The Day Steam Died (20 page)

Chapter 40

“Many of you were sent to other locations to finish out your retirement, a reward for your many years of loyal service.”

The bitter end

The black, cold ribbon of asphalt was walled on each side with six feet high snow banks dirty from traffic spraying slush. Ann’s ankle throbbed from keeping constant pressure on the accelerator to keep her Ford Falcon from losing momentum climbing up the mountain. Ann leaned forward urging the small engine on.

She thought she might change her mind and take Jerry up on his offer to buy her a new car when he gets well. But, her car was special. It was her first car, and she bought it with her own money. It would be hard to let it go. For now, though, she just wished it would climb faster than fifty miles an hour with the gas pedal pressed as hard against the floor as her ankle could stand.

Ann focused straight ahead, concentrating on the monotonous onrushing center line. Neither she nor Sylvia were in a conversational frame of mind. A fitful night without much sleep and the turnaround trip back to Boone had taken its toll on the two women. Their emotions were raw, liable to flare out of control with the slightest provocation.

As cars snaked their way up the mountain, her subconscious flashed back to Patrolman Knox leading them to the hospital only hours earlier. It seemed to have happened days ago. She wished out loud to Sylvia that Officer Knox was there to escort them again so they could be with Jerry sooner.

The sudden upward motion of the elevator pressed down on Ann’s already nervous stomach, making her feel nauseated. She breathed in, slow and deep, and stared at the blinking floor numbers to combat motion sickness. Her body tensed when the bell for the fifth floor sounded.

Frozen with fear, she was herded through the open doors by anxious visitors behind her.

Jerry had been moved to the Critical Care Unit where he was monitored by a staff specialized in head trauma. Unfamiliar with this floor, the mother and daughter-in-law followed signs, often confusing, until they found the nurse’s station.

“Good afternoon, I’m Ann Blackmon. Can you tell me where Jerry Blackmon’s room is?”

“Mr. Blackmon is in room 513.” Looking at Sylvia, the nurse asked, “Are you family as well?”

“I’m his mother.”

“Family members are only allowed fifteen-minute visits at a time. Visiting hours are from one until four and from seven until nine.”

“But we just got here!”

“Those are the rules.”

Sylvia put her arm around Ann. She turned her away from the nurse and walked her toward room 513.

“Try to calm down, honey. It’s three forty-five and we don’t want to waste a minute. After we finish this visit we can go find a motel, have a relaxed dinner, and come back tonight. How does that sound?”

“I just don’t think I can take much more before seeing Jerry. I promise I’ll behave.” Ann managed a weak smile at her mother-in-law and gave her a hug. Jerry’s accident had brought them closer together and she enjoyed having her support, especially now.

The hall speakers blared without warning. “Code Blue, Code Blue!”

Ann and Sylvia cringed, clutching each other, not knowing what to do. The piercing speakers careened off slick walls like hail on a tin roof. They moved from the center of the hall to make room for a team running toward them pushing a crash cart and shouting, “Clear the way!”

“Oh my God, Sylvia, they’re going into Jerry’s room,” Ann shrieked when the cart and crew turned into Room 513.

She ran and tried to follow the crash team into Jerry’s room until a nurse stepped in front of her and blocked the doorway. “I’m sorry ma’am, you can’t come in here!”

“Damn it, I’m his wife, you have to let me in there!” Ann tried to push by the nurse.

An orderly responding to the Code Blue saw the confrontation and pulled Ann away from the door. “Please calm down. You would only be in the way. You can go in as soon as he’s stabilized, but until then you must stay out here. There is a waiting room just down the hall, you can wait in there.”

“I’m not leaving this spot,” Ann said. “Do you understand that? I’m staying right here until I can see my husband.”

“Fine, but I must ask you not to enter the room until the doctor speaks to you and says it’s okay. Will you do that for me?”

Ann reluctantly stepped across the hall. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. Her fury showed in a scowl directed at anyone coming or going into Jerry’s room.

Sylvia had lost her calm demeanor by this time and was unable to be the peacemaker.

The orderly glanced toward the two women as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“Momma was right, I’m going to get him moved to Forsyth Hospital just as soon as he is able to travel. We’re getting in to see Jerry even if it’s past visiting hours or they’re going to have to lock me up,” Ann said to anyone within earshot. She’d never been this upset before and was in no mood to be bossed around.

Ann looked at her watch every two minute. What was taking them so long? She paced up and down the hall, ignoring Sylvia, who grieved quietly across the hall from Jerry’s room. Another quick glance at her watch—they’d been working on Jerry for almost thirty minutes. She stopped pacing and focused on the door to room 513. Her head snapped back at the click of the door knob. Someone was coming out.

Doctor Thomas appeared, removing his mask.

“How is my husband?” Ann asked, a faint gasp escaping her mouth as she nearly ran into the doctor.

“Why don’t we step into this office where it’s more private? I’ll give you a full report.”

Doctor Thomas opened a door across the hall. He turned on the lights and motioned for them to have a seat on a couch sitting against one wall. After Sylvia and Ann sat, he took a seat in a folding chair in front of them.

“Your husband began experiencing an irregular heartbeat. We tried to shock it back to normal but were not successful. We inserted a defibrillator to try and restore his heart rhythm. I’m sorry, Mrs. Blackmon, but Jerry’s heart just gave out. He went into cardiac arrest. There wasn’t anything more we could do for him. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Doctor Thomas stood then placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “The chaplain is on his way.”

Ann collapsed into Sylvia’s arms. They cried together while Doctor Thomas quietly exited the office.

Chapter 41

“You adapted to the progress that came with peace and a growing economy. You held on to your values, traditions, and work ethic.”

Morning after

Rick rolled over and pressed himself against Candi’s warm body, gently blowing in her ear. She roused, rolled onto her back, and then pulled him on top of her.

Squinting from the bright, noonday sun streaming in her windows, she said in a raspy voice, “Man, you look like shit, but that was one hell of a New Year’s party.”

“You don’t look so great yourself. How about I whip up some bacon and eggs and a big pot of coffee?”

“How can you think of food? Oh, God, I think I’m going to throw up.” Candi pushed Ricked off her then rolled out of bed and wobbled a few steps toward the bathroom. Then, in a burst of speed, she ran and hugged the commode while she threw up several hours’ worth of beer, bourbon, chips, dips, and finger foods.

At the sound of her heaving, Rick jumped up and pulled on a pair of red and white N.C. State sweats. He wasn’t much of a drinker and managed to escape the party with little more than a dull headache. The short walk into the kitchen convinced him that maybe dry toast and coffee would be a better choice.

“Do you need any help in there?” he called to Candi. Hearing no reply, he checked and found Candi on her knees with her head resting on her crossed arms on the toilet seat. There wasn’t anything left in her stomach, just gut-wrenching dry heaves.

Rick went to their bedroom closet, grabbed her bathrobe, and then draped it over her shoulders before he went back into the kitchen. He stirred a raw egg into a glass of milk then delivered it to Candi, who was still retching. “Here, drink this. They say it’s great for a hangover.”

She grasped the glass with both shaking hands and downed the concoction. “Ugh, what the hell was that?”

“Just an antidote for a hangover.”

“It tasted terrible, and I’m freezing my ass off!”

“Stand up and I’ll help you get into your robe.”

“Just leave me alone. I’ll be okay in a little while.”

“I can take a hint.” She would never let him do anything for her; it had to be her doing it her way. Candi had loosened up a lot since they first met, but she still had an independent wall built around her Rick hadn’t been able to breach.

He shook it off and went back into the kitchen, dumped the grounds down the disposal, and put on a fresh pot of coffee. Rick knew his way around her kitchen pretty well now and could find almost anything he needed. Candi wasn’t much of a cook and didn’t organize the few items on her shelves like he had seen his mother do when they brought the groceries home.

They moved in together a short time after that explosive night in the Winston-Salem Marriott. Candi had chided Rick about his tiny, slovenly apartment that should have been condemned by the health department. The only things he moved were his few clothes and an alarm clock.

He’d only had a bed that Wil had given him when he and Ginger got married, a recliner from Goodwill, a nightstand with a Miller Beer lamp on it of unknown origin, And a black and white TV with rabbit ears that sat on an old foot locker turned up on end that doubled as a bookcase.

His kitchenware consisted of a couple of pots and pans, an odd assortment of silverware donated by a restaurant owner after Rick gave his Italian eatery a good write-up in the paper. He’d been eating off paper plates on a card table that had two mismatched folding chairs. The Salvation Army took the bed, chair, and TV, but they’d tossed the rest in a dumpster behind his old apartment.

“That coffee smells good,” Candi said, holding a cold washcloth against her forehead when she entered the kitchen. She flopped into a chair at the kitchen table with a groan and began to towel her hair dry while waiting on the coffee to finish brewing. “I took a quick shower to wake me up. I’ll feel like a human being again when I get some black coffee in me. That nasty cocktail you gave me seems to be helping. How do you feel?”

“One of us had to drive home, so my Seagrams Seven and 7UP was mostly 7UP. Besides, I wanted to be able to remember the fun we were going to have when we got home. You were amazing, even better than the Marriott in Winston.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it. I don’t even remember leaving the party. I haven’t had that much to drink since I quit therapy. I seldom drink much at office parties, but that newsroom bunch can really throw 'em down. It’s the first time in a long while I felt secure enough to let go because I knew you would take care of me. But, next time, cut me off earlier. I want to remember being amazing when we get home.”

Candi smiled at Rick. Her robe opened when she stood up and pressed her naked body against his bulging sweat pants. With her arms wrapped around his neck, she kissed him, thrusting her tongue down his throat. Her robe dropped to the floor as she steered him out of the kitchen and toward their rumpled bed.

“I’ll remember this time,” she whispered in his ear.

At three in the afternoon, Rick and Candi were back sitting around the kitchen table, sipping black coffee after finishing off a frozen pepperoni and cheese pizza that tasted like cardboard.

“We’ve been living together for a few months now and I’ve heard most of your life story, but one thing still puzzles me. Where did the nickname Candi come from? I mean, you’re Polish, right? That doesn’t sound very Polish for a girl that went to Catholic schools.”

“It’s a long story,” she said and reached for cigarettes in her purse.

“We’ve got the rest of the day,” Rick joked.

She found her cigarettes and pulled one out to light. She glanced at Rick’s disapproving glare, put the cigarette back into the pack, crumpled it up, and tossed it with the lighter into the trash can.

“Thanks, I appreciate you not smoking. Wish you would stop completely. They’re really bad for you.”

“I just might do that. I only started because I was mad about my parents’ deaths. It sort of helped me get through my grief. That was a rough time. Until I met you, I haven’t had any reason to stop.” Candi flashed a wicked grin. “It was kind of fun to push your buttons by smoking in your office at first, but I don’t want to push those buttons anymore. I have more enjoyable ones to push now.

“Anyway, back to my nickname. My mom couldn’t have any more kids after my birth, so she named me Bogdana, after my grandmother, which means
Gift of God
in Polish. In high school I wasn’t good at sports, but my best friend, Karen, who was a great softball player, talked me into signing up for the Intramural team during PE. During my first game, the score was tied and it was my turn at bat with two outs. Karen was on third base. I was afraid the ball was going to hit me and ducked back every time a pitch was thrown. I had let two strikes go by and Karen yelled at me, ‘Hey, candy ass, stand in there and hit the damn ball!’

The name stuck at school, but my parents didn’t like it and forbid Karen to use it when she was at our house. So I modified it to Candi, which I liked better than my real name. My parents hated Candi but accepted it as part of my teenage rebellion. I guess they figured if that was the worst thing I did, they could live with it. So there you have it.”

“Did you bring her home?”

“What?”

“Your friend Karen. Did you bring her in from third to score?”

“I swung at the next pitch and missed it by a mile. Okay, my turn. Why did they name you Rick instead of it being a nickname for Richard?”

“My story is much shorter and less interesting. My Momma and Daddy didn’t go to the movies very often. Actually, I don’t ever remember them going to a movie together, but she would make a point to see Ricardo Montalban, the great Latin lover. She would go to the matinee any time he came to our theater and be home before Daddy got home from work.”

“So Rick is your nickname for Ricardo?”

“She didn’t think a Mexican name like Ricardo would go over very well in our WASP town. She shortened it to just plain Rick. She never told anyone why. I didn’t even know until after Daddy died. Momma, Wil, and I were sitting around the kitchen table after the funeral and our friends had left. She just started talking to us about all sorts of things she’d kept secret for most of their married life. It was like we weren’t even in the room. She really had a crush on Montalban. She would have been mortified if Daddy had found out. Here she was, the epitome of a good Christian woman, pillar of the church, model wife, and mother harboring feelings for another man, a Mexican movie star at that. I think she was just venting her soul. We’ve never spoken of it since. She would probably deny she ever said it if I brought it again.”

“That’s romantic. It’s a woman thing you would never understand. Another thing: why do you still call your parents Momma and Daddy? You’re a grown adult.”

“It’s a Southern thing, you Yankees wouldn’t understand,” Rick said then chuckled.

“You’re right about that. But she sounds sweet. Am I ever going to get to meet her?”

“We can swing down to Bankstowne after we’ve delivered Mr. Gaines’ leather jacket and had a chance to poke around the S & T Warehouse. Maybe get a scoop on what’s going on there. I think I can clear it with Dan.”

“Oh, do we have to talk about work? It’s much more fun to hang out here having sex and eating bad pizza all day.”

“Look at the bright side, maybe we can get our old room 515 back at the Marriott.”