HOPE FOR CHANGE... But Settle for a Bailout (25 page)

“I’ve had my coach since high school and
Pat’s always been there for me, ever since I was a kid, so
coaching’s covered,” said Lori. “I got invited to the trials
through the swim club, and coach tells everyone that it’s strength,
form and discipline, so you can’t go wrong there.”

December felt Lori’s bicep. “You’re plenty
strong, hunny,” she said, her hands on Lori’s body.

“Strength is no problem,” said Lori, “but I
kept losing my form, like when the cramp happened. If I had been
more disciplined, I could have kept my form and swain through the
cramp…. Guess that’s what separates the amateur from the
champion.”

“You did great out there,” said Larry.

“You did, Soldier Girl,” said December.

“Who was yelling?” asked Lori.

“Oh, we had the whole crowd going,” said
December. “Ar-MEEE!”

Lori lay in the leather and smiled. December
rested her head on Lori’s chest. Larry drank soda.

.

“Does five hundred cover it?” Larry asked,
pulling five crumpled bills from his pocket.

The driver, in his blue coat and beige
slacks, smoothed out the hundred dollar bills, looking at each
against the sky. “Oh, this is fine,” said Ralphie. “Thank you for a
very good day rate.”

“Look,” said Larry, as December and Lori
made their way up to the main door of the mansion on Treasure
Island. “I’d sort of like to have, you know, when I need someone,
being able to call for help getting around.” Larry looked around,
up, and then back to the driver. “Can I just… like, call? Or,
maybe, hire you?”

“I could give you a weekly rate, or you
could buy a number of days within a given month,” said the driver.
As he finished, the sound of a volcano erupting bellowed and Calvin
stormed up the path, towards the limousine.

“Maybe you should go,” said Larry. “He can
be….”

“Lawsuit, boy?” yelled Calvin, still a
distance from the car. “You filed a goddamned lawsuit?”

“That’s alright,” said Ralphie, calming
looking to his driving gloves, which he slowly removed, pulling
each finger before taking off the glove itself.

“You don’t have to like what I did at the
hospital, but you’re gonna sue me?” Calvin bent at the low front
gate, unlatching the swinging door and still yelling until he stood
a few feet from Larry. “Now that you have money to burn, why not
take your old man to court? Is that it, boy?”

“Will that be all, sir?” Ralphie asked
Larry.

“Actually,” said Larry, “can you come back?
I wanna go see my grandma. She’s in the hospital.”

Calvin, beating his arms onto his hips,
walked rapidly in a furious circles “I don’t believe this.”

“Like, in two hours,” said Larry.

“Yes sir,” said Ralphie, climbing into the
limo, leaving Larry and Calvin on the sidewalk.

Two kids on bikes skidded to a stop next to
the curb. “Is that your personal limo, mister?” asked one of the
kids.

“Beat it,” spat Calvin.

“We weren’t talking to you,
old man,
”
barked back the second kid.

Larry lowered his head, needling his way
past Calvin, and quickly up the path to the main door, with Calvin
following, yelling, as Larry swiftly and without deviation got to
the door, opened it and entered closing the door behind him.
Calvin, reaching the door, turned the knob, but could not open the
locked door. “You are fucking kidding me,” he yelled, pounding on
the door.

.

Ralphie opened the door to the limousine and
Larry van der Bix – in shorts, flip-flops and a loud floral shirt –
climbed out. “I don’t how long I’m gonna be. You don’t have to
stay. Maybe I can call when I’m done?”

A pair of women in surgical scrubs walked
out of the main entrance to Long Beach Memorial, looking at Larry,
standing next to the limo. “That would be fine, sir,” said Ralphie.
“Call when you’d like. I’m going off the clock from my regular
client for a few days and so I’m available for you.”

“Thanks,” said Larry, “cuz, like, driving
and me… not good.”

.

Larry held Emma’s limp hand in his and
watched the variety of monitors – one following the heart rate and
another regulating a drip tube and a third connected by electrical
receptors to track her breathing, though for Larry his eyes rested
on the subtle rise and fall of Emma’s chest.

A nurse entered silently and checked the
drip, pressing a green button several times until beeps sounded.
Without speaking to Larry, she exited.

“Farmor,” Larry said. “I don’t know exactly
how long they want you to… to… sleep,” he said, holding her hand.
“I can’t believe there isn’t someone on staff who could talk to
you, but I guess Danish isn’t common.” Larry sat up, his eyes wide.
He pulled out his phone with his free hand and called Lawrence,
only getting voicemail.

“Lawrence, yeh, ok, it’s Larry… me, not you…
I know you hate that name,” said Larry, “but now I need something,
need you to arrange something. A medical thing. When you call for
the details, tell me ‘Copenhagen.’ Okay? That’s it. Nothing else.
‘
Copenhagen.
’ ”

As he ended the call, his phone silently
flashed “December.”

“Hello,” said Larry, pushing
loudspeaker.

“Larry?”

“Uh, hi December.”

“Larry, are you with your grandma?”

“Uh, at the hospital, yeh.”

“Can you have Ralphie get me and take me so
I can be there?”

“Yeh, sure. I’ll text you his number. Tell
him I said it’s okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Should I call Lori, too?”

“No!” said December. “Please, definitely
not.”

“Okay,” said Larry. “Whatever.”

A second nurse entered silently, wrote
numbers from the monitors onto a paper chart in a thick folder, and
quietly exited.

Larry held Emma’s hand and sat silently for
almost ten minutes. His phone, resting on the bed, flashed.

“Hello? Oh, hi Emily.” Larry pushed
speaker.

“The papers went in this morning and should
show up by the end of the day when someone serves….”

“My dad got them, yeh,” said Larry.
“Thanks.”

“If you need me, you know where to find me,
but I have family stuff that I’ve got to deal with,” said
Emily.

“Ok, if I need you, I’ll call.”

“Dude,” said a voice from the doorway. Larry
looked at his phone, which was now blank. “Dude,” said the voice
again.

Larry turned to see Ed Lossé in the doorway.
“Want someone to hang out with you?”

“Um, uh,” said Larry.

“Ralphie said you were here, so I thought,
you know.”

“Um, yeh, ok,” said Larry. Ed went around
the bed, pulling the second chair alongside Emma’s bedrail. Ed
lowered the rail, sat down and scooped Emma’s hand into his
own.

“Holding hands is a good thing,” said Ed,
who had tenderly slipped his hands such that one supported Emma’s
wrist and hand and the other rested lightly atop it; two large dark
hands holding a tiny, pale hand.

“Yeh,” Larry said, dutifully.

Silently, the two men sat as nurse visit was
followed by nurse visit, and no one in the room spoke for nearly an
hour, when a female voice broke the silence.

“Mr. van der Bix,” said a voice from behind
Larry. “Your grandmother is doing very well.”

Larry turned without losing his grip on
Emma’s hand. “What?”

“I’m Dr. Bosch,” said the doctor, in a
bright white coat. “We’ve been able to hold back from the very
difficult decision of whether a respirator is needed, and in light
of the dispute over the DNR, that’s good…. Emma is doing very well.
That’s the most important thing.”

“Yes, Dr. Bosch,” sail Larry. “Why is she
still out?”

“We are working on two tracks,” said the
doctor. “We must rule out the major risks and conditions that it is
not.”

Larry fully turned to the doctor. “And the
other track?”

“Based on descriptions from others,
observation of emergency personnel, what you’ve told me, and what
her son said on admission,” said Dr Bosch, “and what I’ve
seen….”

“Yes…,” said Larry.

“It appears to be vertigo,” said the doctor.
“Which, again, is temporary, a virus, and while its effects are
harsh, it is still relatively mild, compared to what a woman of her
age could suffer from.”

“Larry,” said a soft voice. Larry turned to
see Ralphie pushing December in a wheelchair. She was in loose
sweats and a baggy sweater and wearing a wide-brimmed hat and
sunglasses.

“Miss Carrero said she will be joining you,”
said Ralphie, bringing December’s wheelchair to Emma’s bedside.
“Shall I wait for you?”

“No, sweetie, I’m gonna hang out with my
hunny and his grandmamma,” said December.

Ed cleared his throat. “Ed… Ed Lossé.” He
reached his hand out.

“I know who you are, Ed.”

“Just putting up the little nameplate, you
know?”

“Yeh, I know,” said December.

Ed framed a wide rectangle with his fingers
and held it over his chest, making pulsation movements, saying
quietly, “… you know… Name Badge.”

“Okay,” said December.

“Doctor is telling Larry that Emma’s doing
good,” said Ed, in a loud-but-confidential whisper to December, who
had wheeled her chair to Ed’s side of the bed. She looked at both
of Ed’s hands, holding Emma’s.

“And so, Mr. van der Bix, vertigo won’t kill
her, but the condition is not easy at any age, and if she were to
suffer a dizzy spell and fall at home, she could badly injure
herself,” said the doctor. “For a woman of Emma’s age, it is better
to rest comfortably and regain strength then to be awake and suffer
those awful dizzy spells and disorientation. She’s doing very
well.”

“... yeh...,” said December.

“… well…,” said Ed.

“So,” Larry recapped, “she’s out so she
wouldn’t have to deal with the ‘ick’ stuff of vertigo.”

“Correct,” injected the doctor. “Avoid the
‘ick.’ ”

“... no ick…,” said Ed, in a deep
whisper.

“Your grandmother is avoiding the truly icky
effects brought on by a virus. Vertigo generally does not do long
term harm, but if she were to suddenly overcome and lost her
bio-navigational sense of order, that could lead to a very bad
outcome.”

Larry turned back to Emma. Dr. Bosch stepped
closer. “So how long will she be out?”

“If she continues working past this virus,”
said the doctor, tentatively, “let’s hope soon.”

Larry outstretched his hand and, before it
neared Dr. Bosch’s own hand, Larry stopped, retracted it, stopped,
and then pulled his hand back fully. Larry thanked her. The doctor
departed.

.

My phone flashed “L V D B.” Only the fourth
or fifth call this week from Larry. Not a bad week. “Larry, what?”
I said.

“Copenhagen? Remember?” said Larry.

“I was supposed to tell you the word
‘Copenhagen,’ ” I said, looking onto one of the note cards on which
I jot notes after Larry’s calls. There, the fifth of seven bullet
points, were written the words, “Copenhagen / ask? remind?”

“I’ll want doctors or nurses or skilled care
providers,” Larry told me.

“What?” I said. What the hell is he telling
me?

“Please arrange for six, total, who will
cover three shifts,” said Larry, sounding as though he was buying
bread. “I know it’s a lot, but, maybe the Royal Ballet can
recommend someone, or the Queen’s Office, or someone like that. She
is the daughter of a Principal Dancer. Danish, though; not
Norwegian or Swedish.”

“Was that what you meant by Copenhagen?” I
said, crossing out the word on my notecard.

“Not was,” said Larry. “
Is.
Please,
Lawrence, it’s really important. Whatever it costs, we can spend it
all, but please, okay? Copenhagen?”

I underlined the crossed-out word. “Sure,
Larry.”

“Thank you, Lawrence,” said Larry. “Fast,
okay? Please?” Larry hung up.

I pressed the red button on my cell, so I
could watch Larry’s initials disappear from my phone. It always
feels good watching Larry go away. It made me think of the joke my
dad would tell, of the man who purposely bought shoes two sizes too
small, and when asked, he would explain that he worked a dead-end
job and came home to an empty apartment, so the one pleasure he had
was taking off his shoes every night. Is big money – even triple
what I was making – enough to keep taking twenty or thirty calls a
week from Larry van der Bix?

.

“Beautiful girl,” Ed said to December, “can
I ask you something, and you might think it’s a little
personal….”

“I really don’t wanna talk about questions,
Ed, okay?” said December, her voice rising from under the brim of
her hat.

“Well, more an observation, but someone hurt
you up bad,” said Ed, as he sat still, holding Emma’s hands, as he
had been since before December entered. “Are you in any pain?”

There was silence from under the hat. “You
have big hands,” said December. “Nice hands.”

“It’s good being nice,” said Ed. “Not enough
niceness going on.”

The hat remained still.

Ed continued holding Emma’s hand as Larry
watched monitors and December sat quietly. No one stirred during
nurse visits, and neither Ed nor Larry ever let go of their grip on
Emma.

Larry’ s phone flashed “Idiot Director” and
Larry put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hal-lowww…, Tres, Tres von Sommerberg, from
Denmark,” said the voice.

“Yeh, the director, I know,” said Larry. “Do
you know any doctors? You know, like a Danish version of Doctors
Without Borders; someone who could come out for like a month, or
two… all expenses paid and salary… all that....”

“Oh, well then,” said von Sommerberg, “just
some oral surgeons, but doctors? Maybe Lena does… maybe.”

“Ask her, would you?” said Larry.

“I was calling about the movie,” said von
Sommerberg.