Chapter 9

They continued on through the summer in the same manner, spending as much of their free time together as they could. Mike continued biding his time patiently, knowing there would be a right time to ask her to marry him, not wanting to rush her nor wait too long. The last thing he wanted to do was lose her due to bad timing. He couldn’t help but wish there was some sort of manual that explained how these things worked, but he assured himself he’d recognize when the time was right and he’d be ready and willing to act accordingly. Timing, he told himself, is everything.

If anyone were to ask him to explain exactly why he was still so unsure of himself around her, he would have had no answer. The best he could have come up with would have been some nonsense about how a few months wasn’t long enough to start talking about a permanent connection. He probably would have said he wanted to give her time to get to know him better, to see him at his worst as well as his best.

The truth was he was afraid. Afraid of being rejected for one, he was also afraid he might motivated by a fear of loneliness. It had, after all, been mere months since his marriage had ended and it almost seemed as if he were trying to replace one woman with another. Then there was also the fact that he was happy enough with things being the way they were and he was afraid of doing anything that might upset the status quo.

There had been three times in Mike’s life when he had been completely happy, discounting his pre-school years. The first had been the sixth grade, his last year in elementary school, including the summer that followed. It had seemed to him then that life was good and would continue on that way forever He was a part of a small tightly knit group of friends who had known each other for years. From there he’d moved on to junior high school where his friends were dispersed into the crowd of new faces in a larger school.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like junior high, in fact, the second happy time was his last year there. His circle of friends had expanded, he had gotten good grades, and it seemed like all was well. Then the following September he went to high school. This he did hate, it had all the typical clannish groups that are standard in most high schools. The self-proclaimed “in” crowd, the crowd made up of off-springs of the wealthy or ones who could fake wealth, the pseudointellectual crowd of bookworms, and all the others; each adapting the trappings of superiority and snobbery. Mike reacted badly to all this, not out of jealousy or envy, but out of sheer disgust.

The third time was perhaps the oddest; it was while he was at Fort Jackson for nine weeks of training as an infantryman. He felt a connection with his fellow trainees, even those who he wasn’t all that fond of. It didn’t matter if he felt any distain for some of them, they were preparing together for a year in Viet Nam. There was a bond formed and he would gladly have gone over with them as a group. The problem was, you didn’t go to Viet Nam as a unit, you went as individual replacements. This time his friends were scattered throughout a whole country. He made friends over there that were much closer than the ones he’d made in training, but the stress and anxiety involved with serving a year in a war zone prevented him from ever looking back on it as a happy time.

Now these were not the only times he’d been happy, but these had been special periods where he’d achieved an almost transcendental sense of being one with his environment. He recognized one thing; change had brought an end to these seemingly extraordinary times. So now that he had the same feeling when he was with Connie, he was in no great rush to change anything out of fear it could end. Fate doesn’t always respect our wishes; it likes change, and has its own agenda. It was about to intervene.

It was a beautiful August afternoon; hot, but not oppressively so and without the high humidity that had marked the last half of July and the early weeks of the current month. Beyond the weather there was nothing notable about it to Mike as he went about his daily business at Herring’s. He thought nothing of it when he heard over the public address system he had a call waiting on line three. There was nothing unusual about that either, he received calls all the time. He went to the nearest extension and, picking up the receiver, pressed button three.

“Hello, Kassler here,” then he heard a strange voice.

“Mike? You don’t know me, I’m Helen Cassidy, Connie’s sister.”

“Oh, yes, Connie’s mentioned you. What’s up?”

“Look, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m going to say it straight out.” There was a nervous tone to her voice as she paused, “I’m calling from the emergency room at Saint Mary’s hospital. There’s been an accident, Connie’s been hit by a car.”

“What? I ... aw, Christ, is she all right, I mean how serious is it.”

“I don’t know, she’s unconscious, I found your card in her purse and called. I don’t know,” she sounded scared and confused.

“I’ll be right down,” he told her.

“No, wait, they said their going to move her to Intensive Care momentarily, they probably won’t let you in. They have weird visiting hours; eight to nine in the morning, noon to one, and seven to nine in the evening.”

“I’m coming down anyway, I have to. Maybe they’ll let me see her.”

“All right,” there was a few seconds of silence, “I’ll tell them our brother is coming down, maybe they’ll let you in.”

Mike started to thank her when he her the click of her phone as she hung up. Fighting panic, Mike went up the stairs to the offices and told Donna he had to leave, asking her to let Donnie know there was an emergency.

“What’s happened, Daddy?”

“I don’t know, Kid, Connie’s been rushed to the hospital.”

“OK,” she gestured with her hand for him to leave, “go, go, I’ll let them know.”

He mumbled a quick thank you, and hurried downstairs and out to his car. A funny thing happened on the way to the hospital, in his imagination, he saw her sprawled out on the street somewhere, her hair spread out on the pavement, her life oozing out of her while strangers stood around staring. He felt a terrified shudder run down his spine; this couldn’t be happening.

It couldn’t have been as bad as all that he told himself, get a hold on yourself, don’t let your imagination get the best of you. Every day there are people are taken to the hospital and most have no lasting effects, this was probably one of those times. It was an attempt to calm himself, but it wasn’t working. The closer he got to the hospital, the more agitated he became. There was an air of quiet desperation about him as he got out of his car in the hospital parking garage.

He went to the information desk where it was confirmed Connie had been moved to Intensive Care, room 224 to be exact. He stuck with Helen’s story that he was her brother and they sent him up to the second floor where there was a large waiting room servicing both ICU and the operating rooms. A receptionist was sitting at a desk in front. He walked up and spoke with noticeable uncertainty.

“Excuse me,” he waited until the receptionist looked up and acknowledged him. “My name’s Mike Kassler, I was told my sister, Constance Friess, was brought up to ICU, room 224. I was wondering if I could see her or find out anything about her or her condition.”

“Yes, she has been brought up and they’re setting her up now. Actually, your sister Helen is in the waiting room now,” she gestured over her shoulder. “If you take a seat with her, somebody will be out to speak with you both shortly.”

Mike walked around the desk into the waiting area thinking at first the ruse was up. He’d never seen Helen, had no idea what she looked like. How could he pass himself off as her brother if he couldn’t recognize her? Then, looking back behind him, he realized the receptionist wasn’t paying any attention to him. There were only a couple of people in this end of the room, but he noticed one woman was looking at him curiously.

“Helen?” he asked in low voice.

She nodded her head, then raised her hand and signaled for him to come over. When he approached her, she stood up and hugged him.

“Mike, I’m so sorry we have to meet like this.” She stepped back from him and nodded towards the chairs, “Let’s sit down, shall we?”

Once seated, Mike wasted no time, “How’s she doing? Have they said anything, is she going to be all right?”

“It’s looking better; she started to respond in the ER, regaining consciousness. She’s got a broken hip, broken arm, and a concussion. The concussion is the reason they put her in ICU, to keep an eye on her. She’s also got a lot of scrapes and bruises.”

“Well, it isn’t good, but not as bad as I’d imagined,” he said. “But tell me, how did it happen, where?”

“I don’t know exactly what happened, but it was at the mall, in the parking lot. She was on her way to her car when she got hit. That’s all I know for sure.”

“I guess it really doesn’t matter all that much how it happened,” he uttered, “just that it happened. Now all there is to do is to deal with it and be thankful it isn’t worse.”

They sat there making small talk. There was a television tuned to an all-news network that they stared at but didn’t really pay any attention to, they were far too distracted. Finally a tall man in his fifties came into the room and looked at them.

“Constance’s family?” When Helen nodded her head he came over. “I’m Doctor Rigetti; I’m handling Constance’s case for now.”

He shook both their hands and pointed to a door.

“Why don’t you come with me and I can fill you in on what’s happening with her.”

Almost mechanically, Mike got up and followed Helen and the doctor. He was anxious to find out what her condition was, but at the same time, he was afraid of what he might hear. Hope for the best, expect the worse, and you won’t be disappointed or surprised; he’d heard that often in Viet Nam and it came back to him now. It was a small side room, once they’d entered, Mike closed the door behind them and they all sat down at a table.

“Okay,” the doctor said in a loud voice, “the news is good, considering. She has a concussion, but it’s a minor one. I don’t think there’s going to be any lasting trauma to the brain. She may have some dizziness or headaches for a while but nothing permanent. Her hip, there is a hair line fracture to the pelvic bone, but the hip itself is fine. It’ll be painful for a while but we can manage the pain with medication, but it should knit nicely. Her left forearm is broken, but it’s a nice clean break. We’ve reset it and applied a splint so we can have access to her arm if we need it. In a couple of days we may replace the splint with a soft cast.

Tomorrow we’ll be running some tests to check for any further damage, but I don’t expect to find anything. There are no signs of internal injuries, but we want to be sure. She will, however, be experiencing a lot of pain, but as I said, we will deal with that as we go. Any questions?”

“Yes,” Mike replied, “somehow I think you just gave us the dumbed down version of all this. There has to be more to it.”

“Dumbed down? I guess you could call it that,” the doctor had a bemused look on his face. “I prefer to call it the simplified version. I could have given you the technical terms for the breaks and contusions, but I’ve found they can be confusing and sometimes frightening to folks who don’t have a medical background. It’s better to keep it simple. As far as there being more to it, there often is. That’s why we’ll be running more tests tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” Mike said, “I can see your point.”

“All right then, Constance is awake, or was when I left her, so, if you’d like to go back and see her, all I ask is you keep the visit short. You can come back again later tonight during the regular ICU visiting hours.”

Mike and Hellen followed the doctor through another door and down a short passageway into the Intensive Care Unit. They went down the hall to room 224. When they first went in Mike was shocked, there was no mistaking it was Connie, but she looked like hell. But none of that mattered once she opened her eyes. It didn’t matter to him at that moment how she looked, all that counted was she was alive. He was glad to see her.

Helen went quickly to her sister’s bedside, bent over and kissed her. Connie smiled weakly at her. It looked to Mike as if she were having difficulty focusing.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Helen asked.

“Tired,” Connie mumbled, “Why am I here, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you remember? You were hit by a car, this is a hospital. The doctors are taking care of you,” Helen explained.

Connie stared at the ceiling; she seemed to be trying to concentrate before replying.

“I heard that somewhere, I don’t know. There was a car here?”

“No, honey, not here. You were hit at the mall, and then you came here in an ambulance.”

“Oh,” she continued to stare at the ceiling.

“Look who else is here,” Helen said, “Mike came to see you.”

“Mike,” she said in a distracted tone, “oh, Mike, hi, I hit a car.”

“No,” he replied, “the car hit you.”

She made no reply, but she smiled at him and that made him feel better. Then he noticed her hand moving slowly crab like along the side rail of the bed. He reached out and took it in his own. In her weakened condition, she could only muster enough strength to close her fingers on his hand in an effort to hold it. Then she rolled her head in Helen’s direction.

“Mike loves me, you know. I like that.”

There was a child like quality to her voice. Again he felt her feeble attempt to squeeze his hand. He looked at the doctor.

“She’ll improve,” the doctor assured him in a whisper. “She’s disoriented now, the combined results of the concussion, shock, and the medication.”

Mike nodded in understanding, thinking she’d just blown his story about them being brother and sister. It really didn’t matter to though, if they wanted to throw him out they could. He’d gotten to see her, and that’s all that mattered.

“Constance, your family is going to have to leave now,” the doctor’s voice was gentle but still authoritative, “they can come back a little later, after you’ve had some rest. Is that all right with you?”