[Gina Mazzio RN 01.0 - 03.0] Bone Set

by JJ Lamb

  “How dare you say that,” Capello said, glaring at his wife. “How dare you!” he repeated louder. “My God, we didn't send him back to the hospital on a whim. Damn it, we brought him here for treatment ... so he would have the best chance to live. Isn't that important enough?” He covered one eye, as though a sudden stabbing pain had pierced his skull. He leaned heavily against the wall: “For Christ's sake, we don't have to apologize for wanting him to live, do we? Doesn't that take priority over everything else?”

  The Capellos were exhausted. Even Gina's head was throbbing from trying to solve Vinnie's disappearance. But she couldn't let it go. “Maybe just being alive wasn't enough for Vinnie, Mr. Capello.”

  “That's ludicrous and you know it. What could be more important than his life?”

  Gina stood up. “Mr. Capello, I know you're upset and worried, but you still need to believe in your son, believe that Vinnie had a good reason for doing what he did. Something was on his mind and I don't think it had anything to do with his treatment for leukemia. Otherwise, why would he just walk out?”

  “That's another thing that's been gnawing at me,” he said, jabbing a finger forcibly against his palm. “How did our son walk out of here without anyone stopping him? Don't you watch—

  “Tony! Stop it! It's no one's fault!”

  “Our patients are not prisoners, Mr. Capello. We don't force them to stay. Vinnie's no exception.”

  Anthony Capello's face flushed a bright red; he turned, held out a clenched fist that vibrated with passion for several seconds before opening it in supplication. For a moment, he could barely speak. Then he said:

  I know I must sound like a complete fool ... and I’m sorry. Maria, Gina, please forgive me.”

  Capello looked into his wife’s eyes, moved toward the bed, and sat down heavily next to her. Leaning over, he cradled his head in his hands. His shoulders shook.

  “Maria, what are we going to do? Vinnie’s gone ... even if we find him ... bring him back ... I still may not be able to save him.”

  Gina was bewildered. “What are you saying?”

  Before either of the Capellos could respond, Mark Kessler eased into the room, his face pale, his eyes flitting from the chart he held to each of the three people in the room.

  “Has there been any word from your house?” he asked the Capellos. When they shook their heads in unison, he looked uneasily at Gina before continuing. “I know you’re worried about Vinnie. We all are.” He tapped the chart with a forefinger. “Unfortunately, his situation has become critical.”

  “What does that mean ... exactly?” Capello demanded.

  “Vinnie left the hospital at a time when he’s most susceptible to infection. If we don’t get him back here immediately, God only knows what diseases he may come in contact with outside.”

  The hope that had briefly brightened Mrs. Capello’s eyes when Kessler arrived now faded.” He’s going to die, isn’t he ... our Vinnie?”

  “We need to complete his treatment ... now.”

  “Suppose we did find him right away, how long before you could give him back his marrow?” Capello asked.

  “Provided his physical condition hasn’t deteriorated, we could infuse him immediately.”

  “And without the marrow?”

  Kessler seemed unwilling to answer.

  “Without the marrow, what?” Capello insisted.

  “I think you know the answer to that.”

  Maria Capello emitted a long, pain-filled wail. The sound grew, expanded, filling every corner. Her husband pulled her to him, rocked her back and forth in his arms.

  “My baby’s going to die ... my baby’s going to die,” she sobbed.

  * * *

  Gina was wired from the caffeine she’d consumed since Vinnie’s disappearance. Regardless, she headed straight for the coffee pot after she and Mark Kessler had temporarily quieted the Capellos.

  he was uneasy with Kessler—things had continued to be strained between them since the incident in the Laboratory. And even though their professional interaction hadn’t changed, their personal relationship had cooled.

  “We’ve got to get Vinnie back here right away,” Kessler said.

  Gina nodded. “I feel like I've let the kid down in some way, like he was trying to tell me something and I wasn't listening closely enough.”

  “Vinnie has a way of making us all feel insecure. Every time I talk to him, I wonder: is this going to set him off; is that going to set him off ... or worse yet, set him back. I never know which way he's headed.” Kessler looked down the hall in the direction of Vinnie's room. “A tough nut right from the start ... from his very first admission.”

  “I didn't know him then.”

  “He was a Pedi patient, refused to go back there this time.”

  “Not surprising.”

  Kessler shook his head. “From the moment he walked into my office, I knew it was going to be an uphill battle. And I'm not talking about his disease, either.

  “No one knows that better than me.”

  “His parents think he's a loner, but I think he's just lonely.”

  “Vinnie's many things,” Gina said. “Lonely, alone, and most definitely deep into denial.”

  “It's made a fighter out of him, a realist.”

  Gina forced a laugh. “Yeah, well, who needs reality if it not only steals your life, but who you are.”

  “Maybe,” Kessler said.

  Gina took a sip of coffee and sighed. “You know, it really bothers me that I didn't key into his change of mood today. I guess I was too tired, what with Chapman and everything else that's been going on.”

  “Was he really that different this morning?” Kessler asked, laughing. “It's hard to imagine him being anything but a brat. That would have been too much to ask.”

  “No, you're right. Instead of giving me his usual lip, he was almost too cooperative. Alarms should have been going off in my head.”

  “It's not like you to let anything slip by,” he said with an ironic grunt.

  Gina turned away, Kessler's penetrating stare made her edgy. “Truthfully, things have been all out of kilter since Chapman died. Maybe ... maybe I feel the way you did then—time to think about moving on to a different field.”

  He rested a hand on her shoulder. “And the same reasons you gave me for staying are valid for you. Aren't we at our best right here? Stay with it, Gina.”

  She lowered her head. “But it’s so painful, like banging your head against a stone wall.”

  “So where else would you like to bang your head.”

  Gina's face softened, she laughed. “Maybe you're right.”

  Kessler nodded, hesitated. “Listen, I'm sorry for the way I behaved about the marrow down in the Lab. Truth of the matter, I haven't been the same since Chapman died either. Now, I'm worried about Tracy Bernstein.”

  “Why?”

  “You know, the usual—when one thing goes wrong, everything goes wrong. Probably why I held off with her engraftment in the first place. Not very fair to her, I suppose, especially since her marrow is free of contaminants.” He held out a hand: “Anyway, I did want to apologize for acting like an idiot the other day. We've both been under a lot of stress lately, so why don't we just forget it?”

  “Done!”

  “Friends?”

  “Friends,” she said, taking his hand.

  Chapter 27

  Gina was still filled with questions about Vinnie as she helped Helen bathe Deana Oldham. No matter how hard she worked to push him from her mind, he remained a constant worry. Where on earth could a skinny, baldheaded, sickly looking kid go without being noticed? Her stomach churned loudly as she imagined him collapsed in some back alley.

  She watched Helen tenderly hold the frail hand of Deana, who was only a couple of years older than Vinnie, but in much worse condition. Try as she might, she couldn't banish the negative thoughts about Vinnie, and although she knew it was stupid, she was afraid they might somehow sway future e
vents.

  After leaving Deana's room, she quickly headed down the hall, anxious to see how the Capellos were doing. She winced at the soreness in her back and legs, a souvenir of crawling under the auditorium dais the night before.

  * * *

  “I feel like I'm dangling from the end of a God damned rope,” Tony Capello shouted at his wife. “I've tried everything I can think of ... can't raise a penny on our house, we're mortgaged to the hilt.”

  “I thought the bank—”

  “Damn it, I'm telling you, they practically laughed in my face when I suggested a personal loan. That's what being an educator gets you—little thanks, little money, little future.”

  “But we're not broke, Tony. What about the twelve thousand in your IRA? Wouldn't that at least help?”

  “It's not good enough! Haven't you heard anything I've said? We need fifty thousand.”

  “There must be something we can do.”

  “Then you tell me what.”

  “Tony, please ... I feel just as helpless as you do.”

  “I know that,” he said gruffly. “Just because I can't raise any money doesn't mean I've suddenly turned stupid.”

  “No one said you're stupid. But you have to stop taking your frustrations out on me. We're in this together, remember?”

  He stared at the wall for several seconds. “I'm sorry, Maria. I’m not rational anymore. Half the time I don't even know what's going to come out of my mouth; the rest of the time, I'm scared to death.”

  “Tony, we only have until 10 tomorrow morning to get the money.” Her voice quavered. “If we don't, that man may destroy Vinnie's marrow.”

  “May destroy it? Oh, no! There was nothing conditional about it. That bastard will destroy it.”

  “What kind of person could do that?”

  “What difference does it make? He said he’ll do it, and I believe him.”

  “He's a very sick man.”

  He looked at his empty palms. “I feel like such a fool, like I've wasted my life. I never should have gone into teaching; never should have let you talk me out of taking that job at Apple. All that idealism about helping young people doesn't amount to shit if I can't raise the money to save my own son's life.”

  “Tony, please!”

  “I'm ... helpless.” He held the sides of his head with his palms. “What can I do to get Vinnie’s marrow from that bastard?”

  They both turned as Gina whisked into the room.

  “Who has Vinnie's marrow?” Gina said, looking from one to the other.

  “Unless you've brought news about Vinnie, you're intruding on a private conversation,” Capello said, dropping his hands to his sides.

  “If someone has stolen Vinnie's marrow, it's not just about him,” Gina said.

  “I asked you, do you any news about Vinnie?”

  “There's nothing new.”

  “Then there's nothing to talk about.”

  “But if there's a problem, maybe I can help.”

  “There's a man,” Maria blurted out. “He says he has Vinnie's marrow—”

  “Maria!” Tony shouted.”

  “No! I want to save my son.”

  “Telling her isn't going to change anything.”

  “Mr. Capello, I think we need to call the police.”

  “I have nothing to say to you or the police,” Capello snapped.

  “Please, let me help.”

  Maria covered her mouth and refused to speak again.

  “You must go to the police!”

  “Do you think I haven't thought about that?” Capello said. “That won't help Vinnie.”

  “If they could catch—”

  “Oh, yeah, they'll probably catch the bastard somewhere, sometime. But by then, my son will be dead. I'm not taking that kind of a chance with his life.”

  Maria's eyes were vacant. “It'll all be fine ... it'll be fine. We just need a little time to get the money.”

  Capello turned away, shaking his head.

  “You must go to the police,” Gina repeated. “If you won't go, I will!”

  Capello stood eye-to-eye with Gina. “I want you to listen very carefully to me, Miss Mazzio, because right now I'm running on fumes.” He turned away and paced back and forth between her and the door.

  “You will not go to the police!” He stopped and glared at her. “If you do, this maniac will not only destroy Vinnie's marrow, he'll destroy all the marrow he's stolen. He made that very clear. So you see, it's not only Vinnie's life on the line, there are others. How many, we don’t know.” He moved until his nose almost touched hers. “Am I making myself clear?”

  Gina looked into his steely eyes for a long time before nodding.

  Only then did he take a step back. “Don't you think I want my son to live? I'll do anything ... but go to the police. He swore he would act if we said anything to anyone.”

  “He could be bluffing,” Gina said. “How can you be sure he even has Vinnie's marrow?”

  “Because he mailed us a bag of the cells, and I had them lab-tested by a friend.” Tears ran haphazardly down his cheeks. He shook a fist at Gina and said, “The bastard didn't even have the decency to send it refrigerated. He wasted them ... just wasted them.”

  “But you don't know for sure they were Vinnie's, do you?”

  “Can I risk thinking otherwise?”

  Gina touched his shoulder as he shook his head. “I'm ... so sorry.”

  “Jesus! It's disgusting to think people like him are breathing the same air we are.”

  “I agree, but we can't handle this ourselves; we need help,” Gina said.”

  Capello pointed a finger at her,” If you go to the police, I'll deny everything you've heard here.”

  “Please, Mr. Capello, at least let me check with the Lab. See if Vinnie's marrow is there.”

  “Aren't you listening? This maniac will destroy all the marrow if there's any inquiry. I have no choice but to believe that. I can’t risk doing anything else.”

  “But if you don't have the money, what is there left for you to do?”

  Capello shook his head, looked at his wife. When their eyes met, he said,” I wish I knew.”

  * * *

  Alan Vasquez stepped into the elevator and hit the #3 button as the door slid shut. He was dyspeptic, irritable; he couldn't remember having had a single decent night's sleep since everything hit the fan in the Oncology unit. He closed his eyes in the momentary solitude, but his mind continued to race ahead.

  An image of Gina Mazzio popped into his mind. Somehow, she had been at the core of all his recent problems. First, the whole mess with that poor bastard, Carl Chapman. Then, the uproar over Tracy Bernstein and her marrow. He pulled at the collar of his shirt and swallowed hard, remembering the embarrassing scene in the lab—all the personnel drawn in by Mazzio's craziness and her obvious disdain for his authority.

  Arrogant bitch!

  When had he had so much trouble with a nurse? Most of the time he was barely aware of the nursing staff's existence, except as a monumental budgetary problem. Now this one nurse had become the nucleus of everything that was going wrong. He clenched his hands so tightly the nails carved half moons into his palms. Chapman, Bernstein, Capello. All Gina Mazzio's patients. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was some kind of conspiracy.

  Damn! He should have overridden the Nursing Administrator and fired the woman. To hell with the union. At this point, he'd rather deal with them than Mazzio.

  Now, the supreme insult of this obviously irrational teenager running away from the hospital.

  He could already see the research grants drying up. Just thinking about Vinnie Capello brought back the scene with the boy's father. One calamity after another.

  Vasquez stepped out of the elevator and blended with the corridor traffic on the way to Capello's room. He hated this, hated facing the parents again, but he couldn't have them thinking the hospital wasn't on top of the situation, or worse, that Ridgewood didn't care.


  He looked up and saw Gina Mazzio coming out of Capello's room. There seemed to be no way to avoid her, like continually bumping a sore thumb.

  “Ms. Mazzio,” he said, blocking her path.

  “Yes?”

  “How are the Capellos?”

  “Not very well. Have you heard anything from the police? Have they found Vinnie?”

  “None of that really concerns you at this juncture.” He placed a restraining hand on her arm. “I hope you haven't alarmed these people with more of your hare-brained ideas.”

  She removed his hand as though she'd encountered something particularly unsavory. “Well, since it doesn't concern me, I'd better attend to things that do.”

  She stepped around him; he watched her walk purposefully down the hall.

  As soon as this business is over, she’s out of here!

  * * *

  Gina banished Alan Vasquez from her mind. At the station, she grabbed a telephone and dialed Harry's ICU extension. As she waited, she checked her watch—it was already lunchtime, and still no Vinnie.

  When Harry picked up the phone, he was out of breath. She could tell he was rushing around, in the midst of something; obviously not a good time for her to call, if there ever was one in that ICU.

  “Harry! I'm sorry to bug you, but I've got to talk to you, right away! Can you take your lunch break now?”

  “I don't know. I've got a lot of sickies here.”

  “Please, Harry. It's urgent.”

  There was a long pause. “Okay, I'll try, but only because it's you.” His voice became muffled; he'd obviously covered the mouthpiece—then he was back again. “Meet you at the cafeteria in ten minutes.”

  Gina immediately dialed the lab.

  “Hi, may I speak to Faye?”

  There was a grumbled response she didn't quite understand, and then she was put on hold. She listened impatiently to the canned baroque music.

  “This is Faye.”

  “Hi, Faye, Gina! Could you do me a favor? I mean, I really need some information from the Lab, but I'm sort of persona non grata down there after that to-do over Bernstein's marrow.”