind her, took out a packet of pills, grabbed the sheet of paper from the printer, peeled off the sticker and placed it on the packet. She put it in a bag, and before handing it to me she said, “Sometimes pain is only the messenger.”
“Yes, I’m usually a very healthy person,” I answered awkwardly.
“Get well soon, and you need to eat after you take them.”
I hurried to the restrooms. I took two pills out of the packet, leaned down to the faucet and swallowed them both. I felt the pills going down my throat. I looked at myself in the mirror. Leaned my hands on the sink, pale, my chin was wet. I raised my head and took a deep breath. The corner between the ceiling and the wall above the mirror was filled with spiderwebs. The water gushed in the sink. I washed my face, turned off the faucet, took the little bag and went out.
As I walked through the little corridor leading from the restrooms to the pharmacy, I noticed a board with photos of the pharmacy workers out on a daytrip. They looked happy. In the big photo at the center of the board, I recognised the pharmacist who had helped me a few moments before, she wore a thin blue dress and held a big basket. Behind her was a green field with a little girl and a dog running through it. At the bottom of the board there was a child’s drawing, probably one of the workers’ kids. Sun, water and a little boat. In the middle of the drawing there was an adult’s handwriting: “Sometimes pain is only the messenger. You can’t go back to where you’ve never been.”
As I left the pharmacy I was already a little bit relieved. I stood outside for a few moments, the cool breeze on my sweaty face felt refreshing. I walked to the car calmly. There was a guy at the faraway corner of the parking lot near the pharmacy, he was holding a long wooden stick in his left hand, and with his right hand he was throwing a pinecone in the air and catching it. Throwing and catching, throwing and catching. I waved hello to him as I passed by, despite not having known him.
“Don’t you find it strange that people die when they’re sick?”
“Excuse me?” I stopped in front of him.
“In your country, people die when they’re sick. Don’t you find that strange?”
“What?”
“In the Land of the Mosaic, a person who dies while being sick has lived a sick life.”
“Do you work here?”
“Sometimes pain is only the messenger. That is the language with which your eternal soul speaks to the one-time person that you are. In the Land of the Mosaic there’s an apothecary who will know how to speak to the free spirit residing within you.”
Bizarre people. I turned to walk away.
“I know you think I’m crazy,” he accompanied me, walking sideways with his face pointed at me, throwing the pinecone in the air and catching it, throwing and catching, “But I’m just as crazy as you are sick.” He stopped. “When you’re ready, call me.” I kept walking. “You’ll have to travel down the river which crosses the Land of the Mosaic in order to find the pinecone apothecary,” he shouted to me.
Totally nuts.
Before the second job interview, I sat at home waiting for Albert to call, he had promised to speak to the company’s owner in the morning, then call me and direct me on how to introduce myself. He also promised to email me a more personal recommendation letter than the last one.
“What time is it?”
Alex looked at me silently for a long moment and returned to focusing on breastfeeding, “Nothing, there’s hardly any milk coming out.”
“Ten thirty already, huh?” I checked again.
“Will you calm down already?” she caressed Tom’s head and looked at me again, “You’ve been pacing nervously around the house for a week now, you knew you’d have to go through a few meetings before something would --“
“Hello?” I interrupted her and went to talk in the bedroom so as not to bother her in the living room.
When I came back Alex was still on the sofa, but Tom was already in the bassinet next to her. She was pumping milk.
“He didn’t manage to send it to me,” I sighed and sat next to her. “Unbelievable, George’s son passed away last night. No one in the company even knew he had a sick kid. Can you believe it? And I thought he was just scared of flights.”
“Are you for real?!” she burst out shouting and Tom started screaming. “I’m trying to breastfeed your son, and you can see that it isn’t working. I’m trying to relax! To concentrate! And that’s all you have to tell me?” Her voice was breaking up.
“I’m sorry,” I tried to caress her, but she got up, picked up the bassinet with Tom inside it and went to the bedroom.
I took a deep breath. I grabbed the packet out of my bag and took the last pill which was left. I downed the glass of water in one gulp and walked over to the bedroom.
“You’re right, Ali. I’m sorry, I should have been more sensitive. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
“You’re stressed and you’re stressing me out too,” she looked at me through tearful eyes. “I need you! And I need you healthy and strong! Take something to calm yourself down, I can’t do this anymore!” She tried not to cry and stopped talking.
They were so certain everything was alright, but they had no idea of the plans that their superiors had, the ones who paid their salaries. They woke up whenever they were told to. Dressed however they were told to. They’d soon go for lunch at their allocated time slot. Some of them were probably trying to prove how good they were. They were just a cog in the system, they didn’t really interest anyone, but they signed up for payment plans and bought money from the banks with money of their own. They were required to go to work, spend most of the day in a cubicle and then go back to their homes, which all looked pretty much the same, lie around in front of the TV and then go to sleep. They hardly knew one another. Lived from one weekend to the next for their entire lives so they could retire with a pension in two hundred years, when they were old and gray.
“This way, Julian,” the receptionist got up and escorted me over to the boss’s office.
On the ride home I tried to play back the meeting in my mind. Everything he asked about me, about my experience, my expectations, sounded like some sort of corny speech. True, it was only meant to be a meeting for the record, but it didn’t feel that way. We spoke a little bit about politics, economics, art too – I don’t know. When I got out of the traffic on the way home I took a deep breath through the open window. The cool air calmed me down. I stopped at the traffic lights and a homeless man crossed the street with a sign saying “Any donation will help”. I rolled up my window and he continued walking to the next car, then crossed the street to the other side. I felt a little pang in my chest when the light turned green. I kept driving for a bit longer, without a specific destination in mind, just to relieve some pressure before I get back home, and I stopped at a park near our house. I got out of the car. I felt a little bit dizzy and sat on a bench. It was six o’clock already. There were people jogging on the park paths, moms walking with strollers, one of them called over to a group of kids who were playing nearby, saying it was time to go home. I sat there until it started getting dark. The dizziness subsided and the pain relaxed a bit too. Maybe I really should take something to calm down.