by J. J. Murray
“Reinstate her now,” Dr. Canby said.
“Excuse me?” Nurse Sprouse said.
“Miss Woods is to be reinstated immediately,” Dr. Canby said.
“She said I had a quote, ‘fat ass,’ unquote,” Nurse Sprouse said. “She said quote, ‘what’s gross is your fat ass,’ unquote. This is obviously grounds for immediate—”
“I would have said much worse, Nurse Sprouse, after the way you have been treating her and the rest of the nursing staff,” Dr. Canby interrupted. “Miss Woods, you are free to go.”
Nurse Sprouse sat. “But I don’t understand, Dr. Canby.”
“This is Tony Santangelo, Trina’s friend,” Dr. Canby said, “and he—”
“You mean her boyfriend,” Nurse Sprouse interrupted.
“I am her friend,” Tony said. “Are you the heartless wench?”
“Tony!” Trina shouted, but she did nothing to conceal her smile.
“You are a heartless wench,” Tony said. “I told Dr. Canby how you treat dark-skinned nurses. We have been walking around the hospital together, and all we saw were pretty, dark nurses working. We did not see many white nurses doing any work. They were standing around or sitting around and talking. You are the first white nurse I have seen today, and you are not working either. You are sitting on your fat ass.”
“I am not going to stand for this,” Nurse Sprouse said.
“You are sitting,” Tony said. “You cannot stand for something if you are sitting.”
Nurse Sprouse stood. “I am the chair of this disciplinary board—”
“You do have a fat ass,” Tony interrupted. “It looks like lumpy oatmeal.”
Trina pulled Tony away from the table. “Shh, Tony. Please. Don’t make me laugh anymore.”
“Nurse Sprouse, you are no longer chair of this board,” Dr. Canby said. “And you and I are going to discuss what role—if any—you will play at this hospital in the future.” He addressed the doctors. “You gentlemen are dismissed permanently from this board for your utter lack of discernment.” He turned to Trina. “Miss Woods, no more calling in sick when you’re not sick.”
“No, sir,” Trina said.
“And Tony, thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Dr. Canby said.
“You are welcome,” Tony said. “We will have lunch now, Trina, and then we will go buy a house.”
Trina hugged him. “You’re the boss.”
Dr. Canby moved beside Tony. “We’ll work out the details for that other thing soon, okay, Tony?”
“Okay.”
Tony led Trina from the conference room directly to the elevator.
“What other thing?” Trina asked.
“I have given money to the hospital for Asperger’s research,” Tony said. The door opened, and they squeezed inside a crowded elevator.
“That’s wonderful,” Trina whispered. “How much?”
“Five million dollars,” Tony said.
All talking ceased in the elevator.
“And in the future I will give more,” Tony said.
They got off the elevator in the lobby.
Trina saw a mass of reporters waiting outside the main doors and guided Tony toward the emergency room. “I don’t want to see them now, do you?”
“No,” Tony said.
She led him through the ambulance bay and out to Bush Street. After seeing no reporters or cameras, she relaxed. “So tell me more about your donation.”
“Dr. Canby will make a space for Asperger’s patients to come and be helped,” Tony said. “He thinks we should call it the ‘Santangelo Asperger’s Center.’ I asked Dr. Canby if I could help, and he said yes. He wants to give me a job. It would be my first job.”
“Doing what?”
“Talking to Asperger’s patients and their families,” Tony said. “I would be a counselor.”
What a perfect job!
“I told Dr. Canby I would do the job for free, but he says I have to make at least one dollar,” Tony said. “I also told him I wanted you to work with me.”
“What would I do?” Trina asked.
“Dr. Canby said we needed the best nurse in the hospital to help us,” Tony said. “You are the best nurse. You would talk to Asperger’s patients and their families, too, and you would help them with medications they might need. Dr. Canby said we could have our own office together. I asked if I could have my piano there. He is thinking about it. We will need a refrigerator for root beer. We will need comfortable couches and chairs. I think the purple couch should be in our office. We will need many musical instruments. There is so much to do.”
Working side by side with my man, doing wonderful work—it’s the perfect job for me, too! “Have you already made the donation?”
“They were amazed that the money came through so fast,” Tony said.
I’d be amazed, too. Five million dollars!
“I asked if Angelo and Aika could get a job there, too,” Tony said. “Angelo knows more about Asperger’s than I do. He could help many people. And Aika could help us write whatever we have to write. And then we could all be together again.”
They crossed behind a cable car and went inside the BeanStalk Café. “Hello, Hyun Ae,” Tony said.
“Tony from Brooklyn,” Hyun Ae said. “You want the same sloppy sandwich?”
“I want two sloppy sandwiches today,” Tony said. “And two root beers. This is Trina.”
“Hello, Trina,” Hyun Ae said.
“Hi,” Trina said.
Who is this man who can’t stop talking, orders lunch for me, and introduces me to people?
“We will sit at the first table,” Tony said, and they sat facing Bush Street.
Trina held his hand. “I can’t believe you did all you did in such a short time. Do you really think Angelo and Aika will relocate here?”
“No,” Tony said. “They belong in Brooklyn. I will ask them, though.”
“You really miss them,” Trina said.
Tony sighed. “Yes.”
Trina squinted. “You miss Aika a lot, huh?”
Tony nodded.
“Tony, I’ve never really pried, but I have to know something,” Trina said. “What is your specific attraction to Aika?”
Tony stared into Trina’s eyes.
“You like her eyes,” Trina said.
“Yes,” Tony said.
So glad he didn’t say her creamy, perfect complexion or her buttocks. “Why do you like her eyes?”
“They are clear and happy like yours,” Tony said. “They do not look around me. They do not look the other way. They see me.”
Aika’s eyes accept Tony for who he is. “Are my eyes clear and happy?”
“Yes,” Tony said. “That is why I chose to come to San Francisco to meet you. I cannot wait to work with you. We can go to lunch together every day in the park.”
“I’d like that, Tony,” Trina said. “And by the way, you’re already working with me.”
“We do not go to work together,” Tony said.
“We’re working on a snowflake child, aren’t we?”
“That is not work,” Tony said. “That is love.”
41
After eating the sloppiest, spiciest, and most delicious ham and cheese sandwich she had ever eaten, Trina let Tony drag her to a cable car for the ride toward Franklin Street. While they rode and Tony rang the bell several times, Trina’s phone rang. Naini.
“The evil stepmother is gone!” Naini shouted. “And Inez and Danica will be emptying bedpans this afternoon! I cannot talk long. I have rounds.”
“Really? That’s wonderful!”
“I am in charge of six patients,” Naini said. “I just settled my first admission in a bed for the first time in six years. You are a miracle worker, Trina.”
“Tony did most of it,” Trina said. “He simply took Dr. Canby for a tour of the hospital and pointed out the colors.”
“Why did we not think of that?” Naini asked. “The simplest solution was r
ight in front of us all the time.”
“Naini,” Trina said, “I have some sort of sad news.”
“You are not quitting and running off with Tony, are you?” Naini asked. “No. This would not be sad news.”
“Well, I won’t be working with you anymore.”
“But you were reinstated,” Naini said.
“Yes, and I’ll be working with Tony in a new Asperger’s center Saint Francis is starting with Tony’s donation,” Trina said.
“How much did he donate?” Naini asked.
“Five million,” Trina said.
Naini didn’t respond.
“I know,” Trina said. “That’s how I reacted, too.”
“If he can donate . . . that,” Naini said. “I cannot comprehend this.”
“Neither can I,” Trina said. “And I have some even more sad news. We’re on our way to look at a little house on Franklin Street across from Lafayette Park.”
“It is not a little house,” Naini said.
“No, it isn’t.”
Naini sighed. “Is his brother really in love with the Japanese girl?”
“Yes, and she isn’t a girl,” Trina said. “She’s forty-two.”
“No!” Naini shouted. “Life is so unfair! Oh, it is not unfair to you. But you are getting things out of order,” Naini said. “Are you not supposed to be married before you get a house?”
“I guess,” Trina said. But for some reason, this sequence of events seems perfectly logical.
“If you buy this little house which I know is not so little,” Naini said, “I want your apartment.”
Trina laughed. “You know how small it is.”
“I do not care,” Naini said. “I will not have to ride the bus, and Johnny Foley’s is a few blocks away. Did I tell you how many phone numbers I got the other night?”
“No.”
“I got three,” Naini said. “One was a little drunk and a little cute, one was very drunk and very cute, and the last one was sober but only okay-looking. I do not understand why that is. Anyway, I have three more phone numbers than I have gotten in Oakland in eight years. Oh, I must go. I have a ninja patient.”
Trina laughed. “How old is he?”
“She is ninety-seven,” Trina said. “She has already kicked two LPNs, bitten a CNA, scratched an orderly, and karate-chopped her food tray. Bye.”
Two women Realtors identically dressed in navy-blue blazers with white blouses and navy-blue pants met them in front of the Franklin Street mansion. “I told you,” one of the women said. She extended her hand. “It is an honor to meet you, Art E.”
“I am Tony Santangelo,” Tony said. “This is Trina Woods.”
The women introduced themselves as Jackie and Diane. “Like the song,” Jackie said.
Not like the song, Trina said. Unless Jackie was once a Jack . . .
“We would like to buy this house today,” Tony said.
“Splendid,” Jackie said.
Diane, the older and thinner of the two, led them up a red-bricked pathway and opened a black wrought-iron gate. “The house lists for ten million,” she said. “What do you plan to offer?”
“I am offering eight million,” Tony said. “This is where you say nine million five.”
“Tony,” Trina said. “Jackie and Diane have to take our offer to the owner first.”
“Oh,” Tony said. “Please call the owner now.”
Jackie unlocked the massive entry door. “The Vances are on vacation in Switzerland.”
Tony blinked. “It is eight o’clock at night there.” He took out his phone. “They should be awake. What is their telephone number?”
“Um, Tony, can I call you Tony?” Jackie asked.
“That is my name, yes,” Tony said.
“Tony, why don’t we tour the house first?” Jackie asked. “Once you see all this house has to offer, you might think ten million is a bargain.”
Tony walked inside and looked into every room on the first floor. “It looks just like the pictures on the Internet. I do not need to see any more. I want to buy this house for Trina today.” He handed Jackie the phone. “Please call the owner for me now.”
Jackie took out her phone and found the number, pressing the numbers into Tony’s phone. “The Vances have had other offers,” she said. “The last offer Mr. Vance turned down was nine million seven.”
Tony pressed the green phone icon.
Trina turned on the speaker.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Vance,” Tony said, “I am Tony Santangelo, and I would like to buy your house today.”
“Tony who?”
“Tony Santangelo,” Tony said.
“He is also known as Art E., Mr. Vance,” Trina said.
“Oh, I’ve heard of you,” Mr. Vance said. “The piano player who is all the rage on the Internet—and in Europe, too. You’re very talented. Is that Trina with you?”
“Yes, Mr. Vance,” Trina said. “How’s your weather?”
“Cold and snowy,” Mr. Vance said. “Just the way we like it. What are you offering me for my house, Mr. Santangelo?”
“I want to buy your house for Trina for eight million dollars,” Tony said.
“Tony, my wife and I will not part with our house for a mere eight million dollars,” Mr. Vance said.
“I can pay you the entire amount today,” Tony said.
“No one can purchase a house like ours in one day, Mr. Santangelo,” Mr. Vance said.
“I can,” Tony said.
“Hmm,” Mr. Vance said. “I suppose you can. But we would have to move out first, wouldn’t we?”
“Oh,” Tony said. “Yes. You have many nice things to move. It will take more than a day.”
“We can make the purchase today, can’t we?” Trina asked. “I know lawyers have to do their thing, and you do have a lot of beautiful furnishings to move. We are really motivated, Mr. Vance. We both love this house.”
“I can appreciate that,” Mr. Vance said. “But your offer is far too low, Trina.”
“This is where you say nine million five, Mr. Vance,” Tony said.
“I already lowered the asking price three hundred thousand dollars last month,” Mr. Vance said. “Didn’t Jackie and Diane tell you?”
“No,” Tony said. “So you will not say nine million five.”
“I am standing firm at ten million,” Mr. Vance said.
Tony started to pull at his fingers.
Oh, shoot! “Tony and I will talk about it and call you right back,” Trina said.
“Okay,” Mr. Vance said.
Trina pressed the OFF button.
“He would not say nine million five, Trina,” Tony said, twisting his right ring finger.
Trina turned to Jackie and Diane. “What’s the appraised value of this house?”
“Nine million seven and some change,” Diane said. “But you couldn’t rebuild this house today for ten million. And because this is a historic property, you’ll get a break on your property taxes.”
“Do you think Mr. Vance will take anything less than ten million?” Trina asked.
“I doubt it,” Jackie said. “He’s a tough customer. He wouldn’t budge off ten million three for almost a year.”
“So this house has been on the market for over a year,” Trina said.
“Don’t think that means anything to Mr. Vance,” Diane said. “He’s as shrewd as they come, and this is just one of his houses.”
“What does Mr. Vance do?” Trina asked.
“He’s an executive for the Gap,” Diane said.
Tony blinked. “The Gap owns Banana Republic. I wear Banana Republic clothes. I am wearing them right now.”
And Tony is a celebrity . . . “Um, I need to use the bathroom.”
Jackie directed her to a bathroom off the kitchen.
Once in the half bathroom, which was three times the size of her full bathroom, Trina redialed Mr. Vance and kept the speaker off.
“Mr. Vance, this is Trina
Woods.”
“That was quick,” Mr. Vance said. “Do you have another more serious offer?”
“I do,” Trina said. “But first I have a question. How is Banana Republic doing, Mr. Vance?”
“What does this have to do with buying my house?” Mr. Vance asked.
Maybe everything. “Tony loves wearing Banana Republic clothing,” Trina said. “In fact, in every video you’ve seen him in he’s wearing your clothes, so to speak. I don’t know a thing about advertising, but I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt if you had someone as handsome as Tony is to wear your brand. Imagine a commercial with him playing the piano in your pants.” That didn’t sound right at all!
“What are you proposing?” Mr. Vance asked.
“If you sell your house to us for less than ten million,” Trina said, “I’m sure I can convince Tony to wear Banana Republic exclusively in whatever he does. He may even wear Gap clothes.” And you may only have to pay him a dollar. “I know he will continue to perform at Johnny Foley’s. And who knows? He might even play at bigger places in the future.”
“He’s quite a showman,” Mr. Vance said. “He would sell out any venue on the planet right now. Would you be interested as well?”
Trina blinked. “In doing what?”
“In wearing Banana Republic or Gap clothing,” Mr. Vance said.
“Me?” He’s not serious.
“When Tony lifted you onto the piano at Johnny Foley’s,” Mr. Vance said, “I said to myself, ‘Now there’s an advertisement.’ You had so much joy and wonder in your eyes. You two make a visually arresting couple. Have you ever worn Banana Republic tops or dresses?”
“No,” Trina said, “but I’m not exactly the type, I mean, you had Arlenis Sosa modeling for you a few years back, and she’s tall, bronzed, and gorgeous.”
“Our Banana Republic sales have declined over the last few years,” Mr. Vance said. “I’ve been telling our marketing department that we need some fresh faces, some real people to be in our ads to give that brand a boost. And here you both are. Would you be willing to join Tony in a future ad campaign?”
“Mr. Vance, I’ll be honest,” Trina said. “I have never been able to afford Banana Republic clothing. I’ve been wearing nurse’s scrubs for the last ten years. And I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable—”