The Orchid

by Robert Waggoner

  I murmured something sappy. She kissed my nose again, got up, and went back to the bench because Matt was coming over to take the instruments of torture off me. When she was out of earshot Matt whispered, “Man, you are one lucky dude!” He meant it too. “How old is she?”

  “If I told you that, you might have to kick her out of the therapy room,” I said. I gave him a look.

  “Ah, man,” he said, “Don’t tell me you’re robbing the cradle. She’s older than she looks, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “She sure is.”

  Chapter 11

  Back in the university, I worked hard on my studies but I spent every spare moment researching what I came to call Lindsey’s Silent Disease. Except for that one ray of hope and the coincidence of the orchid, I found nothing more in the medical journals, internet sites or volumes of text that filled the dusty library shelves. I wrote two more letters to the researcher who had written the article about the Cataleya Orchid, but the semester wore on without a response.

  I searched the internet and our library’s card catalogue for everything I could find about the Cataleya Orchid. There was nothing linking it to medical research.

  Chuck Singleton popped into my mind and I called him. “Chuck, remember after the prom when you told me your brother was an intern at a hospital?”

  “Sure, he’s a resident now.” Chuck was a senior like Lindsey. “He’s at Tennessee Medical the teaching hospital.”

  “Do you think he’d mind if I called him?”

  “Hey, go ahead. I’m supposed to call him tonight anyway. I’ll give him your number and tell him you want to talk about…?”

  “It’s about Meckler’s Disease.”

  “Oh, right. Sounds like a terrible chess move like Castling Disease or Rookism.”

  When I did not laugh he snorted. “Same old Jimmy; okay, okay, I’ll tell him.”

  “Thanks, Chuck. And thanks for showing up in the hallway when you did that night. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t.”

  “No problem. Hey, stay in touch.”

  That night Steve Singleton called me and introduced himself as Chuck’s older brother. “Hey, Jimmy. Thanks for what you’ve done for my brother.”

  “That’s mutual, Dr. Singleton. He actually saved Lindsey’s life, did he tell you?”

  “He mentioned something about the prom.” There was a long pause.

  I decided to fill the gap. “Uh, the reason I wanted to talk to you, is one to ask if you would consider mentoring me at Tennessee University and two, to see if you had ever heard of Meckler’s Disease.”

  “When Chuck told me what you wanted I did a little research. There is a mention of that disease in the Physicians’ Desk Reference but very little is known about it. Why are you interested in such a rare disease?”

  I told him about Lindsey and her father. There was a long silence. Then he said, “Yeah, I’d like to do both, Jimmy.”

  “Both?”

  “Mentor you and try to figure out what’s going on with this disease.”

  That was quick! “Thanks, Doctor!”

  “Hey, Jimmy,” he said.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “My name is Steve.”

  “Yes, sir…Steve.”

  “When can we get together?”

  “Well, I don’t need a mentor until next semester really…”

  “You want to waste time that’s up to you. Now when can we get together?”

  “I’ve got classes on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday from nine ‘till three in the afternoon. After that and on Tuesdays and Fridays, I’m home.”

  “Is Lindsey available?”

  “Do you need to do an exam?” I did not think that would be good with her parents not in the loop.

  “No…not now anyway,” he said. “It may come to that, but right now I just want to talk about her dad and get a little history if I can.”

  “Sure! We’re together most every night. I’ll tell her and see what she says.”

  “How old is Lindsey?”

  “She’s seventeen.” I could hear the intake of breath at the other end of the line.

  “Oh…” there was a thoughtful pause. “…what about her parents; are they together on this or in denial?”

  “I’m not sure. They won’t talk about it with Lindsey. They think she doesn’t know about the disease. I guess they don’t want to scare her. I would hate to be the one they thought told her! I’m just out of the dog house from what happened at the prom.”

  “Look, Jimmy,” Steve said kindly, “It’s going to be almost impossible to do anything with Lindsey. If we do this, it will have to be with her parent’s permission. Can you get their permission?”

  “Probably not right now,” I answered honestly. I only knew this in my gut, not for sure. But my gut was telling me that they wouldn’t want their daughter to be subjected to any probing, testing, and so on in some wild hope dreamed up by the crippled boy next door with a savior complex. Plus, they weren’t ready to tell her about the disease so there was little chance of them giving permission.

  Steve was quiet for a while. “Right; well, we don’t need her actively involved. I do need to ask her some questions about her dad. Do you think you can arrange that? The sooner the better, if that’s alright.”

  “I know I can arrange that.” I felt like a conspirator all of a sudden. I also felt like I was going behind the Anderson’s backs. That was not something I really wanted to do. But I did want to do everything to help Lindsey even if they were determined to protect and shelter her from the truth. As long as she was with me, I was moving ahead. We had very different views on Lindsey’s ability to handle truth—even when it caused stress.

  “Okay, then maybe the best thing to do is to meet at your house, informally, just to talk. Like I said, I’m going to be nearby tomorrow night so if we can do it then, that’s the best thing.”

  When I hung up, I felt that things might be moving forward at last. I could not wait to tell Lindsey!

  She was cautiously excited. “Do you think he can help us?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve got to believe that all of this crazy coincidence is really Someone looking down on us and giving us a shove.”

  She looked at me. One of the things we had not discussed, and probably should have, was what we believed about Providence, God, and Fate…what we believed about religion. I did not want to begin that discussion now. It was just that, I really believed it was not an accident that I picked the very orchid that someone claimed was a remedy for Meckler’s Disease! Up until now, I hadn’t thought much about religion. I thought about the orchid and the incident that turned out okay but alerted Lindsey to her disease… well, it was all too much coincidence to be lightly passed by.

  The next night we were together in my room. I was watching out the window for Steve’s car. Lindsey was pacing nervously around the room.

  “Hey,” I said softly, “Stop! You’re going to have a nervous breakdown.”

  “I know.” She sat down on my bed. “Just think, Jimmy! If you and Steve figure out a cure for this…” She stopped. “It’s just a stupid dream. It won’t happen in my lifetime!”

  “Wait, whoa!” I said. “It’s not like you to give up before you start. What’s the matter?”

  “I just don’t want to get my hopes up, Jimmy. I feel bad about recommending the surgery to you. Your mom is walking around on cloud nine, and every time she sees me, she hugs me! What if it doesn’t come true? What if you’re part of the thirteen percent?”

  “She wouldn’t blame you,” I said.

  “I would! Oh, I don’t know, Jimmy! Sometimes I just feel like one of us…” she stopped, her face turned a shade whiter.

  “We’re going to make it…together!” I declared firmly.

  “I know we are, Jimmy. It just seems so overwhelming sometimes.”

  I rolled my wheelchair over to where she was sitting on the edge of my bed. I took her face in my hands and
looked into her troubled, beautiful eyes. “I’m the luckiest man alive. You found me five years ago, right here in this room, willing to die. Now I want to live. I’m in love with you—the girl who refused to be run off by anger and fear. I’m hopelessly hooked.” I shrugged my shoulders, “There is no cure for this Lindsey Love Disease.”

  She grinned at me and kissed me. Hope slipped into her face again.

  “Aren’t you the girl that told me to stop talking like that not too long ago?” I teased.

  She nodded sheepishly. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.” She made a zipper motion with her finger and threw the imaginary key away.

  I suddenly remembered the letters I’d written while she was on vacation. I wheeled to my desk and pulled the stack from the drawer. I put them on my lap and brought them to her. Her eyes looked at me in wonder. “I forgot to give these to you,” I said. “I couldn’t mail them so I decided to wait and give them to you when I got here.”

  “What are they?”

  “Letters I wrote to you while I was in Brazil. Every card you wrote me meant you were thinking about me. Do you know how awesome it was to get a letter from you every day?” I let that sink in. “Well, I wanted you to know that I thought about you every day too.”

  “Oh, Jimmy,” she said as she took the letters. “How do you always manage to do one more unexpected, wonderful thing?” She rifled through them in amazement. “I love you!”

  I realized again that I was safe with Lindsey. I could open my heart and lay it in her lap and she would hold it tenderly. I could be awkward and try to show her how much I loved her and she would appreciate it as if I had done it perfectly. I grinned and felt good.

  Her face was wet. We did not exactly prepare for company very well. These moments just seemed to pop up at the strangest times and we both took advantage of them—but it probably made everyone else think we were sappier than a couple of humming birds or wooly-headed woodpeckers. I was getting used to tears of happiness. I tried to remember if she ever cried because she was sad.

  Then I did remember and it hurt. I had been mean to her when we first met and she leaked tears but bravely wiped them away at age eleven. Bravely wiped them away, that phrase described Lindsey through and through. I hurt her in the hospital and she’d cried then.

  I did not care if Steve was coming to meet us for the first time. I pulled her face into my chest. After a moment, she lifted her head and kissed me wetly.

  “Jimmy,” she said. “If you won’t die on me, I won’t die on you; promise?”

  I did not know where that came from and it made me catch my breath. I wanted to ask but I heard a car turn into the driveway below. Steve had arrived.

  “I promise, Lindsey.” I assumed that she was talking blood clots and Meckler’s Disease. Well if promises were all it took, I was more than happy to make the promise.

  My mom guided Steve up the steps. Steve had introduced himself as Chuck Singleton’s brother. My mom knew Chuck, of course. I could see she was curious about Steve and the purpose of his visit so I asked her to stay. She very quickly sat by Lindsey on the bed. She hugged Lindsey as she looked at Steve and then at me with interest.

  I introduced Lindsey to Steve and they shook hands. I wanted to close the blinds in my window because I felt like we were conspiring behind the Anderson’s backs. That would not do, though, because I always left them open when Lindsey and I were together in my room. I had told my mom about Meckler’s Disease and told her about Steve mentoring me but I hadn’t exactly said anything about Steve’s help with my research and how Lindsey was involved.

  “Oh,” Steve said reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a folded piece of paper. “I copied this from the PDR…” He saw my mom’s quizzical look and amended, “Physicians’ Desk Reference.” He unfolded the page and read from it.

  “A rare blood disorder that lies dormant for years. It remains dormant most of a person’s life. The trigger is unknown. When activated, the Disease produces a fatal toxin. The onset of the Disease causes severe headaches, cramps, nausea and euphoria. The euphoria is a side effect of lack of oxygen to the brain. Symptoms last from twelve to seventy-two hours before death. There is no known cure. The Disease is named after the first known victim, Herbert Meckler who was diagnosed in 1959 post mortem.”

  Steve folded the paper and put it back into his pocket but I reached out my hand and he gave it to me. He looked at the three of us and then turned his attention to Lindsey.

  “Jimmy told me a little bit about you,” He said. “I’d like to know more. We are dealing with a rare disease here, at least, as far as we know because rare diseases tend to be misdiagnosed until they become better known. “I want to know about your dad, Lindsey.”

  Lindsey hesitated and looked at me. I gave her an encouraging nod. Her face still had evidence that she had recently been crying but neither Steve nor my mother said anything about it. I understood, though, the reason for my mother hugging her. “I was thinking about my dad the other day, trying to figure out what you might need to know. I just couldn’t think of anything.” She folded her hands in her lap.

  “Just tell me what you know, even if it seems like it’s not very much.” Steve was one of those doctors that had a good bedside manner. He had the round, wire rimmed glasses and looked like a scholar. He had black hair that flopped to one side more than the other giving him a lopsided look. All in all, the effect was rather nerdy—like and older version of Chuck. But if he was like Chuck, he was a fast learner and very smart.

  Lindsey peered into the past. “My dad was tall and thin. I once heard him complain about only being six feet tall so I guess that’s how tall he was. He went partially bald by the time I was eight. He had stinky feet.” She grinned at that. Steve encouraged her with a nod. “He worked hard.” She shrugged. It was such a long time ago and she was so young.

  Steve asked her more questions and she was surprised that she knew the answers. Then he asked about her dad’s dad. “Did you know your grandpa very well?”

  She shook her head. “He died before I was born.”

  “How old was he?”

  Lindsey tried to remember. “It seems like he was young because my dad said something about the funeral. He said ‘He was a mean…’ she blushed as she quoted her dad, ‘… son of a bitch but way too young to die. I hope I don’t get whatever bit him.’” Lindsey looked up. “I always thought a rattlesnake bit him or when I got older I thought he was referring to the fact that he inherited his anger.”

  We all nodded. It was logical.

  “Do you have any allergies?” Steve asked. He was taking notes on a little pad he pulled out of his pocket.

  “I’m allergic to strawberries,” Lindsey said.

  That was news to me. I made a fervent wish: please let me have a lifetime to get to know all about her!

  “What about shellfish?”

  Lindsey looked at him. “Is that important because of Meckler’s disease?”

  Steve shook his head. “I’m just trying to assemble the pieces. I don’t know if any of them belong to this puzzle but you have to learn as much as you can if you’re going to have even half a chance. Something like this…” He shrugged, “who knows what is important or not?”

  Lindsey considered. “I don’t know if I am or not. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten shellfish. My mom never cooks fish. That’s strange.” She grinned at Steve and me. “And we’re from Boston!” She shook her head at the irony of it.

  “Do you have any allergies to drugs or medicines, that sort of thing?”

  She shook her head.

  “And your dad…did he have any allergies?”

  “I know both of us hated strawberries because we broke out in hives. But I don’t know about anything else.”

  I’d been hoping that Lindsey would stumble across something during the conversation that would make Steve’s ears tingle but I began to realize that we’d better be in this thing for the long haul. I wondered how long it took Alex
ander Fleming to discover penicillin. Then I wondered if it was as urgent for him as finding this cure for Meckler’s Disease was for me! Maybe urgency was the key. If so, then I had a head start.

  After Steve left, we went down to the kitchen and mom fed us a snack.

  “I like him,” Lindsey said. “He has a lot of energy.”

  I liked him too.

  I was not supposed to feel anything for another couple of months yet. I woke up in the middle of the night in January and it felt like a row of ants was crawling up my butt. I used the intercom to call my mom and dad and they rushed up the stairs to my room.

  We had to wait until a decent hour to call Dr. Lang who was supposed to be in the Dallas clinic.

  “That’s exciting!” He said when he heard. He asked a dozen questions and then told me that I was probably healing faster than expected. I hung up the phone and relayed the good news to my parents.

  “So when can you walk?” My mom asked.

  I laughed. “Maybe tomorrow,” I teased her.

  “Really?” Then she blushed. “Jimmy! Why would you tease me about something like this?” She looked at my dad who only grinned at her.

  “If my spinal cord is starting to grow back together, maybe in another year or two, I should be able to stand up is what he said,” I told them.

  The tingling in my butt never quit after that. It began to increase until it literally felt like someone was holding an electrode to my skin.

  Lindsey came over that afternoon at her usual time. After we talked for a while and my mom left the room, she sat sideways on my lap and put her arms around my neck. “So what’s happening?” She asked. “Is there any more information from Steve or Dr. Lang?”

  “Not from Steve,” I said. “He’s doing a ton of research though, and he’s given me a list of topics I have to research.” I pointed to the desk. A stack of printouts already littered the top of it.