and overemphasizing every word as if she was talking to children. “Do you get what I’m saying? This boy is my son. His father is on the other side of those doors, having just survived a heart attack, not an hour ago.”
“What bed is he in?” the driver said.
“The first one,” Jules answered.
“Draw the curtain on the father’s bed and we’ll put the boy in the last bed. Tell the staff not to mention the boy’s name,” the driver said. “It’s all we can do. This boy needs to be in the emergency area. It’s the only area where he can be treated.”
“I’ll go draw the curtain,” the bookish nurse said, and disappeared through the swinging doors.
Jules kissed Gerald on the cheek and straightened his brown hair which was wet with God knows what. She was worried about him, but was more worried that his dad was going to be dead when the boy woke up. She left her son’s side and rushed in to Alan. The curtain had been drawn.
She stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts, took a couple of deep breaths, and then burst through the curtain like a late night talk show host. “Hello,” she said, a most fraudulent smile masking her concern for the events unfolding a small distance behind her.
“Did you get a bite to eat?”
“Chicken salad sandwich. Nothing to write home about, but it did the trick.”
“Did you talk to Gerald?”
“No, it’s only about half past nine. There’ll be plenty of time for that.”
“What’s all the ruckus out there?”
“Not sure. It’s an emergency ward. Could be any number of things.”
“I suppose so.”
“I’ll be back. I’ve just got to go to the washroom,” Jules said and quickly slid through the curtain and trotted over to Gerald’s bed.
There was a flurry of activity but one of the nurses assured her that her son was going to be fine. She scooted back to Alan, perhaps a tad too quickly.
“Holy smokes, that was quick. Did you find the washroom?”
She should have said no. “Yep, just went quick.”
Alan furrowed his brow. “You know Jules, I was thinking about Gerald.” Alan felt a certain comfort in talking about the kids; it insulated him from Jules’ deep references to the intricacies of their relationship.
“Hmmf.”
“It’s just . . . I don’t know . . . I hope he enjoys himself tonight—he’s earned it. He’s worked so hard. It’ll be good for him to blow off a little steam.”
“Hmmf.”
“What’s wrong? You seem quiet,” Alan said, looking directly at her now.
“No I’m fine. Yes, hopefully he doesn’t blow off too much steam.”
“Jules, he’s growing up. He’s a responsible mature young man now; you were right before, he’s really turned the corner. He’ll probably just have a few beers.”
“Chicken salad . . . I really like chicken salad,” Jules said looking at the wall above Alan’s head.
“Wow, that was quite a change in direction.”
“Sorry, yes, I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure Gerald will just have a few bottles of beer . . . maybe a touch of scotch . . . perhaps some vodka or something.”
“Jules, he doesn’t touch the hard stuff. He’ll be fine.”
“I know, I was only kidding,” she lied.
“You know, I hate having this curtain closed. Is there any way we can open it?”
“Umm, don’t think so.” Jules hesitated, contemplated her options, and then continued. “There’s a gentleman who needs to have some very private things done to a very private part of his body, and he’s quite self-conscious. Rightly so I think.”
“Well, can’t they just close his curtain? Do we all have to sit here in isolation because of him?”
Jules drew a blank.
“There’s something that you’re not telling me Jules. What’s out there that they don’t want me to see?”
“Nothing Alan.”
“Jules.”
“Nothing.”
Alan shifted in the bed again. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on that I should know about? Have some of his exam results come back? Has Gerald messed up his exams or something?”
“Alan, settle down. Really, you shouldn’t be thinking of things that will cause you stress. Think of how wonderful your life is. You have two wonderful children. You’re in your mid-fifties. This little heart attack is a subtle warning that you need to change some things ever so slightly. A few minor tweaks and you’ll enter your golden years with a wonderful rich future ahead of you.”
Alan again noticed that Jules hadn’t referenced herself as being part of his rich future. “Very eloquent, very nicely put Jules, but are you sure there isn’t anything you’re keeping from me?”
Jules paused, contemplated the reality that Alan wasn’t going to let go of his suspicion and decided to compromise. “Alan, I’ve told you a couple of very small white lies. Little tiny ones actually. This I’m willing to admit, and I promise to get onside with you in a few days. It’s nothing, more of a surprise than a lie really. “
“You’re not pregnant are you?”
Jules smiled, assuming a light hearted flavor to the comment. Alan looked at her, his eyes narrowed to slits, and he wondered what she was keeping from him.
For the remainder of the night and indeed until sunrise, Jules bounced like a tennis ball between the first and last beds of the emergency ward at Preston Memorial. Gerald ended up being fine, and gradually sobered up to the point that he was coherent. They finally moved Alan to a room on the third floor, and a dutiful nurse, at Jules urging, walked Gerald to Alan’s room just past sunrise. Jules had asked that they not tell Gerald why he was being led to the room. Gerald entered the room and stopped in his tracks, the site of his dad made up like a patient, widened his eyes noticeably.
“Hello Gerald,” Jules said cheerily.
He kept staring.
“Jules, I thought we had an agreement,” Alan said, obviously surprised to see Gerald.
“Alan, I didn’t say anything to Gerald. He’s just shown up. He must have heard from the neighbors or something.”
Gerald kept staring.
“Gerald, your father has had a mild heart attack. He’ll need to tweak a few things but he’ll be fine.”
Gerald’s eyes began to well up with tears and it dawned on Jules that he didn’t have the luxury of knowing the timing of the previous night’s events. He was likely assuming that he had caused his father’s heart attack. While Jules did contemplate letting Gerald carry this misperception for a couple of years, more as a lesson than anything else, it did seem a tad cruel.
“Gerald, your father had his heart attack at around eight o’clock last night; he desperately didn’t want to tell you so as not to spoil your graduation festivities.” The guilt that this would cause seemed less cruel—acceptably cruel actually.
“Dad, I don’t know what to . . . are you alright?” Gerald said, wiping a tear from his cheek.
“I’m fine Gerald. A little warning shot across the bow is all this is really. A little warning.”
“My God, I’m so sorry.”
Jules decided to cut in before Gerald said more than he needed to. “Gerald, whatever are you apologizing for? You got here as soon as you heard. You have nothing to apologize for.” Jules stared into Gerald’s eyes for a moment longer than she might have otherwise, and was confident that he understood what she was trying to communicate to him. His father didn’t need to know about the drinking incident. Perhaps they’d tell him some day, perhaps they wouldn’t—a mother and son’s prerogative.
Moments later, a nurse entered the room and took a few bodily readings from Alan, and then gave a nod in Jules’ direction. “I think you’re good to go. He seems pretty steady right now.”
Jules nodded at the nurse, and took a deep breath. “Alan, about that white lie . . . er the surprise rather.”
Gerald looked concerned at this point, unsure of what his mother’s ne
xt words would be.
Alan propped himself up, eager to hear what his wife had to say. “You said there were two surprises actually Jules.”
“Yes, well, while you were in the early stages of your recovery and unable to deal with anything that might be construed as stressful . . .”
“Yes Jules.”
“In another area of the hospital . . .”
Gerald looked sick.
Jules paused for a few seconds; for effect more than anything else. “Your daughter Charlotte went into labor and had an emergency caesarean . . . and safely delivered beautiful twin daughters.”
Alan’s eyes welled up with tears, as did Jules’. She came to him and he kissed her. Their golden years having just begun.
Marlow’s Necklace
It was a ruby and diamond necklace–more diamond than ruby, and the man who was about to buy it seemed to be in a rush. The woman, who was going to be the recipient of it, seemed to have all the time in the world. The owner of the store was making his pitch directly to her, and was trying to find the sweet spot between over-exuberance and calm cool collectedness. He was erring slightly on the exuberant side.
I know all of this because I was standing several feet behind them and not minding my own business. I had started paying attention when the owner began turning the dial on a breadbox sized wall safe just behind and to the right of the main sales counter at the back of the store. I’m not a rich man, and had been browsing for a reasonably priced birthday present for a friend when a couple had entered the store, and spoken briefly in hushed tones to the owner. “Wonderful,” they had both said in unison when the owner had suggested he had something in his safe which
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