Chapter 23

I was literally shaking. I was terrified. The man strode in major concern in his look. “Jim, the nurse told me. Have you heard anything else?” said my ex-best friend.

“No, no, not yet ... Rodney...” I started, but paused. I really just didn’t know what to say. I knew what I wanted but not how to express it. I just started bawling like a baby.

“Rod, she can’t die she just can’t. I mean she just can’t, Rodney. Rodney, don’t let her die,” I said not stuttering but barely coherent I was sure.

“She’s not going to die. She’s not, Jim, we won’t allow it. We won’t,” he said. I nodded and cried some more.

“Jim, I’m going to talk to the doctor or somebody for a little bit okay. I’ll be back. And, Jim, you are not alone. You’re not, not ever, my man,” he said. And then he left to do whatever he was going to do.

And then I was alone and scared and well, alone. I wasn’t even sure what was going on. I knew my wife was in bad trouble. I knew my ex-best friend was going to be there for her, and for me if it came to that. I was going to have to rethink my relationship with him, and, with Claire. He came and he was going to try to help her. Doctors, hospitals, it all cost money, sometimes lots of money; this was one of those times. I knew it for sure, oh yeah, a lot of money. My ex-best friend had a lot of money, more than God I was sure.

I looked up at the clock it was almost 5:00. I’d been waiting for some kind of word any kind for almost four hours. Where was the fucking doctor!

“Doctor Weintraub?” said Rodney Pollard.

“Yes, and you are?” he said.

“My name is Rodney Pollard,” he said.

“Rodney Pollard? Any relation to the guy whose name is on a plaque in the dialysis ward,” he said.

“Yes, that’s me. And I’m the money man as far as Ann Clausen is concerned. So what’s the deal, doctor?” he said.

“Are you related to the woman?” he said.

“No, but my best friend is her husband and he is depending on me to take care of things and I intend to do just that,” he said.

“I’m sure you know that I cannot discuss a case without the permission of either the patient or in this case the patient’s spouse,” said the doctor.

“Doctor, the man can hardly talk. He’s a basket case. This is his wife, his entire life depends on her making it. Can you at least give me some hope here,” said Rodney.

“She’s going to live, Mister Pollard. I can tell you that much, but...”

“Her burns, can they be fixed? You know any plastic surgery? What?” said Rodney. “ Hmm, yes, mostly, I suppose. But, the cost to do the job...” he said.

“Cost will not be an object,” said Rodney. “I, we, want only the absolutely best care, doctors, medicines that can be gotten. No limits sir, no limits whatsoever.”

“No limits? I can guess that you have a lot of money, Mister Pollard. I mean the plaque. But you could be looking at anywhere from half a million up for the kind of care and rehab that you seem to be asking for,” he said.

“Not a problem. Can you arrange things? Who do I talk to to arrange things?” said Rodney.

“I’ll take you there now,” he said. Rodney nodded.

I saw him returning before he saw me. He was looking down, but also determined.

“Rodney?” I said.

“I tried to get detailed information, but that has to be you; the doctor did tell me that she will definitely live. Also, I was able to set up the coverage angle. She will lack for nothing. James, we will get through this. And you have to let me handle it. They won’t give me the runaround. They daren’t,” he said, “but they likely would you.”

I nodded. What he didn’t say outright was that they would give me the runaround because I was poor. But, this was one time that I was not about to let my pride get in the way of what needed to be done. I knew what he was saying. He was going to pay because he knew for damn sure that I could never afford what likely needed to be afforded. We had disability insurance but it had limits. And the limits were going to be way less than needed to fix my woman up right.

I considered calling my lawyer, but suing the company for her medical bills would likely be slow and problematical on several levels. This is one time when speed was of the essence. Rodney Pollard was going to have free rein; I would see that my lawyer took care of that part of things. My ex-best friend would be having carte blanche in making all of the decisions.

Just as he got done telling me what he told me, a nurse came into the waiting room.

“Mister Clausen, You can go in now, but you can’t stay too long and she can’t talk too good yet, the meds,” she said. I nodded my understanding, waved to Rodney and wheeled myself into the darkened room. She was awake.

“Hi, honey,” I said. I knew I sounded weak and fear laden. I think she tried to smile, but that might have been my imagination.

“Hi,” she rasped.

“Don’t talk, honey. I just needed to be with you. Honey we’re gonna get you back to being okay. Rodney is running point with the establishment here. There will be no brooking delays or settling for less than whatever you need. I swear it honey,” I said. I was talking too much.

Her eyes kinda of glazed over and she tendered me a small nod. She was acknowledging my words. Believing them might have been wishful thinking on my part. But it’s all I could think of to say.

I did talk to my lawyer, Mister Donnelly, the next day before going back to the hospital to see my girl. I got the word that he would be looking into the matter. I knew whatever he found out I would be informed of it right soon.

It was almost 2:00 P.M. I had to get back to the hospital. I had two weeks leave that the boss, Mr. Penniman allowed me. Sammy, who’d covered me for the one day, had to get back out on the road. Henry picked up the slack for me on the job for my two week hiatus.

She was sleeping. I know it was her meds that were keeping her out of it. I wasn’t complaining this was no time for me to be selfish about her sleeping in all day, hell no it wasn’t. Claire joined me in the evening of the second day. She let me know that the family Pollard would be keeping me company mostly in shifts. I appreciated that. I needed company if only to wipe away my tears of fear and frustration. And, I’d need it, the support, for the next two weeks, until my baby was able to come home. Well, I was hoping she could come home. The doctor had been doubtful, but I was holding out hope.

“You okay?” said Claire. “You look kinda ragged.”

“Just tired and worried. I mean...” I said.

“It’s trite, Jim, but please don’t worry. She’s going to be getting the best care there is and she’ll be home before you know it,” said Claire. “I’m invested in Ann’s recovery as much as Rod is as much as we all are believe me.” And I did believe her.

Claire and I talked for the whole six hours of visiting time, part of it in the cafeteria while my darling mostly slept. Ann had been awake for maybe two hours of our visit, and Claire had been demonstrably tender toward my woman, and toward me; I had to appreciate that. Had she been such since the breakup maybe things would have gone a different way, but water under the bridge now. I only cared about one thing, getting my baby back to normal; I had no life worth a damn without her—none.

“How’s he doing?” said Rodney.

“Shitty. He’s so afraid of her not getting back to the way she was that...” said Claire.

“I know, I guess I know. I am pulling out all of the stops to get that woman rebuilt. Cost is no object. I just hope that medicine and technology are up to the task,” he said.

“Do you have any news on that front?” she said.

“I have some people looking into it. Trouble is this is an area where I have no inkling as to how to proceed. I do have a friend who I have turned on to some investments who says he thinks he can help at least to the extent of finding out things. He’s a professor at Cal Tech. He’s a bio-engineering scientist,” he said.

“So he should know stuff, right?” she said.

“Plastic surgery isn’t his field, but he says he knows people whose field it is and he is tapping into those for us. After everything that’s gone down over the years, this has to work out for us. We, he, deserve a break here. Damn if we all don’t” he said.

“I am so in agreement on that with you. Oh my yes,” she said. “The irony is that in this case he is forced to turn to us for help. There is no one else who would be willing to go as far as us to help him, her, out. In a way what has happened to her was a good thing. I mean it’s not that I’m glad that something this horrible happened, but it may bring us all back together. That’s a positive, right?”

“You’re right about it being ironic. And, I guess it is positive in the sense that it will help us get back on an even keel with our man. But no, I would never have wished that something this bad would happen to facilitate the rapprochement that will now likely occur because of it,” he said. She nodded.

“I’m going to talk to him about things,” she said. “Not now, but soon.”

“Things?” he said.

“Yes, you know, about rejoining the family in a big way. Like we were willing to do from day one. The day that he caught us doing it,” she said. “Not the same deal about doing threesomes or you doing me on the side, the sex stuff that I offered him at the time; but in all other respects we need to be a true family again. Right honey?” she said.

“Yes, and of course the sex thing won’t be a problem now because he has his own woman to do for him and love him and all of it,” he said.

“Yes, exactly my thinking,” she said.

I watched her come around. She’d been a bit more wakeful the past few days. It’d been a week since the accident and a lot had happened. Some of it was beyond the pale such as my total change of heart as to dealing with and being around the Pollards.

The accident turned out to not be an accident. It was sabotage. Some fuckwad environmentalist was making a statement about fossil fuels. He’d evidently planned to blow up the place after hours, but had miss-set the timer on his more or less sophisticated device: Instead of midnight it went off at noon. The cops had him in custody and he was looking at possible life in the slam. I wanted the death penalty for the shit head, and for that matter all of his cohorts which I was sure there had to be some.

The bad news for me, I guess it was bad news, was that, since the explosion had been caused by a bio-terrorist, suing the company was not an option. They, Harcort Industrial, were not responsible. I would be totally depending on my ex-best friend for help in saving my wife. The good news, to balance against the bad, was that Rodney and Claire were willing to help and were setting no limits.