Snow Pictures

by Kevin Deeny

  “I’m detective Sherman of the Philadelphia PD, and I have a few questions for you.” You are Marcus Kenrick of Pittsburg Pennsylvania; is that correct?”

  Marcus nodded and replied “Detective is this going to take long? I gave all of this information to the patrolman on Market Street which I’m sure you now have. Could we just get to the questions that you have on your mind because I would like to get back and clean up.”

  “Well Mr. Kenrick, when I asked you at the scene if you knew the man in the alley ….” he paused as he looked down at his notebook, “a mister Robert Grey; you said that you just met him. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir it is” Marcus responded.

  “Yet I have accounts from several witnesses that you walked into the alley and called him directly by name. This suggests that you know him, so I’m looking for an explanation.”

  “Well,” said Marcus, “it’s kind of a thing. I always know names, usually only first names because it helps in conversation, but on occasion, I’m aware of last names too.”

  Detective Sherman stared at him while trying to decide if this guy was pulling his leg or if he was a whacko. He repositioned himself in his chair, looked intensely at Marcus and said: “Explain that to me again.”

  Marcus sighed. He knew it sounded unbelievable, maybe even crazy because he had had similar conversations ever since he was a kid. Few believed him, and he was a little tired of explaining. Marcus didn’t understand why it was and didn’t consider it a gift – just a fact of his life for many years. He became aware of it sometime after his near-drowning when he was twelve years old, and he spent a lot of time since trying to understand both of the things that changed in his life that day. While growing up, his friends thought it was weird, but no big deal. It was always the adults that refused to believe his explanation, so he just stopped trying.

  He sighed again, resigned to the fact that he would have to have this conversation and said “Ever since I was a kid, I became aware of someone’s name when I interacted with them in some way – in school, playing sports, or talking to girls. It stayed with me ever since. I hardly think about it anymore; it’s just a thing. When I have a conversation with someone, I know their name beforehand, even if I never met them before.”

  The detective didn’t know how to take the explanation. He had never heard of such a thing and thought it was bull. Yet this guy seemed ‘normal’ to him, and clearly, he believed the story he was telling. None-the-less, there was no way he was willing to accept it. “Listen, Mr. Kenrick, what you are telling me is nonsense. I need to know how you know this man.”

  Marcus replied “I realize that you’re skeptical, but frankly John I can’t give you a better explanation. It is as I said it is.”

  Detective Sherman responded with annoyance “Good try. I’m sure you heard my name coming in here. I’m not buying it.” He got out of his chair, crossed the room and opened the door. He leaned out and spoke to the nearest detective “Would you ask Tins to come in here?” He returned to his seat and said: “we’ll see about this.” At that point, Detective Tyndal entered the room, closed the door and looked expectantly. Sherman looked at Marcus and said, “Tell me his name.”

  Marcus was tired and still reeked of the filthy alley. He had enough. It was time to end this. “Detective, you have multiple eye-witness accounts and probably a few videos of what took place in that alley. My entire role was to help diffuse the situation and, in the process, missed my date with a lovely lady, ruined my clothes and covered myself in a stench that will take a couple of hot showers to scrub away. You have all the information you need, and you know where to contact me. I need to go.” With that, he rose from his seat and moved to the door. Tyndal looked at Sherman who nodded his approval, and he held the door open. As Marcus passed through the doorway, he said “Thank-you Francis” and walked toward the exit. He smiled when he heard Detective Sherman say “I thought your name was Frank.”

  Chapter 19

  Touchstone

  The soul is healed by being with children. – Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  Marcus had called Rosalind on his way out of the police station and started to explain why he missed dinner and gave up; it was just too crazy, and he wouldn’t believe it himself. He told her that he would have a good story when he got to the hotel. He learned that Rosalind hadn’t eaten after all and he picked up Chinese on the way.

  As soon as she opened the hotel room door, he handed her the bag of Chinese food and headed right to the shower, stripping his clothes off on the way. Rosalind turned her nose up as he passed and said, “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this story.”

  Marcus took his time in the shower and scrubbed his body twice and washed his hair three times. He emerged a new man. Rosalind had unpacked the food and was ready to eat. He looked sheepishly at her and said, “I’m sorry honey, this isn’t how I expected the night to go.”

  They sat and ate their belated dinner while Marcus related all the details of his walk intended to scout out restaurants for dinner. He couldn’t explain to her why he got involved with Robert and Alecia in the alley, but he was strangely drawn to this couple. “You’re well aware of the ‘name’ thing, but with these two, I not only knew their names, I knew them in a way I can’t explain. What was even stranger, I spoke to the guy as if I was someone he knew. Despite all of that, I almost made it back in time if it wasn’t for the damn detective. He wanted to know why I knew the guy’s name.”

  Rosalind listened to the story and finally said, “You’re right, I would have never believed this story over the phone.” She took another bite of food and said with a half-mouthful,” You should really look into this ‘knowing thing’ further. Something is going on with you that’s important.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing. I can’t bury my head in my work all of the time. This has been growing stronger since I was a kid, I have to find out where this leads.”

  “Now, we were supposed to be talking about you and your trip to see Bea. You sounded excited and motivated on the phone, and you’ve got me curious. How was your trip and why are we going to the children’s hospital on Sunday?”

  Rosalind voiced her frustration with her work and its present trajectory. “I expected my work as a doctor to be more fulfilling, but the need is never-ending. There have been great advances in knowledge, technology, and procedures, but the patients keep coming, and sometimes it seems that despite all of this technical marvel, we’re just treading water.” She paused to fight for the last piece of Sweet and Sour Chicken before resuming.

  “Dr. Bea had been a top-notch internal medicine doc in her career, but after about 10 years, she hit the wall and thought about quitting medicine altogether. She was upset with all of the battles you have to fight just to do good work. In her time, there were also fewer opportunities for woman in medicine, which compounded her frustration. I was surprised when I understood that a doctor with her top-notch skill set would be satisfied with running a neighborhood clinic. I remember asking her years ago how she copes dealing day to day with the underserved and her response is clear to me even now, “They have taught me what humility is and saved me from a life poorly lived.””

  “I can’t help now but think of my hospital as an impersonal medical factory, and that doesn’t sit well with me. We all do incredible things in service to our patients, but I think I am in danger “of a life poorly lived” if I don’t do something to change my course. That’s why I went to see Bea, and that’s why I want to go to the hospital on Sunday. That place is my touchstone; it was there that I found my way before and I hope it can inspire me again.”

  “Wow,” Marcus said when she finished. “I didn’t know you were that frustrated, but I understand. I expect a lot has changed since we were there last, but human nature will be the same and children will still be there to show us what’s important.”

  They gathered up the mess from dinner and took
turns in the bathroom and Rosalind turned on the TV to check on the weather for the weekend. While Marcus was brushing his teeth, Rosalind had the weird experience of also seeing him on TV being led away from an alley in handcuffs and placed into the back seat of a police car. “Damn,” she said to herself. “I hope my mom isn’t watching.”

  When Marcus came out, Rosalind didn’t mention the news. As they turned off the lights and headed into bed, Rosalind asked: “You said earlier this wasn’t how you thought the night would go; what did you have in mind?”

  “I sure hope we are about to find out.”

  Saturday was a fun day; they really hadn’t had one in a while. The day was sunny and refreshing, perfect for walking around the city. Philadelphia is an old historic city, and there is a lot to see and do. They knew where the day would end; at the Merriam Theatre to see a play at 8 pm, so they worked their schedule backward from there. They took a horse-drawn carriage tour through the historic district, stood in line to see the Liberty Bell, toured Independence Hall, visited Christ Church and dropped coins on Benjamin Franklin’s grave for luck (who really knows why). They ate lunch elbow to elbow at the Reading Terminal Market and took a cab to Penn’s Landing to see the tall ship Gazela. They had packed in a lot of sightseeing in one day and hailed a taxi for the return trip to their hotel.

  Their walk through the Reading Terminal, a legacy of the old Reading Railroad line, reminded Marcus that he owed Will a call and dialed his number from the hotel. Marcus chatted with him for a few minutes and let him know that they were going to stop in at the hospital in the morning. He would be in their thoughts. Will expressed his regrets that he couldn’t join them because of commitments in Washington at the moment. Neither Rosalind nor Marcus expected him to but used the occasion to catch up and see how he was doing. As they ended their call, Will invited them to Washington and asked Marcus to give his best to Roz. And before finishing the call, he added, “By the way, you look good in handcuffs.”

  Marcus turned to Rosalind, still with the phone in hand and asked absently, “Damn, how did Will know I was handcuffed by the police?”

  “You were on the news last night, dear,” Rosalind answered before bursting with laughter.

  They dressed for dinner and left their room to take the elevator to the top floor restaurant. The meal was wonderful; they both ate way too much and fought drowsiness in the cab ride over to the theatre. Halfway through the second act, Marcus fell asleep and felt Rosalind’s elbow more than once for the remainder of the play. When they arrived back at their hotel, both collapsed into bed. Marcus remembered thinking “Why is having fun so exhausting?” before he drifted off.

  The children’s hospital had not changed much when they arrived in the morning. There was a new security desk and visiting schedule, but most was as they remembered. They went directly to the 4th floor and went passed the nurses station to the solarium. Marcus didn’t recognize any of the nurses. As they entered, Rosalind smiled. Although there was new paint and colorful graphics on the walls and modern furniture scatter around, it was still basically as she remembered it. They sat for a while and watched the children at play with each other and their families. Rosalind was having difficulty ‘feeling’ the place as she had before. Her clinical experience was getting in the way, and she found herself wondering about the diagnoses of the children she saw; the bald heads, IV bags, and bandages were all input for her clinical assessment.

  Marcus noticed her fidgeting and knew she was having difficulty settling down. He reached over and held her hand to get a sense of her and immediately felt discord. Marcus noticed some time ago that they had both changed since they were married. With some people, he could feel the rhythm and tone of their energy. Everyone had a different signature, but he noticed that between Rosalind and him, their rhythms had changed to become almost identical and he had no trouble knowing when she was having difficulty.

  He looked into her eyes, placed his other hand on her leg and said, “Let me help you.” Energy flowed into her, and she closed her eyes to visualize the golden glow move throughout her body. She relaxed and began to hear the individual voices of the children in the room. She listened to their laughter and ‘watched’ as the energy glowed brightly with each course of laughter. She opened her eyes and now saw children and not patients and marveled at their care-free play and their unabashed intention to simply live their lives. She smiled and cried simultaneously; she had found herself again.

  Within three months, Rosalind had obtained a new position in a local hospital near Kutztown, Pennsylvania with an arrangement of a 3 day/week schedule. She had also found a local clinic, not unlike the one she worked in at college and arranged a 2 day/week schedule there with alternate Saturday hours. Her plan was simple, to maintain a community-based practice, get to know her patients, and serve them well; to help as many as she could to just live their lives.

  Marcus’ work continued much as it had before. Although they would move east from Pittsburg, he was used to traveling all over the region, and their change in location only changed his hometown airport. His work remained the same. However, his encounter in the alley with Robert seemed important, and he heeded Rosalind’s advice to try and understand what was happening to him. He had earlier set aside the casual research he conducted through college, and he decided to pick it up again and see it through.

  Chapter 20

  Robert

  We can be redeemed only to the extent to which we see ourselves.

  - Martin Buber

  Robert had brushes with the law before, but nothing this serious. This time looked bad. He got into an argument with Alecia in the bar, and she left in an angry rush. He had been drinking through the afternoon with his buddies when she came in to remind him they were supposed to be across town in an hour for her sister’s wedding rehearsal dinner. She saw right away that he would not be in any shape to go and fumed. When she left the bar casting angry words at him as she left, he felt publicly shamed, and followed her out to finish their argument. He pulled her into the alley, away from the crowded sidewalk, and they pummeled each other with hurtful accusations. His anger intensified, but he didn’t remember when he grabbed hold of her. He felt himself losing all control until that guy stepped in.

  It all seemed very strange to him. This guy, who he had never seen before, stepped up and commanded him to let Alecia go. He felt connected to this guy in some way; like he was an older brother, someone who knew him and could speak to him with authority. In retrospect, Robert realized that at that moment, he turned stone cold sober and suddenly understood the terror that Alecia felt. He was ashamed of himself.

  He was handcuffed, taken to the police station, and interrogated. He was thankful that the guy in the alley intervened or he would be in much more trouble than he was already facing. He was hardly listening to the detective who was asking him questions; with the clarity that sobriety brought, he had begun to think about what he had done, not just for today, but ever since his injury.

  His parents both worked hard all of their lives and provided a modest and stable upbringing. His mother was the glue that bound them as a family. She had worked in various clerical jobs as she put herself through night school to become a paralegal. She found a position at an area law firm where she worked for over thirty years before her recent retirement. She attended church every Sunday without fail, could cook the best food he ever tasted without measuring any of the ingredients, and never seemed to have an idle moment. Her life was dedicated to her family. His father had been a Master Sergeant in the army who served during the last months of WW II and then through the Korean War. When he left the military, his father worked in construction building houses during the post-war housing boom. Eventually, he ran a small construction company until his death when Robert was a sophomore in college.

  Robert started playing football in the pee-wee league as a young boy and followed through to high school where he continued
to excel and quickly became a local star player. He had grown considerably and was a big man like his father. For such a big guy, Robert had surprising, explosive speed from the backfield. He was recruited by Ohio State in his senior year of high school and was well on his way to realizing his dream to play for the NFL. Although football had provided the means to attend college on a scholarship, his mother insisted that he take his classes seriously. Robert followed her advice and worked hard to maintain his grades.

  He was scouted by several NFL teams during his junior and senior years at Ohio State, and everyone expected him to be picked quickly in the NFL draft. In a late-season game, after they had already clinched a bowl appearance, he was caught in the backfield on a blitz and stopped for a loss. During the play, a lineman was driven into him as he was tackled and pinned his lower leg as the momentum of the play took him down at an acute angle. All of the nearby players heard the snap and the scream that followed. Announcers were quick to speculate that it was a career-ending injury as he was carried from the field. None of the medical opinions that followed offered any hope that he would fully recover his former strength and speed. His football career ended between the hash marks that day, and he was shattered.

  Pins were installed to repair the broken bones, and he started the long road of rehab to recover the full use of his leg. His mother continued to urge him to maintain his studies during his recovery, and he poured himself into that task. He sorely missed the quiet strength of his father. As time passed, he grew angry; his life dream had been crushed, and he could not see a future beyond football. He graduated from Ohio State with a degree in engineering, but he took no joy in it; the loss of his football career still colored his thoughts about the future. During the next few years, he worked a series of unrewarding jobs and spent time with his buddies in sports bars reliving his past glory which served his needs. Until today.