Chapter 62: A Last Fling

June 19, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

"Did Keiko tell you I visited this morning?" Violet asked after she greeted me on Sunday afternoon with the usual hug and kiss on the cheek.

"She did. I appreciate you visiting her. I assume she let you know she's being released on Friday."

"Yes. She won't be able to join us for the baseball game or the fireworks, will she?"

"Probably not, but I plan to ask her doctor when I see him tomorrow afternoon. I do need to tell you something about Keiko."

"You're going to marry her, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Violet's eyes became glassy, and I could tell she was fighting back her tears.

"I knew that was going to happen," she said, barely able to get the words out.

"I promise we'll still see each other, and you'll always be welcome at our house."

"I just ... I wish it could have been different ... because ... never mind."

"Just say what you want to say, please," I said, keeping my voice as friendly and sympathetic as I could.

"I want to be with you that way," Violet said quietly, "but..."

She finally lost control of her emotions and began sobbing. In almost any other situation, I'd have simply sat and waited for the girl to stop, but Violet was different and needed a different response. I moved from the chair to the couch next to her, helped her into my lap, and held her while she cried.

"Sorry," she said about five minutes later.

"It's OK," I replied. "You have absolutely no need to apologize for anything."

If anyone should be apologizing, it would be her parents, but I doubted any encounter I might have with them would end in any way other than me being hauled away in handcuffs. Of course, her dad was serving what I hoped would be a life sentence, though, in theory, he could be out after twenty years. Fortunately, according to Nelson, there was no credit for 'good behavior' attached to his sentence, meaning it would actually be twenty years. Her mom was a different story, and I hoped to never cross paths with her, as I wasn't sure my pacifism could control my visceral anger about what had been done to Violet.

"Thank you for allowing me to cry on your shoulder," Violet said.

"I hope you know how much I care for you."

"I do, and that's what makes it harder. I care for you, too."

"Are you up for making dinner together, or do you want to order something? Or walk over to Mr. Greek?"

"Let's walk to Mr. Greek," Violet agreed.

We left the house, and as we walked north on Halsted, Violet slipped her hand into mine. That, and the light hugs and kisses on the cheek and the extremely rare cuddling in my lap, were the limits of her physical expression. She'd tried to push further, but the emotional and psychological trauma had prevented it.

I was relatively certain that Violet would never get past that despite the therapy. She no longer had panic attacks, which was a positive thing, but she was, because of the evil perpetrated against her, consigned to be single for her entire life. What I wanted to ensure was that she was not alone.

"Have you seen Bev or Lily lately?" I asked.

"Both. Lily and I meet for lunch on Tuesdays, and I saw Bev last Saturday. I'll see her again next Saturday. Heather is growing so fast!"

"I was there when she was born, and she was such a tiny little thing and so totally helpless. She's a year old now and ready to walk!"

"You know she and Glen plan to marry, right?"

"Yes. That was a given once he decided to move to Illinois. Before I forget, my mom is coming to visit for the Fourth. Do you think she could stay with you? We don't have a spare room at the house."

"Sure! How much trouble could your mom be?"

"Ask my grandfather!" I replied with a grin.

Violet laughed, "She was sixteen when she had you, right?"

"Seventeen. Sixteen when she got pregnant."

"She can stay, obviously. How many days?"

"She plans to drive up on the 2nd and go home on the 5th, so three nights. She'll come to Wrigley Field with us and to Grant Park."

"Uhm, what about Bev?"

"That's up to her and Glen," I replied. "My mom is OK with the situation."

"I still think it's a bit creepy, but I know Bev is really happy."

"In the end, that's what matters, not what anyone else thinks."

"When will you and Keiko get married?"

"I'm not sure. I ordered rings, which we'll exchange when we get engaged sometime in late July. The wedding date will depend on working around her chemo, and we also have to speak to the Shinto priest."

"Whoa!" Violet exclaimed. "You're having a religious ceremony?!"

"In honor of Keiko's Japanese heritage and traditions. The Eastern philosophies, especially Buddhism, do not require belief in a personal god or any specific theistic belief. I'm no expert, obviously, but I don't see anything about Shinto which requires me to compromise my beliefs or disbeliefs, for that matter. The fun part will be wearing a kimono."

"You have to invite me! I just have to see you in a kimono!"

"We haven't made any plans as yet, but you'll be invited, of course."

"Will I still be able to hug you after that?"

"Yes, of course. Keiko is not the jealous type. You can ask her yourself to be sure."

"Even if it doesn't seem like it, I'm happy for you and Keiko."

"You'll always be my friend," I said. "No matter what."

"Thanks."

We had a tasty, filling meal at Mr. Greek, then walked back to our usual diner near the university to have dessert. After dessert, I walked Violet home, where I received the usual hug and kiss on the cheek. Once she'd gone into the house, I walked to my car and headed home to help my housemates clean in preparation for Keiko coming home on Friday.

June 20, 1983, Chicago, Illinois

On Monday, I began my day early, which would allow me to leave at 2:30pm to be with Keiko when Doctor Morrison presented her test results. I completed my usual morning tasks, reviewed my portfolio holdings, and made a few adjustments, then spent about thirty minutes on my Russian research project before Bianca and I had lunch and went to the gym.

When I returned, there was a message for me from my mom. I was surprised and concerned, so I quickly dialed the number for the school that she'd left.

"Goshen High, Linda Kane speaking," she said when she answered the phone.

"Hi, Mom. What's up?"

"Jim Newton had a heart attack this morning," she said. "Julie asked me to ask you to tell Bev."

"How bad?" I asked.

"I honestly don't know. He's at Clermont County Hospital. I have a number for the Cardiac Unit, so Bev can reach her mom, who called me from the waiting room."

"Let me have the number, please," I requested. "But I can't guarantee Bev will call."

"You're joking, right?"

"I wish I was," I replied. "I've had no luck in convincing her to speak to them, and I'm not sure even this will do it."

"Try hard, Jonathan."

"I have. All I can do is relay the message."

"You could give me Bev's phone number, and I could give it to Julie."

"And destroy my friendship with Bev? No chance. Let me call her, and then it's up to her."

We said 'goodbye' and I ended the call, then placed a call to Hart-Lincoln and asked for Bev.

"Bev Newton," she said when she came on the line.

"Bev, it's Jonathan."

"Hi, Jonny! What's up?"

"My mom just called and asked me to relay a message from your mom..."

"Will they ever leave me alone?!" she interrupted, sounding exasperated.

"Bev, your dad is at Clermont County Hospital. He had a heart attack."

"Oh!" she gasped.

"I have a phone number for the Cardiac Unit. You can call and talk to them or talk to your mom, who is in the waiting room."

"This number doesn't go straight to my dad's room, does it?"

"Mom simply said it's for the Cardiac Unit, so I'm going to guess it rings at the nurses' station or maybe even an internal switchboard to connect the call."

"OK."

I repeated the number my mom had provided twice, asked Bev to let me know what she found out, and encouraged her to speak to her mom. She was non-committal about the latter but promised the former, and we ended the call. She called back about twenty minutes later.

"He had what they called a 'mild' heart attack," Bev said. "He needs a procedure called 'balloon angioplasty' but has to be transferred to The Christ Hospital because they can't do it at Clermont County. Do you know what that procedure is? If not, the nurse explained it."

"I do know what it is," I replied. "My boss in the mailroom had one last year. When will he have the procedure?"

"Early this evening after he's transferred."

"Did you speak to your mom?"

"No."

"Bev..." I protested.

"Drop it, please, Jonny. I'll call the other hospital later to make sure he's OK."

"You always were stubborn," I said. "You should reconsider. And I'll leave it at that. Keep me posted, OK?"

"I will. Thanks for relaying the message."

"I do have one other thing to tell you," I said. "My mom is coming to Chicago for a few days around the Fourth. She'll be at the Cubs game and the fireworks. She knows you and Glen are invited and isn't concerned."

"I'm not sure how Glen will feel about that."

"If my mom is cool with you being together, he should be cool with her. You know her only objection was that he was a teacher, and you were a student. Otherwise, she thinks it was a good thing for him to accept his responsibility for Heather."

"I'll talk to him."

I acknowledged her, we said 'goodbye' and after I ended that call, I dialed Goshen High to update my mom.

"Did Mrs. Newton tell you that Mr. Newton needs a procedure they can't perform at Clermont County?" I asked.

"No."

"He needs something called a 'balloon angioplasty', which basically means they thread an instrument into a blood vessel in his leg and use a balloon to expand a clogged blood vessel near or on his heart. It's a relatively new procedure, first done about six years ago, and they can't do it at Clermont County, so they're sending him to The Christ Hospital in Cincinnati."

"Did Bev speak to her mom?"

"No," I sighed. "She only spoke to a nurse. I tried to talk to her about it, but she told me to drop it. I'd say that relationship is effectively sundered just as yours was with your parents."

"The difference is, I was kicked out," Mom said. "Bev's parents accepted what had happened, and I can only imagine that Bev's acting the way she is because she's embarrassed about Heather's father."

"Or she's afraid of how her dad will react. I don't think that would be pretty at all. But, as I've said, eventually they'll find her because she's working, has to register her car properly, has a driving license, and so on. Yes, they have my address, but she can't sustain that forever without risking getting into serious trouble with the State of Illinois. Not to mention, her name will be on a marriage certificate, among other documents."

"Maybe I'll try to talk to her when I'm there."

"I wouldn't count on having much luck, and knowing Bev, she'll point out that you don't speak to your parents."

"Did you ever get in touch with them?"

"No, because of Keiko's situation. I will, once things stabilize a bit."

"OK."

We said 'goodbye,' and I ended the call. I began my afternoon work, analyzing currency trades from earlier in the day in Europe and Hong Kong. I left work at 2:30pm and was in Keiko's room just before 3:00pm when Doctor Morrison arrived.

"I have your test results from Friday, Keiko," he said. "I think the best answer is 'status quo'. There was a small increase in your blast count, which we don't want to see, but it wasn't large enough to say that the chemo failed. Fundamentally, we're in 'wait and see' mode until after the next round of chemo. That said, you can go home on Friday as planned."

"What restrictions will she have?" I asked.

"You purchased the ultraviolet air cleaners?"

"One for her room, one for the front room where she'll spend a lot of time, and a whole-house system that works when the A/C is running. They'll all be operating by Friday."

"Then, at home, neither Keiko nor you and your other housemates need to wear a mask, but you should request anyone who has a cold or infection to not come to the house. I'd also avoid anyone who is in elementary school, as they are exposed to more infectious diseases."

"What about going outside?" Keiko asked.

"Being outside and getting some sun is a good thing, as are walks, but you should avoid crowds. If you're in your backyard, there's no need to wear a mask, but if you go anyplace where the general public might, such as a convenience store or grocery store, you should wear a mask. It's all about levels of risk."

"Do we need anything special at the house?" I asked.

"Not at first, but once she starts the next round of chemo, you'll want a pail for when she inevitably vomits. Make sure you have plenty of Lysol and rubber gloves. Remember, she'll excrete chemo drugs via sweat, saliva, and other bodily fluids. Not that she'll feel like it, but sexual contact is inadvisable, even using prophylactics."

"What about the next two weeks?" Keiko asked.

"I would advise against it," Doctor Morrison said. "It's one more vector for an infection that your body will have a tough time fighting. That's true even if you use prophylactics, which you would have to, given you've been off your birth control pills, and there is no guarantee they'd be effective if you started again, which you absolutely should not."

"And sleeping in the same bed?"

"I'd say it's OK for the next few weeks, but during and immediately following your chemo, I'd recommend against it because of what I said before about the chemo drugs being excreted. Showers are OK, as are baths, if you feel up to them, but you should have someone with you if you take a bath ... and I see that smirk, young lady — I don't mean in the tub!"

Keiko and I both laughed.

"But for the next few weeks?" she asked.

"I'd say it doesn't increase your risks if you two are going to be sharing a bed."

"Is there anything else we should be doing?" I asked. "Either personally or medically?"

"Not at this point," Doctor Morrison said. "Keiko's grandfather has arranged for private marrow testing, and we should begin to see results in the next week. That's a bit ahead of where we are, but it certainly never hurts to be prepared for every eventuality."

"As soon as she receives a diagnosis that requires it, Loyola will allow a testing drive on campus," I said.

"That's very good news. Let's hope it doesn't come to that, and we see the results we want from the next round of chemo."

"What time will she be discharged on Friday?" I asked.

"Usually around 10:00am," Doctor Morrison replied.

"My grandmother can bring me to our house," Keiko said. "I don't want you to use up another vacation day."

"If you're sure," I said.

"Positive."

"Is there anything else?" Doctor Morrison asked.

Neither Keiko nor I had any further questions, so he left the room.

"I spoke to my dad this morning about the «結納» (yuino). Is there any way your family could attend?"

"I was going to tell you that my mom will be here from July 2nd to July 5th, but we won't have the rings by then. And I put off speaking to my grandparents once you received your diagnosis. Timing wise, the rings might not arrive until a few days before your next round of chemo. I have a possible solution, but I don't know if it works within Japanese tradition."

"What?"

"What if we had the gathering on July 2nd? My mom will be here, and I can contact my grandparents. The problem, of course, is that I'm not sure they'll be willing to be together. I'm positive I can talk my mom into it after something she said today ... oh, I need to tell you something, but let me finish this thought first. I have no idea what my grandparents will say or do. What happens if I cannot have family attend?"

"The entire point of the gathering is for the families to exchange gifts, so I'm not sure it could work without them."

"All I can do is try. I do plan to ask you formally as soon as I have the rings in hand."

Keiko smiled, "I know. And I will say 'yes', though I still think you should wait to ask."

"No matter what the future holds, I want to marry you, Keiko-chan. Even without your diagnosis, there were no guarantees as my dad's death before I was born or my friend Paula's murder both prove fairly conclusively."

Keiko smiled, "I love you very much."

"And I love you! Shall we take a walk?"

"Yes."

We went outside, which Keiko very much appreciated, and walked for about fifteen minutes before returning to her room. She still had to wear the mask when outside her room, but as of Friday, she'd be free of that burden, at least in the house and taking walks around the neighborhood. I stayed with Keiko until 5:00 when we exchanged our single quick kiss, and I headed home for dinner.