Connie breathed a wonderfully deep breath. “That’s so unusual,” she said, almost to herself. She looked for Kasey’s table as they turned. What would it matter anyway, she thought.
Greg unpleasantly interrupted her relief when she returned to her table. Her reality check. It had been only a matter of time. “So, how was the convention?” she asked.
“Fine. Nothing spectacular. There’s an interesting new software program out, though. Something you might be interested in,” he offered.
“I should be looking for a new computer, I suppose. Mine’s a dinosaur.”
“C’mon, dance with me and we’ll talk about it.”
Connie consented, although she could tell he’d already had a lot to drink. If she could only keep him in a congenial mood, maybe they could get through the rest of the evening without an incident. As they talked, she noticed Tom and Kasey dancing near the middle of the room. Tom smiled when he saw her watching.
“Tell me, Kase, where did all that emotion come from?” Tom asked.
“Nervous energy,” Kasey answered innocently. “I haven’t sung for so long.”
“Uh-huh. You going to let me in on who you were singing to?” he prodded. “It certainly wasn’t me.”
“How do you know?”
Laughing, he answered, “I know you too well. Is it our mutual friend, Miss Connie?”
Her answer seemed almost too quick. “No.”
“Too bad. She sure has a flame burning for you.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She can’t keep her eyes off you. Plus, she seemed kind of concerned about our relationship.”
“She’s just a friend,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
“If you say so.”
Greg tried once again to pull Connie against him. Again she pulled away, this time refusing to continue the dance. “That’s enough, Greg,” she said, pulling her hand from his.
“You never have told me what the problem is. Why can’t we get back together?”
“What! That I don’t love you isn’t enough?!” She turned abruptly and returned to the table alone, wishing she could just keep on going. Greg angrily headed for the cash bar.
Having spent what she considered a respectable amount of time mingling, Connie searched the crowd for Kasey. She found her with Troy and Tom. “Kasey, I haven’t had a chance to tell you how beautifully you sang tonight.”
“Thank you. But I hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like that.” She slapped Tom playfully in the stomach.
He grabbed her hand, leaned down and kissed her. “You handled it like a pro. Listen, Connie, I’ve got to get going. Congratulations again. You deserve it,” he winked. “And your performance was perfect.”
With Tom barely out the door and not even a chance to begin a conversation, Connie noticed Greg coming toward them. “Uh-oh.”
“Drunk?” Kasey asked.
“Absolutely.”
He sauntered up to the three of them, pushed his way in close to Connie, and looked her straight in the face. “I want to know what’s wrong with you.” He motioned with his thumb toward Kasey. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off her all night. What’s she gonna do for you? She got a goddamn dildo under that dress?”
Troy moved decisively forward. “Why don’t you pretend to be a gentleman and apologize to the lady.”
“Time to go, Troy,” Kasey warned.
“Shut up, Greg!” Connie demanded. “You’re drunk. Why don’t you get out of here before you make any more of a fool out of yourself.”
But Greg persisted, turning his attention to Troy. “And you. If you were more of a man, maybe your woman here wouldn’t have to be messin’ with mine. If she’s a dyke, what does that make you? A fucking faggot?”
Kasey grabbed for Troy’s arm, but it was too late. His fist was already making contact with Greg’s face. Greg hit the floor facedown with a heavy thud. By now, the commotion had drawn a small crowd, and for a few seconds everyone seemed too stunned to do anything. The combination of alcohol and Troy’s blow was evidently too much for Greg. He groaned but made no attempt to get up.
“I’m sorry, Connie.”
“He got exactly what he asked for, Troy. I’m sorry he had to be such an ass.” She looked around until she spotted Greg’s coworker moving closer. “Brian, would you please take Greg home?”
“I’ll help you get him in the car,” Troy offered.
“No problem. Looks like Ethyl was a little too much for him tonight,” he chuckled.
“Thanks,” Connie said gratefully.
Kasey turned as the men half carried Greg out the door. “I’m sorry this happened, Connie. You should have been able to enjoy tonight. It was for you.”
Her voice was tired. “I half expected something to happen. Guys don’t handle no very well.”
“I guess not.” What do you say to a straight woman who has just been accused of lusting after you? “I suppose I’d better get going. Troy’s probably waiting at the car.”
Connie nodded. “I’m glad you were here tonight.”
Kasey turned to leave.
“Kasey, thanks for singing. Are we going to run Monday?”
“Sure. I’m kind of getting used to it,” she smiled. “I’ll see you then.”
Nine
So far, the weekend had been miserable. A chilling spring rain had fallen constantly for two days, while threats of a thunderstorm loomed heavily from purple-gray clouds. Kasey shuddered, not so much from the dampness against her shoulders as from the thoughts that had tormented her since Friday night. She knew she had to tell Connie and soon, if for no other reason than to end her own misery. Greg certainly had a way of making a point. Poor Connie. She hadn’t deserved to hear it that way. No, whatever the consequences, I need to tell her now. Slowly, Kasey pulled into the drive. There should have been a better way to prepare Connie for the soul-stripping revelation that was about to be poured at her feet. She took a deep, damp breath and knocked at the door.
“Hope you weren’t real busy.”
“Nope, just getting clothes ready for the week. I’m glad you called. There’s nothing wrong is there?”
“No, just something I’ve wanted to talk to you about for some time now. Something I’ve been putting off.” She sat on the couch while Connie continued into the kitchen.
“I just made some excellent lemon tea,” she called from the other room.
Kasey was busy trying, for the umpteenth time, to decide exactly how she should begin.
“Here, try this.”
“Thanks. It smells great.” Carefully sipping the hot brew, she decided diplomacy was a must. She’d go slowly. “Connie, I think we have the basis of a very good friendship, one I definitely don’t want to lose,” she started.
“There is something wrong.” Connie’s face instantly lost its easiness. She quickly took a seat next to Kasey.
“No, really there isn’t,” she inserted quickly. “At least, I hope you won’t think so.” She took a deep breath and prepared to continue, just as the phone rang. Damn! Not now. Not ... now.
After hearing Connie’s cheerful hello, Kasey watched the expression on Connie’s face turn to a look of panic. Now there was something wrong. She waited.
“Is she okay?” Connie asked, and then, “Oh, God. What hospital? I’m on my way.”
Wide, frightened eyes looked up into Kasey’s as the phone came to rest. Kasey felt the fear, the pure panic, the match for her own eyes two years ago.
Connie blurted, “It’s Mom.” Her voice quivered. Tears formed quickly. “They don’t think she’s going to make it.” With shaking hands, she nervously grabbed her purse and tried to retrieve her keys from it.
Kasey bolted into action. “C’mon. I’m driving. What hospital?”
“Orchard Hill,” Connie managed as they ran to Kasey’s car.
All the horrible, fearful feelings of that time in her own life returned to flood Kasey’s thoughts. The intensity wasn’t the same, b
ut it was painful nonetheless. And just as it had done then, a tremendous rush of adrenaline put her on automatic pilot. She drove with a single mission, with no regard for the speed limit.
Tears streamed down Connie’s face; her chin quivered uncontrollably. “What if we don’t make it in time?”
Kasey reached over, took her hand, and held it tightly.
“We’re going to make it. I know every back way there is to this hospital. You pray and I’ll drive.”
Connie was grasping Kasey’s hand with both of hers now, as if she could tap into the strength of it. She began to pray silently while large droplets splashed over their hands.
With one hand skillfully on the wheel, Kasey maneuvered their way down the backstreets and through the stop signs, squealing around the corners. She fought back tears when visions of her own mother, near death, crowded into her consciousness. They were getting close, very close. She looked for the service alley. There, right where she remembered. They sped down the alley and through the employees’ lot, where Kasey brought the car to a screeching halt beside the emergency entrance.
“Go,” she directed. “Just say her name, and they’ll direct you. I’ll catch up.”
Connie raced through the entrance and blurted out her mother’s name to the nurse at the first desk. She was directed quickly to the intensive care area. Her father, disheveled and unshaven, stopped his pacing at the sight of his daughter.
She ran to him. “Where is she?” she managed through her tears.
“The doctors are with her right now. I don’t know anything yet,” he said, obviously upset.
Connie looked in the direction he had motioned and started toward the door. “No, honey. You can’t go in. We have to wait,” he said, tears staining his cheeks.
“No,” she cried out.
He took her arm and pulled her back into his embrace. The strong hold of the thick arms and the faint, familiar smell of his cologne were her only comfort. They held each other and cried, Connie sobbing quietly against his shoulder. They held on to each other for what seemed like an eternity, until Kasey came running down the hall. Connie released her father and embraced her. Kasey directed a questioning look at Mr. Bradford. From the motion he made with his shoulders and hands, she gathered there was no word yet.
Then suddenly the door opened and a doctor emerged. “Are you Mr. Bradford?”
“Yes. Is she going to be all right?”
Speaking slowly and ever so precisely, the doctor answered, “We’re trying to stabilize her. We’re not sure at this point what exactly happened, but we suspect an acute heart attack or stroke. I have to be honest with you. Things do not look good right now. If there are other members of the family, it might be a good idea to get them down here,” he paused, making eye contact with each of them. “I’m going to let you see her in just a minute.”
Kasey knew from experience what he meant: get them down here so they could be with her when she died. “Write down the numbers, and I’ll call for you,” she offered.
Mr. Bradford pulled a card from his wallet with names and numbers of family members and handed it to Kasey. She hurried down the hall to the lounge phone.
Fighting the quiver in her own voice, Kasey called each name on the card. The memory of the last time she sat here, trying unsuccessfully to speak even the simplest words, tightened her throat. Her eyes began to water. The least I can do is spare Connie this pain. She looked up Connie’s boss’s number and called him at home. He offered his sympathy and as much time as she needed. Kasey acknowledged his offer with the realization that there would be many more before this was over.
Hurrying back to an empty hall, she noticed the door to the room slightly ajar. They were with her. Kasey entered the room cautiously. Connie was leaning over the bed with her face next to her mother’s. Mr. Bradford was standing on the far side of the bed, holding his wife’s hand. “Did you get hold of everyone?” he asked quietly.
Kasey nodded.
Connie kissed her mother’s face. “I love you, Mom. You’re the best mother anyone could have.” Tears falling, she pulled the chair close to the bed and held her mother’s hand. The tangled mass of the all too familiar tubes was now visible. Mrs. Bradford was obviously unconscious, her breathing extremely labored. The nurse hustled into the room. Connie relinquished her post. Taking Kasey’s hand, she watched while the nurse carefully checked her mother’s vital signs.
When she finished, the nurse said softly, “We have her on the monitor, but if you need me for anything, push this button.” Connie nodded, reclaiming her post and her mother’s hand. From the tone of the nurse’s voice, Kasey knew she expected the worse.
Like a pack rat, she began gathering extra blankets, pillows, cups, Kleenex, and even toothbrushes from the nurse’s station—preparation for what she knew might be a long night. But all her busyness only partially diluted the memory of her own mother’s ordeal. Ahead was the hardest, the part she knew only too well—the waiting, the awful waiting. For her, it had been eight long weeks. She prayed Connie would not have to endure that.
The hours crept late into the night. There had been no change in Mrs. Bradford’s condition. Kasey tried making Connie and her father comfortable with pillows and something to drink, then settled into a chair by the door. The rest of the night was difficult. Conversation was sporadic and only masked the stress in attempts to keep Connie from crying, attempts that were proving just as important for Kasey. Their attention was centered every fifteen minutes on the nurse as she checked vital signs, and Connie watched nervously each time. Mrs. Bradford’s vital signs had been slowly, but steadily, declining. It was indeed a long night.
As the early morning light inched slowly across the bedsheet, quiet voices from the doorway broke the silence. Connie’s sister and brother-in-law had arrived. Kasey excused herself and walked the hall.
She sat on the ledge of the big window at the end of the corridor and gazed out at the neighborhood houses, a picture she had committed to memory. Nothing had changed on the outside. She wondered, though, if there were fears and pain hidden inside them, too. It seemed somehow wrong that despite pain and sickness and death, that the sun still shone, children still played, and people went on as usual. The pain was evidently too small for the world to notice.
A hand on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. She turned right into Connie’s hug. “I haven’t even thanked you. I don’t know how I can,” she said, releasing her.
“You don’t have to. How’s your mother?”
“No change.”
“C’mon. While you’re here, we’re going down to the cafeteria. You’ve got to eat something.”
“I can’t eat anything. My stomach’s too upset.”
“Trust me. You’ll feel worse if you don’t get something down. Tell them where you’ll be, and they can page you if they need you,” she directed, taking Connie’s hand.
Kasey called Troy with an explanation and a work schedule. He and Sharon would be fine. That was one thing she didn’t have to worry about. Then she became Connie’s one constant, staying with her as friends and family came and went. And then another night. Despite all the tests and medical expertise, Mrs. Bradford’s condition remained critical. Her signs continued to fluctuate up and down, and no one had any answers.
Ten
The morning nurse awakened Kasey as she brushed by.
Through her blurry, morning eyes, Kasey saw Connie asleep, her head on the bed, her arm across her mother. “Well, we finally have a little bit of good news,” the nurse said to Mr. Bradford as he stood. “She’s at least stabilized. That’s basis for hope.”
Connie had awakened in time to hear the encouraging words. She kissed her mother and caressed the soft familiar face with gentle fingers. “That’s it, Mom, keep on fighting. You’re doin’ good. You’re doin’ so good.”
“You know, if she stays stable the rest of the day, you folks should go home tonight and get a good night’s sleep. You have to start thinking
about keeping your own strength up,” the nurse advised.
“You two go get some breakfast,” Kasey directed. “I’ll eat when you get back.”
Connie slipped her arm around her father’s waist. “She’s going to be okay, Dad,” she said, trying to smile. “I know she is.”
Later in the day, Connie’s brother arrived from out of state, and for the rest of the afternoon the whole family was together. They embraced Kasey’s presence quite naturally, expressing their gratitude for her efforts and concern. The sweetness and warmth that Kasey liked so much in Connie were evident in the rest of her family as well.
Soon, faces solemn with guarded thoughts and concerns expressed in quiet whispers were transformed through the nurse’s encouragement. “Talk normally and positively,” she said. “Even when people are unconscious, they often hear what’s being said. You should talk to her, too, and tell her who’s speaking. After they’ve come to, I’ve had patients tell me what they heard and even who was there. Tell her happy things; it will help you all.”
So throughout the day, family members caught up on the activities in one another’s lives, shared the antics of their children, and addressed their mother as a silent listener. The result was a marked improvement in everyone’s mental state.
“Okay, Kasey. We haven’t heard anything from you yet,” Connie’s brother said with a grin.
The earlier arrival of the Bradfords’ pastor had brought to mind the last joke her mother had told her. “Well, I just remembered a joke my mother told me, if that would be all right.” There were no objections, so she began: “It was Sunday morning, and realizing that her son was still not up, the mother went to her son’s room. ‘If you don’t get out of that bed right now you’re going to be late for church,’ she told him.
“‘Aw, Mom, I don’t wanna go. I hate goin’ there. Nobody there even likes me,’ he said, pulling the covers over his head.
Marianne K. Martin - Love in the Balance Page 5