Folly Beach

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “Don’t worry,” the doctor said, “we’ve got a few of those around here. But she won’t need it tonight. I’m going to admit her to intensive care and run some tests.”

  “Intensive care! Oh Lord!” Ella said.

  “Don’t worry. I’m putting her there because she’ll get the best care there. Her blood pressure is dangerously high and her breathing is very labored. She’s definitely got some kind of an infection. I’m going to give her a breathing tube to help her get the oxygen she needs until we can get her fever down. You folks can go on home if you want or you can wait until we get her in a room.”

  “I’m staying,” I said.

  “I ain’t moving from her side,” Ella said.

  “I’ll go get us some coffee,” John said. “If you leave here just send me a text where to find you, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said and took a deep breath, starting to relax somewhat.

  It was going to be a very long night.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Setting: The top of a sand dune near the front door of the Porgy House.

  Director’s Note: Photos of the sunset on Folly, sand dunes, Romeo’s Streetcar, George Gershwin, an alligator, Gertrude Stein, Edna St. Vincent Millay, and Amy Lowell on the backstage scrim. Voice of DuBose comes from off-stage.

  Act III

  Scene 1

  Dorothy: I remember one night, when the waiting for Gershwin was coming to a head, and after a quick dinner of leftover baked chicken and potatoes that was boring enough to peel the paint from the walls, DuBose and I were enjoying another spectacular winter sunset from the top of a sand dune no more than twenty yards from our front door. I surely did love the late of day after supper when it seemed like the world quieted down. I considered it my great reward for being industrious in the kitchen and tenacious in my dealings with Gershwin.

  We were reluctant to venture too far from the house, because I had just tucked in Jenifer for the night and she wasn’t always perfectly compliant with her bedtime. If she thought she had been left home alone she would be hysterical for weeks. That said, I calculated the odds and decided that the advent of the purple and red streaks that slashed the horizon . . . ? Well, were they worth risking the wrath of our high-spirited child with her tall tales? Neither DuBose nor I ever imagined the energy it would take to be parents. I was beginning to think she was too vague and forgetful for her own good and had no idea how to deal with that. I usually did a lot of sighing when the day was done.

  “Look at this sky! I’ve never seen such colors!” I said.

  DuBose laughed a little, charmed I hoped, that I was always so taken by the majesty of the sunsets. He took them all for granted I suppose, but now that he was seeing the Lowcountry anew through my eyes I thought well, maybe this part of the world seemed like a slightly different place.

  “Mr. Heyward! Are you laughing at me?”

  “Absolutely not! I am thinking that being here and in this moment, I am a very rich man.” He smiled and dropped his chin in a manner that suggested knowing all the intimate details about me and stared at me lovingly with his enormous brown eyes.

  “Oh, DuBose, you could coax the birds from the trees. You really could. Say, have you heard from George lately?”

  “Yes, my little Dorothy. In fact, I got a letter from him today. How did you know?”

  “I could feel the literal heaviness of its arrival in the air,” I said and rolled my eyes toward the sky. “The importance of it, the vibration of his words on paper . . .”

  “Oh, come on now . . .”

  “Oh, all right. I saw the envelope under the egg carton from Romeo’s. But before we get to King George, how is old Romeo? What did he have to say for himself? What’s he up to?”

  “Still living in his streetcar and still selling eggs. I was on my way to see Mrs. Rabon to collect the mail when I heard him calling out his song. Romeo’s got fresh eggs! I thought, now, who could resist that?” He took my hand in his and kissed the back of it.

  “Oh, DuBose. Hmmm. You’re right. You know, Folly has such wonderful characters, doesn’t it? So much color! Maybe we should write a play about it.”

  “Let’s.”

  He took my other hand and kissed the back of that one, too. I thought well, someone has ooh la la on his mind!

  “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

  “Moonlight.” He raised his eyebrows and wiggled them like the evil landlord. “I am bewitched by you again!”

  “It’s not even dark yet, DuBose. And so, darling, there is no moonlight.”

  “A minor and very unimportant detail.”

  “Hmmm. Yes.” Sometimes my husband was a romantic rascal. “Maybe I’ll make egg salad for tomorrow’s lunch. Jenifer loves egg salad.”

  “So do I. Even though it’s probably good for my health.”

  “Oh, not after I’m finished with it.” Somehow I could rarely get the right amount of mayonnaise in it.

  Soon, the sun slipped away and the sky was still streaked with scarlet, mango, and another shade of red that was the color of a glass of old port wine. I leaned into DuBose and put my arm around his waist. “Glory, I could stay here all night but let’s start back. This is so beautiful but I want to be able to hear Jen.”

  “All right,” he said. We turned and began to climb down the dune. “You know, I love the beach here but we’re going to have to be very careful about Jenifer playing in the ocean this summer.”

  “Well, of course we will but why in the world are you bringing this up now? It’s the dead of February.”

  “Well, when I was over in Mazo’s buying bread, I heard these two fellows talking about sharks.”

  “Sharks!” I stopped dead in my tracks.

  “Yes. Sharks. Those dastardly things with the big teeth and insatiable appetites? I never knew about them, either, but it seems we’ve got a smattering of about ten different varieties swimming around here. Tiger sharks, bonnetheads, hammerheads, lemon sharks, blacknose sharks, and I don’t remember what else but it’s pretty frightening to consider, isn’t it?”

  “Mercy, DuBose! I doubt you’ll ever see Jenifer or me in water above our ankles!”

  “Me, either. But when old George gets down here this summer, he’s definitely coming in June, I’ll bet he dives right into the waves and swims to Sullivans Island.”

  So. He was definitely coming. I was very, very relieved and I had learned what I wanted to know.

  “Mr. Rhapsody in Blue. Humph. Wait until he sees his first alligator! That will give him a little religion. So what did his letter say? You didn’t tell me.”

  “Not much. He’s working on spirituals for Act I. He went to see Four Saints in Three Acts, Gertrude Stein’s new opera. Hated the libretto, loved the music. He sends you and Jenifer his best.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “He’s not much of a fan of Stein’s writing anyway. Never has been.”

  “Well, I am,” I said. “I think we should get her down here to speak at the Poetry Society, don’t you?” DuBose held the front door open for me to enter. “Thanks sweetheart.” I loved his impeccable Southern manners and thought many times that he could have served as the United States ambassador to anywhere in the world.

  “You’re welcome. Why not? I don’t know how well she’ll be received but no doubt she’ll be more popular than, who was it?”

  “Millay.”

  “Ah, yes. Edna St. Vincent Millay. What was it that she did that so offended our blue-blooded natives?”

  “You don’t remember? You must be kidding me.”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, pardon me DuBose but a lady does not discuss her relationship to the cycles of the tides and the phases of the moon in mixed company or at all for that matter.”

  “Ah yes, that’s what I was trying to forget. But I think our guest poet considered herself to be quite above anyone’s disdain. She was a very free spirit, wasn’t she? As was Amy Lowell . . .”

  “Who smoke
d cigars and said that our gardens in Charleston weren’t exactly dazzling? That’s just poor manners if you ask me.”

  “I suppose . . .”

  “I’ll never forget how she asked everyone why she was never invited to dinner. How awkward!”

  “Well, darling she’s from Boston,” DuBose said with his eyebrow in an arch, “and a scandal herself, to the Old Guard here anyway. She didn’t know that we ate our dinners in the middle of the day. How could she? But she was invited to loads of cocktail parties.”

  “Yes. Yes, as I remember, she was everywhere. You know around ten years ago there was some fellow who claimed that cocktail parties were invented in Charleston. Do you remember that? Who was that man?”

  “Don’t know, but I daresay the poor man simply didn’t understand the mechanics of how things are done around here. Which would be easy to believe.”

  “Well, it should have been plain to see, really. I mean, it’s just a practical matter. Why shouldn’t our help be able to go back home for the evening? Just leave us a haunch of something we can carve up and a good strong bowl of planter’s punch and what else do you need for a party?” I said that as though I had a liveried staff of ten at our cottage, waiting to carve and pour. Besides, we went to many more parties than we gave.

  “You only need interesting guests.”

  “And maybe a basket of biscuits. Well, my darling DuBose, there’s been no shortage of interesting visitors to this fair city. Anyway, I think Miss Stein is better heeled than Miss Lowell was and would make a wonderful guest. We’ll have the whole town begging to come hear her.”

  “You might be right. I’ll ask Bennett about it when I go into town. You know, we’re awfully close to finishing up the libretto for Porgy and Bess. Awfully close.”

  “Praise the Lord!” I rubbed my hands up and down my upper arms. “Is there a chill in here or is it me?”

  “No, it’s chilly. Tell you what. I’ll check the furnace and pour us a little cognac. How does that sound?”

  “Oh, DuBose! You always know the perfect thing to do.”

  That’s how it went with DuBose and me. Sweet and easy. I remember that night so well because we were that much closer to finishing Porgy and Bess, that much closer to Gershwin’s arrival, and that much closer to some financial relief.

  Fade to Darkness

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The Hospital

  We stayed at the hospital the whole night. Aunt Daisy was moved to intensive care and was receiving antibiotics and fluids through her IV. She had a heart monitor, a catheter, a blood pressure monitor cuff, and a pulse oximeter attached to her fingertip. The mere sight of the breathing tube scared me to death. The machines were blinking and making sounds in step with her pulse. Ella and I stood around the room waiting, waiting for what I’m not sure, but we waited all the same. Risley had fallen asleep in a geri-chair in the hall that reclined, and was snoring a little now and then. His snoring was the only thing that brought the occasional smile to our faces.

  “He’s a sweet man, huh?” Ella said.

  “The sweetest,” I said. “I should send him home. He’s got classes in the morning.”

  “Let him rest for a little while,” Ella said. “He looks so comfortable.”

  Completely sedated, Aunt Daisy was breathing a little easier but there was no other improvement that I could detect. And for as frightening as it was to see her in a hospital bed hooked up to all the machines and apparatus that she needed, I was so deeply relieved she was here.

  We took turns going in and out of the room, sitting with her, and Aunt Daisy didn’t budge an inch or bat an eye. She was a very sick lady. Before long, the sun was coming up and Dr. Ragone came into the room.

  “You’re still here?” I said, following him inside.

  “Yes. I never sleep.”

  Ella jumped up from her chair at the sight of him.

  “How’s our patient?” he asked her.

  “Quiet as a mouse.” She smiled at him.

  “So, ladies, I wanted to stay until we got the blood work results because I was so curious. And here’s the news. It’s not meningitis, rabies, strychnine poisoning, or any of the other things that have these symptoms.”

  “Then what in the world? What does she have?”

  “Well, in my thirty years of medicine I’ve only seen one other case of this and that’s really why I stayed. I’m pretty sure it’s tetanus. Do you know when was the last time she had a tetanus shot?”

  “No, but we can call her primary-care physician as soon as the office opens,” I said.

  “Well, I put her on metronidazole, which is a broad-spectrum antibiotic that will take care of it if it is tetanus. I suspect that when she cut her arm she probably took a spill.”

  “She never said she fell down,” Ella said.

  “That doesn’t mean she didn’t,” I said and Ella winked at me in agreement.

  “So,” Dr. Ragone continued, “I’m thinking she fell in a sandy area, some spores got into her wound and released bacteria into her bloodstream. That bacteria makes a poison called tetanospasmin, not that you’ll ever come across that word again, but anyway it blocks nerve signals, causing spasms. The spasms are what got my attention. And the drooling. You don’t usually get those symptoms with something like pneumonia. It had to be a poison.”

  “Gosh,” I said.

  “Gotta go to school for a long time to learn all this mess,” Ella said.

  “You’re telling me?” the doctor said.

  How many times had I watched the television doctors on House call a diagnosis of some obscure disease and they were right? It was all about the diagnosis.

  “Who gets tetanus anymore?” I said.

  “Not too many people, but what people don’t know could kill them. First of all, tetanus shots are only good for about ten years. And second, tetanus bacteria can lie dormant in your yard for forty years. That’s why I tell all my patients to get a shot on their thirtieth birthday, their fortieth birthday, and so on.”

  “That ain’t no way to celebrate a birthday,” Ella said.

  “Then get it ten days later,” Dr. Ragone said with a big smile. “I don’t want you ladies to worry about Ms. McInerny. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be fine. She’ll sleep most of the day today. The sedative I gave her really knocks you out. It’s better for her to keep quiet with that tube, you know? If everything goes well, I’ll probably send her home in a few days but remember, she’ll need to be in a quiet room with dim light. I’ll give you a prescription for an ointment that should take care of that arm, too.”

  Ella had tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad you were here, Dr. Ragone. So grateful,” she said.

  “Well, thanks. And it’s a good thing y’all brought her in because her symptoms could’ve become much worse in a hurry.”

  “Good Lord,” I said. “Oh! What about her broken foot?”

  “I’ll have the geriatric orthopedic guy come around and pay her a visit,” he said. He gave us a little wave and the door whooshed to a close behind him.

  Ella narrowed her eyes and looked at me. “Who’s that fool calling geriatric?”

  “Really! He’s got some nerve.” I looked at my watch. It was just after five thirty in the morning. “I wonder if the cafeteria is open.”

  John was completely fast asleep in the chair so I left him a note. Gone downstairs for breakfast. If you wake up come join us. xx

  We made our way down endless halls and elevators and found the restaurant. They were just opening up. There was a large lady there, an employee whose apparent job it was to load the buffet’s steam table with large stainless-steel containers of scrambled eggs, grits, oatmeal, and so on. She carried out tray after tray from the kitchen and dropped them in their designated positions. She looked up through weary eyes, spotted us, and smiled sympathetically. We weren’t the only ones she’d seen on the first light of morning, people straggling in through the doorways after being up all night, waiting for a doctor or a
diagnosis or for their loved one to just open their eyes. How many people did she see, exhausted from worry, numb with fear. I realized then we were a familiar sight to her, Ella and me. Just two more soldiers from the countless ranks who scoured the fields for their maimed and dead, scooping them up, rushing them to safety. As good as the food was in their cafeteria, and it was reputed to be amazingly good for hospital fare, it would never attract an outside clientele. No one was there who didn’t have to be. We were as sorry as we could be to have to say we belonged there.

  “There’s coffee,” she said, and pointed to the hot-beverage area. “Y’all help yourself. We’ll be opening up in just a few minutes.”

  “Thanks,” we said, poured two cups, and went back out to the atrium to take a seat at a table.

  We mixed the fake cream in our cups with wooden stirrers and sighed hard.

  “What do you think?” Ella said.

  “I think, I think . . . I’m thinking so many things. How about you?”

  “I’m thinking what a damn fool I was to decide I could take care of her at home.”

  “Ella, I think it’s really hard to know when it’s time to call for help.”

  “I should have known.”

  “Not necessarily. I mean, look, if someone has a heart attack and they’re lying on the floor then it’s obvious. You call 911. But this was strange and mysterious. Me? I thought it was a bad case of the flu or bronchitis. I never would have guessed tetanus. Not in a million years.”

  “I feel so bad, I mean, I should have forced her to go to the doctor sooner.”

  “Ella! Quit blaming yourself. Didn’t you give me Harper’s number and wouldn’t she have been in a doctor’s office in a couple of hours anyway? You were on it.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Ella looked so sad. I took her hand and said, “Look, what if she didn’t have you? What if she was all alone? If you think about it that way, she’s pretty lucky. Isn’t she?”

  A few minutes later I looked up into John’s face. He had a little stubble but other than that he looked perfect. Because he was.