Quid Pro Quo

Quid Pro Quo

By Dan Dillard

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-1-4580-3647-6

License notes:

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The conversation sounded hopeful. At least the side she could hear, but Laura didn't smile. She didn't care what they were saying or what plan they had concocted. She'd had enough. She looked out her window until he walked into the room and beat him to the first word.

"I hate hospitals, Frank. They smell like sick," Laura said.

He deflated.

"I know, babe, but you have to see the doctor again."

"No. I don't. I'd rather die than have another test ... another treatment. I can't do it anymore. Let me rest."

He looked at her with equal amounts of concern and sadness.

"I just want you to feel better. To be well," he said, voice cracking as tears filled his eyes.

"Stop it. I'm just having a spell, it'll pass."

"Cancer isn't a spell. It won't pass."

"Then it won't. If it doesn't, I can finally rest," she said.

He turned away and looked out the opposite window. Laura went back to staring out of hers. Life moved forward outside just as always. It would continue to do so, even if she didn't. Her body was feeling weaker and weaker like it had lost control. The thought of death was beginning to be a comfort. Relaxation for her, and a way out for him. He stood by her because it was his duty. He loved her deeply, but she knew he would be relieved when the burden stopped.

"Maybe we can find something less invasive?" he said.

"As long as I'm not bald and puking up everything I eat, I'll consider it."

"I'll see what I can find out," he said. "There's got to be something that will help."

"It's called liquor, Frank. Any brand, any flavor," she laughed.

He didn't. Her drinking was always a problem, but had worsened after she came out of remission. He left the room and she stayed in her chair, looking out the window. She heard the door to the garage open and close, then the overhead door did the same as the car left. The television played in the background. She stared out the window and watched the neighbors live while she died. It was hours she stared, hours until he got home.

"You still sitting there?" he asked.

"I haven't passed on yet, if that's what you mean."

"You know that's not what..."

"I know," she interrupted. "You find anything?"

"Actually, I may have," he said.

..ooOOoo..

Steven looked at the couple entering his apartment. She dressed well and he didn't. They made an odd couple all around, but they weren't his focus. He was only interested in the little boy wrapped in the blue blanket. A sick little boy named Louis who was on his way out. Louis' skin was an odd color, his breathing was shallow and his eyes were closed. High fever made him convulse. He wasn't clammy, but dry and hot--always a bad sign.

"Why did you bring him to me? Why not a hospital?" Steven asked.

The argument they’d had about going to a doctor was epic. They didn’t mention it to Steven, but it was fairly obvious by the looks they gave each other that the subject was tender. Lack of medical insurance had cost them a second mortgage and what seemed at first like a simple flu bug had grown into something dangerous. Jim argued that it would pass, his fever would break, but they’d taken turns staying home from work with the boy and now they were out of personal days. One of Jim’s colleague’s had mentioned Steven, the healer. Said he could work miracles.

"We have no money. Our friend told us about you," Jim, the step-father said.

Steven looked at the mother while the father spoke. She looked skeptical and heartbroken. It was a common look. Marnie would've taken her child to a hospital, but was convinced or maybe coerced into taking her baby to the freak. Steven had seen it dozens of times.