The Pa-la-ti-'shan

by Neal Goldstein

  “I had a wonderful time, too.” And with that she leaned over and kissed me.

  “It’s pretty late. I have to be up early tomorrow.” God I sounded so lame.

  She gave me a quizzical stare and asked, “Do you have a morning date or something?”

  I could feel the heat on my face and responded, “Well, kind of. I have to be at the VA hospital tomorrow, to help out a buddy.”

  “Oh sure, I bet you tell all the girls that. You know what? Now that you know what I do when I’m not at the salt mine, I’d like to see how you spend your idle hours.”

  “It’s kind of rough going.”

  “What, don’t you think I can handle it? What time are you going?”

  “Nine o’clock.”

  “Pick me up at 8:30. And don’t be late.” She kissed me again and got out of the car.

  I drove home in a state of complete bewilderment with the taste of her kiss still on my lips. I wondered if it was really the time for me to begin living again.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  You Always Had a Nose

  For Beautiful Women

  The next morning she was waiting in front of her building chatting with the doorman when I pulled up. She looked fresh and rested. After a sleepless night of self-doubt, I felt like crap.

  “You’re right on time, I like that,” she said as she got in the car.

  “You know, after you dropped me off last night I realized I might have been too pushy when I invited myself along. I would have called you. But I don’t have your number,” she said. “There are so many things I don’t know about you.” She paused and studied me for a moment. “If you really don’t want me to go to the VA hospital with you, I don’t have to go.”

  I shook my head and replied, “No, it’s not that I don’t want your company. It’s just that, well it’s my friend was pretty messed up. I just didn’t think that you needed to see this. You know.”

  “Please tell me about him.”

  “His name is Robert Gronski. He was one of my sergeants. He took the full brunt of an IED. I still don’t know how he made it. The bomb blew up right in his face. He was badly burned; it blinded him. It took off his left leg and most of his left arm,” I flashed back to the horrible life-altering event once again and shuddered. She reached out and touched my arm. “Anyway, his family is bringing him home today. I just wanted to make sure everything goes OK.”

  We drove the rest of the way in silence. The VA hospital is only a 10-minute drive from Rittenhouse Square where Nicky lived, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. I bet that none of Nicky’s neighbors had any idea that a facility housing hundreds of injured service men and women was such a short distance from their lofty heights.

  When we entered 4 South, the whistles and catcalls started. “At ease,” I gave them my best, ‘Don’t give me any shit Platoon Leader voice.’ Nicky smiled. We approached the last bed on the right.

  “Sarge?” I wasn’t sure if Gronski was sleeping.

  “Lt. Bernie. Thanks for coming. I was just day dreaming.” Gronski turned in our direction.

  He must have sensed that someone was with me and asked, “Who’s that with you?”

  “Bob Gronski, meet Nicky Miller. Gronski held out his right hand and Nicky took it in both of hers.

  “Pleased to meet you; beg your pardon, but you sure smell fine. LT, I bet you Ms Miller is a real looker.”

  “Sarge, you always had a nose for beautiful women.”

  “That’s true son. I still do.”

  “You two guys could make a girl blush.” Nicky said still holding Gronski’s hand in hers.

  “Ms. Miller. Your voice sounds awfully familiar. Have we met somewhere?”

  “No Sergeant, I’m sure I would remember meeting a hunk like you.”

  “Well, never mind. Lt Bernie, today’s the big day. Marti and the boys will be along after church to collect me. I’ll be leaving all this and going home thanks to you and your boss. Marti told me the house is ready with all the ramps and lift in place. The union guys you sent over were just great. I don’t know how to thank you and the governor.”

  Nicky looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Bob, I promised Marti I’d be here, just in case you needed a hand.”

  “Nah, the whole gang is going to help out. They should be here any time now.”

  As if on cue, Marti Gronski and her three sons, Greg, Zack and Bob Junior arrived.

  “Hey Marti, Lt Bernie’s here and he brought a friend.”

  “Hello Bernie,” Marti hugged me. “Marti, this is Nicky Miller.”

  “Nice to meet you Miss Miller I hope the Sarge hasn’t been giving you a hard time. He sometimes doesn’t know how to handle himself around beautiful women.”

  “Bernie, I knew your friend was a looker.”

  “Greg, is that you?” Nicky smiled at the youngest of the Gronski boys.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Gronski, I know your son. He works at the North Star. He’s a fine young man.”

  Gregory Gronski, blushed.

  “Damn, I thought I knew that voice,” Bob said. “Greg, is this the Nicky Miller whose songs you put on my Ipod?”

  “Yes dad.”

  “Ms Miller, my son has quite the crush on you. He tells me you’re going to be a super star. From the tunes he downloaded I agree.”

  Christ, I must be the only person in the city who didn’t know who Nicky Miller really was.

  “Miss Miller.”

  “Please call me Nicky.”

  “OK. Nicky, why don’t we get the paperwork squared away while the guys get Bob ready.”

  I watched the two of them chatting as they made their way back to the nurse’s station. I helped the boys lift their father from his bed and settle him into his wheel chair. Gronski’s left leg had been amputated above his knee and he was missing his left arm from the forearm. He smiled up at us.

  “Are you coming over to the house with us?” he asked.

  “I thought I’d let you guys celebrate today and get you settled in. I’ll be over next weekend, unless you need something sooner.”

  “No, we’ll be fine. But you can come by whenever you’d like. And make sure you bring Ms. Miller.”

  Nicky and Marti Gronski returned from their mission. Both of them looked as if they had shed some tears. Marti gave me a hug and turned to her husband.

  “Let’s go home,” she said and Bob Junior pushed his father’s wheelchair towards the door.

  “You take care Sarge. God bless.” Everyone in the ward wished the Gronskis’ well as they made their way out.

  Nicky grabbed my hand and linked her fingers in mine as we followed the sergeant and his family. I saw Nicky wipe a tear from her eye as they left.

  We waved as the Gronski family drove off.

  “Marti told me you saved her husband’s life. Is that true?”

  “It was probably the other way around.”

  She was still holding my hand. She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I really want you to tell me what happened.”

  I could tell she would not be put off. We walked across the street from the hospital entrance to a small park area where the patients and their visitors could catch a smoke or just hang out. A group of Bikers with their Harley’s parked at the curb were sitting at the first bench with two men in wheel chairs. They looked up at us as they passed a fat joint around. As we walked past them one of the men in a wheelchair held it up offering us a toke. We waved a polite decline and sat at a bench at the far end of the park. The smell of marijuana drifted over to where we were sitting.

  Nicky waited. After a couple minutes I began.

  “The day started out just like every other day. There was no hint of what was to come. The Company Commander, Lt. Col Wasserman had decided to join the recon. He was riding in the lead humvee with the 1st squad. I was with the Sarge in the trail vehicle. We were on the main road out of Mosul. It had been a surprisingly uneventful patrol through the town.”<
br />
  “The IED blew the lead vehicle in two. It must have been a monster. There was blood and parts of the truck and broken bodies all over the road.” I felt the bead of perspiration on the back of my neck turn icy cold in the April breeze as I flashed back to that instant in time that had forever changed both Bob Gronski’s life and mine.

  “Bob and I got out of our vehicle to check for survivors. I could see that Col. Wasserman was dead. I heard someone moaning. Before I could get over to the driver Bob ran ahead of me. That’s when the second device exploded. Bob took the full brunt of the explosion. At first I thought he was dead. I pulled him away from wreck. He looked, oh God, it was…” She still held my hand in hers.

  I took a moment to compose myself and continued, “The corpsman dressed his wounds and shot him up while I helped two other men out of the humvee. It wasn’t until the evac helicopter landed that I realized I had taken some shrapnel.”

  “It must have been so horrible,” she squeezed my hand. “Marti told me you stayed with her husband in the hospital in Germany and all the way back to the states. She said you spent hours talking to him. You made sure he never gave up. She and the boys are so grateful.”

  I looked at her. She was so incredibly beautiful. “What?” she asked.

  “I was just thinking, I’m sitting here on a bench with you, when I really should have been killed on the road out of Mosul.”

  She shook her head and said, “No, don’t say that. Don’t ever think that.”

  “If Wasserman hadn’t decided to go out on patrol, I would have been sitting in the lead vehicle.”

  “You can’t think that way. You were where you were supposed to be, doing what you were supposed to do. You saved Bob’s life, and the lives of the other men you pulled from the vehicle that day. Marti told me about it. She adores you, you know.”

  We sat in silence. Nicky continued to hold my hand.

  After several minutes Nicky turned to me and smiled. “What exactly did the governor do for the Gronskis?”

  I blushed and replied, “Well, there was this small grant from his discretionary fund to outfit the Gronskis’ house to accommodate the Sergeant’s special needs. The trade unions donated their time, so the cost was very reasonable.”

  “And the governor approved that?”

  “Well, in a manner of speaking.”

  “In other words, the governor has no idea that he helped them out.”

  “Well, let me see. I guess that would be about the extent of the governor’s knowledge. Can we keep this our little secret?”

  She laughed. “Let’s go back to my place. I’ll cook us some breakfast. I don’t know about you, but there’s something about a conspiracy to defraud the governor’s discretionary fund that makes me hungry.

  We went back to Nicky’s place and made love for the first time. We didn’t eat anything until much later.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Who The Hell Is Dan Gross?

  I stared at the ceiling and thought this was without a doubt the best Monday morning of my life, preceded by the best Sunday ever! I awoke to the smell of fresh brewed coffee. It had not been a dream. I was in Nicky’s bedroom. I could hear the sound of her bare feet coming down the hallway. She was humming, “Don’t Wait Too Long.”

  She entered the room. She was wearing my shirt and holding a steaming mug of coffee. “Good morning. I thought you’d sleep forever. Move over,” she said and sat down beside me.

  I sat up and she handed me the coffee. It tasted as good as it smelled. I put the coffee cup down and reached for her. We kissed and I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled her close.

  After we made love she smiled and said. “Are you going to say anything?”

  I looked at her. “I’m afraid I’ll say something really stupid, like, great coffee, or nice place you have here. I’m a little out of practice. I don’t want to mess up.”

  She put her fingers on my lips. “You worry too much. I kind of like the dumb things you say, and the smart things too. We can talk later, but if we’re going to go to work today, we’d better get moving.”

  I was suddenly jolted back to reality. “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost eight.”

  “Christ, where are my clothes?”

  She laughed. “Well, I was wearing your shirt. The rest of your stuff is all over the place.”

  I got out of the bed and started to pick up my things.

  “The guest bathroom is down the hall. There’s a towel and washcloth. We can stop at your place on the way in and you can change. Stop worrying.”

  I limped down the hall to the bathroom.

  When I finished Nicky was already dressed to the nines and putting on lipstick.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” she said.

  “OK, tell me.”

  “How are we supposed to act when we get to work right?”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I lied; I was still trying to figure out what she was doing with me. “Well, how should we act?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. But I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off you,” she said.

  Like I thought, so far this was the best day of my life.

  I was wiping the lipstick off my cheek as I walked to my cubicle. I was going to have a difficult time concentrating on my job knowing that Nicky was only down the hall. Mike Zeebooker was pacing back and forth in front of my workstation when I arrived. “You said you weren’t going anywhere, remember?” Zeebooker said by way of greeting.

  “That’s right Book. I’m not. Who’s telling you different, Barlesky?”

  “No. Dan Gross. He says you’re running for the State Legislature.”

  Was that the same guy Senator Cinaglia mentioned I wondered, “Who the hell is Dan Gross?”

  “Don’t you know?” Cinaglia and now Zeebooker couldn’t believe I didn’t know about Dan Gross.

  “I’ll show you.” He turned on my computer and got on the Philly.com website. In a millisecond, a video of a beautiful young woman flashed across the screen introducing Dan Gross, the gossip columnist for the Daily News. Gross was standing in front of the bar at the Tin Angel. I could see Cessi the bartender in the background.

  The volume of the background music lowered and the hip looking young man in the foreground said, “Dan Gross reporting from the Tin Angel. Who was that lucky mystery man being serenaded by rising star Nicky Miller, Saturday night at the Angel? His name is Bernard Green. He’s a local hero, having served two tours in Iraq. During his last deployment Lieutenant Green was wounded in action and was awarded commendations for bravery for saving the lives of a number of other brave fighting men from our town.”

  “While we all thank the Lieutenant for his service, our thanks pales in comparison to that of the beautiful and talented Ms. Miller.”

  “My sources tell me that Mr. Green is ticketed to be the next State Representative for the 127th District. Imagine that, a real war hero with a beautiful girlfriend as your representative in Harrisburg. That’s quite a step up from the late Representative Sylvester Johnson, who had the distinction of having the worst attendance record in the history of the State Legislature.”

  “Congratulations Mr. Green you lucky guy.”

  Zeebooker stared at me, waiting for a response. “Look the governor had this crazy idea. I told him I wasn’t interested. But you know the governor, he told me to think about it. Don’t worry. I’m no politician. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I could see Zeebooker wasn’t buying my explanation. I was trying to figure out who had leaked this information to the gossip columnist. As far as I knew, only the governor and I had been privy to this discussion. I hadn’t even mentioned it to Nicky. I was beginning to think the governor’s office really was bugged.

  “Bernie, line two for you.”

  “Hello Bernie.” It was my mother.

  “Hi Mom, is everything OK?”

  My mother lived in Boca Raton with her friend Louis. She was a very young
70 years old and sharp as a tack. We spoke to each other every weekend. She only called me at work if there was some family catastrophe. “Is Louis alright?” Louis Gold had been my mother’s companion for the past four years. They were devoted to each other, but would never formalize their relationship for fear it would reduce their Social Security benefits.

  “We’re both fine, for two old farts.”

  “OK, so what’s up? I mean we spoke for an hour on Saturday.”

  “So, when were you going to tell me?” Jews always answered a question with a question.

  “Tell you what Mom?” I fell into the normal pattern.

  “Tell me about Nicky Miller, Mr. Green.”

  How the hell did she know about Nicky?

  “I have to hear it from that yenta Dan Gross.”

  “Dan Gross called you?”

  “No I saw it on his website.”

  I was apparently the only person on the planet who didn’t check out Gross’ gossip blog.

  “Bernie, I’m so happy for you. She’s such a beautiful girl, and so talented.”

  “Mom, she is, but I mean, did you meet Nicky?”

  “No silly, I went on her Facebook. I downloaded her music videos. So when are you bringing her down for a visit?”

  “We’re just friends. I mean, we just started to see one another.”

  “Listen, I’m not getting any younger. I’m the only one in Century City without any grandchildren.”

  “What about Steve’s kids Michael and Adam?”

  “You know what I mean, stop changing the subject.”

  “Look Mom, I’ll call you this weekend. We can discuss this then, OK? And give my love to Louis.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Send Lawyers, Guns and Money

  The phone rang again, “Bernie?”

  It was Jack Collins. “Jack, where the hell have you been? I tried to call you. Your phone number has been reassigned to some Korean Dry Cleaner. Your apartment’s empty. No forwarding address. Are you in the witness protection program, or something?”

  “Something like that,” he replied.