The Heavenly Heart (22 page)

Onetta lowers herself into my father’s chair very slowly like maybe it has a whoopee cushion with an electric shock attached. My mother sits in her matching wing-back chair right next toOnetta.

“You are
not
to worry the least bit about money right now, Onetta,” my mother explains. “I’m going to take care of everything. Everything! Why you’ve given most of your life to our family. You
are
family!”

Oetta’s crying. She’s hunched over with her elbows and breasts resting on her knees. My mother goes to her side and puts her arm around her shoulder.

“You be so good to me, Mz. Goodroe. Lordy, Lordy, so good to me,” Onetta says.

“Now don’t you worry,” my mother croons. “We’re going to get you to Emory immediately. I know just the doctor—”

“Oh, I gots me a doctor, Ms. Goodroe. Dr. West. He be ‘round long, long time. He by the airport.”

My mother looks like she’s been slapped in the face.

“Nonsense,” she says. “We need the best doctors available. Why there are as many opinions on breast cancer treatments as there are doctors.” My mother waves her hand in the air and dismisses Dr. West with one flick of her wrist.

This time I agree with her. When you’re sick with cancer, the right doctor and the right treatment can make all the difference in the world.

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” my mother says, thumbing through the yellow pages. “I’m going to make sure you have the best care possible under heaven.”

It’s like a different woman has moved in and taken over her body. And I like her choice of words:
The best possible care under heaven
.

SIXTY-NINE

Heaven’s Doorstep

I’m avoiding Pete like he’s got the measles. He’s busy with new arrivals, so right now it’s not a problem. There’s hundreds of them. But maybe a trip through the Silver Lining with Pete leading the way wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I could use a distraction—something to take my mind off Onetta. The worst case scenario, of course, is that she’ll end up here, which isn’t a worst case ending at all, but what about her children? Who will take care of them? Her husband Clarence’s useless. He’s not even around. It’s true, Onetta’s kids are older and they don’t need the kind of attention they used to need. One’s finishing high school and the others are in college. And they have some scholarships and stuff, but that doesn’t cover everything so Onetta’s helping to make up the difference. Plus, she’s their only support system at home. Other than that, Onetta would be totally at home if she were up here. She’d fly up the Steps to the Hereafter and claim her reward quicker than you can cough. I know that. Whenever she was having a bad day she’d say, “Someday I goes on to glory. Someday I do—”.

I decide this is as good a time as any to check on Mr. Powel in the Silver Lining and see if he’s contaminated anyone else’s eyes. Maybe his granddaughter’s wedding will take his mind off his hobby. 

Mr. Powell got my corneas from an eye bank. Nothing has changed in that regard, other than the eye bank gave him someone else’s. I don’t know much about cornea or eye tissue. Well, at least I didn’t before joining Pete. Now I know quite a bit. The cornea’s the clear tissue covering the front of the eyeball. It’s the main focusing part of the eye. Nothing to brag on, most people already know that.  Mr. Powell suffers from corneal blindness, which means his corneas are getting clouded and he can’t see. This can happened for a bunch of different reasons—like a disease or an injury or an infection. Knowing what Mr. Powell’s been up to, it’s probably from an infection.

The first successful cornea transplant was done in 1905. Golly, that’s amazing. But, since then, there’s been like a million transplants. It’s done more than any other type of transplant. And they have a 90% success rate, also amazing. Anyone can be a donor, which is good, because there’s no substitute for human tissue. Scientists are doing some work on artificial corneas, but they’re reserved for people with diseases that aren’t a candidate for a regular transplant. There are never enough corneas to fix all the people who need them, which is major sad, seeing as there are thousands entering heaven every hour and they sure don’t need their corneas up here. You get a new set of everything. You step in, bang, you’re brand new. Don’t have an arm? No problem. You got one now. Missing a leg? Presto! One new leg.

Mr. Powell’s back from the wedding reception. He’s still wearing his tuxedo and he’s in front of his computer. Just where I figured he’d be. He’s looking at the same garbage he was looking at when he had my corneas.  It’s like an addiction or something. I say a prayer that he’ll be delivered and go to find Kirsten. The last time I saw her in the Silver Lining, she’d gotten engaged to Jeffery. They’re probably planning the wedding. That interests me far more than Mr. Powell’s stupid hobby.

*        *        *

I’m right! Kirsten’s in the middle of her wedding plans. It’s going to be totally cool. They’re getting married on a pirate ship in the Savannah Harbor. Their guests are staying at the Westin Savannah Harbor Resort which overlooks the Savannah River. They’ve reserved the second floor ballroom for their wedding supper, but it’s the wedding on the ship that’s going to be the best part.

It looks just like the ship they used to film the movie
Pirates of the Caribbean
. The ceremony’s going to be conducted directly in front of the plank. Maybe they’ll jump in the water right after they say their vows. I saw that on TV once. This couple takes a flying leap into the water. But Kirsten’s wedding down is to die for, so maybe that’s not such a good idea.

It’s a Carolina Herrera original and it’s got silk and tulle and satin and a bunch of lace. It’s kind of hard to describe, but the bodice part has the satin. It’s strapless and it’s got this princess skirt that’s gathered in layers and layers with beads, and it has this long train that can be made into a bustle if she wants to dance. And there’s a veil that comes down to her waits. Jeffery’s tuxedo’s been altered to look like a pirate’s tuxedo. It’s got this jabot and a vest and some gold chains on the front.

The wedding celebration will begin on Friday night with a tour of the public squares in Savannah. Check it out: the squares are a central part of downtown Savannah. They’re a very interesting grid of streets and alleys that follow a pattern established by General James Oglethorpe when he founded Savannah in the 1700’s. They’re considered the most intelligent grid in America, possibly the world. It says so on a fancy bronze sign.  Every square is set in the middle of a nearly square rectangle of about 600 feet per side, and is bound by a narrow one-way street running east to west and on the south by a narrow one-way street running west to east. Confused yet? Anyway, the sides of the square are intersected by a wider two-way street. There’s a bunch of Live oak trees that give a lot of shade and there’s these nice benches to sit on and a gazebos and some fountains and some monuments. It’s the perfect spot for a wedding.

The Squares are pretty nifty because there are no stoplights at any of the intersection all around the square. They don’t need any. Cars can’t cut through the middle; they have to go around, so traffic kind of flows at a very slow pace. They’re like little oases. A person can walk from square to square to square, crossing street after street without having to stop for a car. Isn’t that cool? They should do all cities this way. There’s also a trolley that winds its way around the squares and they have horse-drawn carriages and Pedi cabs. They’re all very popular with the tourists.

Anybody staying at the Westin Harbor Hotel can reach the squares by a two-minute ferry ride. Because the squares are so easy to get to, they’re also easy to see. As soon as you leave one square another one comes into view. They’ve thought of everything. It’s a totally cool place. You know you’re in the United States, but it feels you’re not on the same planet. It’s freaky and fun!

Savannah’s not a very big—the sign says less than 200,000 residents—but over five million visitors come each year. The sign says that, too. And the squares are where they hold the second largest St. Patrick’s Day Parade in America. They can also be rented. Jeffery and Kirsten are holding their Friday night rehearsal dinner on the Johnson and Wright Squares. There’s Live oak canopies, brick sidewalks, benches, fountains, monuments and some public art work. I’m thinking what a spectacular wedding this is going to be and then I remember this is a wedding that will
never
be. This is the Silver Lining. This would be Kirsten’s future if I
had
survived. I didn’t. Kirsten’s reality’s totally different.

*       *       *

This is Kirsten’s real life: She broke up with Jeffery when she met my father, and now Jeffery’s dating this girl named Helen. She’s pretty and has long blonde hair. She works as a paralegal in the same law firm as Jeffery and Kirsten, so Kirsten probably knows her. I wonder now that my father is dead, if Kirsten is having second thoughts about losing Jeffery. If she is, she needs to hurry up and let him know before things get out of hand with Helen.

SEVENTY

The Golden Window

Onetta’s doctor’s outlining her treatment plan. I hate to say it, but if you get breast cancer you’re really in for it, honey. I’m going to tell Pete that anybody who doesn’t beat this disease better have a mighty special place all ready for them up here.

“You have cancer in both breasts,” the doctor says. Onetta already knows this and doesn’t react. “The left breast shows extensive ductal carcinoma in situ, approximately two centimeters. The right is infiltrating ductal carcinoma, around one centimeter.” Which he explains is about the size of a dime—which shows you how deadly small things can be.

“They’re both highly treatable, though it would be better if the right wasn’t infiltrating.”

Onetta and my mother both looked relieved. With cancer, the word “treatable” is better than winning the lottery. The doctor explains that the cancer in the left breast is potentially fast growing and killing healthy cells, but it hasn’t yet broken out of the ducts. The right breast has an infiltrating tumor with the greatest measurable dimension, but presently it shows no vascularization, meaning, he says, that the tumor is not creating its own blood vessels.

“You’ll need to determine if you want a lumpectomy versus a mastectomy with or without reconstruction,” the doctor explains.

Isn’t that his job to determine which one’s best?

“If you forgo reconstruction, you can opt to wear a prosthesis,” the doctor continues.

Onetta looks confused.

“Artificial breasts,” the doctor explains.

I picture Onetta’s enormous breasts replaced with artificial pillows shaped like breasts. Mind boggling.

After conferring with two other specialists my mother contacted, Onetta opts for a bilateral mastectomy without immediate reconstruction. Reconstruction can be done later if she changes her mind, but in order for the insurance to cover it, she’ll have to have a letter of medical necessity from her doctor. What would constitute a medical necessity—a nervous breakdown over your appearance? The doctor doesn’t explain any further.

I need this cancer be gone,” Onetta says. ”I don’t needs these breasts anymore. They’s done their job.”

He schedules her surgery for Thursday, two days away. My mother insists that Onetta move in with her and stay in the guest room.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” she says. “I’m going to take care of you and that’s final.”

My mother then calls Mr. Warren and leaves a message on his machine.

“Wendell, this is Grace. A friend of mine is very ill. I can’t go to dinner right now or anywhere else. I’ll call you when I can.”

“Mz. Goodroe,” Onetta says, “I’s your hired help.”

“Maybe so,” my mother says, “but you are my dear friend, none-the-less.”

Will miracles never cease?

THE PORTHOLE OF TRUTH

Garrett Jennings

Toby and Daisy will have a good home. That’s the important thing.

This liver I got ain’t working. That’s the sad thing.

I’m checking out. That’s the bad thing.

Amy Jo hasn’t called even once. That’s the worst thing.

SEVENTY-ONE

The Golden Window

Kirsten’s home and having dinner by herself. She’s got a copy of the
Savannah Morning News
on the kitchen counter. It’s turned to the social page. There’s a picture of Jeffery and Helen. He’s wearing a tuxedo; she has on a wedding gown. Need I say more?

My father’s ruined her life!

I want to tell him. I want to shake him. I want to ask him why. Why? Why? And there’s plenty more I want to say. We’ve haven’t been close since I was a little girl. I was hoping that would change now that he’s here. But he spends all his time on the Steps to the Hereafter. This makes Pete very happy. Maybe I should talk to Pete. Why’s my father in such a hurry to leave, anyway? I thought he might like to stick around for awhile. Maybe we could get better acquainted. I’d like to know if he realizes how much damage he’s done to Kirsten’s life. The only way I’ll find out is to ask him. He’s on the Step of Devotion, so I better hurry. That leaves just one step to go: the Step of Discovery. After that, there’s no coming back.

*        *        *

I’m on my way to the Steps to the Hereafter and who do you think I run smack into?

If you guessed my father, think again.

SEVENTY-TWO

The Step of Attrition

It’s Garrett! I nearly knocked him over on my way to find my father.

“Oh, my goodness,” I say. “You’re Garrett Jennings! I’ve been wanting to meet you for ages.”

“Really?” he says. “I’m not used to being so popular. Who are you, anyway?”

He’s no longer wearing glasses. His eyesight is perfect here and his skin is as smooth and clear as a newborns.

“I—I—I’m Lorelei,” I stammer. The love of my live arrives and I’m tongue-tied.