Striking Out (5 page)

After examining his handiwork and lecturing his retinue, Dr. Griffith went on to the next bed, leaving me alone with Andy. I put the flowers into a water jug for want of a vase and settled in with a book of travel essays I’d brought with me, the perfect escape from an unpleasant setting. Without too much trouble I could imagine myself in a steamy Mexican jungle or a smoky Paris café instead of the pulmonary wing of the Toronto Hospital.

Mostly, I do anything I can to avoid hospitals, even as a visitor. I even find maternity wards depressing. There’s something terribly unnatural and inappropriately intimate about chatting with someone when they’re in bed and you’re not.

Andy woke up again after a couple of hours.

“Bob Flanagan told me about the kid,” he said. “How is Jim doing?”

“He was here last night until you came out of surgery. He’s not great. When did you talk to Flanagan?”

“I don’t know. Sometime this morning. It’s a bit of a blur. I think he took a statement from me.”

“Christ, why can’t they leave you in peace?”

“They can’t. They have to investigate quickly.”

“I guess. How’s your pain?”

“It’s going strong,” he winced.

I started to call the nurse, but he put his hand on my arm.

“She’ll bring it when it’s time,” he said.

“Fine, be macho. It’s your pain, not mine.”

“Don’t worry about Jim,” he said. “There’s no way he wasn’t justified. He’ll be on leave until it’s settled, though. I should call him, but there are no phones in here.”

“I’ll call for you.”

“Is he taking it hard?”

“He said it was the first time he’s shot anyone.”

“Yes, it is.”

“What about you? Have you ever?”

“Shot someone? Yes. A few years ago. He didn’t die, but I still lived with nightmares for a good while afterwards. I hope Jim has the sense to get some help.”

“Like what?”

“The department has shrinks for this kind of thing now. It used to be they’d just throw the officer back into duty. They’ve got smarter lately.”

“What about when you did it?”

“I pretended it didn’t matter for a while. But it ate at me. I wasn’t sleeping. I was drinking, really drinking, almost every night. It broke up my marriage, for one thing.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“That’s when I went for help.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about that before?”

“It’s the past. Ancient history. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Listen, these days there’s all sorts of help available. This is nineties policing. Jim’s going to have help coming out his yin yang, whether he asks for it or not. So will I.”

“That’s good.”

“They’ve got this critical incident team. Guys who have gone through it. They hold your hand, talk about the nightmares, make sure you don’t blame yourself, that kind of thing. I’m surprised they haven’t been here yet.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“I’ve been on the team before. They try to use people who already know the man involved. I wonder who they’ll send for me.”

“Not Bob Flanagan, I hope.”

He laughed, then winced.

“No, sensitivity isn’t exactly his strong point.”

“I’m surprised to hear he has a strong point.”

“Don’t start, Kate. He’s a little rough, I know . . .”

“But he’s a good cop,” I joined in. “You’ve told me that before, but he makes my skin crawl. What’s he doing on this case, anyway? I thought he had been kicked off homicide for beating up a suspect. Wasn’t he sentenced to going around to schools with Honker the talking police car?”

“He’s been in counselling, he’s off the booze, and they’ve let him back, under Stimac’s supervision. And he’s a great investigator when he’s got his temper under control.”

“Well, I still think he’s a pig. And I had to sit with him all last night.”

“Poor baby. You’ll get your reward in heaven.”

“I’d better get it sooner than that.”

Andy looked over my shoulder and smiled. I turned and saw Jim Wells crossing the ward.

“You look better than the last time I saw you,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“Good, thanks to you,” Andy said.

“Man, I thought I was going to be carrying your hat for a while there.”

“You don’t get rid of me that easily.”

“What’s this about carrying his hat?” I asked.

“It’s a cop thing,” Andy said. “At police funerals, the partner carries the dead guy’s hat.”

“Oh, jolly. And how are you doing, Jim?” I asked.

He made a so-so gesture with his hand.

“Not bad, for a brutal racist death-monger.”

“Sounds like Josiah Brand’s been making pronouncements,” Andy said.

“Got it in one.”

“You getting any help on this, Jim?”

“Oh, yeah. The critical incident guys are all over me. The Police Association’s got me a lawyer. No problem.”

“How’s Carol?” I asked.

“It’s tough on her and the kids. I’m trying to get them to go stay with her folks at the cottage for a couple of weeks. At least they won’t be reading about it in the paper and seeing it on television every day.”

“That’s a good idea. Why don’t you go too?”

“Not now. Let’s get Andy out of the hospital first, and get this investigation over. Then maybe I’ll think about it.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?” I asked. “You look a little rough.”

“Well, it wasn’t my best night.”

He turned to Andy.

“I just keep asking myself how this happened. Is there something we should have done different?”

Andy shook his head.

“No, Jim. It just happened. It wasn’t our fault.”

“Maybe if we’d kept him from going into the other room.”

“He said he had to take a piss. What were we supposed to do? He wasn’t even a suspect. Stop beating yourself up.”

“Jim, you saved Andy’s life,” I said. “Just concentrate on that.”

“I guess.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Andy said. “This is too morbid.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“What’s happening to our investigation? Have they put someone else on it?”

“Yeah. Stimac told me he was going to.”

“Shit. We were so close.”

“Makes sense. I’m out of action until this thing blows over, and you’re in bed.”

“Oh, no, not cop shop talk,” I said. “Unless you want to drive me away.”

“No, I have to leave anyway,” Jim said. “Carol’s waiting. I just wanted to see for myself if this ornery bugger was back in the land of the living.”

“Thanks for coming,” Andy said. “Thanks for everything.”

“It’s nothing. You’d do the same for me. I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll bring the cribbage board.”

“You don’t have to,” Andy said.

“Hell, I haven’t got anything else to do. Besides, it will cheer me up to whup your butt.”

After he left, Andy looked worn out.

“Why don’t you go too,” he said. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I think you’re right. Here comes the nurse with more drugs. I’ll wait until she’s done, then I’ll go. Your mum’s going to be in later.”

Andy grimaced.

“You know the worst thing about being in the hospital? The pain? The boredom? No. It’s all the socializing.”

Dinner was takeout Chinese food, which Sally, T.C., and I ate around my kitchen table. Once they had been reassured about Andy’s well-being we had a good time. It had been a while since the three of us had been alone together.

T.C. spent most of the evening dropping hints about his birthday eleven days away, and about a particular brand of wildly expensive shoes guaranteed to make him a better basketball player if he should happen to get them for a present. And what the excellent new CDs happen to be, and how his friend Anthony has his own TV and VCR in his room, which is dead cool.

“And Anthony has both a mother and a father working at high-paying jobs, correct?” Sally asked.

“Well, yeah.”

“Whereas you have just the one parent who works for close to minimum wage.”

“If I can guilt Dad into getting me a TV, can I have it?”

“Sure, since chances of that are slim to none, and I heard Slim just left town.”

“Maybe he’ll make up for all my birthdays he’s missed.”

“And maybe I’ll win the lottery and maybe Kate will be crowned queen of Romania. In your dreams, kid.”

“Okay, what about a dog, then? They don’t cost much at the humane society.”

“And you’re going to walk it and pick up its poop before school every day?”

“Sure. I would. I promise.”

“To coin a phrase, yeah, right.” Sally said.

“And every night before I go to bed. I swear.”

“And what do you think Elwy would have to say about this?” I asked. The cat’s ears twitched at the sound of his name.

“Elwy’s mellow.” T.C. said.

“Not that mellow.”

“And speaking of before bed, which you just were.” Sally said, “it’s that time.”

“I don’t know what time it is.” T.C. said. “I haven’t got a watch. Did I tell you what Anthony’s grandparents gave him for his thirteenth birthday? A Rolex.”

“The only watch you’re getting is this one.” Sally said. “Watch your step, if you know what’s good for you.”

“All right, all right. You can’t blame me for trying. Anyway, if I go downstairs, can I stay up a bit later?”

“You can read for a while, or listen to your hideous music as loud as you like. Just bug off, okay? Kate and I have had enough of your hinting. We deserve a moment of peace.”

“Can I watch a video?”

“
May
you watch a video? You may not. Don’t push your luck.”

“Okay, okay. I was just kidding.”

He got up and headed for the door.

“Now don’t you be talking about me when I’m gone.”

“No fear, kiddo,” Sally said. “We’ve got more interesting things to talk about.”

“Yeah, right,” he said.

We listened to his footsteps clattering down the stairs.

“He’s a great kid,” I said, once the downstairs door closed.

“Well, I guess so,” Sally answered. “But he’s growing up so fast. I hardly know him sometimes.”

“I know what you mean.”

I got up from the table and began to clear things away. Sally joined me.

“You want to save the leftovers?”

“Might as well. I’m going to be eating alone for a while.”

While she slopped moo shu pork and orange beef into plastic containers, I scraped the plates and loaded the dishwasher. Then I got out Andy’s single malt Scotch and a couple of glasses.

“Can I tempt you?”

“Have you got any sweet stuff? Grand Marnier or something? I’m in that kind of mood.”

“I might. I’ll check.”

“No, let me,” she said, getting up. “I love other people’s liquor cabinets. You can tell a lot about a person.”

“I don’t think I have any secrets,” I said, to her back, as she crouched down and shifted bottles around. “Unless the bottle of rye counts. The one for visiting uncles from Saskatchewan.”

“The only thing that never gets drunk, no matter how desperate we get,” she agreed. “Oh, looky what I found.”

She stood up triumphantly brandishing a bottle of melon liqueur that a well-meaning friend had once brought me from Israel. A non-drinking friend, needless to say, who said she knew how much I liked unusual things.

“I suspect you’ll regret this in the morning,” I said.

“Maybe, but hey, what’s life for but living to the hilt?”

“You’re only middle-aged once,” I agreed, raising my glass.

She poured herself a shot, took an experimental sip, and looked surprised.

“This isn’t half bad. Want some?”

“I’ll stick with the vice I know,” I said. “Now, on to the really important stuff. Can you explain what it is that your son has done to his hair?”

“I know, I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s all I can do to keep a straight face. All his friends have hair like that. I think it’s some kind of black thing.”

“I’m afraid he looks more like Jughead than Arsenio Hall”

“Fine, you tell him that!”

“I’ll pass.”

“It’s like he was dropped in the wrong nest,” Sally said. “The music is all rap, the slang is all black. I almost peed my pants the first time he talked about ‘goin’ to hang in the ’hood with his homies.’”

I snorted.

“Really, it’s too much,” Sally said. “When I was a kid I thought I was a princess who had been left to be reared by a grocer in Wadena as a terrible mistake. T.C. thinks he’s a soul brother cruelly sentenced to inhabit a honky body.”

“That’s where the political interest comes from, I take it.”

“Sure. I get a lecture about race relations and exploitation of blacks most nights now with dinner. He’s really freaked about Andy because it puts him smack in the middle of a dilemma he doesn’t know how to handle.”

“I forgot to ask. Did he go to the demonstration this afternoon?”

“No. I think he felt that it would be disloyal to Andy, under the circumstances.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Really? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“You know me. I always think that political awareness should be encouraged.”

“Instead, he’s learned a lesson about moral complexity. That’s probably just as valuable.”

“I guess. So, what have you got planned for the big birthday? Is he clamouring for a mixed party?”

“Hardly. He wants to take his three best friends bowling, then have them over for a wild night of Spike Lee videos and root beer. What are you going to give him?”

“I’ve got a special present for the rite of passage. I got it last time the Titans were in Texas. Check this out.”

I went to my room and came back with a pair of lizard-skin cowboy boots.

“Oh, my God, they’re perfect,” she laughed. “He’ll go nuts. Just the sort of wildly indulgent present you have become famous for over the years. You’re too generous.”

“That’s my role in life,” I said.

“I believe you might have to start paying the price soon for being T.C.’s favourite aunt-like person in the universe. When adolescence really kicks in and he stops talking to me, I’ll know there’s one adult he’ll still go to for advice.”

“You’re assuming I’m capable of giving sensible advice.”

“Well, not that you’ve ever demonstrated any tendency to be sensible, of course, but I’m stuck with you.”

We raised our glasses.

“To T.C. and adolescence,” I said.

“And the fond hope that we all survive it.”