HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout

by Bill Orton

  “I can’t believe I didn’t bring blankets,” said December. “The girls hurt, they’re so cold.”

  “You can have my jacket,” said Larry, unzipping his straight-out’ta-the-’70s down jacket.

  “I should’a told Lori to bring two of what she’s got on, cuz she looks warm,” said December, as, in the distance, standing poolside, Lori stood in her long, lined windbreaker that went almost to her ankles. December sipped from her cup. “I hope she wins fast so we can go someplace warm.”

  At the pool, Lori removed her cloak and stretched, bent, and then shook each leg. As she walked, it was with the barest limp. December screamed, “Go Soldier Girl!” Lori looked up towards the bleachers and smiled.

  “Is she a soldier?” asked the teenaged girl sitting next to December.

  “All Army,” said December.

  “Ho-yah!” said the girl. “My dad’s Army. He’s in Bahrain.”

  Lori and a line of swimmers took their places on the line of blocks and, as one, drew into a crouch. On a gunshot, the swimmers dove and swam. Lori and two others made quick time in leading the pack. In the stands, December chanted, “Ar-MEE! Ar-MEE!” which was picked up by the family next to her. By the third lap, dozens of people in the bleachers were chanting. Lori and a second swimmer led the pack by a wide distance at the two-minute mark. Lori would pull ahead and the other swimmer would close the gap. As Lori entered the last lap, Larry, December, the teenager, her family and about a dozen others in the stands stood, yelling, “Ar-MEEEE! “ With a splash, Lori and the second swimmer reached the finish at nearly the same moment, followed five seconds later by the rest of the pack. In the pool, Lori looked up towards the bleachers, smiling.

  The scoreboard at pool’s edge flashed times. “L.L. Lewis – 04:10.03.”

  “Is dat good?” yelled December.

  “I think so,” said Larry.

  “Two can qualify,” said the teen. “And she did really good. She your sister?”

  “Something like,” said December.

  “You guys look totally different.”

  .

  December ran straight into Lori and wrapped her arms and as much of her body as she could into an engulfing hug. “Baby! You were so good!”

  Lori smiled and put one arm around December’s shoulder. “When do you know if you are going to the Olympics?”

  “C’mon,” said Lori, laughing lightly. “We’re not even done with the 400 meters. I’ve still got the hundred, two hundred and eight hundred. I got a lot of heats.”

  December pulled Lori’s swim coat open, popping the snaps in one motion. “Dat’s what I want. Some heat. Let me in dere.” She quickly inserted herself into the flaps of the coat and pulled herself tight to Lori’s body. “Yeh,” she purred. “How long before you swim again? Maybe we could go somewhere and… you know.”

  Larry walked up to the two, carrying two styrofoam cups. “Hot chocolate or coffee?”

  “Dee, I’m a little busy,” said Lori, as she kissed December. “I gotta stay focused, okay?”

  “No!” said December snuggling in.

  Lori laughed. “I’ll take the chocolate, Bix.”

  “The hot chocolate? Really?”

  “Share?” asked December.

  .

  “I wish she’d worn the suit I gave her,” said December, as Lori stood at the block for the finals in the 400 meter women’s freestyle.

  “There are really strict rules about suits,” said the teen next to Larry and December. “You can get disqualified for having the wrong suit or cap.”

  “They should be hot, like the one I gave her,” muttered December.

  As the gun sounded, Lori’s launch left her at the end of the pack. She closed the distance by the end of the first lap, but never made her way deep into the pack and, despite a burst of speed in the final lap, lagged, coming in sixth. Climbing out of the pool, the limp was pronounced.

  December got up and quickly made her way down the bleachers to the area where she could wait for the swimmers, with Larry following. The teenager followed Larry. When they arrived at the open area, December had attached herself to Lori, and a woman in her 80s stood next to the two, she and Lori locked in an intense conversation as Larry and the teen approached.

  “To meet Adlington,” the woman said to Lori, “you must see through the pain and the pack.”

  “Hey, Mrs. Pat’s Champs,” said Larry. “Lori, are you okay?”

  Pat McCormack went button-lipped, nodded politely to Larry and smiled to the teen, before stepping a few feet back.

  “Horrible leg cramp,” said Lori. “… Happens.”

  December loosened her two-armed wrapping grip on Lori and pulled back so she just held one arm around Lori’s waist. The teen stepped forward. “Miss Lewis? You’re Army? I hope you win.”

  “Thanks,” said Lori. “Um… what’s your name?”

  “Mary,” said the girl. “Mary Elisa. My dad’s in Bahrain.”

  “She is a real champion,” Pat said, to the teen. “The real thing.”

  “Well, just keep loving your dad and hug him extra big when he comes home,” said Lori, reaching out to wrap her arm around the teen.

  “Okay,” said the girl, as she hugged Lori, and then turned, jogging back to the bleachers.

  “Are those for this match?” asked Larry, pointing to the board, which showed Lori in fourth.

  Lori let loose a sigh. “Those are the 400 overalls,” she said. “Missed a slot by two.”

  “For the Olympics?” asked December.

  “No, Dee… qualifying for the nationals,” said Lori. “The top two at Nationals go to London….” Lori gently pulled December to her and kissed her forehead, as December wrapped her arms around the narrowest part of Lori’s waist. “Pumpkin, I gotta get back to it, okay?”

  “So you’re not going to London?” asked Larry.

  “Not for the 400 meters,” she said, gently pulling December to her and smiling to Larry. “Maybe for the one-, two- and eight hundred, but no matter what, I got it pretty good.”

  .

  Lori lay back in the leather of the rented limo, as Larry opened a can of club soda. “Seltzer?” he asked.

  “Yeh, I’ll take that,” said Lori, sitting up end reaching for the glass. “And a glass… fancy.”

  “Now dat yer not training, can you have a French fry?” asked December.

  Lori laughed. “I’ll have some of yours, sure.”

  December climbed to the seat next to the smoked glass that separated the driver from the passengers and tapped on the glass, which lowered. “Sweetie, when you see a Mickey-Dee’s, pull in, okay?”

  “So is the Olympics thing done then?” asked Larry.

  “I suppose one of the qualifiers from today could get hurt or something before the Nationals, but unless something like that happens, yeh, done,” said Lori.

  “Hey,” said December, “I got some thuggy friends who could take care of things for ya, if you know what I mean.” She smiled and lifted her eyebrows. Both she and Lori erupted in laughter. “Lunch is served,” said Larry, pointing to a pair of golden arches. The driver slowly threaded the limo into the narrow drive thru and Larry lowered the rear window, ordering three double cheeseburgers, two large fries, an apple-walnut salad, two grilled chicken snack wraps, a diet Coke, an unsweetened iced tea, a large coffee, an ice cream cone and six oatmeal raisin cookies.

  Larry collected his change off the hundred he gave the cashier and began passing bags and a drink tray to December and Lori. The two women placed the bags on top of the two refrigerators in the limo and began taking items out of the bags. December tapped on the glass again and when it lowered, she held one hand close to the driver’s shoulder. “Ralphie, want some fries?” December thrust a large container of fries forward, which the driver took.

  “Thank you, Miss,” said the driver.

  “Sure, sweetie.”

  The glass went back up and December crossed back to lay beside Lori, who was pick
ing at her salad. December fed her a French fry, playfully getting it into her mouth after several misses.

  “So did you need a coach and training camp and all that?” asked Larry.

  “I’ve had my coach since high school and Pat’s always been there for me, ever since I was a kid, so coaching’s covered,” said Lori. “I got invited to the trials through the swim club, and coach tells everyone that it’s strength, form and discipline, so you can’t go wrong there.”

  December felt Lori’s bicep. “You’re plenty strong, hunny,” she said, her hands on Lori’s body.

  “Strength is no problem,” said Lori, “but I kept losing my form, like when the cramp happened. If I had been more disciplined, I could have kept my form and swain through the cramp…. Guess that’s what separates the amateur from the champion.”

  “You did great out there,” said Larry.

  “You did, Soldier Girl,” said December.

  “Who was yelling?” asked Lori.

  “Oh, we had the whole crowd going,” said December. “Ar-MEEE!”

  Lori lay in the leather and smiled. December rested her head on Lori’s chest. Larry drank soda.

  .

  “Does five hundred cover it?” Larry asked, pulling five crumpled bills from his pocket.

  The driver, in his blue coat and beige slacks, smoothed out the hundred dollar bills, looking at each against the sky. “Oh, this is fine,” said Ralphie. “Thank you for a very good day rate.”

  “Look,” said Larry, as December and Lori made their way up to the main door of the mansion on Treasure Island. “I’d sort of like to have, you know, when I need someone, being able to call for help getting around.” Larry looked around, up, and then back to the driver. “Can I just… like, call? Or, maybe, hire you?”

  “I could give you a weekly rate, or you could buy a number of days within a given month,” said the driver. As he finished, the sound of a volcano erupting bellowed and Calvin stormed up the path, towards the limousine.

  “Maybe you should go,” said Larry. “He can be….”

  “Lawsuit, boy?” yelled Calvin, still a distance from the car. “You filed a goddamned lawsuit?”

  “That’s alright,” said Ralphie, calming looking to his driving gloves, which he slowly removed, pulling each finger before taking off the glove itself.

  “You don’t have to like what I did at the hospital, but you’re gonna sue me?” Calvin bent at the low front gate, unlatching the swinging door and still yelling until he stood a few feet from Larry. “Now that you have money to burn, why not take your old man to court? Is that it, boy?”

  “Will that be all, sir?” Ralphie asked Larry.

  “Actually,” said Larry, “can you come back? I wanna go see my grandma. She’s in the hospital.”

  Calvin, beating his arms onto his hips, walked rapidly in a furious circles “I don’t believe this.”

  “Like, in two hours,” said Larry.

  “Yes sir,” said Ralphie, climbing into the limo, leaving Larry and Calvin on the sidewalk.

  Two kids on bikes skidded to a stop next to the curb. “Is that your personal limo, mister?” asked one of the kids.

  “Beat it,” spat Calvin.

  “We weren’t talking to you, old man,” barked back the second kid.

  Larry lowered his head, needling his way past Calvin, and quickly up the path to the main door, with Calvin following, yelling, as Larry swiftly and without deviation got to the door, opened it and entered closing the door behind him. Calvin, reaching the door, turned the knob, but could not open the locked door. “You are fucking kidding me,” he yelled, pounding on the door.

  .

  Ralphie opened the door to the limousine and Larry van der Bix – in shorts, flip-flops and a loud floral shirt – climbed out. “I don’t how long I’m gonna be. You don’t have to stay. Maybe I can call when I’m done?”

  A pair of women in surgical scrubs walked out of the main entrance to Long Beach Memorial, looking at Larry, standing next to the limo. “That would be fine, sir,” said Ralphie. “Call when you’d like. I’m going off the clock from my regular client for a few days and so I’m available for you.”

  “Thanks,” said Larry, “cuz, like, driving and me… not good.”

  .

  Larry held Emma’s limp hand in his and watched the variety of monitors – one following the heart rate and another regulating a drip tube and a third connected by electrical receptors to track her breathing, though for Larry his eyes rested on the subtle rise and fall of Emma’s chest.

  A nurse entered silently and checked the drip, pressing a green button several times until beeps sounded. Without speaking to Larry, she exited.

  “Farmor,” Larry said. “I don’t know exactly how long they want you to… to… sleep,” he said, holding her hand. “I can’t believe there isn’t someone on staff who could talk to you, but I guess Danish isn’t common.” Larry sat up, his eyes wide. He pulled out his phone with his free hand and called Lawrence, only getting voicemail.

  “Lawrence, yeh, ok, it’s Larry… me, not you… I know you hate that name,” said Larry, “but now I need something, need you to arrange something. A medical thing. When you call for the details, tell me ‘Copenhagen.’ Okay? That’s it. Nothing else. ‘Copenhagen.’ ”

  As he ended the call, his phone silently flashed “December.”

  “Hello,” said Larry, pushing loudspeaker.

  “Larry?”

  “Uh, hi December.”

  “Larry, are you with your grandma?”

  “Uh, at the hospital, yeh.”

  “Can you have Ralphie get me and take me so I can be there?”

  “Yeh, sure. I’ll text you his number. Tell him I said it’s okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Should I call Lori, too?”

  “No!” said December. “Please, definitely not.”

  “Okay,” said Larry. “Whatever.”

  A second nurse entered silently, wrote numbers from the monitors onto a paper chart in a thick folder, and quietly exited.

  Larry held Emma’s hand and sat silently for almost ten minutes. His phone, resting on the bed, flashed.

  “Hello? Oh, hi Emily.” Larry pushed speaker.

  “The papers went in this morning and should show up by the end of the day when someone serves….”

  “My dad got them, yeh,” said Larry. “Thanks.”

  “If you need me, you know where to find me, but I have family stuff that I’ve got to deal with,” said Emily.

  “Ok, if I need you, I’ll call.”

  “Dude,” said a voice from the doorway. Larry looked at his phone, which was now blank. “Dude,” said the voice again.

  Larry turned to see Ed Lossé in the doorway. “Want someone to hang out with you?”

  “Um, uh,” said Larry.

  “Ralphie said you were here, so I thought, you know.”

  “Um, yeh, ok,” said Larry. Ed went around the bed, pulling the second chair alongside Emma’s bedrail. Ed lowered the rail, sat down and scooped Emma’s hand into his own.

  “Holding hands is a good thing,” said Ed, who had tenderly slipped his hands such that one supported Emma’s wrist and hand and the other rested lightly atop it; two large dark hands holding a tiny, pale hand.

  “Yeh,” Larry said, dutifully.

  Silently, the two men sat as nurse visit was followed by nurse visit, and no one in the room spoke for nearly an hour, when a female voice broke the silence.

  “Mr. van der Bix,” said a voice from behind Larry. “Your grandmother is doing very well.”

  Larry turned without losing his grip on Emma’s hand. “What?”

  “I’m Dr. Bosch,” said the doctor, in a bright white coat. “We’ve been able to hold back from the very difficult decision of whether a respirator is needed, and in light of the dispute over the DNR, that’s good…. Emma is doing very well. That’s the most important thing.”

  “Yes, Dr. Bosch,” sail
Larry. “Why is she still out?”

  “We are working on two tracks,” said the doctor. “We must rule out the major risks and conditions that it is not.”

  Larry fully turned to the doctor. “And the other track?”

  “Based on descriptions from others, observation of emergency personnel, what you’ve told me, and what her son said on admission,” said Dr Bosch, “and what I’ve seen….”

  “Yes…,” said Larry.

  “It appears to be vertigo,” said the doctor. “Which, again, is temporary, a virus, and while its effects are harsh, it is still relatively mild, compared to what a woman of her age could suffer from.”

  “Larry,” said a soft voice. Larry turned to see Ralphie pushing December in a wheelchair. She was in loose sweats and a baggy sweater and wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses.

  “Miss Carrero said she will be joining you,” said Ralphie, bringing December’s wheelchair to Emma’s bedside. “Shall I wait for you?”

  “No, sweetie, I’m gonna hang out with my hunny and his grandmamma,” said December.

  Ed cleared his throat. “Ed… Ed Lossé.” He reached his hand out.

  “I know who you are, Ed.”

  “Just putting up the little nameplate, you know?”

  “Yeh, I know,” said December.

  Ed framed a wide rectangle with his fingers and held it over his chest, making pulsation movements, saying quietly, “… you know… Name Badge.”

  “Okay,” said December.

  “Doctor is telling Larry that Emma’s doing good,” said Ed, in a loud-but-confidential whisper to December, who had wheeled her chair to Ed’s side of the bed. She looked at both of Ed’s hands, holding Emma’s.

  “And so, Mr. van der Bix, vertigo won’t kill her, but the condition is not easy at any age, and if she were to suffer a dizzy spell and fall at home, she could badly injure herself,” said the doctor. “For a woman of Emma’s age, it is better to rest comfortably and regain strength then to be awake and suffer those awful dizzy spells and disorientation. She’s doing very well.”