White Apples (18 page)

Cap-shew that question once when Stella was there to have her appendix removed.

Capshew, who was a good guy, brightened at the question. Leaning in close, he pointed across the room. "See the machine over there, Mr. Ettrich? That's a sonogram. It bounces sound waves off your insides and shows what they look like to the trained eye. Costs about seventy thousand dollars. But here's a big medical secret—at the end of the day even that's only a tool. A hammer with a Ph.D. Tools can fix things but they cannot work wonders. Doctors would like you to believe we're miracle workers because it's good for our egos. But the truth is we're just like racing car mechanics: Most of our job is fine-tuning very temperamental machinery."

Hand in hand, Ettrich and his son entered the hospital and took one of the many elevators to the sixth floor.

Although their car moved quickly and silently up in fast smooth whooshes, it stopped three times before reaching six. Doctors in white with stethoscopes around their necks and clipboards in hand entered and left. They looked so purposeful and sure that what they were doing with their day was one hundred percent correct. Ettrich was envious, wishing he had a job that was so essential rather than one whose general purpose was to bamboozle people into buying whatever it was he'd been hired to promote. He sighed and unconsciously tightened his hand around Jack's. The boy squeezed back, looked up at him and smiled. He looked down and gave two more short squeezes as their elevator car slowed to stop again. The doors opened on three black nurses standing close by, talking. Two of them stepped in. The third re•mained standing in the doorway, continuing the conversation. Et•trich noticed her last because he was checking out the other two, both quite pretty. The woman said resoundingly, "All I got to say is this conversation will be
continued."
Her voice was so impressive that it registered on him before she did.

"Oh, Michelle, you always have the last word," Pretty Nurse One said, shaking her head.

At that moment Ettrich looked at the woman outside the ele•vator. She was big. She looked like she could throw a shot put out of the stadium. Her eyes touched his and moved back to her friends. He knew this woman; he remembered her. But from where? As the doors were closing, his eyes slid to her name tag—Maslow. Michelle Maslow.

Without thinking, he said, "Hey!" but the car was already mov•ing again. "Whatsa matter, Daddy?"

"Nothing, Jack. I just thought of something."

The question scratched at the inside of his brain like a finger with a long nail. He looked at the metal doors and squinted. Who was she? Why was he so sure he knew her? A big black nurse named Maslow. Who was she?

"Excuse me, but could you tell me where that nurse works?" Ettrich asked the women, gesturing toward the closed doors with an open hand.

"Do you know her, Daddy?" "I think so." He smiled.

Nurse One looked at Jack and winked at him. "Hey there, mister. You comin' to visit us today?" Her eyes shifted to Ettrich. "Nurse Maslow is at nurses' station four on the fourth floor."

The second nurse added, "You can't miss her," and eyed her colleague who smirked and nodded. "Thank you."

"How do you know her, Dad?" "Don't know. I just think I do."

Nurse Two couldn't resist asking, "Have you ever been on the intensive care ward here?" Her tone of voice was such that Ettrich took her question se•riously. "Uh, no."

"Well, that's where you'll usually find her."

It didn't end there. When they were walking down a hall to Cap•shew's office, Ettrich saw a futuristic freestanding water fountain along the way. He knew for certain that he had never used one here. Yet he also knew—his mind played Ping-Pong with itself— that he had tried to drink from one on another floor of this building. Seeing it now, he distinctly

remembered at the time he could not figure out how to make it work. The small failure had made him feel stupid and useless. It had brought him to the verge of tears. He had leaned against a wall to support himself because he felt so tired, tired and weak and sick. He'd been so sick. He remembered that. But when the hell was it? His mind raced. He knew for certain he'd lived all this, knew it had definitely been part of his life. All he'd wanted was a drink of water but he couldn't even figure out how to make a fucking water fountain work.

He remembered being appalled by what his body was doing to him. In the past it had always been his friend. And in turn he had treated it well—enough sleep, exercise, he ate healthy food. He distinctly remembered saying that out loud once—what are you doing to me? Why are you letting this happen? Because his body had broken their sacred agreement—it had stopped fighting for him, stopped protecting him. It was letting him die.

Staring at the water fountain, he walked slower and slower, his mind a thick but fast-flowing mud slide of memories. But were they his memories? If so, how could that be? How did he know these things? Where did they come from in his life?

"What's the number of his room, Daddy?" Jack's small familiar voice brought Ettrich back to now but not all the way.

"It's just down the hall. We're almost there."

"He always puts that weird thing in my ear. I hate that."

Rowley. There was a guy, an orderly, what did they call the hospital workers who brought your food and changed the sheets on the bed? Orderly? Aide? There was a remarkably handsome young man named Rowley who was their orderly during the day. They called him Jimpy. His name was Jim but he was jumpy, always too wound up. He smiled too much; his fingernails were chewed to the quick. He did everything well but too fast, forever in a hurry to move on.

Michelle Maslow called him "Jimpy." That's where the nick•name came from. "Jimpy, you make me so nervous. I think you got a family of mice under your skin. As soon as I see you my heart gets jumpy. And it isn't because I've got a romantic interest either, understand? I can feel my pulse go right up into my throat because you're always rushing around so."

In response to this sort of taunt, Rowley would only flash one of those manic smiles and go about his work. Michelle Maslow. Jimpy Rowley. How did Ettrich know these things?

They reached Dr. Capshew's office and went in. Several people were already in the waiting room who looked like they had been there a while. Ettrich wondered if this would take a long time.

On a table in a corner of the room was a large pile of magazines, some for kids, and some for adults. Ettrich and his boy each chose a few. But before they had a chance to open them, the receptionist called Jack's name. Rising again, father followed son into the doc•tor's office, embarrassed to be going before all the others.

Worse, Ettrich was dismissed two minutes after he got in there. The doctor decided he wanted to run a few extra tests on Jack because of his recurring ear infections just to make sure it was not something more serious. Which was why he'd asked that the boy be brought to the hospital. Capshew suggested Ettrich go for a cup of coffee and return in forty-five minutes.

So he slunk back through the waiting room as if he had stolen everyone's wallet in there. Still, he could feel their resentment as he passed. If they'd been snakes instead of people, the sound of rattling would have been deafening.

Out in the hall again Ettrich felt equal measures of relief and unease. He had nowhere to go for nearly an hour. He didn't want to go anywhere in this building because he was afraid of having another one of those too-real visions of a place and time he did not want to know more about. For a few seconds he thought of going down to the fourth floor and finding Michelle Maslow. But what would he say to her, what would he ask? I know you. Do you know me? She would look at him like he was nuts and rightly so. After that? Find handsome Rowley and ask the same question? Hey Jimpy, remember me?

Sliding his hands into his pockets Ettrich thought I just want to go home to that shitty little apartment I hate. Home sweet nothing. Then he remembered who was there and realized going home was no good because Ms. Sacher Torte was waiting. He'd find a snack bar. Have that cup of coffee and wait for Jack. Maybe his earth wouldn't move until then. He asked directions from a passing orderly. The snack bar was on the ground floor. That was okay because it would take time to go down and come up again. He needed something to do, to fill the time. Maybe he'd even go outside and take a walk.

He stopped at the elevator, pressed the button, and waited with his hands behind his back. Kitty always called that his old man pose. He did it unconsciously. At the end of their marriage it actually made her angry to see him stand like that. Then again, women were always angry, disappointed, or upset with men for one thing or another. There was no way of escaping it. The more they loved you, the more you ended up disappointing them. Either you brought too much or too little. The wrong color, the wrong time, the wrong gesture. Pay them a compliment and they brushed it off, or said archly, "You're just noticing?" Thinking about this, he watched the red floor numbers change above the metal doors. The car stopped with a tinny ping. The doors slid open and there was Bruno Mann standing alone inside.

"There you are."

"Bruno! What are you doing here?"

The doors started to close. Mann waved a hand across the doors' electric eye and they obediently slid open again. "Looking for you, Vincent."

"But how did you know I was here?" "I called around and Kitty told me."

"Why didn't you just call my cell phone?" "I didn't have the number."

"They have all our numbers at work. Why didn't you call and ask them? It's their phone."

Mann looked confused by that piece of information, but only for a moment. The elevator doors started to close. He waved them open. "I'm not thinking so straight right now, Vincent. We've got to talk. Can we go somewhere?" He gestured impatiently for Ettrich to join him in the car. The doors started to close again and then opened. Ettrich saw this only out of the corner of his eye because he was looking down the hall toward Capshew's office.

"I only have forty minutes. I have to be back to pick up my son." "Great. Fine. Forty minutes will do it. Come on."

Ettrich stepped into the elevator. This time Mann let the doors close. He pressed the button for the lobby.

As the car dropped, Ettrich waited for the other to say some•thing but he remained quiet. Bruno's arms were crossed and he looked at his feet. He appeared to be silently whistling.

"Well?"

Bruno said nothing.

In an instant Ettrich had a concrete target for all of his morn•ing's discomfort. "Bruno, I don't need your silence right now, okay? You asked me to come along. So why don't you tell me what's going on?"

"They're playing with us, Vincent. They've got us like lightning bugs in a jar and they keep shaking it to see how we'll react."

"What are you talking about? Who's
they?'

Bruno uncrossed his arms. "Do you have a pulse?"

"What?"
Now Ettrich wanted out of there because he was be•ginning to believe Bruno Mann had gone insane and he was trapped in an elevator with Mr. Lightning Bug.

"And have you taken a leak since you found out the truth? Have you needed to use the toilet at all?" "The toilet? Of course I use the toilet. Bruno, are you on drugs?"

Bruno shook his head. "Not me. Not once. And you know what's funny? I didn't even realize it for a long time. There are so many things you do unconsciously that you never think about until you
don't
do them anymore."

Ettrich couldn't resist asking, "You haven't taken a piss? Since when?" He almost smiled. Bruno saw that and made a face. "I know, it
is
funny. This whole thing is funny in a horrible way."

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. No one was there. The doors closed again and the car descended. Ettrich waited for the other man to continue. "And?"

"And what?"

"You didn't come all the way over here to tell me you don't piss anymore, Bruno."

Mann said nothing for a while. Then sensing something, he lifted his head and frowned. He held up a hand. "Quiet.

Sssh."

Annoyed at being shut up, Ettrich kept quiet.

"Do you feel it? Something's in here. There's something in here with us." Bruno's voice had an edge but outwardly he seemed calm enough.

"I think it's time to refill your prescription, Bruno. Whatever it is you're taking." Still, Ettrich straightened up and, with eyes a lot wider than before, he looked around that small space.

"When the car stopped last time no one got in. But those doors opened. Did you notice?" "So what?"

Mann gestured toward the door. "Well, I think something did get in. We just can't see it."

Ettrich felt the sharp unease that comes when you're too close to someone who just might take wing, fly around the room, and then land hard on your head.

It took an eternity to reach the next floor but they did and thank God, the car stopped and the doors opened. Ettrich started to leave but Bruno grabbed his arm and held him back.

Ettrich looked at the hand on his arm. "Let go of me, Bruno." "Listen—"

"If you don't let me go I'm going to punch you in the head." Bruno released his arm. "All right. But I'm going with you."

A handsome older black man in a tailored forest-green suit stood there waiting for them to move. But the fight between the two men had taken so long that they were barely able to step out into the corridor before the doors closed and the elevator was gone. Ettrich looked at the man and apologized. He looked back and smiled. It was his teeth that brought everything back. They were very large and the yellow of old piano keys.

All memory is a cat's cradle of strings and intricate connections. Follow one string down and up and around and suddenly you realize it goes back home again. Seeing those yellow teeth made Vincent Ettrich stagger, literally lose his balance enough so that he almost fell. Because they made him remember. At once his mind was full again of everything he had forgotten that morning when he awoke. Isabelle Neukor was the woman in his apartment. Coco Hallis was the woman on the telephone. This hospital was where he had died. Bruno Mann had died but come back too. This man smiling at him was Tillman Reeves, his roommate during his previous last days on earth.