"He's had
stroke, Mr. Strass," the Doctor began. His hands made a steeple out
of his fingers just above his belt line. "There's not much damage that we
can see right now. Some time is needed to watch him and see if everything is
working right," the Doctor's eyebrows went up and the steeple came down.
Even with his eyebrows
that high? Ben thought and stifled a laugh with a deep breath of his own.
"Well, Dr. ... Everett, is he awake? I'd like to see him."
"No, I'm sorry. Your Uncle is sleeping. Or, perhaps
unconscious is a better word. Did your Uncle have a drinking problem, Mr.
Strass?"
"Yes Dr., Uncle Henry's been drinking a long time. Been
drinking a lot for a lot of years. But
you know? This morning he seemed fine, better than fine, really."
"These things happen suddenly. Sometimes they can't be
predicted or prevented. That's not why I ask though. When your Uncle's blood
work came back, I thought maybe you all had been out drinking, really tying one
on, as the saying goes. But then I talked to both of you shortly after he came
in and you both look sober. He didn't have any alcohol on him when we put him
in his gown. No flask or anything in his boots and what not."
"Where are you going with this? Look, I've been telling
him for years to ease up on the sauce but it's not your job to be the moral
police, okay?" Ben could feel his ears getting warm, he didn't want to do
this, didn't want to give the Dr. such a hard time. The ball was rolling now
though and it felt good. "You better start talking level with me, you got
that? When are you going to let him out of here?" Ben really didn't care.
At first, he thought he could feign concern and they'd keep him long enough to
dry old Uncle Henry out and then Ben would feel good that. But Ben didn't care
really, Ben would just as soon see Uncle Henry back on a plane - or in the
ground - as he would see him limping around in a disgusting hospital gown.
The doctor took a step back, eyebrows now descending.
"If he doesn't go into DT's when he wakes up, or if that's not what wakes
him up and his vitals stay where they're supposed to be he can be released in
twenty-four hours."
With that the doctor was gone. Ben turned to Anita and took
all her beauty in like he'd never seen her before. She was staring back but
that glow that seemed to surround her in the coffee shop and at the glass
exhibit just wasn't there. Maybe Uncle Henry had her shook up. Maybe he should
take her somewhere. "You okay, sweetheart?"
Anita blinked for what felt like the first time in hours.
Her head was fuzzy, she felt like the coyote in the roadrunner cartoons.
Sometimes when the Acme Anvil landed on the Wiley Coyote instead of the meepmeep cunning Roadrunner, Mr.
Coyote's head became a haven for birds and stars that floated and spiraled yet
never managed to land. Anita had a swirling floating mistress that just
wouldn't land. A girl, a girl in a pure white dress, a crying girl named Eve
captured Anita's attention the way a dust mote in the periphery can distract.
"Yeah... I'm fine Mr. -" Anita pursed her lips and
shook her head, "Ben, I mean Ben. I'm fine, I hope your Uncles
alright."
"Me too, doll, me too."
Doll? Sweetheart? They
sounded so different when she'd heard them before. She didn't mind him calling
her pet names like that. Hell, she'd called him all kinds of flowery ego
stroking things in the privacy of her own apartment.
"Let's get dinner, yeah?" Ben's pocket vibrated.
"I'm sorry, Anita, I've got to take this."
Ben turned back to and answered his phone.
"Go ahead, Jack."
"You caught me. Is this a bad time?"
Some normal person might say that this was in fact 'not a
good time'. "No, no, go ahead. Did you have time to think about coming to
the city?"
"I'm not coming near that city. Have you seen the news
lately? Anyway, your city, your problems."
What about when it's
not just this city, when it's
everywhere?
"I'm sure most of its hype anyway, Jacky. Wha-"
"You'll take my offer
tomorrow morning. Go to a bank or lawyer or whatever and make sure they've got
a fax machine and we'll start signing."
Ben barely got 'Okay' before the phone clicked off and Jack
- Jacky - was gone. He turned around
shaking his head slightly. He shuffled his feet. Anita watched and found the
his demeanor disturbing. Mr. Benjamin Strass never shuffled or shook his head
like that.
"Ben..."
"Anita, stay here. Call me when he wakes up. If he wakes up before our flight
leaves." Ben punched numbers into his phone.
Before our flight leaves. What flight? Our flight? Anita's
tweety birds picked up pace right along with her thoughts. It became difficult
to process these thoughts. She concentrated on Ben, on Uncle Henry, on the
scene in Ben's office. The more she concentrated the less clear everything became.
Her head filled with blinding white light. Trying to grasp at one thought or
another was like swimming in syrup.
"Anita, babe, you hear me? You got this?" she
looked at Ben. Again, she saw he wasn't looking at her. He had his arm
stretched above his head, resting his hand on the wall. His left leg bent at
the knee in such a way that his very nice suit pants stretched taut against his
very nice butt. Before Anita replied her ears filled with a sound that can only
be described as white. White swirled with blue. Warm and comforting.
Ben headed towards the elevators. Anita sucked in a huge
breath and smoothed her face. Check on
Uncle Henry, that was her job. After that, something... soon. Anita felt
her sturdy resolve cracking. Like too much old makeup when it takes on the
appearance of the desert macadam, Anita shook inside, vibrated trying to figure
this out. The harder she pressed at what came after Uncle Henry the more her
insides shook.
"What! WHAT! I
can't hear you. I need a flight to Collin's County ASAP. TODAY! You got
that!" Ben shouted in his phone
as he waited for the elevator to reach him. "And
get your damn phone lines fixed!" Only, Ben knew it wasn't the phone
lines. Even before he hung up the phone he knew that chattering sound wasn't in
the phone lines. Standing in the middle of a hospital - his hospital - Ben wanted nothing more than an aspirin. But Mr.
Strass didn't take aspirin. Mr. Strass's public relations department would have
a heart attack if he asked for an aspirin.
The elevator doors opened. With each step the washtub full
of coffee cups in a doubled. He was sure his shirt was running red from the
sprung pipe in his nose. His shirt wasn't bloody, neither was his nose. He put
one hand to his head and used the other to hold the elevator doors open. He
beckoned to Anita. She just stood there. In the middle of the hallway. What was
she waiting for. There, now those cement shoes were moving. Good, get your
skinny ass over here.
"Sir?"
"I'll... oh Christ. Ah, just get some aspirin or
something." Ben's arm fell away from the elevator doors. The chattering dropped
to a low hum. Now, the doors were sliding shut. The demon inside Ben's mind
worked the dials. As the elevator stared its descent the little demon started
spinning the volume knob. A clearly defined imperative formed in Ben's head: he
needed Anita like a drowning man needs a life raft.
Anita had to squint at Ben. As he gave her instruction - is
that what he was doing? - Anita could have sworn one of the doctors on this
floor had come up behind her and started running a stitch right through the
center of her. The longer the stitch ran the thicker the thread got. With each
word her brows and eyes squinted further together. With the elevator on its way
down and as she walked towards the waiting rooms her eyes slowly opened and her
face became once again smooth. She knew something then. She knew something to
be true, as true as touching a hot stove will burn: she needed to stay away
from Ben the way a child stays away from a hot stove.
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