Rip Your Heart Out

by Jeanne Glidewell

  "Aunt Mabel took my siblings and me in after our mother died. I was fifteen at the time. We just refer to her as Aunt Mabel because adding the 'great' before 'aunt' every time gets tedious. So, anyway, my aunt was in worse condition than Rip when she went into surgery. She'd suffered a nearly fatal heart attack about ten years earlier, and it was the staff here at the center that saved her life. But there was permanent damage done to part of the heart muscle, a condition called myocardial infarction."

  "Do you know if Rip's heart sustained any permanent damage?"

  "I don't think so. If it did, it was minimal. Aunt Mabel was lackadaisical in regards to her recovery process, not taking any of the cardiac center staff's instructions or precautions seriously. She refused cardio rehab, for starters. To make matters worse, she was beginning to show significant signs of having Alzheimer's, so making sure she remembered to take the right medications at the right time was challenging."

  I glanced at Rip, who couldn't remember his own grandkids' names half the time. However, he had me to remind him about his meds, so I wasn't too worried about that aspect of his recovery process. I noticed his face pale and his eyes widen following her remarks. Sydney had indeed made an impression on him that I never could have. She seemed to have single-handedly turned Rip into a staunch believer of following the doctor's recommendations. Where Rip most likely thought I was over-reacting when I warned him of the consequences of noncompliance, he clearly thought the words of his surgeon's personal nurse were gospel. She was speaking from knowledge obtained from her vast experience in the field of cardiac health, and more importantly, post-bypass survival.

  "I don't know why, but I feel as if I'm partially to blame for her death," Sydney said. "As an experienced cardiac care nurse, I was the logical choice to take care of her following her operation, both here in the cardio ward and at her home after she was released."

  "Why do you feel partially responsible for her death?" I asked.

  "I did the best I could to take care of her after she went home from the hospital. I did her shopping for her, paid her bills, took care of her pets, and checked to see if the medications she was supposed to have taken were indeed absent from her pill box. And I tried to get her to get up and move around the house as much as possible. It would probably have been easier to get that antique grandfather's clock in her dining room to run than it was to get Aunt Mabel just to walk." Sydney followed her quip with a remorseful smile that told me how deeply Sydney had loved her aunt, quirks and all. Her eyes glistened with tears that threatened to spill over.

  "Once again, I'm so sorry for your loss, honey. It sounds to me like you were quite generous with the time and effort you expended on your aunt's well-being. No one could have expected any more from you. You're only human, for goodness sake! You should certainly not feel guilty about anything, my dear," I said to Sydney in an effort to console her. She ran a sleeve across her face to blot the tears on her cheeks, and the swipe appeared to wipe away her sorrowful expression, as well.

  "But we're not going to be negligent and non-compliant, are we, Rip?" She asked her patient, as if she hadn't heard a word I'd just said. I did say all of that out loud, didn't I? I asked myself. It was as though she had tuned me out completely. As she spoke to Rip, she stared directly into his eyes. "Nor are we going to convince ourselves that we're invincible, are we?"

  "No, Miss Cindy. We aren't."

  "It's Sydney," I reminded him.

  "That's okay, Rapella. He hasn't gotten my name correct yet. But Cindy's closer than Candy, as he called me earlier this morning."

  "I'm sorry, Miss Sydney. I must have gotten you confused with the young candy striper who stops by on occasion to see if I need anything. I'm still waiting for that cup of coffee I requested yesterday."

  Sydney nodded. "You'll keep waiting, too. You want me to go back over why you aren't allowed coffee in the cardiac ward?"

  "Not really."

  "And the young lady's name is Jasmine."

  "Oh." Rip had the decency to look ashamed, even though I'd guess Sydney knew the expression was a farce as well as I did.

  "So, back to what I was telling you about Aunt Mabel. In her will, she left her house to the cardiac center to use as a boarding house for families who have a loved one recovering here in the hospital. Of course, she hadn't expected the transfer of ownership to occur so soon. She was looking ahead a decade or so, but fate intervened, as it so often does. The center will take over legal ownership of the large house in the next week or so. They delayed it so we could get any personal items we wanted out of her home."

  "Yes, of course. How thoughtful of your aunt," I replied. "She obviously didn't hold the center, or Dr. Murillo, personally responsible for her death then, did she?"

  Sydney looked at me oddly. Her tone sounded a bit snappish as she responded. "Well, actually, she was dead before she could consider holding anyone responsible. She died suddenly and unexpectedly. However, I believe she was the sole individual responsible for her death, as I said before."

  It occurred to me then my question had been a stupid one. It was like asking someone who'd just plummeted to his death from three thousand feet if he had plans to sue the parachute manufacturer.

  I understood the nurse's defensive reaction. After all, she was the nurse who'd been responsible for taking care of Dr. Murillo's patient following her open-heart surgery. To imply the cardiac center was at fault for the woman's unexpected demise post-surgery would be like pointing a finger directly at Sydney Combs. "Of course, she was the cause of her own death."

  "Well, not totally her fault, but her noncompliance didn't help matters any. Although I cared for my aunt following her surgery, due to my responsibilities here at the center, I couldn't be there to monitor her 24/7 after she was sent home. So I couldn't control what she did or didn't do when I wasn't able to be with her. But even while I was working, I made sure there was a part-time day nurse attending to her needs. I called regularly to check in on her, as well. I'd remind her to take her medications, tell her it was time to apply antibiotic ointment and change the bandaging on her leg, and encourage her to get up and take a few laps around the house to help build up her strength, endurance, and circulation. Unfortunately, I couldn't be certain she'd do any of those things after I disconnected the call."

  "That must have been frustrating for you," I said.

  "You better believe it was frustrating! But elderly people in their seventies can be quite set in their ways, and stubborn as old mules. Oh, excuse me. I hope you didn't take that personally." She and I both turned to gaze at Rip, who looked away quickly.

  "Oh, well, I know I didn't. We're only in our sixties, you see," I replied. It was a statement that expired in just over a year for Rip, and not much longer for me. Still, I took offense when someone inferred we were elderly, and/or, already in our seventies. My next remark was said while still staring directly at my husband, who was directing his attention out the window. "But trust me, Sydney. I understand exactly what you're saying. This one here takes 'set in his ways' to a whole new level."

  Sydney laughed. "So I've noticed."

  "Go on with your story. I believe you were about to explain what it was exactly that caused your Aunt Mabel's untimely death." I was hopeful my gentle prodding would coax the nurse into a detailed clarification that'd clear up my confusion about the heart patient's post-surgery demise.

  Unfortunately, it didn't! Instead of elaborating on why she thought her aunt's death was to some extent the lady's own fault, she reverted to the topic of the woman's donation to the cardiac center. "Aunt Mabel has a large Victorian home just two blocks north of the hospital, making it an ideal location for families of patients here. The huge house has seven bedrooms. One of them may have been occupied by a former caretaker. According to my aunt, he'd been taking care of the place for a number of years. I don't know his name, but I'm certain if he did actually live there, or even exist, for that matter, he moved on after Aunt Mabel passed."


  "Your aunt's home sounds very nice," I said politely.

  "It was a stately mansion at one time, but it's deteriorated some in the past few decades. The master suite, which Aunt Mabel always used for herself, has its own bathroom and sitting area with two recliners and a large television."

  "That sounds cozy," I replied. I had no clue where Sydney was going with this, but assumed she was going to offer us a room to stay in while Rip was going to daily cardio rehab sessions. I was partially right.

  "Indeed, it is. Very cozy. Although I'm not sure I can honestly say that about the rest of the home. The problem for me is that I was left in charge of Goofus and Gallant and am responsible for them for as long as they're alive."

  "Goofus and Gallant? As in the Highlights cartoon?" I asked.

  "Highlights cartoon?" Rip inquisitively chimed in.

  "Yes," I replied. "If you'd spent as many hours in the waiting rooms of pediatricians as I did while Regina was growing up, you'd be familiar with Highlights Magazine for Children. In this particular cartoon that appears in every edition, Goofus is a young boy who is rude, discourteous and downright mean, and Gallant is just the opposite. Gallant, who is polite, kind, and thoughtful, shows how young children should behave and react in different situations. It's a cartoon with a positive message."

  "Exactly," Sydney said. "I remember Aunt Mabel reading articles in that magazine to my sister, little brother, and me as we were growing up. In this case, though, Gallant is a full-grown St. Bernard, who could devour my two yorkies in one bite. Goofus is a cockatoo with an impressive, and rather irritating, vocabulary. I could be staying there if I chose to, but with two dogs of my own that don't get along at all with Gallant, it's kind of necessary that I continue to reside in my own home. I'm afraid if I moved into my aunt's place, my dogs would injure Gallant."

  "Huh? I thought you just said Gallant could eat both your yorkies in one bite. Why would you worry about Gallant's well-being?"

  "Gallant would have to catch the hyper little things first. And in the meantime, they'd be doing a number on his ankles. He's too gentle to hurt a flea, even if those fleas were biting the heck out of his legs. So you can understand why I'm reluctant to move into Aunt Mabel's house, can't you?"

  "Yes, of course." I understood why she'd hesitate to move herself and her pets into her aunt's home. However, I didn't understand what all this had to do with us. But I was willing to hear the nice lady out.

  Sydney went on to explain her idea. "Rip told me you two were staying at the Sunset RV Park near Tacoma, which I know to be quite a commute from here. With Rip having to attend thrice-a-week rehab sessions for something like eight weeks, it's going to be an inconvenience for you guys. During that time, if you two would be interested in residing in Aunt Mabel's old home, which we now call the 'Heart Shack', you can occupy the master suite free of charge while you're there. And, of course, you'd be welcome to stay longer if needed."

  "The Heart Shack?" Rip asked, taking the words right out of my mouth. I thought it was a cute name, but an odd choice.

  "Yeah. We all offered suggestions and then voted on the entries."

  "Was the clever name your idea?" I asked.

  "No. It was submitted by an anesthesiologist named José. I think it's kind of a silly name for a hospital housing facility." Sydney was obviously disgusted with the winning entry, but I thought it best I didn't ask her if she'd entered the contest with a suggestion of her own. If she had, the fact her entry lost out to José's could be a sore spot. I smiled politely as she continued.

  "The only stipulation is that you'd have to take care of Goofus and Gallant while you're staying there. Please consider the fact you'd have a free place to stay and a short commute to the rehab facility—within walking distance, in fact. It'd be a relief for me, as well. I have very little time to devote to Aunt Mabel's two pets. So, what do you think?"

  What I actually thought was that she was trying too hard to sell us on the idea. It was as if she were an encyclopedia salesman at my doorstep in this day and age when any information you had a hankering to explore was but a Google search away. I looked at Rip, who shrugged and asked, "What about the Chartreuse Caboose?"

  "The what?" Sydney asked.

  "That's what we call our home, a thirty-foot travel trailer," I explained. "We painted it that color and added sunflowers to spice it up a little."

  "Sounds like that'd do the trick!" Sydney said with an amused chuckle. "You could always park it in the driveway, and even plug its electric cord into an outlet in the garage if you'd like to keep the refrigerator in your trailer going. I know there's still power to the garage because there's an old chest freezer running in it."

  "That'd be great," I said. "That way we wouldn't have to pay site rental for the travel trailer."

  "Awesome! It sounds like we have a deal, then," Sydney said enthusiastically. She was clearly in a hurry to close the deal. I almost expected her to whip out a contract to have us sign on the dotted line before "buyer's remorse" set in. Her next question did nothing to dispel the notion. "How quickly can you move in?"

  "Not until Rip is released," I replied. I felt a nagging sense of reluctance, but my tight-fisted nature took over as I accepted her offer. "I'd be happy to take care of Goofus and Gallant in the meantime. I can stop there on the way here each morning, and once again as I head back to the RV park. According to Dr. Murillo, Rip should be released in the next few days."

  "Oh, that'd be wonderful!" Sydney said. Obviously optimistic we'd accept her offer, she'd brought along a set of keys to the house. She pulled a key ring out of a pocket in her scrubs and handed it to me. "The three old-fashioned keys open up the doors into the house. As you can see, I have them labeled for you."

  "Ah," I said with a hint of nostalgia in my voice. "I haven't seen a skeleton key in ages. Those were the only kind of keys we used back in my growing-up days. And this smaller key?"

  "I have no idea what that one goes to. Still, I hesitate to throw it away quite yet," Sydney replied.

  "Heavens, no! If Aunt Mabel kept it on this key ring, it must open up a lock somewhere on the property. So, dear, how do I find her house?"

  "Take a right out of the heart center's parking lot and then another quick right. Drive two blocks west and it's the big red house on the right at 666 South Hart Street. You can't miss it. Trust me!"

  "A red house on South Hart Street sounds very appropriate," I said.

  "A bunch of us who work here in the cardiac ward just painted the house red two weeks ago and put up a 'Heart Shack' sign in the front yard. The street being named South Hart was just an ironic coincidence."

  A red house sounded rather gaudy to me, but I guess someone who'd painted their own home-on-wheels chartreuse should not throw stones. "Terrific! I'll run by there when I head out in an hour or so."

  After I made sure Rip was able to hold down his horrid-looking lunch, I left the hospital with the Heart Shack key ring jingling in my left hand. As I walked out of his room, Rip said, "I'll see you later, honey, providing I haven't been stoned to death by Nurse Cindy in the meantime."

  I didn't bother to correct him on his nurse's name. I was so thrilled by the turn of events I wouldn't have minded if he called her Nurse Nightingale. I'd decided to overlook the ill-at-ease feeling Sydney had aroused in me with her over-exuberance at convincing us to accept her offer. I marked her reaction up as relief at having one less item on her already full plate.

  I'm financially conservative by nature and was all over the idea of free rent for two months. I wanted to do cartwheels across the parking lot, but it wasn't an opportune time for a broken hip. I simply skipped to the truck, instead.

  I had no idea what to expect at the late Mabel Trumbo's house on South Hart Street, but it certainly wasn't what I discovered when I arrived there about two minutes later.

  Chapter 9

  It was a typical Seattle day: cool, overcast and with intermittent showers. Even in the gloomy conditions, the Heart Shack was
not difficult to spot. The Victorian mansion stood out like a sore red thumb and a coat of fresh paint had done nothing to make the house look fresh or welcoming. In fact, it had the opposite effect. It looked more like a hideous haunted house than a temporary housing facility for family members of cardiac patients.

  Several shutters dangled by a single screw, listing to one side or the other. One had tilted completely over and stuck out at a ninety-degree angle from the window casing. The yard was full of crabgrass, dandelions, and Johnson grass, and the noxious weeds were in desperate need of mowing down or drenching with Roundup. To make matters worse, overgrown foliage, shrubs, and bushes engulfed the house like a shroud. Sydney had mentioned a caretaker but had appeared dubious about his existence, for some reason. If he did exist, I wondered what he'd taken care of because lawn and building maintenance didn't seem to be on his list of responsibilities.

  There was a detached three-car garage that resembled an old carriage house. At one time it would've been an impressive structure. But with the ravages of time, it was now little more than a ramshackle hut. One would not dare park a vehicle inside the building for fear the roof would collapse on it. I was glad to see there was a level bare spot alongside the garage where we could park the Chartreuse Caboose while we lived inside the old home. For a moment, I wondered if we wouldn't be safer and more comfortable residing in the travel trailer and only entering the Heart Shack when necessary to care for Mabel's pets.

  I parked our truck on the street. Walking up the sidewalk to the covered front porch, I heard a wailing sound that seemed to be coming from inside the house. I would have felt more comfortable had there been any lights on inside, or even outside, the woebegone structure. I stopped and debated returning to the truck and driving back to the hospital to ask Sydney who might be inside the home besides Goofus and Gallant. In the end, however, my curiosity was stronger than my self-preservation instinct.

  Climbing the front stairs involved side-stepping numerous broken and missing boards. The same held true for the porch. Considering the groaning I heard as I walked across the porch, I wondered if it'd be prudent for Rip, who weighed a good fifty or sixty pounds more than me, to find another entrance into the crumbling monstrosity.