The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series

by Jacqueline Druga

  He opened that box and laughed at the deodorant and the aftershave that set on top. Junk, that was all it was. Junk that found itself on the top of his dresser and it order to make it look neat, he tossed it into an old shaving kit. Frank lifted that shaving kit and unzipped it, wanting only to peek inside. When he did he saw it, a beverage napkin, folded and yellow, the blue ink still vivid. Written on the napkin was a telephone number and the name ‘Bill Nelson’.

  Frank dropped from the squat on the floor to a sitting position and leaned against his closet door. He remembered Bill Nelson, a man he met briefly once and never saw again but he didn’t keep that napkin for Bill’s number. He kept it for the memory of that night, one of Ellen’s drunken flirt nights with a random stranger. Bill was that random stranger. Frank had to intervene. After all, she wasn’t allowed to cheat on Pete with anyone but him. It surprised Frank that after all these years, she still hadn’t changed. But, yet, like in the past, he dealt with her antics.

  Frank stared one more time at that name on the napkin as he still sat on his floor. Adjusting the headset microphone, he called out, “Dad.”

  “Yeah Frank,” Joe answered.

  “Hey, are you with Ellen?”

  “She’s right here.”

  “Can I talk to her?” Frank’s fingers fiddled with the edge of the napkin.

  “What’s wrong, Frank?” Ellen came over the radio.

  “Hey, El. I have a name for you. See if it rings a bell. Bill Nelson.”

  There was silence. “Nope.”

  “Bill Nelson. It doesn’t ring a bell?”

  “No, it doesn’t. Sorry. Bill, Bill. Nope.”

  “It doesn’t ring a bell? Think about it.”

  “I am. It doesn’t.”

  “Come on, El,” Frank beckoned.

  Instead of Ellen’s voice, it was Joe’s. “It doesn’t ring a damn bell. Now knock the shit off and quit wasting the airwaves, Frank.”

  “All right.” Frank refolded the napkin, only this time he placed it in his back pocket. “Dad, just tell Ellen I’ll be right there. I’ll make it ring a bell.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Joe said so annoyed because he knew damn well Frank should have realized Ellen could hear his big mouth through the speaker of Joe’s radio.

  Chuckling some and taking off his headset, Frank stood up and grabbed that small box. He tossed everything back in and closed the flaps. “Where were you again? Eh, I’ll put you on top.” Reaching up with the box, Frank moved to shove it further back and the box that teetered on the edge of the shelf fell forward and conked him in the head. “Fuck.” Frank rubbed the top of his head and bent down for the box. It wasn’t heavy and it was sealed. Written across the top was ‘Robbie’s stuff. Do not touch! Do not open!’ Thinking screw that, Frank brought the box to his desk.

  Pulling the flaps that Frank was sure were glued with a special secret Robbie glue, he opened the box. “What is this shit?” Frank began to pull out envelopes. When he lifted the stack of papers, he could see a sweatshirt, one he recognized as Ellen’s. He lifted the papers and knew right away what it was. It was everything Robbie had collected in his investigation when Moses had attacked Ellen and Dean. He knew it to be fact when he read the last notes on the top sheet of paper. In Robbie’s handwriting, ‘Dad says evidence is inconclusive. Investigation is over. Dad sucks.’

  Getting ready to replace those papers back in the box and seal it like Joe did the investigation, Frank saw them. How odd. He lifted them out and looked at them. The Beginnings equivalent to a photographer, Forrest Caceres, name was scribbled on the bottom of each sketch that Frank held in his hand.

  Slowly he looked at them one by one. They weren’t of anyone in particular, just scenes. There was a drawing of a man accosting a woman in some doorway, a man who looked like Moses and another that confused Frank. It was a picture of a hand, a hand with scratches. Then Frank saw something else besides Forrest’s name on the bottom. One word written right by the fingertips of that drawing, one word, ‘John’

  Placing the sketches back in the box, Frank knew at that instant he would take it and do with the investigation like he did with that box--open it. He had to. He had no other choice. It was clear to Frank at that moment on why he felt so strongly about it now. Frank could have reasoned against it because the evidence was minimal. But it wasn’t. The truth was, the meaning of the investigation hit him when the realization that he wouldn’t have had that box to peek into had it not been for John Matoose standing in Frank’s closet. And right there and then as Frank grabbed the box to take with him, another question hit Frank’s mind. ‘What was John Matoose really looking for in that closet?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The peaceful serenity and quiet lasted as long as his shower. The noise that came from downstairs in Dean’s house pummeled him the moment he turned off the water. He knew he had to move quickly. Just because Andrea’s son Denny was downstairs with his kids was no guarantee total mayhem wasn’t going to erupt. It sounded like it already had to Dean,. Before venturing out into the cold hallway, he checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror to the small bump on his forehead which was already beginning to bruise, a bump brought on by another blurred vision episode. It wouldn’t have been that bad had Dean only been around his children, but Denny had to be there when Dean walked right into that wall. Not only was Dean pummeled with pain at that moment, but also with the annoying laughter of a teenage boy as well. Forgoing the bump, he opened the bathroom door, only to be nearly knocked off his balance when his tiny daughter, Alexandra, sped by him so fast she was a blur. Holding tightly to his towel, Dean hurried into his room to change.

  Grabbing the pair of cut off shorts he had out and a tee shirt, Dean got dressed. After speedily placing on his socks and running a brush though his hair, Dean searched out his shoes. “Where are my high tops?” He knelt down checking under the bed. “I just had them on.” He stood back up looked around his floor and lifted the clothes he had taken off. “Where are they? Shit.” Opening his bedroom door he saw his answer. “Alex.”

  Doing her ‘I have to go to the bathroom’ wiggle, she shuffled down the hall in Dean’s high top tennis shoes

  “Alex, give me my shoes.”

  She giggled. “Look Daddy they fit.”

  “No, they don’t.” He marched up to her. “You go to the bathroom.”

  “No.” She tried to get away.

  “Alex, Daddy isn’t playing around. He has to go talk to Mommy at the hospital and Frank will be here.” He reached for her and she swung her arms moving away. “Alex.” He scolded, placed his hands under her arms, and lifted her. Seeing his shoes still attached to her feet, he swayed her back and forth until the shoes fell to the floor followed seconds later by a long stream of wetness. “Alex,” Dean whined, holding her out.

  Alex started to cry. “I’m telling Mommy you made me pee my pants.”

  “I didn’t make you . . .”

  “Hey, Dr. Dean.” Out of breath Denny raced up the steps. “I heard her crying. Is she all right? What’s the matter, Alex?”

  “Daddy made me pee my pants.”

  “Oh man. Dr. Dean, that’s just not right.”

  Grunting and tilting his head, Dean extended Alexandra to Denny. “Here, help her change because I have to go.”

  “But Dr. Dean,” Denny cringed as Alex was placed in his arms, “she’s all wet. Yuck.”

  Joining the sentiment, Dean also cringed, “And so are my shoes. Shit.” Picking them up with two fingers he carried them into his bedroom and sought out his work boats. He didn't really care about being a fashion statement. He only wanted to get to the clinic and talk to Ellen before Henry settled in with her for the evening. Not lacing his boots all the way, Dean flew from the bedroom, holding his folders. “Denny, Frank will be by to get them any second. He’ll feed them. Just ask him what time he’s bringing them back so you can be here. Thanks.” Dean patted him on the arm and darted down the steps. He bent down to Brian in the
baby walker and kissed him. As he made his run to the front door, he brushed his lips on Joey and Billy as well. “I need a bigger house.” Taking a breath, he opened the door. Frank stood there. “Hi Frank. Bye Frank.”

  Frank snickered. “Cute legs, Dean. The boots add that special touch.”

  Slowing down his pace only to shudder at Frank, Dean continued to the clinic in his fast manner.

  She looked better health wise to Dean that early evening, but other than that, Ellen looked as if she struggled. Sitting on the bed, the back raised up, she wore a long white tee shirt and her arms kept lifting and falling. Dean watched her from the doorway for a moment as he held on to his folders and Ellen’s chart. Staring down at her hands that held a brush, her hair dangling down, Dean felt it when she raised her eyes and smiled when she saw him.

  “Dean.” She reached over setting the brush on the night stand then she tucked her hair behind her ear. “I thought you were standing me up.”

  “Who me?” He walked into the room. “Never.” He set the folders on the foot of her bed and held up her chart. He noticed she giggled. “What?”

  “Look how cute you are with your little cut off shorts and all. And the boots.” She gave a thumbs up. “The boots add the special touch.”

  “Somehow I’ve heard that line before.” He flipped open the chart.

  “Why are you playing doctor with me? Not that I mind but why?”

  Dean felt her pulse. “I’d like to get this out of the way and then we can talk. Besides, I am your doctor and the only one, lately, you let touch you.” He set down her hand. “Sit back.” When she did he noticed she was wearing boxer shorts under her long shirt. “El, those shorts aren’t rubbing the incision, are they?”

  “No. They’re loose and I have them pulled way up here.” She lifted the shirt to show him the waist band nearly to her breasts. “See. They’re Frank’s.”

  “Don’t lower the shirt. I want to see” He pulled the waist band out of the shorts and examined her. “Are they tender?”

  “A little and there’s some pulling. I’m tough though.”

  “Yeah you are.” Dean smiled, and fixed her shirt. “Any dizziness?”

  “Nope.”

  “How’s the bleeding?”

  “Less than I had with my other children and I’d like to say those two pints you guys pumped into me right away made me feel like a new person.”

  “I have news for you, Ellen. Guess whose blood we pumped in you.”

  “No, Dean. Don’t tell me.” Her mouth dropped open.

  “O.K. I won’t. But it was.”

  “Oh my God. Wait till Henry hears.”

  Dean set down her chart. “I see Melissa had you ambulating.”

  “Yes and I did well. I even took a shower. I feel good.”

  “Good. Then are you ready to ambulate yourself down to that nursery to see your son?” He watched her head drop “El?”

  “I’d rather not, Dean.”

  “Have you seen him since he was born?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I’d rather wait until he’s not so weak. I can still see it when you lifted him out and he just . . . he just was so lifeless. I’d rather wait. Not yet. For the first time I don’t think I’m strong enough to handle it. Of course I’m not even strong enough to put a ponytail in my hair. It hurts when I raise my arms.”

  “Well, I can’t help you get the strength to see Nick. But . . .” Dean lowered the back to her bed, leaving Ellen without support to sit. “I can help you with the ponytail.” He grabbed the brush and sat behind her on the bed. “I am the ponytail king. Ask Alex. Speaking of Alex, you know how you noticed the boots?” Dean asked as he brushed her hair. “Alex peed in my high tops. She was wearing them and she was doing that stupid dance.” He heard Ellen giggle. “So suffice to say, they’re soaked.”

  “Was she crying?”

  “Yep. She said she was telling on me. Frank was there when I left, so, he can deal with it. High ponytail or low?”

  “High please. It gives that face lift effect.” Ellen smiled and tilted her head back. “Thanks for this, Dean. Thank you. This is nice.”

  “Yeah it is.” He reached for the band and maneuvered it in her hair. “You are all done.”

  Ellen felt Dean ready to get up and she stopped him. “Stay here.” She leaned back into him. “You have kept me in suspense all day. What’s going on with you?”

  “You really want to know this.”

  “Give it to me.”

  A heavy sigh escaped Dean and he wrapped his arm around her chest and rested his face close to hers. “It's not good.”

  Ellen swallowed harshly. “Maybe you can’t be sure. Maybe you’re too close to the situation.”

  “I’m sure. I did another CAT scan. It confirmed what I thought.”

  “Which is?”

  “Scar tissue is building up. Once the healing is done and the scar tissue is complete, my sight may just be gone.”

  Like they weighed a hundred pounds, Ellen’s eyes closed. “Is there time to prepare for surgery? Maybe you, Jason, and Andrea can work a way to remove the scar tissue from the optic nerve.”

  “See that’s where the problem lies, El. It’s not the optic nerve. It’s the brain. It’s the part of the brain that is sending signals to my eyes to see. It’s being blocked. And . . . it eventually will stay fully blocked. Right now, my glasses barely work and unlike yesterday or the day before, I had another episode this evening. Two in one day. That’s never happened. I suspect it will only increase.”

  Ellen’s lips closed tightly as she grazed her hand down the arm that braced her. “Have you told Andrea about this?”

  “No, you and Henry are the only ones who know. It has to stay that way. If they know I’m going blind, that’s it for me. What are they going to do for me? If I can’t see, I can’t work. If I can’t work, how do I justify staying in Beginnings. What am I gonna do, El? How can I live like that?”

  “My God, Dean, I have told you before. It’s not your eyes that heal things. It’s your brain. You know how to do it so you are just going to have to learn how to do it without your eyes.”

  “Who’s going to let me learn?”

  “That’s why I’m here. They don’t have to know until you can prove how well you’ll do without your eyes. I’ll be your eyes, Dean. I’ll be your guide. It’ll be tough if it happens, but I know you. You’re so smart. You’ll learn. You told me you’d teach me everything and you will. Every day that you can see, you will teach me how to see what you do.”

  “I’m scared, El.”

  “I’m right here.”

  Dean held her tighter. “I’m glad.”

  “There’s still a chance Dean, that you won’t lose your sight.”

  “We can hold on to that. We can. I’m just grateful that I know that you’ll be here every step of the way.”

  “That’s what we decided. It’ll make it easier for me to be around. I’m just glad you still want me.”

  “Are you kidding?” Dean slid off the bed and faced her. “I love you. The only thing is a part of me wishes you were going into this understanding with me because you want to, not because I need you.”

  Ellen grabbed his hand as he backed up. “We’ll take our time. We’ll do this right. I’ll be here to help you and this … could work between us this time. I really want to change, Dean.”

  “I’ve given some thought to how this will work.” Dean slipped his hand from hers.

  “It will.”

  “No it won’t,” Dean backed up. “It won’t, Frank won’t let it. Right now Frank will make it impossible and you know it. He sees us together all the time, he’s gonna think we’re working on a relationship and he’ll exercise that control over you. I need you a hundred percent to learn it all.”

  “Maybe it would help if we tell him. I am positive he won’t interfere if he knows.”

  Dean’s head lowered and he lifted only his eyes. “For the time being, I’d rather not tell h
im at all. For now?” Dean stared at her for a moment. “All right, serious relationship stuff and Dean blind stuff is now over.” He stood up, picked up a stack of folders, and dropped them before her.

  “What is this?” She asked with such a gasp. “I’m sick here, Dean.”

  “And we’re on borrowed time. So . . ., He grinned as he handed her a folder, “Mrs. ‘whatever your last name happens to be this month’, it’s time to learn.”

  Henry glided in his steps to Joe’s office. He led Scott, the fourth mechanic division worker in Beginnings. He was a lot like Henry, tall and thin. His hair was long as well, only it was blonde and always pulled back. “In here, you’ll have to stop first thing in the morning. Well, first thing in Joe’s morning, which starts about seven. We usually start, as you know, about five.” Henry opened the door. “Joe has the other mechanical request box. You have to pick them up here first thing. These requests are the ones that people put in their division or drop them off here personally.” Henry walked to the third filing cabinet and to the small box on top. “Empty.” He tilted it. “It’s probably because Josh is still out collecting them. That’s his and Denny’s job. When you sift through them, make sure that you pay no attention to the ones that are really bad. Josh and Denny think they’re real funny putting in fake requests. I can pick them out. What was the one last week? Fix Forrest’s waddle?” Henry shook his head with a smile. “Anyhow, just take them to Mechanics and do the ones you know are important first. Common sense.”

  “Henry, we get so many requests.”

  “Yeah I know. Forrest will be helping out. I just need to confirm that with Joe. Forrest is very mechanically incline. You just can’t understand him sometimes. Just nod your head and tell him, ‘um . . .yeah, sure.’” Henry winked as he leaned into Scott. “Works every time. If you run into something you can’t fix, I’m around. Just look for me or ask John . . .” Henry saw the door open and John Matoose walked into Joe’s office. “John Matoose.” Henry held his hand out to John. “Speak of the devil. No pun intended John.”