The Tolling of Mercedes Bell: A Novel (53 page)

“He didn’t know you very well,” Philip remarked.

“So now I’ve passed another HIV test and I know I’m going to live. I didn’t want to tell you anything until I was sure of my fate. I wanted to spare you if I could.”

Germaine curled up even tighter in her lap.

Philip’s eyes had tears in them. “Thank you for not telling us. That took a lot of character, Mercedes.”

“We’re proud of you,” added Eleanor earnestly.

She acknowledged her parents with a nod.

“The doctor told me to go on with my life, to close the door on this chapter. I’ve told the lawyers at my office what I found out about Jack’s law practice, and they’re prosecuting him on behalf of many of Jack’s former clients. He’s embroiled in litigation. I am grateful to be healthy, to be able to take care of Germaine while she grows up, and to be here with you. ”

“Thank you for sparing us,” Philip said again.

“I couldn’t have stood it,” Eleanor said. “I would have been out of my mind with worry. Oh, that jackass! May he rot in hell!”

Mercedes fixed her gaze on her mother and said, “So I’m hoping that we can all have a new beginning.” Germaine looked at her grandmother and at her mother, then sat up and wiped her eyes.

“I’ve learned that anything really
is
possible. It’s not a platitude. I’ve learned that the truth is incontrovertible. It is there in plain sight. Mostly we look for what we
want
to see. We don’t see what is. Most people live as though they’re immortal, leaping from one desire to the next, trying to manipulate other people and circumstances to their advantage. We bypass so much of life in the rush to achieve our own ends. We waste so much time and energy.

“I don’t want to do that anymore. I’ve been given the best possible gift by being forced to think my death was imminent. I want to live my life in the slow lane. I don’t want to be manipulated or controlled, and I don’t want to do that to anyone else either. There are ways for people with great differences to get along.”

Eleanor was quiet and appeared to be turning some things over in her mind.

“You cannot change another person,” Mercedes said. “Except perhaps with a little orthodontia,” she added humorously, patting Germaine’s head.

Germaine caught her mother’s jest and laughed, then grabbed her arm and held it tightly.

I
t was a Saturday afternoon, and Germaine was at work. Mercedes had just finished yoga and was sitting in the quiet, meditating. Although nearly four years had passed since she had seen Jack, images of him paraded across her mind’s eye. The phone rang.

“Mercedes, it’s Gabe,” a familiar voice said through the receiver.

“Hi, Gabe.” She knew what he was going to say.

“It’s Jack. He doesn’t have long.”

Her pulse quickened.

“I thought you should know, in case you want to say good-bye or anything.”

“How much time do you think he has?”

“Maybe a day or two. He’s not able to communicate at all, but he does open his eyes. Anyway, there’s a nurse with him.” He gave her the address. “Just ring the bell, and she’ll let you in.”

G
ERMAINE WAS WORKING IN A
café and had recently learned to make cappuccino on the massive copper Italian espresso machine. Mercedes came in and sat on a stool at the counter. The braces had worked wonders; her daughter’s smile was radiant with her straight white teeth.

“A cappuccino, please. Quality control.”

Germaine was now Mercedes’s height, but her hair was straight and glossy, like Eddy’s, and pulled up into a ponytail. Her glasses had been replaced by contacts, and she wore silver hoops in her recently pierced ears. She wiped her hands on her apron and set about making the espresso drink. Mercedes admired her daughter’s form in the black slacks and tucked-in white shirt required by her new job. It was not hard to guess she was on the high school track team. She was lithe, long-limbed, and quick on her feet.

Germaine placed the frothy drink in front of her mother with satisfaction.

“Perfect!” Mercedes exclaimed. She took a long sip. “And delicious. It’s about time we had a barista in the family.”

“So what’s happening?” Germaine asked as she cleaned the milk-frothing spigot with a wet rag and buffed the front of the machine with a dry one. Business was slow at the moment. Even so, her big hands worked quickly.

“Jack is dying.”

Germaine’s hands stopped moving.

“How do you feel about that, Mom?”

“Not the way I expected to feel. It’s rather disconcerting.”

“Really? I’m surprised he lived this long.”

“He had the best care money could buy.”

Germaine looked at her, irritated. “Yeah, and he almost took you with him. It could have been
you
dying.”

“Almost
doesn’t count.”

“It most certainly does! I’m glad he’s dying. I wish it had been a lot sooner.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to go with me to see him one last time.”

“No way! And why would
you
want to see him?”

“I don’t want to regret that I missed the opportunity to . . . finish something. Does that make sense?”

“Nothing about this makes sense. Well, stick a pin in him for me.” Germaine gave her a devilish grin.

Mercedes took another sip of cappuccino and swallowed. “Listen, you don’t ever have to worry about getting even with anybody. Life will do a much better job of it than you could ever imagine. I’m living proof.”

T
HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON,
Mercedes opened the iron gate outside a house just off Castro Street in San Francisco. The flower beds on either side of the walkway were well tended and full of luxuriant red dahlias. A vibrant fresco covered the stucco wall around the property. A tiled walkway led to the imposing double doors at the entrance.

A female nurse in uniform answered the door. “Yes, Ms. Bell, we were expecting you. Come in, please.”

She was led over a familiar carpet into a spacious bedroom full of windows. Outside she could see the garden of fruit trees, flower beds, and a sitting area beneath a bower of morning glories. Athena stood amidst the flowers, serene as ever.

Jack lay in a hospital bed, curled up on his side. But for his eyes, she would never have recognized him. He was bald and had shrunk by more than a hundred pounds. He stared straight ahead. His withered hands were curled one on top of the other, with no resemblance
to the big, beautiful hands she had known so well. He lay mute and motionless, his brow creased in an expression of perpetual worry.

She stood by the side of the bed and looked down, shocked by the totality of AIDS’s ravages. She wondered if Jack’s spirit knew she was there and whether her words would register in his consciousness.

She picked up one of his bony hands and held it. It was cool and dry, more like a claw than a hand.

The nurse said, “We think he’s been waiting for you. I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”

She spoke his name and began talking. He turned his blue eyes in her direction and stared incoherently at her face—his mouth hanging open between concave cheeks.

“Jack, it’s Mercedes.”

Staring up at her, he moved his jaw but made no sound. The cloudiness in his eyes seemed to recede, and some faint semblance of recognition crept into his face.

She leaned closer. Tears welled up in her eyes. She pictured him as he had looked the first time she’d seen him—kingly, refined, impeccable, and captivating. She remembered the deep timbre of his voice and his thick, glossy salt-and-pepper hair, all of which was now gone. He stared at her intently, his breathing very shallow.

“I want you to know that Germaine and I are fine. I never did get the virus. I’m healthy and everything is working out. It’s a miracle.”

He looked into her eyes without blinking, as though he wanted to beam his thoughts to her.

“Thank you for all that you gave us. I bear you no hard feelings anymore. I loved you and I don’t regret that.

“Jack, be at peace. Whatever unfinished business you have is between you and God. You showed Germaine and me some of the finer things in life. You exalted us and made us feel treasured, for a
while. You helped us to regard ourselves in a completely different way. It is a great gift to have your horizons expanded.

“Germaine’s nearly grown. She’s as big as I am, smart and spirited and pretty. She’s going to do something worthwhile with her life and that is partly because of you.

“I learned invaluable lessons as a result of knowing you. Some of them were painful, but I really did love you.”

Heat was building up inside her, and she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She let go of his hand and stepped away from the bed. He did not move, but his eyes followed her. She felt her words settle upon him like a shroud.

She looked around his room, full of familiar things. There were photos of her and Germaine on his dresser directly across from where he lay. There was the writing desk she had used in their bedroom, the chairs on which she had sat, the rug on which she had walked and practiced yoga and begged for help. There was the king-size bed where so much of their drama had played out.

She walked out into the living room. She would have known Jack had created the room, even if no one had told her. The furniture, art, and colors were all his taste, arranged for the comfort of a guest, pleasing to the eye and reflecting all his travels. There on the coffee table was one of the beautiful Senegalese baskets he had brought back, identical to the smaller one that had been his first gift to her. The pain of being there was suddenly sharp and intolerable.

She returned to his bedside. His blue eyes had gone cloudy again. He had retreated to that place where only a veil separates this world from the next. She looked at his hands again. He still wore his wedding ring, resized to fit a much smaller finger.

“Good-bye, Jack,” she said. “Go in peace.”

She walked out of the room in a daze. The nurse showed her out—out of his life and into the day. She stopped among the dahlias to
compose herself. They were splendid and velvety and intensely colorful. A plump black and gold bumblebee buzzed among them. Life went on, enriched by all that had gone before, whether good or ill. Nature endured all things.

E
ARLY THE NEXT MORNING,
the phone rang.

“Jack passed away last night at sundown,” Gabe’s voice said. “He was in no pain. I think your visit helped him let go.”

“Oh,” was all she could say. Instead of the relief she had hoped to feel, a big hole opened up inside her. She’d been managing quite well without him, especially in the last year, but now a piece of her was suddenly missing.

“The world just won’t be the same without him,” Gabe said. “For all his grandiose illusions and foibles, there was never anyone else like him. He was a man of great extremes. And Mercedes, for what it’s worth, he loved you as much as he ever loved anyone.”