Fairytales

by Cynthia Freeman

  Dominic wondered if they had enough gas but the pilot, reading his thought, said, “Don’t worry, Signore, I have six children and a half and my wife is expecting me for breakfast tomorrow morning. She’ll be very angry with me if she has to waste the food.”

  Dominic almost laughed, but Catherine was repeating over and over again out loud, “Hail, Mary, Mother of God, Jesus, fruit of the womb, protect us, help us. Hail, Mary, Mother of God …” Her prayers were answered as the plane came bumping, thumping to the ground and with a jerk, stopped abruptly.

  Paris was freezing and the rain pelted down on a frightened, exhausted Catherine as she stepped from the taxi into the lobby of the George V Hotel. Shivering, she waited, huddled in her sable coat, as Dominic registered for a suite of rooms. It seemed an eternity until they were finally taken up in the lift to their quarters. Sitting down heavily into a wing chair, she began to sneeze and cough, pulling her coat around her even tighter. The bellboy struck a match and lit the logs in the pink marble fireplace. Dominic looked disheveled, as though he had slept in his suit, the bellboy thought as he was being tipped … rich Americans can afford anything, even a two day growth of beard.

  “Is there anything else, Monsieur?”

  “Catherine, would you like something now?”

  “Yes,” she answered, her teeth chattering, “hot coffee and a bottle of brandy. I think I’m really sick.”

  Dominic asked that the order be brought immediately. When the door was shut, he said, “Why don’t you get out of those clothes and go to bed … your coat is wet.”

  “Thank you, Dominic, but I’m really so ill, I don’t think I can make it,” she answered, wheezing.

  “Come on, I’ll help you.” He held her arm and led her into her room across from his, being separated by the large sitting room. Helped out of her coat, she sat shivering on the edge of the bed, too weak to undress.

  “Dominic, would you … please be kind enough to unzip me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you … and if you don’t mind, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d get that small blue bag. I have my nightgown in it.”

  He brought it to her. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “If you don’t mind my sayin’ it, Dominic … you’re bein’ awful sweet.”

  He felt uncomfortable and awkward. “We’ve been through an ordeal… and I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

  She sneezed … taking out her handkerchief from her purse, she wiped her nose which was red and sore. “Dominic, do you think I could get some aspirin … I simply forgot to bring some.”

  “I’ll go downstairs, there’s a drugstore across the street, if I can’t get any in the hotel.”

  “Thank you, Dominic, I really appreciate …” she sneezed again. On his way out, she said, “I think it might be a good idea to get a thermometer.”

  “Okay … I’ll be right back.”

  In Dominic’s absence, she thought about him … how he had rallied to her when she needed him … but don’t put too much importance into it, she thought just as quickly. Dominic had a large stretch of goodness in him and when he wasn’t mad you’d just never believe he was capable of any kind of temper. Did he ever get mad at … her? Catherine wondered … what was he like as a lover … with … her … And now in her mind’s eye, she saw them making love, kissing, fondling and exploring one another as once they had done … once … once upon a time like a fairytale that ended in tragedy. But fairytales were supposed to end happily. The golden slipper … the handsome prince … the beautiful princess … from New Orleans … what happened to her? She was lying in a strange bed in Paris worried sick that her son was missing and her husband was gone … gone forever … into the arms of another woman … so it seemed fairytales didn’t have happy endings after all.

  The night had been dreadful for Catherine, alone in her bed ill, when just across the room, Dominic, still her husband, lay sleeping. She would not allow herself to be foolish enough to indulge in the fantasy that the attention Dominic had shown her earlier was anything more than just a kindness he would have done for anyone who was not well. At two, she took her temperature … it was 102. Her head was throbbing and her pulse was racing. She had chills, her teeth chattered. My God, maybe she had pneumonia. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to call for Dominic, but thought, no, better not let him think she was trying to take advantage of their situation. After all, he was only here because of Roberto … he was his son too. But when morning came, her temperature had risen to 103. When Dominic came in, dressed, he could see the glazed look in Catherine’s eyes.

  “You’re worse this morning … I think we should have a doctor take a look at you.”

  “Whatever you say … Dominic, I’m really not feelin’ at all well … I guess it was sittin’ in that terrible cold little plane. I must’a gotten a bug of some kind.”

  Dominic was on the phone calling the desk clerk. “This is Mr. Rossi, my wife is ill and I would be grateful if you would get us a doctor immediately.” As ill as she was, she heard him say it… my wife … what a beautiful sounding word.

  Within a half-hour, Dominic opened the door and let Dr. Monet in, leading him to Catherine’s room. During the examination, Dominic waited in the sitting room and he recalled the night Catherine had slipped and fallen, almost losing the baby … what a night that was. Strange, when he thought about it … they had been through a great deal together, hadn’t they? Seven children … all the fights and arguments … but during the years there had been some good memories too. Impossible to live with someone for twenty-two years and not remember a few good things … like the surprise birthday she had given him on his thirtieth. That was a lovely evening … yes, it was … and then there was … His memories stopped when Dr. Monet came out and said, “Mr. Rossi, I find a little fluid in the right lung, but it isn’t pneumonia. At this point, it’s pleurisy and I would suggest she be hospitalized.”

  Dominic was truly shaken. “All right, whatever you say.”

  “Fine, I’ll make arrangements at the American Hospital… may I use the phone? I want to make sure we can get a room and also she should be sent by ambulance.”

  “Is it that serious?”

  “It could become quite serious.”

  All the arrangements were made. Dominic thanked the doctor, then went to Catherine’s room, She was breathing hard, trying to catch her breath. Dominic said, “Catherine, the doctor thinks you should be hospitalized for a few days.”

  “No, Dominic, please, I’m really not that bad,” she answered him with difficulty.

  “Catherine, please don’t be obstinate. You should be where someone can take care of you.”

  “But what about Roberto … I should be helping to find him.”

  “It doesn’t take two of us.”

  “But why should you have all the responsibility?”

  “Listen, Catherine, you’re not well and this could become worse, so tell me what you need and I’ll pack a little bag.”

  She was too ill to protest. Her breathing labored. She said a toothbrush and the blue bag would be sufficient. As she lay quietly, unable to move, she almost whispered, “Dominic, you look tired … why don’t… you have … some breakfast… sent up?”

  “Don’t worry about me. Let’s just get you well.”

  She lay back against the pillows and shut her eyes. Trembling, she thought, maybe I’m goin’ to die. I feel so ill that at this moment, I wouldn’t even care … if I died, then Dominic could marry … this … woman. Wouldn’t that be a blessin’ … for him … so simple … solve all his problems … with me. But before she could think further, the ambulance attendants arrived and Catherine was taken by stretcher down the hall to the service elevator, then through doors to the alley where she was carefully lifted into the conveyance. Dominic sat on the side opposite her, listening and watching the oxygen mask as it ballooned in and out. He felt so many things on that drive to the hospital. Pity … regret that thei
r lives had not turned out… guilt over her touching humility … the anguish she felt over Roberto which had subdued her to the point he saw a different Catherine … it wasn’t love that he felt, but a deep compassion he had thought he was beyond feeling for her. When they arrived, Catherine was taken immediately to a large corner room overlooking the garden, which she neither saw nor could appreciate since she was semiconscious … her temperature had risen to 104 and a half, and when the doctor came out after examining her, he told Dominic that by now she had pneumonia. There were rales in the right lung, which was a dangerous sign. Dominic shut his eyes … The doctor assured him everything would be done. The antibiotics were given intramuscularly, she had been placed in an oxygen tent and was being fed intravenously. The thought of Bobby was forgotten for the time being, as Dominic waited through the long, long day well into the evening. The only time he left Catherine’s bedside was to go downstairs to the dining room in the hospital and have dinner. By eleven that night Catherine’s temperature had dropped slightly, but she still lay in a semiconscious state. Finally the special night nurse opened the door quietly. She discussed Madame’s case with her friend and fellow worker who was now going off duty. After going over the chart, Mademoiselle Vredue left.

  “My name is Miss Lavinna Middings,” she said in perfect English, which for all of Dominic’s concern about Catherine still surprised him a little … American Hospital in Paris … a nurse without a French accent with a name like Middings. Seeing the mild surprise on his face, she laughed softly, “I’m English and from London.”

  “Very pleased to meet you, and I’m Mr. Rossi from San Francisco.”

  “Pleased, indeed … now, Mr. Rossi, I might suggest you leave since Mrs. Rossi seems to be resting comfortably and is in no immediate danger. And may I add, you look like you might need a little of the same … rest, that is,” she said slightly above a whisper, observing his heavy bearded shadow.

  “I am tired, but do you think it’s safe to leave?”

  “I can assure … yes. Should the occasion arise the hospital can contact you … but I truly believe there will be no need for that.”

  Hesitatingly, he finally said, “Alright, but if Mrs. Rossi wakes up tell her I’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

  “I shall, sir … good night.”

  Dominic left, walking slowly down the hall where he took the elevator to the lobby … and had the receptionist call a taxi which took him back to the George V Hotel. Wearily, he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his watch … it was now eleven thirty at night… what was the time difference? About eight hours … Victoria would still be sleeping. He picked up the phone and asked to be connected with the overseas operator and waited … finally a voice … he placed the call and waited once again…

  “Hello?” a sleepy Victoria asked, rolling over on her back.

  “Darling, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, but how are you?”

  “At this moment, I’m not sure.”

  “Speak a little louder. There’s so much static, I can’t hear.”

  “I said I’m not sure. Is that better?”

  “Yes, can you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “The line seems to be have cleared … what do you mean you’re not sure?”

  “Well, so much has happened, I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Have you found Bobby?”

  “No.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Paris at the George V Hotel.”

  “In Paris … Why Paris?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I see you, but here’s where the police seem to think he is.”

  “Do they have a lead on him?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen them yet.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No.”

  “When did you arrive?”

  “Last night.”

  “What about today … why haven’t you—?”

  “Because … Catherine is in the hospital.”

  There was a long pause … “The hospital? Dominic, my God, why?”

  “She has pneumonia.”

  “Pneumonia? How did that happen?”

  “Darling, it’s too long to go into, but she’s quite ill.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that. You poor darling … what you must be going through.”

  “Truthfully, I’m too beat to think about being anything tonight.”

  “What time is it?”

  “About one in the morning.”

  “Oh, darling, how I wish there was something I could do to help.”

  “Just hearing your voice has helped.”

  “And I’ve thought of nothing else but you since you left.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart. If I can get through this, I think I’ll live to be a hundred.”

  “I hope so … I love you, darling … try not to worry. I just know everything is going to be alright.”

  “I hope so, sweetheart. If you don’t hear from me, you’ll understand.”

  “Of course. Please don’t concern yourself with me … I love you, Dominic, take care of yourself.”

  “I love you, too … Just hearing your voice, I feel better.”

  “Darling, can I do anything here for you?”

  “No, dear … just be there when I come home.”

  “I will. You know I will … now, try and get some sleep. I love you.”

  After hanging up, he placed calls to Dom and Tory, then called home telling them Mama was not feeling well … just worn out and resting in the hospital for a few days … no, Roberto had not been found yet, but it was just a question of a few hours … why should he alarm them. More exhausted than he knew, he lay back fully clothed and fell asleep…

  Dominic slowly opened his heavy eyelids. For one brief moment, he seemed unable to orient himself. He looked down at his suit and shoes suddenly realizing he had fallen asleep so swiftly that he had not undressed. In spite of his stamina, this morning he was unable to move. The long, arduous journey had been much more strenuous than even he could sustain for all his vigor, and then Catherine’s sudden illness … Looking out to a gray somber morning, he watched the rain pelt against the windows … the day matched his mood.

  Arousing himself to full consciousness, he glanced at the small travel clock on the nightstand … it was six-thirty. Picking up the receiver with one hand he stroked his bearded stubble with the other while he waited for a response. It took so long, Dominic became annoyed. Ah … ha, a voice … someone was there after all. “Bon jour, what is your pleasure?” the desk clerk asked.

  “Let me have room service.”

  “Oui, Monsieur, one moment…”

  Again, a long … long wait… “Bonjour, Monsieur, what is your pleasure?”

  My pleasure would be to have you tied to a tree in the rain this morning for not answering the phone for fifteen minutes. “In thirty minutes I want my breakfast to be in my room … vous moi comprende?”

  Stunned silence, then, “Of course, Monsieur … now what is your desire?”

  “My desire is a large orange juice, two scrambled eggs with ham, toast and coffee.”

  Americans! Their taste for food, like peasants. “Oui, Monsieur … will that be all?”

  “Oui … but remember … in one half-hour.”

  An indignant sigh … “But of course, Monsieur.”

  Dominic got out of his clothes, went to the bathroom, bathed, and shaved. As he looked at himself in the mirror … he needed a haircut… and badly, well, that he’d forget about today. What was ahead of him, he didn’t relish. Getting into his jockey shorts, he heard a loud knock at the door … see, it’s thirty minutes, the knuckles were saying, as a reprimand. Quickly getting into his robe, barefooted, he opened it to a waiter, somber and arrogant, who wheeled in the breakfast table. He placed it in the center of the sitting room, then stood at attention. No bonjour? No nothing? This was the polite French? It apparently was the desk cler
k who had told the order clerk, who told the waiter not to cater to the demanding, impatient American in room 1704.

  Dominic sat down to breakfast which he ate without enjoyment. Finishing, he sat on the sofa and picked up the phone … again, silence … a long pause … and for this he was paying seventy-five dollars a day … “Bonjour, Monsieur … your pleasure?”

  To get the hell out of this fine establishment, Dominic wanted to say, but instead, “Will you get me the American Hospital?”

  “Merci.”

  Dominic heard the ringing, then “American Hospital.”

  “Yes … will you connect me with Mrs. Rossi’s room?”

  “I’m sorry, but the phone has been disconnected.”

  Dominic’s heart began to race, why was the phone disconnected? Was Catherine much worse? “Connect me with the floor nurse.”

  “Oui, Monsieur.”

  “… Miss Doumont here.”

  “Yes … this is Mr. Rossi. Would you be kind enough to have someone go to my wife’s room and tell the nurse I would like to speak with her.”

  “I am very sorry, Monsieur, but we are so busy.”

  Goddamn it, he was getting to hate the French more by the minute. “Listen, I want to find out how my wife is … do you understand me?”

  “Oui, Monsieur, I understand, but there is no one who has the time … we are all very busy.”

  Dominic bit his lip to keep from cursing, “Do you know how my wife is this morning?”

  “No, Monsieur, since she has private nurses.”

  He slammed down the phone, dressed quickly, put on his raincoat, a hat, grabbed his umbrella and left the room. Getting a taxi which took him across town unhurriedly, since by now the rain was coming down in torrents, he cursed under his breath … when he caught up with Roberto, he’d knock the hell out of him for putting them through this … but his anger was interrupted when the taxi came to a stop in front of the hospital. Paying the driver, he hurried into the building, shivering. Taking off his dripping raincoat and hat, depositing the umbrella in the receptacle, he walked rapidly to the elevator.

  Once inside Catherine’s room, he found her awake and feeling better this morning. The medication had done its work and she was remarkably improved since yesterday, though far from recovered. The nurse took his coat and hat, putting them in the bathroom to dry, then he looked through the transparent tent where Catherine smiled wanly, “How are you, Dominic?”