Riches & Rags: Things are seldom as they seem.

by Camille Nagasaki

  “Well, Lane. What do you think of your first homemade gourmet meal?” Liam asks with a lopsided grin, his light Irish accent coloring his words in a melodic way.

  I grin back and stare down at the gorgeous meal in disbelief. I made this! Well, with Liam’s help. The steam rises with from the dish, and the smell is glorious. Wow! The halibut is cooked to perfection and is presented with slices of fennel bulb and drizzled in the butter sauce. The rice with the cilantro that we added last minute smells heavenly. And the baked and broiled zucchini has a perfectly browned, Parmesan crust. I grab a couple of sprigs of fresh Italian parsley and sprinkle it on the plate to complete the presentation.

  “Is the chicken done?” Margo asks, peering over the counter.

  “How do you feel about fish, love?” I hear Liam ask, as I carry the plate to the attic door.

  “Yuck!” Margo shrieks.

  Liam chuckles. “In that case, the chicken is done. Here, I’ll serve you right now.”

  I carry the plate down the two flights of stairs, smiling in anticipation of George’s reaction. He’s going to be so thrilled. It actually feels kind of good to know George will be eating a real meal for once.

  “George?” I call out when I reach the foyer landing. I pause momentarily at the foreign sound coming from the living room, but realize it’s just that wretched cat. “George? Come on, this is the dinner of your dreams.” His hearing must really be going! I swing the living room door open with one hand and halt mid step.

  Oh!

  My God.

  The plate crashes to the floor as I fling myself at his side.

  “George!” I cry, dropping to my knees. The cat stares at me with wide eyes and continues to assault my ears with its wails. “LIAM!” I scream.

  George is barely conscious, his skin is clammy and sickly gray. I put my hand on his damp neck and can feel a very slow, very weak pulse. Relieved, I hold his cold hand in mine while I smooth back his hair, trying to keep him calm. His blank eyes are unfocused and lost. I hear Liam’s footsteps racing down the stairs.

  He bursts into the room with Rory in his arms. “What’s going— Oh nooooo!” He sets Rory down and crouches by George’s side. “George, can you hear me?” he says, his voice loud and panicked. George doesn’t answer. Liam gives me a brief, pained glance and scrambles to his feet. “I’m calling 9-1-1,” he calls over his shoulder, as he sprints in the direction of the kitchen.

  “George, help is coming,” I say, my voice barely audible. “Hang in there, George.” I stroke his hand in mine, and a tear streams down my face, landing on his. I wipe it with a shaky hand.

  Margo’s just come up behind me. Her concerned face crumples into tears when she sees George in a heap on the floor. “Oh, no! Mommy.” She comes and sits vigil beside him, crying softly while watching him through her long, wet lashes. Rory crawls over to Margo’s side and puts her head on her big sister’s lap. I focus on George again, speaking with him and hoping he can hear me.

  His eyes roll back and then close.

  “Come on, you. Stay with me! Dammit, you’re a good man, George. You took us in despite not wanting to, you gave me everything I asked for, you showed interest in my kids, and even came to my defense with my mother-in-law.” More tears stream down my face, and I clutch George’s hand with all my might.

  “Ambulance is on its way,” Liam calls from the other room.

  “You hear that? Help is coming, George. Shit. I wish I knew first aid.” I wipe at the tears rolling down my cheeks. In the distance, over the girls’ cries, I hear sirens, and I stroke George’s cold, sweaty face. “Just hang in there,” I plead.

  Two paramedics arrive and rush in with a barrage of questions for Liam and me. I’m so flustered, I can barely articulate anything coherent. My stomach bottoms out and I stagger back when one of the paramedics announces that George now has NO PULSE. He begins CPR, while the other paramedic places pads on his chest. We watch in horror as they shock him. His entire body jolts, and Margo and Rory scream and start wailing hysterically, so I usher them out of the room and cradle them on the foyer stair.

  The girls are still crying in anguish as George is wheeled out on a stretcher to the awaiting ambulance—all while they continue CPR. I follow behind into the already darkened night; my adrenaline is off the charts. “Which hospital are you taking him to?” My voice is high pitched with panic.

  “St. Paul’s,” one of the paramedics yells back, before slamming the ambulance door. The sirens blare, and I cover my ears and race back inside to Liam and the girls.

  Liam is staring out the door, his expression blank. He himself looks pale, and I realize he must be in somewhat of a shock.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  He slowly turns his head to meet my eyes and nods solemnly. “Yeah. It’s just he’s like a granddad to me,” he says, shaking his head as though in a daze of disbelief.

  “I know. I feel the same, only I didn’t know it till now.” I take a quivering breath, trying to decide what to do. “Why don’t you go to the hospital right now, and I’ll get my dad over here to watch the girls.”

  Liam nods, his features pained with worry. He hands me Rory, and I take Margo’s hand in my free one.

  We race upstairs to call Dad, and to my frustration there’s no bloody answer. I try Juliet, and leave her a message, as she’s not picking up either. Shit! I briefly consider taking the girls to the hospital with me, but no way! It’s too much for them and would be a gong show for everyone anyway. If only Dad answered his bloody cell phone. Oh, wait!

  I scan through the call history on my phone and find the number that called me during the audition. I hit “Talk” and wait for Dad to answer.

  “Yeah!” Riley’s obnoxious voice rings out.

  “I need to speak to Dad. Dad!” I yell.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” Thank God Dad’s on the line and I don’t have to play games with my “brother.”

  “Dad, I need you to come watch the girls. I need to go to the hospital right away. George collapsed, and the ambulance just left for St. Paul’s.”

  “Oh dear. Okay. Well, honey I’m just at a play-date for Riley but, um, well, we can leave.”

  “A play-date?” I echo in disbelief. Is there no end to this madness?

  “Yes, of course. Socialization is very important for development,” he says.

  I feel like screaming “It’s a puppet, Dad!”

  “Whatever, just hurry up,” I snap. And then add, “Thanks.”

  Dad arrives, breathless, with Riley, sometime later. I kiss the girls goodbye and rush outside to hail a cab on Cornwall. Within a few minutes, I’m in a cab making my way toward the Burrard Street Bridge heading for downtown.

  Thousands of Christmas lights adorn St. Paul’s, illuminating the façade and the word “Hope.” I pay the driver and sprint through the emergency entrance. Liam and I spot each other immediately, and he rushes over to my side.

  “How is he?” I ask.

  At the same time, Liam says, “They’re prepping him for emergency surgery.”

  Liam leads me to the waiting area, and we take a seat. “He has a blockage but they don’t know which arteries are affected.”

  I nod, feeling numb. Liam puts his arm around me, and to my surprise, I feel myself relax. I have the urge to curl up to him, to be protected and cared for; but of course that’s crazy.

  Plus, what am I thinking? I’m married, of course…though with each passing day, I question our marriage’s validity. I’m getting to the point where I’m so livid, I don’t even want to hear from Micky.

  “You okay?” Liam asks, peering down at me with concerned eyes. I nod, trying to stay positive. “Your dad got there quick, that was nice of him.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty helpful.” My phone rings and I check the call display. Oh, Billy! I pounce at my phone, eager to speak with him. “Tell me you’re home!”

  “I’m home. Oh my God. I’ve been through so much.”

  “Are you okay,
Billy?”

  “Yes, totally fine.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Are you at home? I’ll come by—”

  “No, I’m at the hospital!”

  Billy gasps, and I explain about George.

  “Okay, well I’ll come to the hospital.”

  “Great, we’re at St. Paul’s, see you soon,” I say and ring off. Liam is eyeing me with apparent curiosity. “Billy’s my best friend. He just came back from a reunion with his birth father in Haiti,” I explain.

  “Wow. From what George tells me, you lead a pretty dramatic life.” He gives me that adorable lopsided grin, and I wonder exactly what George has told him. George knows about us losing our money, I guess he knows about Riley, and now he saw me having it out with my mother-in-law. To George, it must seem pretty action-packed.

  “So, you’ve heard about me. What about you?” I ask. A woman, with her arm in a sling, keeps staring at me and then ogling Liam. Even now she’s watching us openly, I’m sure listening to every word. I frown at her and turn to Liam. “Actually hold that thought, let’s grab a coffee.” I hop out of my seat and stride across the waiting room to the door, Liam right behind me.

  Outside, I shiver and he puts his arm around me again, and I can’t stop my heart from leaping. I glance up at his strong features and feel another shiver, this time of excitement. We cross the street and order lattes.

  “So, as I was saying. You know about me, what about you?” We take seats at the coffee bar, and Liam gives me a bashful look, leans forward, and actually pokes me in the stomach. Great, he just poked my layer of stomach fat. I sit up straighter and suck that bitch in.

  “George didn’t tell me much, actually,” he says softly, his eyes boring into mine. I sit there mesmerized for a few seconds, before a familiar voice interrupts the moment. Billy has just waltzed into the store and he’s speaking on his cell phone. I have an urge to run to him, but figure I’ll let him finish his conversation first.

  “I had a great time too. Yes, uh-huh…. I will. For sure, I’ll wire the money as soon as it goes through—I know it’s a struggle for you, Dad. I will. Don’t worry, I’ll come through. Okay. Bye, Dad.”

  He rings off, and I stare, flabbergasted. He’s going to wire money to his dad? How much exactly, and after what goes through? Billy has slipped his phone into his bag and is ordering an Americano at the counter. I sip my latte and wait for him to notice me. Billy takes his Americano from the barista, pops a lid on the cup, takes a sip, and finally surveys the room. His eyes settle on mine and he almost chokes on the coffee in surprise. I wave him over, doing my best to smile, though my mind is still on his phone conversation.

  “Hi, hon,” he says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. Billy’s curls are unruly, and I see he looks worn now that he’s up close. He has a five-o’clock shadow and his eyes don’t have their usual mischievous twinkle.

  “Billy, this is Liam,” I say, gesturing to the babe at my left. Only then do Billy’s eyes light up, as they do a slow sweep over Liam.

  “Pleasure. And how exactly do you know Lane?” Billy shoots me a curious look, and Liam gives an easy laugh.

  “I’m teaching Lane to cook.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Billy says, giving my shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

  “Hey, I’m not that bad.”

  “Yes you are.”

  “Thanks. So, how was Haiti?”

  Liam motions to me that he’s going back across the street, and I mentally thank him for his intuition. Now I can really talk to Billy. The door closes behind Liam, and both Billy and I watch his tall, elegant form as he crosses the street.

  “That is one fine man, Lane.”

  I nod, equally captivated.

  “He’s sweet too. But back to you, what the hell is going on? I heard the conversation you were just having on your cell.”

  Billy looks taken aback and then laughs. Then, he sighs and his shoulders slump. “I need to help out my family, Lane. They’re really struggling.”

  “That’s all well and good, but living in Yaletown is ridiculously expensive, and you’re barely treading water as it is.”

  “I know.”

  “And what did you mean when you said you’d send money when it goes through.”

  “Shit, Lane. Have I no privacy?”

  “You’re in Starbucks,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Everyone heard.”

  Billy’s jaw tightens and his shoulders tense. “You’re going to freak,” he says, uncertainty flashing in his eyes.

  “I am not. I’m supportive, come on.”

  “Okay,” Billy leans forward and drops his voice to a whisper, and I lean in, eager for the juice, “I’m selling my flower shop and sending most of the money to Haiti.”

  I recoil, shouting, “You’re doing WHAT?”

  “Shhhh!” Billy shrinks, wide eyed, as people jerk their heads in surprise.

  “How could you think of doing such a thing?” I hiss. “This is asinine, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to even let you consider this…” I continue to scold Billy, as he listens passively and then puts his hand up to silence me. “What?” I practically spit, I’m so livid.

  “The deal is already going through. I told Michael Chan from Orchid West two days ago. He’s wanted to buy my business for years, remember?”

  “Yeah, I do. But Billy you’re not thinking rationally—”

  “Lane, these people have nothing. Not helping my own blood would be irrational.”

  “Yeah, but there are other ways of doing things. You could crowdfund, or something.”

  “Lane, it is what it is. Okay?” Billy’s face is deadpan, and I throw my hands up in defeat.

  “Okay, then. What’s the plan once your business is sold?”

  “Well, I’ll wire the money—”

  “What about after that? Are you going to open another flower boutique? And where would you get the financing to do that?”

  Billy shakes his head. “I have a non-compete clause.”

  “Oh, that’s just great! So you have NO PLAN?”

  “Not really.” Billy gives me a sheepish look.

  I think for a couple of seconds and then bolt upright. Billy can work with me!

  “Well then, you’ll just have to join the family business.” I can feel my face flush with excitement, and adrenaline soars through my body at the thought of my new venture.

  Billy tilts his head and narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Lane. What exactly have you been up to while I was away?” The twinkle of mischief returns to his eyes.

  I throw my cup back, drain the rest of my latte, and hop off the stool in one triumphant swoop. Wait till he hears my plan! I practically skip to the door and fling it open, letting in a gust of cool air. I call over my shoulder, “Come on, let’s get back to the hospital to check on George, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  19

  I don’t get a chance to tell Billy about the new business because, when we get outside, we’re almost flattened by a red Ferrari peeling around a corner. We scramble across the street as fast as humanly possible as the driver swerves, almost catapulting himself into oncoming traffic.

  Once we make it inside the hospital and our heart rates return to normal, I’m met with the sobering reality of George’s surgery. This time we’re directed to the cardiac ward and find Liam in the waiting area, looking worn and clutching the empty coffee cup in his hand. We’re soon joined by an emotional Juliet, and I introduce her to Liam. I can’t help notice Juliet swoon at the sight of Liam, though he seems to not notice. After waiting forever, to the point where we’re all nodding off and bleary eyed from the overhead fluorescent lights, a weary-looking doctor decked in head-to-toe scrubs finally arrives and addresses our little group.

  “Has anyone been able to contact Mr. Harris’ immediate family?” he asks.

  “I called and left messages for his son and grandson,” Liam says, “but, they’re both out East, so they wouldn’t have made it out yet anyway.”


  The doctor nods and continues. “Once we located the blockage, we had to perform a triple-bypass surgery on Mr. Harris. The surgery went as expected, and we’re hopeful he will make a full recovery.” We all give whoops of relief, and there are smiles all around. “However,” the doctor says, and our heads snap back to attention, “at this time, and for at least twenty-four hours, Mr. Harris will remain in critical condition. We’ve done all we can do at this time, so it’s up to Mr. Harris’ body to take over from here.” We nod and thank the doctor, but he’s already walking away.

  I glance at my phone and am floored to see it’s 1:17 a.m.! “Guys, I’ve got to go,” I say, jumping up with alarm. “Talk tomorrow!”

  I slip into an elevator just as it closes, not bothering to wait for my friends. I have to get home—this is so unfair to Dad.

  I hop a bus back to Kits, and arrive home to a darkened house. I fumble for my keys, and when I finally open the front door, Piper comes running. He—or is it she?—greets me with wide eyes and starts a chorus of ear-piercing meows. I sigh and crouch down beside her for a little pat.

  “Don’t worry,” I coo, “your papa’s going to be just fine.” The cat purrs and rubs her silky coat against me, as though it understands what I’m saying. “We should probably get you fed,” I say, realizing I’ll have to look after it.

  In George’s kitchen, a few dishes litter the counter. Everything is old and worn but clean enough, which is somewhat of a relief. If it were a disaster, I guess I’d have to clean it for his homecoming. I spot the cat dishes with plenty of food and water, so I switch off the lights and use the flashlight from my phone to navigate the stairs.

  I swing open the attic door and tiptoe inside. The room is cloaked in darkness, so I shine my phone around. The canopy of my bed is open, and I can make out the girls’ sleeping frames. But—wait, there’s a third small figure the size of a child in the bed. What the…? I shine the light and slowly approach.

  Oh God! Riley’s freakish face is grinning back at me. I almost scream, clapping my hand over my mouth as I stare at the puppet with horror, and shudder at the sight of that face. My heart hammers in my chest and I’m panting, trying to catch my breath. Riley is lying on the other side of Rory and her hand is holding his. I frown and loosen her grip from the freakish dummy. Now, where’s Dad? I shine my light to the sitting area and make out Dad’s slumped outline in one of the chairs. Poor guy. I creep across the room to him, almost tripping on toys along the way.