Death Grip

by Barbara Ebel

  “Sure. Don’t you?”

  “I don’t think about it.” She glanced out the window; a car crept along looking for a parking spot. “Maybe. The other parent is the problem. Most marriages end in divorce.”

  “Your parents are divorced … yet they’re together.”

  “They’re an exception.”

  Bob stirred a sugar packet into his coffee, put the spoon down, and wiggled in his shirt. He reached behind his neck and scratched. “Besides purchasing modern shoelaces, the next T-shirts I buy are going to be tagless.”

  “I’m ahead of you on that one. There’s not one label in my top itching me like crazy or advising me how to wash the fabric.”

  The coffee had cooled enough and Bob raised it to his lips. Their conversation drifted to the hospital and the medical subjects they needed to concentrate on for the following few weeks.

  -----

  At home, Annabel downloaded the Uber app onto her phone and registered for the service. She familiarized herself with the site, studied a few hours, and went to bed early.

  The next morning, she woke fully rested. She factored in an extra ten minutes into her schedule since it was her first day to try the modern taxi service. In essence, it was a trial run. It had to be dependable or she would have to ditch the idea.

  Lately, Annabel had definitely seen a few young people in the mornings come out of their apartments like her and get into the substitute taxi cars, so she figured it couldn’t be all that bad. Plus, the ranger had used it and since he was law enforcement, the service must be trustworthy.

  After punching in her destination and requesting a solo ride rather than a “pool” ride, she headed downstairs and stood next to the tree in front of her place. She often looked out her front window at its high branches, enjoying the leaves as they revised themselves through the seasons, and was often charmed by the bushy-tailed black squirrel who had thrown together a nest at the junction of a branch and the main trunk.

  She monitored her app and saw her ride making a turn from around the block and then it was there in person. The driver’s window rolled down.

  “Annabel?” asked a young man.

  She nodded and entered the spotless, spacious back seat with her backpack.

  “How are you doing today?” she asked, like she was a regular. A GPS map streamed on the driver’s phone mounted on the dashboard and a medal hung from the rearview mirror.

  “I’m ready for the day.”

  She couldn’t place his accent. “Will you drive all day?”

  “I will.”

  “I’m new at this,” she admitted. “Do most drivers make this a full-time job?”

  “Some do. Some don’t. I’m only a year in this country and this suits me fine. I can work as much or as little as I like, at any or all hours.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Nigeria.”

  Music streamed from his phone and now she understood his taste for the pleasant Afrobeat. “You must miss your family.”

  “I’m okay. I plan a visit next year. I’m becoming more acclimated by the day.”

  “Good for you,” she said pleasantly. Her text message alert sounded. It was from Dustin Lowe, the police officer:

  Medical students work early! I bet I’ll catch your attention now rather than later. Interested in the rain check I promised you?

  She smiled. They had an interesting roller-coaster ride since meeting and yet he knew more about her personal life than she’d like. To his credit, he still wanted to date her.

  Hi, Dustin. Yes! Nothing like breakfast at night with a prior date, a friend, and someone who came to my aid.

  Super. What night works for you?

  Friday?

  We’re on. At the same diner? I think starting where we left off would be fun.

  Sure. I’d enjoy that. Can I meet you there around 7?

  See you then. Heal the sick today!

  Annabel sighed with contentment. He was an attractive, likeable guy with the most glorious dimple in his chin. And after all, she had nothing going on at present through her dating app, and substantial dates with her former surgical chief resident, Robby Burk, had failed to materialize. She wished they would because she had the hots for Dr. Burk no matter what he did.

  When she glanced up, the driver turned and slowed the car in front of the hospital entrance. Amazed she was there already, she grabbed her backpack and opened the door.

  “Thanks so much,” she said, getting out.

  “Lekker dag,” he responded. “Have a nice day.”

  She strutted into the hospital with plenty of time to see her patients before rounds and went straight to the cafeteria to buy coffee. She had skipped making it at home. With a medium-sized cup in her hand, she headed to the elevator, and hummed the driver’s music in her head. Her life right now seemed fuller than usual and no bad things were happening. She planned to keep it that way.

  CHAPTER 7

  Jae woke up with a start and realized he had dozed for a half hour. Thirty minutes too much. He sat upright and rose slowly. Luckily, he had popped enough ibuprofen before falling asleep and his headache was behaving itself.

  Patty must be at the visitors’ reception desk waiting for him to relieve her, he guessed. She had other park tasks to do which needed her attention. He strutted to the main building and approached the desk.

  “Where have ya been?” his partner asked with a hint of annoyance.

  “I’m sorry. I dozed off by mistake.” His thick eyebrows lowered as well as his head.

  She frowned. “That’s not like you, but I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty.”

  “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll share my venison tonight.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll stick with my tabouli, quinoa, or tofu.” She rested her hands on her belt and wondered about him. “If you’re contemplating eating deer meat, you’re holding up with the flu pretty darn well, even if you’re suffering from a mild case.”

  “My dinner plan may be wishful thinking. However, I overheard a conversation in the ER; usually the young and the old suffer the worst with the flu.”

  She nodded as a couple walked their way. The man planted his cane carefully while his gray-haired companion stayed a step ahead of him.

  “They’re all yours,” Patty said and stepped out from behind the wooden desk.

  Jae thumped his finger on the counter. “Welcome to the park.”

  “Thanks,” the old man said. “May we take a tour?”

  “Sure. You can wait here or enjoy the premises outside. The volunteer starts another talk in forty-five minutes.”

  “We’ve got nothing better to do. We’re retired.”

  “We’ll go outside on a walking trail for a few minutes,” the woman said. “But we know to bring out any trash that we bring in.”

  “Which makes my job easier. Our goal is to have folks leave the park as undisturbed and natural as possible.”

  “Then you have a big job,” she said. “People leave their human junk wherever they want. And they lug those water bottles around, drop the plastic to the ground with their last sip, and don’t give a hoot that it’s not biodegradable. They don’t have manners or respect for the environment like us old timers.”

  Her partner pumped his head up and down with applause.

  “I can’t argue with you two.”

  “You must be a New Yorker,” said the old man as he wielded his cane handle forward.

  Jae nodded. “Originally. We northeasterners can’t cast away our accents any more than we can remove ‘you guys’ from our vocabulary.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” the woman said. “We’re guilty of using ‘you all’ all the time. Our southern roots are like creeping vines that won’t let go.”

  Jae handed her a pamphlet about the park. She grasped it with wrinkled fingers as he took a long-winded breath and leaned against the counter.

  “Young man, your job probably isn’t as easy as it looks, but maybe you need
a vacation or need one of those young people’s energy drinks.”

  “I’m fine. I’m overdue for a home-cooked meal or a long siesta.” He frowned, knowing he had just taken a nap, and realized that working while having a light case of the flu was a stupid idea. However, he could not pull help or a replacement ranger out of thin air.

  She eyed him and pointed with a finger. “Then go do it.” In unison, she turned with her spouse and they walked away.

  Jae sat on a wooden chair next to the varnished counter so visitors would see him. About all he felt like doing was to answer questions and pretend to be hospitable. The late afternoon lagged and no more formal groups came through for a tour. He left after the volunteer closed the gift shop and swung his light jacket over his shoulder as he walked over to his cabin.

  Over the sink, he mulled over his almost fully thawed venison. What a stupid idea to think he would have normal taste buds by tonight. He decided to leave it in the bag in the fridge, changed into blue jeans and a T-shirt, and threw an instant oatmeal packet into a bowl. After heating water and managing to slide the Quaker product down with a headache pill, he stepped out on the porch for one last breath of fresh air. He was definitely going to bed early.

  He scoured the area for the dogs; he hadn’t seen them in hours. Perhaps they were hunkered down for the evening with Patty. Nevertheless, he walked to the tree line checking for them, and to also see the area where he’d found the density of mice burrows and nests. He was sure there was some displacement of small branches and leaves in a few spots compared to before.

  With his bare hands, he moved away brush to find a still mouse on its side – dead as the venison meat in his refrigerator. He picked it up by its tail and threw it into the woods.

  A rustling of leaves caused Jae to look beside him. Twist plopped himself down to add a few more broken leaf pieces to his coat.

  “What do you know, boy? Where’s your pal?” Jae shook his head. “If you don’t know, I don’t know either. I’m leaving, so if you want an invitation to my cabin, don’t make yourself too comfortable.”

  Jae backed out, patted his leg for the dog to follow, and they both went inside. After a quick shower, he nestled into bed. With his fingers, he felt his forehead, confirming another low-grade fever.

  Twist settled on a braided rug next to Jae’s platform bed. Even the dog wanted to sleep early. What a pitiful, lethargic pair they were tonight, he thought, admiring Twist’s simplicity. Nothing special about him. In his prime middle years, he was mostly pitch black except for two splashes of white and brown and he was a medium size. Jae figured he was probably a shepherd mix. His attribute, as well as Curley’s, was his friendliness and exuberant greeting to any tourists who came on the premises. The two dogs were free, dependable souls who had secured a home, an outdoor life, and two humans who were attentive to their needs.

  Early in the morning as the darkness in Jae’s room inched slowly away, the ranger extended his arm to pat Twist on his back. It was too early; his alarm clock had not even gone off.

  First, Jae sat up, and with the movement came a wave of nausea. It abated, so he went to the bathroom and then shuffled off to brew a pot of coffee. Before he lost track of the dog for the day, he measured a cup of dry dog food and sprinkled it into one of the dog bowls on the floor. At some point every day, he and Patty coordinated who had fed which dog when.

  No way, he acknowledged to himself. Maybe his flu was at its peak because his muscles were sore. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he was stiff and wiped out like after a long plane haul across the Atlantic from Europe; the worst jet lag and from sitting in the most cramped cabin seat possible.

  Jae figured he better talk with Patty, take the day off, and get over the flu hurdle once and for all. Otherwise, he’d be of no use to either of them or to the park in the coming days. He poured a half-cup of house blend and went to peek in at Twist.

  “Didn’t you hear me rattle those kibbles into your bowl? What’s taking you so long?”

  Twist was poised in the corner of the room. He shot a glance at Jae and then hunched his torso into a dry heave. To no avail, he opened his mouth with several attempts to purge whatever was in his belly. Finally, he expelled a globous mess on the floor.

  With much difficulty due to Jae’s own sour stomach and desire to wretch himself, he cleaned up Twist’s vomit before it ran down in the space between the wooden floor boards and became a permanent odor. As the dawn continued to beam more sunrays into the cabin, he knew neither canine nor human were up for a sunny day. Not one morsel of Twist’s Purina in his bowl was eaten and Jae couldn’t think of making another packet of oatmeal.

  -----

  After Annabel’s rounds on her own patients, she entered the office where the smell of fresh blueberry donuts was unmistakable. Her student colleagues were present but no round confection was missing from the donut box that sat on the table. Dr. Schott came in and sidled beside her.

  “Someone brought you slackers a dozen donuts?” he asked, his eyes bulging.

  “We thought we’d do something for you,” Bob said. “Not only do you teach us about medicine and our patients every day, but you put up with us too.”

  “Thank you. You all are hardly a problem.”

  “Bob takes the credit for stopping and buying these,” Annabel said, handing Donn a napkin from a white stack.

  Donn sat and pulled his USA Today from underneath his arm. He concentrated on taking bites from the donut in his hand and went to the middle of the front news section. The two residents came in and went straight to the open box.

  “Help yourself,” Donn said. “Compliments of Dr. Palmer.” He shook his head. “Um um um. Here’s good and bad news about global warming causing a projected rise in sea level. Breeding habitats for salt-marsh mosquitoes will likely decrease, but bird and mammalian hosts living in those niches may be threatened by extinction. Endemic viruses may decrease.” He paused and sank his teeth around another fourth of his donut.

  Stuart, who needed the donut calories more than Donn, listened attentively. “But over time, that increase in sea level may only result in a displacement.”

  Dr. Schott furrowed his eyebrows at him and slowed his chewing.

  “What do you mean?” Annabel asked.

  “New intrusive salt water on land could possibly turn former fresh water habitats into alternative salt-marsh areas, which, in turn, could support prior or new vector and host species.”

  After Annabel and Bob glanced at each other over Stuart’s thoughtful hypothesis, she looked back at their smart colleague. “Sounds like a reasonable assumption to me. I swear, Stuart, I think you’d be brilliant in any field you pursue. Between Bob’s thoughtfulness and your Einstein thinking, I’m privileged to be on the same team with the two of you.”

  Jordan stopped texting, slipped his cell into his pocket, and wrapped his fingers around the donut and napkin he had put on his lap. “You should be glad I’m around too.”

  Annabel waited for Jordan’s explanation as to why, but none came.

  “Dr. Tilson,” Donn said, “you’re as brainy as the best of them. You have proven that to all of us.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Donn finished, eyed the remaining five donuts left in the box, and noted his students’ and residents’ cheery expressions. “Let’s go see patients like we’re supposed to.” He walked out the door with lazy steps, giving them all plenty of time to gulp down their last bites.

  Annabel paired with Bob in the hallway as she tried to sort through her index cards. “Are your legs sore from our run yesterday?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m a little lackluster as far as energy goes, but the run and Pete’s was worth it.”

  “Guess who I was just texting with back there?” Jordan asked, butting in from behind.

  “I guess you’re referring to my little sister. Otherwise, you wouldn’t mention it.”

  “She’s not little to me. She has no classes on Frid
ay and she’s playing hookey on Monday, so she’s coming up for the weekend.”

  Annabel gulped. As long as Nancy and Jordan didn’t get in her way. Studying and silence in her apartment came first. Although she was guilty of scheduling a date with Dustin on Friday night, she could rationalize that; she was more and more looking forward to seeing him and, besides, it would give her an excuse to break away from her own social app search for reasonable flings.

  “She must see something in you,” Annabel said and exchanged glances with Bob. She rolled her eyes without Jordan noticing.

  Donn stopped short and the students scrambled to gather all their patients’ charts and stack them. After they rolled the cart down the hallway, they saw Bob’s COPD patient, whose difficulty in breathing had improved. Next, they stopped outside Meagan Helm’s room.

  “Annabel, would you like to give us an update on Mrs. Helm?” Chineka asked.

  Annabel nodded. “Dr. Watts helped me to understand mitral stenosis like it was a plumbing project.”

  “The circulatory system is about plumbing,” Donn said. “The blood has to travel to where it’s supposed to be to supply oxygen. If there’s a leak or a blockage, then the cells suffer from hypoxia.”

  “Her echocardiogram yesterday verified mitral stenosis and an enlarged atrium,” Annabel said, “but labelled as ‘mild.’ Her ejection fraction, or the amount of blood pumped out of the ventricles with each contraction, is basically normal.”

  “Explain the plumbing to me, Dr. Tilson.”

  “Like an obstruction in a pipe, pressure mounts in the area before it, and if it were malleable, it would dilate with the pressure and the volume. So if the valve between the left atrium and ventricle is clogged or stenotic, then the pressure in the left atrium will increase, leading to left atrial dilation … which could lead to pulmonary hypertension, which you alluded to the other day.”

  “You enlightened us with a commendable presentation,” Dr. Schott said. “So we are all faced with thought-provoking questions. What is a big risk for a patient with mitral stenosis and atrial fibrillation? Should Mrs. Helm be treated with anticoagulants? What would be the risks and benefits?”