The Living Room

by Rolfe, Bill

  * * *

  By morning, a fever had struck. Claire offered to spend the day at home with him.

  “Don’t worry, I’m just working inside today,” he assured her.

  The phone rang and Claire offered to get it, allowing him to stay in bed.

  “Hello, Mr. Clay’s residence.” She spoke as a formal and aged butler would, while smiling toward him in bed.

  “Oh, good morning, Brenda. I was just heading in. I see. Well Daniel’s a little sick. Yes, I understand, let me…” She wondered how to ask.

  “I’m fine. Tell them to come on out.”

  “Yes, that’s fine then, Brenda. Come on over, and I’ll see you tonight. Oh and could you bring some syrup for me? Little Danny’s got a cold.”

  She hung up and walked over to his side, sitting as close as she could. Taking his once damaged hand and kissing his tiny scar, she was overcome with her love for him.

  “I’m so glad you’re bad with a hammer.” She left him with a kiss and headed out the door to work.

  Alone and free to succumb to his fever, Daniel felt his forehead. It wasn’t as hot to the touch as he had expected, but his whole body was sweltering from within. He ran a cool bath and hoped it would offset his discomfort.

  He sat in the bath and dreamed about his good fortune in meeting Claire. He laughed inside about her hammering comment and wishing it hadn’t taken such an embarrassing and painful incident to bring about their chance encounter. Nonetheless, he was grateful and allowed himself to fantasize about their introduction while he let the cool water soothe him.

  The door opened and he heard voices as someone entered the house.

  “Hello?” he cried out from the tub.

  “Yes, Daniel. It’s Brenda, and I’ve got a friend with me.”

  He knew without question this was more than a friend. He would have company upstairs for the night.

  Once dressed, he headed for the kitchen to make some breakfast.

  Brenda entered the room. “I brought David over with me. His parents will be stopping by tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

  “Of course, it’s great.” He coughed slightly.

  “He asked to meet you. He says he’s never met an American before but heard your accent is quite funny.”

  Daniel never thought of himself as having an accent and, between coughs, suggested, “Well, as you can see, I have a bit of a cold. I wouldn’t want to…”

  He realized as he spoke that passing on a cold at this point was probably an irrelevant concern.

  “Right, maybe I’ll just go up to say hello and amuse him with my accent,” he said sarcastically.

  The climb up the stairs was difficult. His achy body strained and he tried to suppress his worsening cough.

  “Hello, David. I’m Daniel.”

  The boy responded as if he were the one that should be in the bed.

  “Your voice isn’t that funny.”

  “I’m sorry. I could try another one?” He attempted a laugh. Then he coughed louder, choosing to sit across the room out of consideration.

  “Are you sick too?”

  “Yes, I have a cold.”

  “Well, that won’t kill you,” the boy said with a blank look in his eyes.

  Silence.

  Daniel sat up, reminding himself that, yes, of course he would recover. “So do you like cars?” he asked the boy.

  “Not really. I’m too young to drive one, and I probably never will.” He had a calm understanding of his destiny.

  “I see. Well, what kind of things do you like?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you like riding your bicycle?” Daniel noticed a helmet with stickers on it next to the bed.

  “No,” David responded, somewhat puzzled, and then realized the object of Daniel’s attention.

  “I have to wear that when I’m not in bed.”

  “I see,” Daniel answered, noting the pain on his face from the embarrassment he’d surely felt from the teasing of other children. “Well, I think it’s a cool helmet. I’m just going to make something to eat. Do you want anything?”

  “No thanks. I need to get some rest,” the boy continued to speak as if wise beyond his age.

  “Okay, well get some rest, and I’ll come up and chat with you later, and I’ll bring a funnier voice next time.”

  The boy, unimpressed, rolled over to sleep.

  In the kitchen, Daniel tried to learn a little more about his new housemate from Brenda. “I noticed a helmet next to the bed. Does he have a concussion?”

  “No, David has a tumor. It’s inoperable and taking over his brain. He gets faint sometimes and just doesn’t need any bumps to the head. Is it all right if I have some toast?” She changed the subject robotically.

  “Yes, of course, as much as you want.” He wondered if he could now accept this kind of news and continue to eat and discuss topics so nonchalantly.

  He gathered some snacks and headed to bed, coughing louder, which gained some attention from Brenda.

  “I put some syrup next to the bed for you.”

  “Thanks, Brenda,” he said after clearing his throat.

  He was asleep when Claire arrived home. She went in to talk with David. She had known him for some time and her attachment to him was more than she wished for. They chatted for over an hour about their day and caught up on the latest medical news from one another. David read medical journals in hopes of finding a cure for himself. Exhausted from her day, and weary of Daniel’s cold, she fell asleep in the chair.

  Daniel woke late in the evening and was concerned to find his bed half-empty. He labored up the stairs, struggling to keep his cough at a muted volume so as not to wake the boy. He discovered her asleep, holding the medical book she had obviously been reading to him. As he smiled, he unwillingly let out an unexpected cough, waking the two from their sleep.

  “Daniel, what are you…what time is it?” she said, coming to her senses.

  “I’m sorry, dear, and to you, David. I just came up to see if you were here.”

  David was unimpressed. He also showed his protectiveness over Claire. “Well, we are both here and were both sleeping, until now.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”

  “I’m coming to bed too. I’ll be right down,” Claire responded.

  Claire gathered up her things, and David asked, “Do you share a bed with him?”

  The question caught her off guard, but amused her at the same time.

  “Go back to sleep, David.”

  He rolled over and returned to sleep, his face showing signs of resentment.

  Downstairs, she climbed into the bed and took Daniel’s hand, while allowing a distance between them because of his coughing, “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I guess I fell asleep reading. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’ll get better. I’m not too sure our guest likes me very much, though.”

  Claire smiled. “I’ve known David for about a year. Brenda says he’s a little jealous over me.”

  “Well, he should be jealous.” Daniel coughed uncontrollably into his hand. “Just not tonight, I guess,” he added.

  She turned out the light and they both struggled to sleep amidst the sounds his chest was making.

  * * *

  David’s parents arrived in the morning. They were quite pleased with the surroundings but wished he were home with them, just the same. He didn’t feel well today and complained of a high fever. They spent a few hours at his side and prepared to leave in order to give him time to rest.

  Daniel sat alone in the kitchen reading the paper and was interrupted by the footsteps coming downstairs.

  “Mr. Clay?” the mother said.

  “Yes, come on in,” Daniel invited her.

  “We just wanted to thank you for allowing David to stay.”

  “Please have a seat.”

  Both of David’s parents sat, at first just to be polite, but they ended up taking an hour to let ou
t all they were keeping inside. Daniel learned about the rest of their family— David’s older brother and the sister two years younger—and the hole in their lives from not having David at home much anymore.

  Daniel listened attentively and asked questions about their beliefs and experiences, trying to understand what it must feel like to manage life under such circumstances. They were brave and also scared, not thinking too far ahead with any plans.

  After they left, he took to his bed to rest his body and throat, which were both tender after the visit and conversation. In bed, he could hear the boy moaning through the vent. David’s fever almost reached through the walls, calling out for relief. Daniel readied himself for a trip up the stairs. Though concerned about his own illness, he wanted to check on David to see if he could help in any way.

  He found the boy covered in sweat, his eyes almost swollen shut with the fever. Daniel quickly masked his cough and pulled a chair up near to the bed. He tried to speak to David but Brenda interrupted him.

  “Daniel,” she ordered in her loudest whisper, “back to bed, and let him sleep! You both need rest.”

  “He’s burning up.”

  “I know. I’m going to give him a shot in a minute that will help; now down you go.”

  “All right, let me just say good night.” He was hinting for a moment of privacy.

  Brenda left the room and retired to the kitchen to prepare the medication for David.

  Outside the window, Daniel noticed the sun falling behind the waterline. The sky was just dark enough to display a few of the brighter stars. As before, he focused on the brightest one. “Hang in there, buddy. Brenda is coming back with something to help your fever.”

  He checked over his shoulder to ensure that the two of them were alone and then took David’s hand. Turning his gaze toward the window, he placed his other hand on the boy’s forehead. Closing his eyes now, he prayed to himself.

  “Please, Lord, he is too young to suffer this way. Take from me as you wish to help this boy and heal his pain. Heal him and the secret will be kept with me.”

  Again and again, like a rehearsed mantra, he prayed for the boy’s relief from pain and spoke of gratitude for his own fortunes.

  “Okay, Daniel, off to bed.” Brenda reappeared with the proper dosage. “Claire will be home soon.”

  He wished them both a good night and retired slowly to his room, his cough now coming more frequently.

  Chapter 11

  * * *

  As the sun rose, Daniel woke up with a worsening fever. Through the vent, he could hear Claire talking to David upstairs and wondered how he had missed her coming in last night.

  Downstairs checking on her other patient, Claire asked, “How are you feeling this morning, sweetheart?”

  “I didn’t even hear you come in last night, I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, think nothing of it. I could see you were lucky to be asleep with that fever. I’m making you a special tea to bring it down, and I’m staying home today. Brenda had some things to take care of in town.”

  They spent the morning together talking in bed about her family and the years of home care she had given her mother. Claire had no regrets, but it was obvious the responsibility had taken its toll on her.

  Daniel had never witnessed his parents growing old, becoming sick, or needing assistance. He recounted the accident in which they had perished and how his life had changed from that day forward.

  In the late afternoon, David called for Claire. She rushed up to see him. He was fine but showed a degree of jealousy over her time with Daniel.

  “Can you please stay up here for a little while? It’s just a cold. You know he’ll be better in a few days.”

  “Of course, I will stay. Let me get a cloth for your head, and we’ll go through that chapter in the new journal you wanted to hear about.”

  “I don’t need a cloth today. Let’s just get to reading.”

  “Well, can I get you anything? How does your head feel?”

  “It’s great, actually, but I’m bored, and the only thing giving me a headache is all that coughing downstairs.”

  Claire smiled as his protectiveness shone through the words. She picked up the medical journal and read aloud the paragraphs on tumor treatments and the latest radical therapies. David listened intently, as if every word were important to his own future. Claire tutored him chapter after chapter; case study findings and opinions from all over the globe were of interest to them both.

  David was fixated on his nurse. He not only enjoyed her readings for the education, but also for the time alone with her. She was his angel and his first crush. He only wished that, in her presence, he were a man. Her every hand gesture, lip movement, and animated body motion electrified him. He often thought ahead to when the next opportunity to spend time with her would present itself.

  * * *

  The next morning, Daniel’s nurse woke him from a peaceful rest. But the one who sat beside him holding a thermometer was Brenda.

  “I sure hope that’s for under my tongue,” he joked, hoping for a laugh.

  “Of course it is, Daniel. I wouldn’t want to see your good side.”

  Brenda took his temperature and shook her head in frustration with the noise that was taking place upstairs.

  “My goodness,” she said, observing the ceiling.

  When Daniel tried to inquire what was going on, her irritation was diverted toward him. “Don’t speak! And hold still.”

  He waited until she finished attending to the thermometer and asked again, “What’s going on up there? Is everything okay?”

  “He’s having one of his tantrums. There is a lot of anger in that young man.”

  “What is he upset about?”

  “The world, mostly. Today he’s upset because Claire’s not here. He’s feeling better, though, so I’ve called his parents to come and take him home.”

  “Is it safe for him to go home?” Daniel remembered that he had not come here to heal.

  “Hey, Brenda, can I ask you something?”

  “You can ask,” she replied in a tone that said an answer shouldn’t be expected.

  “Why do you like this flute music so much?” he referred to the record that she played every day that she was in charge.

  “I guess it just reminds me of the past.”

  “Why? Did you know the person on the record?”

  Brenda stayed silent, hoping to avoid the conversation.

  “Is it you playing?”

  “Your temperature is still quite high. I’ll get you a new cloth.” She tried to avoid the subject.

  “Brenda, I don’t mean to pry, but is that you playing on the record?”

  “What if it is?” She was defensive. “You don’t seem to care much for it anyways.”

  “No, I was just teasing you about it. Actually, it’s really good, I’m starting to get used to it. So do you play professionally?”

  Brenda paused before her admission. “I did at one time, but it was a long time ago.”

  She fidgeted with the cloth in her hands. It was obvious that she had never shared this secret with anyone before.

  “Hearing about my life isn’t going to help your cold any, Daniel.” She stood to get him a new cloth.

  “No, but it helps me know you better. And I’d like to.”

  She felt the sincerity in his voice, so Brenda sat at the edge of the bed again to explain.

  She relived the events as if they had happened the day before. “It was a long time ago. I had played the flute since I was about seven or eight. After my schooling was complete, I got married and wanted to start a family. I started playing for small gatherings to help out at home, so we could afford a child.

  “I was offered the chance to go traveling with an orchestra for a year.” She smiled in remembrance. “But it was then that I became pregnant with our first and only son, Gregory Jr.

  “Anyway, my son was born quite premature and he lived only a week short of seeing his first
birthday.” The painful memories were now apparent on her face.

  “I spent the entire year in that hospital, and every night, I would bring my instrument out and play for him. I guess I hoped it would help him in some way, but it didn’t.”

  Daniel reached for her hand to comfort her.

  “Nothing could have helped my son with the body he was born into.” She paused in reflection.

  “But, those nurses, they tried everything. They helped me more than anyone to get through it. I admired them, and I wanted to be like them. So I packed away my flute, went to nursing school, and here I am today.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here, and I’m sure your music helped more than you know.” Daniel squeezed her hand.

  “So, do you still have your flute?” he asked.

  “Oh probably, packed away somewhere.”

  She thanked him for listening and felt an unfamiliar calmness about sharing a story that she had always assumed would be kept to herself.

  * * *

  Later in the day, David’s parents arrived to take him home. While they thanked Brenda for her care, David escaped the room to say a few words to Daniel while he lay in bed. This was the first time that Daniel saw him in his helmet. He tried to sit up straight to converse.

  “Thank you for letting me stay here. I’m sorry about all the noise I made. Sometimes I get mad.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Sometimes I get mad too. You’re welcome to come back anytime and visit.” He coughed loudly into his hands and struggled to maintain his posture, half-upright in the bed.

  “Thanks.” David turned to leave the room but couldn’t. He could only make it to the doorway before he stopped again and, without gazing back, politely requested, “Take care of her. She helps a lot of people. She deserves to be taken care of.”

  “I will. I promise I’ll take care of her every day, the best I can.”

  Reluctantly accepting that it would never be him in Daniel’s place, the boy nodded and left the room. Daniel was left to ponder over his luck in finding such a jewel.