Promise Me Eternity

by Ian Fox

  Simon threw her a critical look. She knew he frowned on asking such direct and personal questions.

  John was coming down the stairs. “Welcome,” he said. “The kitchen has already been ordered, but there was a hitch. It should have been here by now. As for that money …”

  Helen could remember the exact amount they had talked about last time. They had paid out a full seven thousand dollars for a solid wood kitchen rather than veneer. She wondered where they got their money, and decided to talk to Simon that evening. They, too, could use a new kitchen.

  Simon got up and offered his hand. “Hello, neighbor, how are your flowers doing? You’re in the garden nonstop these days.”

  John wasn’t sure whether he was serious or not. “What do you mean? Aren’t they OK?” he asked moodily.

  Serving the soup, Maria cut in. “Don’t be so sensitive, John. Simon was asking a polite question. Isn’t that right, Simon?”

  “Of course.” He was surprised by John’s reaction. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

  Maria laughed. “John is jealous of your roses. He never manages to get such beautiful blossoms as you do. He buys the most expensive fertilizer and sprays them regularly against pests, but …”

  Her husband gave her a sharp look for giving the game away.

  “Oh, that’s what it is?” said Simon. “My God, I don’t take any special care of them. You know I don’t have the time.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t fertilize them?” John asked darkly.

  “No, never. Now and then I shake some ashes from Helen’s ashtray onto the soil. I read somewhere—”

  “You must put something else on.”

  “Like I said, I don’t. Unless ….”

  John waited for the answer. “Unless what?”

  “Edna, our cleaner, also takes care of the garden. Maybe she does something.”

  John couldn’t believe it.

  “You better start your soup before it gets cold,” Maria suggested.

  The air was filled with the clatter of spoons on china plates and the sipping of soup. Maria was ashamed that her husband didn’t know how to eat normally. His slurping grated on her nerves. She had pointed it out to him so many times.

  “How did you spend your day?” she asked Simon and Helen, although her eyes were mainly on Simon.

  “It was quite tough. I performed two operations. One of them was particularly difficult.”

  Maria listened to him with pleasure. As a little girl she had dreamt of becoming a doctor. Later she had changed her mind and had trained as a geography teacher. That was why she felt particularly inclined toward Simon. She thought him friendly, calm, and good-natured. She couldn’t understand why Helen kept on complaining about him. She could listen to him for hours on end and never get bored.

  Helen said, “My working day wasn’t anything special. The usual. Anyway, have you started thinking where you’re going for your vacation?”

  John nodded immediately. “Of course. This year we’re going to the Canaries for three weeks.”

  “Is that so, the Canary Islands? Hear that, Simon? We’ve talked about our vacation as well. We were thinking about Burj al Arab hotel in Dubai with seven stars, weren’t we Simon?”

  He forced a smile. “We were actually only thinking. I’m a bit short and I don’t know how …”

  Helen couldn’t believe it. She’d been sure that he would confirm her words. If nothing else, because of pride, but no, he went and admitted to having no money, embarrassing them both.

  She angrily said, “Simon, we’re going to Dubai even if it means selling the house. I hope that’s clear to you.”

  John and Maria exchanged looks. Simon and Helen had often argued in front of them.

  Maria got up and began carving the goose. “It’s a bit overdone,” she said in a conciliatory way.

  As if she had not heard, Helen said, “I’ll sell your goddamn microscope if necessary! I’ve had enough of everything!” Tears of anger showed in her eyes.

  Simon turned to her and said, “I don’t get why you’re so obsessed with what other people have. It’s possible to have a good life without luxury vacations. I told you I have a loan to pay off until next year …”

  Maria silently served the roast goose. “I hope you like it.”

  “I’ve had enough of your excuses! You find a reason every year. Go to hell!” Helen got up and went off toward the bathroom.

  Simon angrily watched her go, grinding his teeth.

  “Ah, that’s the way women are,” John said in a jocular fashion.

  Simon waited for her to close the bathroom door before saying, “Sometimes I feel like cutting her throat, she makes me so angry.”

  Maria was taken aback. “There, there, that’s no way to talk about your wife.”

  Even John was surprised. He had never seen Simon so furious.

  “She’s always pressuring me about money. If I don’t have it, I can’t just pluck it out of nowhere. She knew about the microscope and had no objections back then.”

  “Don’t get upset, Simon. You’d better start eating. How do you like it?” Maria asked.

  He stared toward the bathroom for a moment and then bit into the crispy golden goose leg. “You’re right. There’s no use getting upset about it. Mmmm, it’s delicious. Maria, there’s no better cook than you. Truly excellent.”

  She was satisfied. She watched him eating, radiating delight. That is a real man, she thought. Smart, kind, and considerate. But why is Helen so much against him? She began to eat.

  When Helen returned, it was obvious that she had fixed her makeup. As if nothing had happened, she sat down and started a conversation about a new shopping mall that was being built not far away. “I’m sure there’ll be some new clothes shops,” she said.

  Later, they discussed tax policy and how certain prices were going up and how the government failed to do anything about it.

  When it was almost midnight, Simon and Helen got up and thanked them for a wonderful dinner.

  Chapter 16

  _______________________

  Standing restlessly beside the beautiful flowers in his office, the director of Medford Central Hospital called out angrily, “Come in!”

  When Dr. Patterson appeared, Brad Horras came straight out with it. “His wife is going to sue the hospital. Are you crazy? How could you disinfect the wound with iodine if he’s allergic to it? Didn’t you check? Who’s responsible?”

  Simon meekly hung his head. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I didn’t check.” His voice broke.

  “What, you admit it? I thought it wouldn’t be your fault. How could you do such a thing? Have you any explanation?”

  “I should have checked, but didn’t. I don’t understand what happened. I’m so sorry ….”

  “Sorry? You think that’s enough? Who will pay the legal expenses? Not to mention all the problems that will follow. What do we do if the wife talks to the press? What the hell do I say to them? What if they demand my resignation? Did you think about that?”

  “I really am sorry. I can still see that man fighting for his life. I almost killed him.” He exhaled slowly. “I made a terrible mistake.”

  “That’s not enough,” the director yelled. “Not enough. I want details. Tell me how it happened. Why didn’t you check the patient’s condition?”

  Simon shook his head a number of times. “I was terribly tired, I’d been on night duty. When I entered the operating room the patient was already prepped. Maybe I thought someone would warn me about the allergy. Almost always, someone warns you. I don’t know how it was that no one noticed.”

  “Are you trying to say someone else is to blame?”

  “No, no, not that. The responsibility is wholly mine, I’m responsible for the operation. It just seems strange. I’ve been thinking about it since this morning, how it could happen. It’s the first time in my career that it’s happened.”

  “It could be that because of your tiredness both your
career and mine are over. Did you think about that?”

  “I’ll try and talk to the family.”

  The director put his hands to his head. “No way! They don’t want to even hear your name. Don’t go anywhere near them. I’ll deal with them.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Nothing! Simply nothing! I’ll tell you something, Dr. Patterson. If this should happen even one more time, if you endanger another patient …”

  “God forbid!”

  “Then I’ll see to it that no other hospital in this hemisphere will ever take you on. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding contritely.

  “Good. Then get out of here and pray that I manage to calm down the family.”

  Simon decided to go and see some of his patients to ask how they were. He was sorry that he had put the man’s life in danger, but had to carry on with his work.

  The rounds lasted almost an hour and finally he stopped by a large room at the end of the corridor on the third floor. This was the largest and most luxurious room, intended for important patients. It was equipped with a flat monitor TV, CD player, and music center. It also had an upgraded bathroom.

  As soon as the director of the hospital heard that the famous Carlo Vucci had had an accident, he checked personally on the condition of this room. He had a carpenter called in and ordered new furniture. He knew how much money Carlo Vucci had and hoped that after he recovered, he’d donate at least a small part of his wealth to the hospital.

  When Dr. Patterson entered the room, Carlo Vucci was peacefully sleeping. He didn’t want to wake him, so he looked at the medical chart and shook his head a few times. He thought the patient had been lucky. During the operation, they had made great efforts to remove all the clotted blood. He hoped everything would be alright. He turned to leave.

  “Why the hurry, Doctor?”

  Dr. Patterson turned. “I thought you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Carlo Vucci’s voice was hollow. “You didn’t wake me. I was only dozing.”

  “How are you feeling?” Dr. Patterson asked.

  “To tell you the truth, not too good. I’m dizzy all the time. And I’ve got a pain in my head.”

  “That’s to be expected, Mr. Vucci. You survived a serious accident. Luckily, medicine has made great steps forward and we were able to save you. Twenty years ago it wouldn’t have been possible.”

  Carlo nodded, his eyes weary. “One of the nurses told me that you’re a great specialist in the field of brain surgery. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for me.”

  Dr. Patterson waved his hand and smiled. “There’s no need to thank me. I was just doing my job.”

  Carlo was surprised at his modesty. He had long admired such people. “What are my chances? Tell me the truth, no beating about the bush.”

  “I think the worst is already over. The operation was a success and you’re unlikely to suffer any aftereffects. You just need to rest.”

  He was visibly relieved. “Well, that is good news. I thought things were worse than that.”

  “It was very serious, but now it’s over. You had a damaged brain stem, which in most cases can be fatal. Try not to think about it. Any kind of agitation could harm you. For at least two weeks you must lie down and move your head as little as possible.”

  “I understand, Doctor. You can be sure I’ll take your advice. I don’t want to suffer any aftereffects.”

  Dr. Patterson gave him one last nod of encouragement and moved toward the door. Their conversation had left him with an uncomfortable feeling. He didn’t care for the patient’s confident, domineering manner. For a moment he had felt like he was talking with the president of some country.

  “Wait! I’d like to repay you. I was thinking, what if you came over for dinner when I’m back on my feet? I’d be really delighted. I’d like to introduce you to my wife.”

  Dr. Patterson took a deep breath. “There’s absolutely no need. It was a regular operation.”

  “I really would like it if you could come round. Please, Doctor, I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

  “I’m sure you’re a busy man … I really couldn’t …” Simon hadn’t the slightest intention of visiting him, sure the man was mixed up in a shady business. He could tell from his manner.

  “I insist, Doctor. It really would mean a lot to me.”

  Dr. Patterson frowned. It had happened before that some patient wanted to repay him, but when he turned them down they had never insisted so forcefully. With a sour smile he shook his head. “There’s no need to repay me. There really isn’t.”

  “It would make me happy. Please!”

  Simon sighed, resigned to his fate. “Well, alright then. My wife and I would be glad to come to dinner. When you’re ready, let me know a day or two in advance.”

  Carlo Vucci was satisfied. He liked Dr. Patterson a lot and felt the need to return the favor. He thought about the kind of reward he would like to offer him, to show his gratitude.

  When Dr. Patterson left the room he was angry with himself for giving in to Carlo Vucci. Now I’ll be another day behind in my research.

  Chapter 17

  _______________________

  The sun was high in the sky, casting its rays over the streets and rooftops. Cars were roaring along the road and people with satisfied faces were hurrying about their business on this warm spring day.

  An older man was standing completely still, peering into the front window of the Sofia hairdressing salon. He was amazed at what he saw: her face, eyes, lips. The similarity was incredible: as if he were looking at his wife.

  “Oh,” he groaned dispiritedly. He thought of when they had been together and everything was nice and peaceful.

  Dr. Miner became aware he was staring too long, and looked away. His eyes followed the leaves that were being carried along the wide sidewalk by the wind. You went away as well. You left me all alone. Why did you do it? I miss you.

  He turned his head back toward the salon. His gaze fell on her hips, which were gently swaying and filling him with desire. She had almost the same color hair, which fell gently to her shoulders. And those eyes: warm eyes that sometimes glowed. He kept breathing in deeply to lessen his inner pain.

  It seemed as if they caught each other’s eye. As if glued to the spot, he stood there trembling and in spite of the cool wind, his back felt as if it were burning. He looked down so she wouldn’t suspect anything and moved on without looking back.

  When he was a good hundred yards from the salon he stopped. He considered going in for a haircut. No, I don’t want that. I must resist the temptation. He walked on.

  Then he turned. I must see her up close. She is so beautiful. And my hair really is too long.

  A minute or so later he opened the door to the salon and took a seat in the waiting area.

  Chapter 18

  _______________________

  Agitated, Helen Patterson marched up and down the room looking at herself in the different dresses that she had laid out on the bed. All of the thirty evening dresses seemed long out of style. The more she looked at them the more they disgusted her. She sat on the bed in despair.

  A month earlier, Simon had reluctantly told her that they were invited to one of his patient’s homes for dinner. “If you don’t want to go, dear, we don’t have to,” he had added.

  She looked at him with interest. “What kind of patient and why is he inviting us to dinner?”

  In a weary tone he said, “I don’t know, darling. His name’s Carlo Vucci. He had a serious car accident and I had to operate on him. Anyway, he’s OK now and he would like to thank me. I told him there was no need, but ….”

  She was wondering why the name was familiar. She was sure she had heard it before but couldn’t remember where. “I’d very much like to go,” she said.

  Simon put his glass of milk down and thought for a while. “Fine, then we’ll go. I hope it doesn’t go
on too long.”

  The next day in the salon Helen asked who Carlo Vucci was. Her co-worker Nicole replied, “What? You really don’t know who Carlo Vucci is? Which planet are you on, darling? Have you never seen that house on the west side of town by Fifth Avenue? It’s a real castle the guy bought.”

  Helen remembered in a moment. A year earlier his wife had come into the salon. They had all turned and admired how beautiful she was. She was tall and slender, with long, honey-blond hair parted in the middle. Helen had immediately calculated how much her clothes were worth and it took her breath away. On her professionally manicured hand there glittered a magnificent platinum ring set with a pink diamond. Her wrist was adorned with a heavy bracelet of white gold studded with small jewels. To Helen’s surprise, Mrs. Vucci’s neck was bare.

  After that, the women talked for quite some time about her and about Carlo Vucci. She found out he was one of the richest men in town, and dealt mainly in real estate. He was said to own a number of hotels and other properties.

  On the way home Helen was in a bad mood. She thought about how her life had taken a wrong turn, and became increasingly convinced it was Simon’s fault. Maybe I should get a divorce, she thought. Maybe there’s still time to meet someone who would really be worth something. She remembered the oldish guy who had come in for a haircut. He must have been at least sixty, completely gray. He boasted about having a lot of money and told her how his wife had died recently. As he was leaving, he winked at her broadly and put a business card in her hand. The card had only his name, Robert Miner, and his phone number on it. He’d left her an enormous tip with which she’d be able to buy some new shoes later. Maybe I will call him.

  Helen made Simon pasta for supper. Though she remembered she had done the same three days earlier, she didn’t feel like cooking anything more substantial. While preparing the meal, her thoughts were on the Vuccis.

  When he finally appeared from the laboratory, she immediately went on the attack. “When are we invited to the Vuccis?”