by Joan Mauch
Then there was Dan. How long could he hold on until his liver gave out altogether? Every day he seemed to look more jaundiced. The doctor had pretty much given up trying to make him stop drinking, said it was only a matter of time; that there was nothing anyone could do to help him since he was unable—or unwilling to help himself.
She sighed. Sometimes life could be so cruel.
Chapter 15
Jackson was restless. He had to get out and do something—anything: take a drive, go to the beach, whatever. Weekends went by too fast. Of course, if he’d get up earlier and didn’t stay up half the night, maybe he’d have time for other stuff. Problem was, he liked staying up late and getting up even later. He shrugged. Sooner or later he’d figure it out. Maybe a drive to Clearwater Beach would help.
That email from Mom had upset him. He’d known Dad had health problems and that it was related to his drinking, but he never thought it would become life-threatening. Mom probably hadn’t intended to reveal the true extent of his condition; she’d more than likely gotten carried away writing and the truth slipped out. The way it sounded, Dad was going to die; it was only a question of when.
Jackson didn’t know what to do or if there was anything he could do. Should he quit his job and return home? Offer to give his father a portion of his liver? Was that even possible? He knew he only had the one liver, so it wasn’t like a kidney, where a person had two.
Then there was the question of expense. Since his father had seldom been able to hold a job for more than a few months at a time, he doubted he had medical insurance. Even if Jackson was a match and donated a portion of his liver, how would they pay for it?
Dad had had a drinking problem for as long as he could remember. When he was little, he remembered his father coming home from work drunk. He’d literally drink his paycheck, leaving little or nothing for the family. Thankfully, he wasn’t a mean drunk, so at least they were spared that.
Jackson inhaled. It seemed like he’d been worried about either his dad or his brother his whole life. Now he was living his dream—and feeling guilty for leaving his mom to deal with the situation. What should he do?
Clearwater Beach was calling. Grabbing his car keys, he headed out the door.
****
Traffic across Courtney Campbell Causeway and over to the Gulf was fairly light for a change, no doubt due to the lateness of the hour and the cool temperatures. As a result, Jackson didn’t have to spend time driving around in search of parking. While he would have preferred that it was a few degrees warmer, he’d take what he could get and be grateful for it.
His beach towel and a bottle of water in hand, Jackson locked the car and headed toward Pier 60, a popular spot known for live music, spectacular sunsets over the Gulf and, yes, action—if you managed to get lucky, which he seldom ever did.
Removing his shoes to let sand flow through his toes, he marveled again at the beauty of the Gulf of Mexico and the blindingly white sand. More accustomed to cornfields and the rolling hills of Iowa, Jackson didn’t think he’d ever get used to it even if he stayed in Florida the rest of his life.
He spread his towel, turned his face into the sun and took a deep breath as cool air riffled his thick hair. His eyes wandered across the beach to the water which sparkled as it reflected the sun and lapped the shore. Silhouettes of sailboats in the distance added to the charm of the scene.
Jackson had just started to relax, when he saw them up on the pier, leaning over the rail. The man pointed, his arm on her shoulder guiding her to whatever it was he wanted her to see below. It was most likely a porpoise or dolphin as they often were seen in these waters. But it wasn’t the creature in the water that caught his attention—it was the woman. Was that Izzie?
He squinted, then stood to get a closer look. It was her. He could tell by the distinctive hair style, the way she stood with one hip thrust out, her head tilted just so as if she was posing for a picture. It had to be her. She stood like that all the time. And Jackson always noticed.
He took several steps forward to get a better look. Was that the guy from the balcony? He couldn’t be sure, but desperately hoped it wasn’t. What should he do? Go over there and pretend he’d been hanging out and came upon them by accident?
Izzie’s angry words came back in a sickening rush. I don’t need your so-called concern or your protection either for that matter. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. Even his mom had told him to let it alone.
Suddenly the beach lost its appeal. He decided to go home by way of the Sunshine Bridge. Maybe that would lift his spirits. It usually did.
The first time Jackson saw it, he and Izzie were covering a suicide. Some mook had climbed over the side and jumped sixty feet into Tampa Bay. He remembered how emotional Izzie had become. The jumper couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Izzie told him later that a few years ago, her brother killed himself at about the same age. In his case it was an overdose of sleeping pills, but the tragic outcome was the same.
He shook his head. The drive was meant to make him forget about the damned woman—and he meant to do precisely that. He looked down at the rippling waves glinting like diamonds in the afternoon sun. As many times as he’d gone across the four- mile span, it never failed to ignite a thrill inside.
Being new to the area, he’d done some research and learned the design was inspired by the Brotonne Bridge in France. The Travel Channel ranked the Sunshine Bridge as one of the top bridges in the world. Wow, now that was something worth bragging about.
However, it’d take a whole lot more than the view—spectacular though it was—to dispel his concern for Izzie’s reckless behavior. His father’s deteriorating health only added to his discomfort.
Heading back to his apartment, the double helping of worry wormed its way into Taylor’s psyche destroying the modicum of peace he’d managed to achieve. He had decisions to make, very serious ones. But it was Sunday night and there was nothing he could do, at least for now.
Chapter 16
Monday morning came all too soon. Jackson had spent a restless night worrying about his father. When he finally managed to nod off, his dreams became nightmares with Izzie alternately insisting he mind his own business and screaming for help. He’d awakened with blankets in a tangle around his legs as he shivered in the cool morning air.
Spending the day with Izzie at his side was not something he looked forward to, especially after having had so little sleep. He yawned and rubbed his eyes. Although he hadn’t had more than a few beers the previous evening, Jackson’s head throbbed. He briefly considered calling in sick, but thought better of it. A few aspirins and some breakfast—his stomach lurched at the thought of food. Maybe just aspirin and some black coffee…
****
It was noon and Jackson felt better. His headache was gone and his stomach had settled down to the point that he was starving.
“Wanna grab some lunch?”
They’d just finished covering a story in Ybor City where a tourist had been robbed. A unique area not far from downtown Tampa, it once was the epicenter of cigar manufacturing in the U.S. Now home to specialty shops boasting “only-in-Tampa” wares, it was a favorite stop for tourists and natives alike. But unsavory types also roamed the area—at least they had today. Fortunately the only thing this particular woman lost was her purse. While inconvenient, it could easily be replaced.
Izzie was unusually quiet for a change and that suited Jackson. He not only hadn’t been feeling well, but his father’s condition weighed heavily on him to the point he couldn’t keep his mind on his work. He’d been screwing up all day, but hoped his partner hadn’t noticed. She did.
“So, what’s the story? You didn’t get any this weekend?”
Izzie could be a real bitch sometimes. Jackson ignored her and kept chewing.
“She stand you up?”
Jackson set his Coke on the table a little too hard, splashing brown liquid onto the tabletop.
“Whoa, I hit a ner
ve, didn’t I babe? What’s her name?”
“There is no her,” Jackson said, trying without success to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He picked up the remnants of his sandwich and stuffed it in his mouth hoping to discourage Izzie from engaging in further conversation. It didn’t work.
“So what’s with you today? You’ve hardly said a word.”
“If you must know, I’m worried about my dad. Mom said he’s in bad shape.” He took a final gulp of his soft drink. “So, now you know.” Then, without meaning to, Jackson added, “How about you? Enjoy watching the dolphins?”
If Jackson had hauled off and punched Izzie in the stomach, the response wouldn’t have been any more dramatic.
“How’d you know I went to the beach? You following me now?”
“Hell no. I went to the beach for a little R&R, looked up and there you were with some guy.” When Izzie’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief, Jackson added, “That’s the god’s honest truth.”
“Then why didn’t you come over and say hey? Or did you feel guilty for stalking me?”
“I told you I wasn’t spying on you!” Jackson’s voice rose. “Trust me, I have better things to do in my spare time than chase after you.”
“Fine. I believe you.”
“So, isn’t he the guy we saw on the balcony?”
“What? That again?” Izzie sounded flustered.
“I just wondered ’cause from where I stood it kinda looked like the same guy.”
“You win. I’ll tell you if you promise to shut up about the whole trafficking thing. Okay?”
Jackson nodded. Despite the warm temperature outside, a cold chill made its way down his spine.
“It’s the same guy. You satisfied? And no, he’s not some big trafficker—drug or otherwise. He’s just a guy living by himself in what looks like a fairly nice house. The girl we saw on the balcony was his niece, his sister’s kid visiting from Chicago. Guess she was on spring break or something. Anyway, she went back home, so it’s just him and his dog. That’s all there is to it. He’s a nice guy and I like him. Satisfied? You can stop worrying now. There’s no bogeymen, no traffickers, no nothing. Just sunny Tampa—beaches, festivals and lots of work for us news-media types. Which, by the way,” she tapped her watch, “we’d better get a move on or we’ll be late.”
Jackson was still digesting the part where Izzie had revealed she’d been inside the man’s house, that she liked him and, while she didn’t explicitly say so, that she planned on continuing to see him. He shrugged, gathered up the leavings of their lunch and tossed them in the trash. She and Mom were right. Izzie was a grown woman, free to make her own choices—and like the rest of the adult world, would have to live with the consequences.
****
That afternoon as Jackson sat in the edit bay, reviewing his day’s work, his boss stopped by.
“Hey Jackson.”
“Hi Morrie.” Jackson tried to hide how startled he was. The chief photographer didn’t usually stop by in the middle of a shift for no reason.
“Stop by my office when you’re done here.”
Jackson nodded. “You got it. I’ll be finished in about half an hour.”
“That works for me.”
What could the man possibly want with him? Had he done something wrong? Offended someone? Jackson mentally reran the events of the past several days but could think of nothing that might warrant the attention of his supervisor. Well, he’d find out soon enough.
Thirty minutes later, Jackson popped into the chief photographer’s office. “This a good time?”
Morris Stone looked up from a document he was scrutinizing. “Sure, c’mon in and close the door.”
The trepidation Jackson felt went up several notches. What was this about? Was he going to be fired? It wouldn’t be the first time a photographer was let go. He just didn’t think he’d be joining their ranks.
“Pull up a chair and stop looking so scared.” The man appeared to be trying to lighten the mood.
Jackson slid into a guest chair across from his boss and folded his hands, resting them on his thighs. They were slippery with sweat.
“So, how’re you doing?” Morris Stone leaned forward, his weight shifting in his chair.
“Uh, fine,” Jackson cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. He didn’t know what Morrie was getting at, but was fairly certain he hadn’t asked him to come in simply to see “how he was doing”.
“I can see you’re puzzled, so I’ll get right to the point.”
Getting to the point was Morris Stone’s specialty. Everyone knew the man didn’t mince words. Jackson braced himself for the blow he knew was coming—he was getting canned.
“You’ve been here, what? Nearly a year?”
Jackson nodded and tried to breathe. His chest felt tight. His throat was constricted, making speech difficult.
“I realize your annual review is a few weeks off, but wanted you to know we’ve been pleased with your work so far. Plus you get on well with the rest of the staff, have a consistently good attitude and appear willing to step up when something happens—even when it’s not your shift. Those are the kinds of things we look for—someone who’s a real team player.”
So he wasn’t being fired? The man had called him in to compliment him? Jackson inhaled. His muscles which had tensed up began to relax. He smiled. “Thank you.”
But Morris Stone’s expression didn’t match his complimentary words. Something wasn’t quite right. He fiddled with his ballpoint, letting it roll from one hand to the other. Then he stopped. His hazel eyes searched Jackson.
“So, I’m wondering what’s going on? I mean I thought we had a solid photographer in you and now I’m hearing there are problems. The quality of your work has slipped. You’re late in filing and you’ve been making mistakes, the kind someone new on the job might make. So, Jackson, what the hell’s going on with you?”
Unprepared for the dressing down he’d just received, Jackson was momentarily speechless. “Uh, well, I, uh, what do you mean?”
“I thought I made myself perfectly clear,” Morris said. “The work you turned in today is not representative of the cameraman I hired. Surely you recognize that.”
Slowly nodding his head up and down, Jackson said, “You’re right. It’s not my best work. I’m sorry. I’ll do better from now on.”
“Jackson, I didn’t call you into my office for an apology. I want to know what’s happening that has you so distracted you can’t keep your mind on what you’re doing.” When Jackson didn’t respond, he continued, “I’ve been doing this for over twenty years and I think I know a little about human nature. You didn’t come in here talented and enthusiastic then all of a sudden shut down for no reason. I want to know what that reason is and I want to know now.” He folded his arms, leaned back and drilled Jackson with his eyes.
Jackson breathed in a lungful of air. “It’s my dad. Over the weekend my mom called and said he’s in a bad way. It’s liver failure. He may even be…” He cleared his throat and blinked his eyes several time. “She said he may die if he doesn’t get a transplant and…he can’t get one because, well, he’s an alcoholic and they won’t even put him on the list since he’s still drinking. I keep thinking I should quit my job, go home and find out if I’m a match so I can offer him part of my liver.” The words tumbled out so fast, Jackson was breathless. “I’m sorry this has affected my work, Morrie, I really am. It’s just that I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even if I go home, I’m not sure we can come up with the money for the operation.”
Empathy for his young photographer was painted on Morris Stone’s face. “God, Jackson, I had no idea. I thought it was just some girl who’d blown you off and I was prepared to tell you to suck it up and take it like a man.”
He tapped his fingers on the desktop. Jackson could hear the murmur of newsroom activity through the closed door. The situation was hopeless and he knew it.
“Tell you what. I don’t want
to lose you, but family comes first. So this is what we’ll do. You go home and find out if you’re a match. If you are, maybe you can have some fundraisers to come up with the money. Take as much time as you need. Just keep us posted so we know what’s going on, okay?”
In spite of his best efforts to control himself, tears flooded Jackson’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks. Morrie’s kindness was so unexpected it left him grasping for words to express his gratitude.
“Now, how’re you going to get home? Fly?”
“Uh, well, I don’t have the money for that. I’ll have to drive.”
Morris shook his head. “In your car? I don’t think so. You’ll break down halfway home, then what? No, you’ll fly and I’ll pay for it. Just don’t tell anybody or they’ll expect me to do the same for them. Deal?” He stood up and shook Jackson’s hand.
“Deal.” Jackson’s entire body shook with emotion and gratitude as he left the office and headed home.
Chapter 17
Tiny let out a low growl as Leon yanked the shoe from his mouth. "Oh yeah? You gonna bite me? That what this is about? You chew on my new shoes, then threaten me? I'll show you who's boss!" Picking the dog up, he threw him with a sickening thud against the wall, knocking a vase of plastic flowers from a shelf. Tiny’s yelp was followed with a swift kick to the ribs.
Then he folded his arms across his chest and stared till the rottweiler lowered his head and sank to his belly in a show of submission. "That's more like it."
He turned back to the task at hand: getting ready to go out with that hot Izzie girl. To say he was surprised such a nice piece of ass would give him the time of day let alone go out with him was putting it mildly. When he noticed her outside the house, he’d taken a chance and invited her to go for a drink.