Among the Ducklings (2 page)

“You’re in
town?” Isabel asked, surprised.

“Yes, I
found out that the conference had been canceled when I got to Orlando, so I
took the next flight back,” Richard answered in a disappointed tone. It was a
bid conference that Orange County was holding with potential construction
companies to build low cost apartment housing around Orlando for the County.
The purpose of the bid conference was for the County to discuss the
requirements for the construction project, and to answer questions from
contractors about the project. Isabel knew that Richard was excited about the
project. He believed that he had a good shot at winning the contract because of
previous work his company had done with the County.

“They
should have told you about the cancellation before you made the trip,” Isabel
said.

“It looks
like they faxed the cancellation notice to the office yesterday morning.
Apparently, no one at the office noticed it,” Richard replied.

“Sorry
about that. By the way, my cell phone battery died on me and I had to let it
charge in the car on my way to the mall to pick up a graduation gift for Lucy's
daughter. I‘m sorry I missed your calls.”

“No harm
done,” Richard said. “Since I'm free, I don't think you should go the
graduation party by yourself. I was calling to let you know that I was on my
way to pick you up.”

“I' m glad.
Besides, I hate driving in the rain.”

“That’s
what fiancés are for,” Richard said with a laugh and they both hung up.

##

When
Isabel reached her house, Richard's car was already in her driveway. Isabel
lived with Rebecca, in a one-story stucco house in a housing
development near the Tamiami airport in South Miami. By itself, the house
looked very nice with a two-car garage on the side. However, it was built by an
unimaginative developer who decided to use the same design for almost every
house in the neighborhood. Isabel's house was bright pink, sandwiched between a
light green and a dark brown house.
 
The
first time Richard saw the houses in the neighborhood, he asked Isabel whether
the whole neighborhood was colorblind. Not missing a beat, Isabel then told him
the far-fetched story about how, at the beginning, the only way a neighbor
could differentiate his or her house from another in the neighborhood was by
looking at the house number.

“However,
when many elderly people with failing eyesight began moving into the neighborhood,”
Isabel had recounted, “locksmiths made a bundle of cash from calls from lost
homeowners complaining that they could not get into their houses and asking
that their locks be replaced. Once they realized that they had gone to the
wrong houses, locksmiths had to charge them again to put back the old locks. As
a result, the homeowners’ association voted to allow owners to paint their
houses any way they liked, making them easy to recognize. Now, instead of
paying locksmiths, we now pay painters.” Isabel had concluded with a big laugh.
Although Richard had laughed with her, as a contractor with an eye for detail,
he didn't find the story very funny. In reality, the homeowner's association
was disbanded years ago.

Isabel
bought the house from her mother's life insurance proceeds after her mother,
who worked as a nurse at Jackson Memorial Hospital, passed away fourteen years
ago from breast cancer, leaving Isabel, who had just turned eighteen years old
to raise Rebecca, who was then six years old. Besides her aunt Marcia, who was her
mother's sister, Isabel had no other relatives. Isabel's father, a native of
Cuba, who worked for an organization that helped Cuban government officials
secretly defect to Miami, disappeared two years prior to her mother's death and
was never seen again. While there were unconfirmed reports that her father
might have been killed by agents working for the Cuban government in Miami,
nothing was ever proven.

##

It was
almost 5:45 pm, when Richard and Isabel left the house for the party.

“I think we
may be getting there fifteen minutes late,” Richard said
.

“Not bad,” Isabel said to herself. After all, she was in Miami, on Hispanic
time, which meant that she was early.

“Did I tell
you how pretty you are?” Richard said, with an affectionate look.
 
Calling Isabel pretty was an understatement.
She was 5 feet 9 inches tall, with very long black hair and light brown eyes.
She was blessed with a perpetual tan and a beautiful face that looked to belong
more to a model on a runway than to the computer engineer that she was.

“You are
not too bad yourself,” Isabel responded. Like Isabel, Richard was thirty-two
years old. At 6 feet with old fashioned good looks, light brown hair, a firm
jaw, and piercing gray eyes, Richard was what you considered a hunk and a good
catch. In fact, Isabel's friends always reminded her that they made a wonderful
couple and would have good-looking children.

“How is
Lucy doing these days?” asked Richard.

“She's
fine. She and her husband are going on vacation in the Caribbean in the next
several weeks and she's very excited about it,” Isabel replied.

“Where are
they going?”

“Jamaica,
Bahamas and three or four other countries.
I don't remember,” Isabel said.

“That
should be fun.”

“Oh
yeah.”

“By the
way, have you heard from Tia Marcia?” asked Richard.

“I spoke to
her yesterday. She is moving back down here to become the director of the
Kendall Rehabilitation Center,” Isabel responded.

“I hope she
likes her new job.”

“Me
too.
But I was
hoping she would retire and enjoy herself,” Isabel said.

By
the time they reached the restaurant, the conversation had shifted to Richard's
company and some new construction projects that Richard had been hired to do.
The restaurant was located in the upper Brickell area, at one corner of South
Miami avenue, which was populated with exclusive shops and private clubs. The
restaurant was finely decorated, and featured a bar upfront, with windows
facing both streets, and a spacious dining room in the back. It took Richard
and Isabel more than twenty minutes to find a parking space. When they entered
the restaurant, everyone was already seated around a long table, eating
appetizers and drinking glasses of sangria from three large pitchers. Hispanic
time or not, they were late and they knew it.

##

It was a
simple question. “How did you get injured?” However, Philippe took so long to
respond to Dr. Gomez that she wondered if he heard her.

“I was in
town for a party and I fell while playing basketball,” Philippe finally
answered.

“Are you a
professional basketball player?” she asked.

“No. I am
an expert on the loss of enjoyment of life,” Philippe replied. When he saw the
puzzled look on Dr. Gomez's face, he clarified, “I estimate the value of people's
earning ability in legal cases.”

“It sounds
like an interesting profession,” Doctor Gomez commented, causing Philippe to
smile.

When she
saw Philippe smile, Dr. Gomez decided it was time to discuss with him what she
really came for. “Mr. Pierce, as Doctor Sheen told you after the surgery, you
suffered a fracture on your left fibula, which was made worse by some ligament
damage.”

“That
sounds bad,” a worried Philippe said, with a concerned look returning to his
face.

“Well, it
was a serious injury. The goal now is to make sure that everything heals
properly to avoid arthritis and deformity of the ankle.”

Seeing the
impact of her last words reflecting on his face, Dr. Gomez softened a little
bit and said, “I didn't mean to scare you, Mr. Pierce. You should be fine if you
follow our instructions.”

“Phil,”
Philippe replied.

“What?”

“No one
calls me Mr. Pierce. Everyone calls me Phil,” he said.

As the
tension began to subside from Phil's face, Doctor Gomez said, “Your friend, Mr.
Douglas was here...”

“Jeremy was
here?” Phil asked, interrupting Doctor Gomez in mid-sentence.

“Yes, but
you were sleeping. He told me that the two of you met at Florida Atlantic
University, in Boca Raton.”

“Yes, we
were taking an accounting class together,” confirmed Phil.

“This is a
very small world. I did my undergrad there too,” Dr. Gomez said.

“You're a
fellow alumnus?” Phil asked, seemingly surprised.

“Yes, but
it was a long time ago.”

“We have a Facebook
page for all alumni at the university. If you haven't already, you should
join,” he told her.

“What's
Facebook?”

“Well…”

“Just
kidding Phil.
I
may be old but I am not that old,” a smiling Dr. Gomez said.

“You got
me,” Phil said, also smiling. This is the first medical doctor he ever met that
had a sense of humor and he appreciated it.

“Anyway,”
Dr. Gomez continued, interrupting Phil's thoughts, “the bandage on your ankle
will remain for two weeks until the stitches are removed. No walking on the
ankle is permitted for approximately six weeks. After that, you will use a
special boot and brace to help you start walking.”

“This
accident is ruining my life. During this time, can I still eat, drink and
sleep?” asked Phil in a dejected tone, wondering how he was going to manage.

“No, unless
you follow our instructions,” Dr. Gomez replied, causing Phil to laugh again
and feel stupid about his reaction. Indeed, there were people going through
much worse. He should consider himself lucky.

“I'm sorry,”
he apologized.

“No need.
It’s a lot to absorb at once and I understand. By the way, I spoke with Dr.
Klein, your primary doctor in Miami, and he has scheduled an appointment for
you at Baptist Memorial Hospital in two weeks to remove your stitches.”

“Thanks. I
am looking forward to it,” Phil lied. Phil really hated hospitals.

“Everything
has been arranged. Your physical therapy sessions will take place at the
Kendall Rehabilitation Center. It's not too far from your house. Your first
appointment with them is in two weeks,”
Dr
Gomez
said. “You will get all the information that you need before you leave the
hospital.”

“Physical
therapy sessions?
No one told me,” Phil repeated with alarm, dreading the time that he would miss
at work.

“The nurse
will fill you in,” Dr. Gomez said. Then she added, “It was nice meeting you
Phil. See you in two weeks.”

“In two
weeks?” Phil repeated, in deep thought. “I'm not coming back here Dr. Gomez.”

Dr. Gomez who was already
leaving, turned, winked at Phil and said, “Me neither Phil.” Then she walked
out.
 

Chapter Two

It was
almost 11:00 pm when Isabel and Richard left the restaurant.

“It's never
dull with Lucy,” Richard said.

“I've known
Lucy since junior college and she is still the same,” Isabel replied. Lucy and
Isabel met while in a programming class at Miami Dade Community college. Isabel
was one year younger than Lucy and was still in her freshman year, while Lucy
was finishing her last semester. Lucy was two inches shorter than Isabel and
was very attractive. She was born to African-American parents in a poor rural
town in Alabama, and left home when she was sixteen years old to come live with
an aunt in Miami. A year after moving in with her aunt, she found herself
pregnant and abandoned by her boyfriend, when he learned of Lucy's pregnancy.
Lucy and Isabel bonded immediately when they met, as both were young, single
and raising small children alone.

They would
babysit, help and watch out for each other. After Lucy graduated from the junior
college, she went on to attend Florida International University, where she
received a degree in Education. Isabel soon followed and graduated with a
degree in Computer Engineering. Several years later, after their graduation,
Isabel became Lucy's maid of honor, in Lucy's wedding to Jack, one of Isabel's
clients.

“I’m glad
she is doing well, after everything that the two of you have been through,”
Richard said. They were headed south on route US1, hoping to take State Road
878 and get off on Kendall Drive. The rain had now turned to a light drizzle.

“I like the
smell of the rain,” Isabel said.

“The rain
doesn't have any smell. What you like is the smell of dirt mixed with
rainwater. In my world, we call that mud,” Richard said, teasing Isabel.

“Don't be
smart, Richard. Take me home, I'm a little tired.”

“At least
the street is empty,” Richard said.

The road
was dark and all they could see were red lights blinking in front of them, as
they drove through each intersection.