Four
I awoke to the sound of my bedroom door swinging open. “Rise and shine princess.” It was Adam. He was wearing a different suit. My head was pounding.
“What time is it?”
“9AM, time to get up.”
“Fuck off let me sleep some more.”
“Not a chance besides your Aunt called regarding the wake. You should call her back, I think it may be today.” As I righted myself I felt my stomach lurch queasily. I sat at the edge of my bed waiting for the feeling to dissipate, it didn’t.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Well, you don’t need me to tell you where the bathroom is.” He smiled at me, the prick.
“Oh god.” I ran to the washroom and emptied whatever remained of my stomach’s contents.
“That a boy, get it out of your system, you’ll feel better for it.” I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I looked pale as a ghost, my eyes were teary and bloodshot and I had a bit of spittle hanging from the corner of my mouth. What the hell was I doing? “You still alive in there?”
“yeah.”
“K, had to check, you were a little too quiet in there. Don’t want my favorite writer dying on me now do I?” I never understood that. He had a host of famous and respected writers within his cliental, so why me? Why did he spend a disproportionate amount of time and resources on me? I made him an insignificant amount of cash compared to the multimillionaire writers he represented.
I clutched at my head, it was throbbing. I turned the sink on and cupping water splashed it on my face. You’re getting too old for this John. You are really getting too old for this. I took one of my antacid pills. My stomach had a shooting pain as if a dagger had been plunged into it. I heard the phone ring.
“Don’t worry Mr. Bathroom, I’ll get it. Hello? Oh hello you. Yeah he’s here and I’m sorry for last night, I’m not really such a terrible shit. Right I’ll get him.” Adam talked on the phone very loudly, it was easy to catch every word he said. I probably could have heard him in the apartment next door. I emerged from the bathroom. “It’s your sister, she just said ‘just get me John!’ I don’t think she likes me.” He made his voice angry and high pitched when he said ‘just get me John’ imitating my sister. I’m sure she could hear him. She wouldn’t appreciate that either. Taking the phone I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.
“Jen?”
“Fuck I hate that guy. He really needs someone to just knock him on his ass.” I could tell she was already worked up. I didn’t know what I could say that would be safe so I didn’t say anything. “Did you speak to Aunt Beth?”
“No, she called though. I didn’t call her back yet though.”
“Well I spoke to her.” She sounded exasperated. “So, the wake’s today and tomorrow, and guess who’s not wanted there?” He wouldn’t do that would he?
“What Dad doesn’t…”
“No, he doesn’t want us there! I’m through with him John! If I never see him again I’ll be ok with it. He obviously wants nothing to do with us.” I felt weak like I could no longer stand. I slumped myself onto the ground my back against the wall I once again felt tears welling up in my eyes.
“Are you sure?” I fought back the tears. Adam was mouthing ‘What’s wrong?’ while sitting on the couch.
“Aunt Beth made it crystal clear. He doesn’t want to be there at the same time as us. He will leave the wake at times so we can attend. Isn’t that fucking kind of him!? We have a fucking window John. Let me see now, oh we can attend between 7pm and 9pm the first night and between 5pm and 7pm the second.” I shook my head. “He’s a fucking prick!” I cringed. It was hard hearing her talk that way about Dad, even after all this it was still hard.
“Maybe I should talk to Beth, maybe we are just confused…”
“Sure John deny it, go verify it but someday you’ll realize that man is a monster that disowned me because I’m a lesbian and disowned you because of your profession!” She slammed the phone. It made a god awful noise before the connection went dead.
“What’s going on?” Adam looked genuinely concerned. It was one of those rare moments I wondered if his worry was actually genuine.
“I don’t really know yet. I have to call Aunt Beth.” I dialed her number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s John.”
“Oh, hello John, did you talk to your sister?”
“Well I was just verifying because I was pretty sure she must have mistaken something.” I was hoping. “She says we aren’t welcome at the wake for the full duration?”
“I’m sorry John.” I waited for her to correct me, to tell me that I was indeed mistaken, it never came. There was only dead silence.
“So it’s true then?” I said at last.
“Yes dear I’m sorry it’s true. I hate being caught in the middle.” I could tell she was upset talking about it. She knew the pain her words were causing. “I should go dear.” I heard her voice crack.
“Ok.”
“Bye dear.”
I put the phone down. I felt anxious, sick, feverish, my heart pounded loudly.
“What’s going on?”
“I’m not invited to my brother’s wake.”
“I didn’t think people got invites to that kind of function.”
“No, no, they don’t, I was specifically uninvited.”
“Shit I know you told me your family was messed up but I really had no idea. I’m sorry John.” I shrugged and sat down on one of my kitchen table chairs. “Is your sister going?”
“No. She’s not invited either.”
“Do you want to go out? Can I get you anything?” He got up and sat down across the table from me. I shook my head in response.
“I don’t think anything will help.” We sat their quietly. I tried to rationalize my father’s decision. Tried to come up with a reason why it was ok for him to not want me and my sister in attendance. “Well he gave us a time frame of two hours that he won’t be there. We can go then.”
“Wow. That’s mighty kind of him isn’t it?” He laid on the sarcasm as thick as he could.
“Yeah awfully kind.”
“Has it always been this bad?”
“No, it wasn’t always this bad.” I gazed across the room caught in the haze of remembrance.
We were in Florida on vacation. I must have been twelve or so. My dad liked to fish. Neither Jen nor Frank took to it, so I’d jumped at the opportunity to spend some time with my father. We’d go out early sometimes six in the morning. Only the fishers and joggers were there at that time, the tourists hadn’t clogged up the beach yet. He taught me how to fish, showed me how to prep a line, to cast and reel. We were standing maybe twenty feet apart along the beach when I felt the violent tug on my line.
“I got one!” I shouted out with delight.
“Good lad, now reel it in boy.”
I felt the line being tugged. My father finished reeling in his line and quickly ran over to help me.
“It’s really pulling Dad.”
“You’ve got it boy just keep a sturdy hand.” He clasped my hands with his to ensure the rod wouldn’t be stripped from my hands, the two of us fighting the fish together. Even though the fish got away, it was one of my favorite childhood memories with my father. When we were young he’d hug us or tousle our hair but as we got older he rarely ever showed any affection. In his head I suppose it was an impropriety to touch his children once they passed a certain age. The last time I remember my father hugging me I was eleven. He held me close for a brief moment. All I knew of parental love died with my mother.
“You alright?” Adam put a hand on my shoulder. I blinked a few times. “You seemed miles away.”
“I was for a moment. Just thinking of better times I suppose.” I drummed at the table nervously with my fingers. “My dad never was good at showing affection. I think my mother’s death was hard on him.”
Adam chuckled. “What’s that supposed to be a rationale for his behavior?” I did feel defensive. I was trying to defend him, rationalize his actions. “There is no justification for him telling you you’re not invited to your own brother’s wake. You can’t let yourself think that, it’s just crazy.”
“My mother died from cancer, that wasn’t easy for him.”
“And it was easy for you?” There was clear tone in his voice, the kind one used when refuting something particularly idiotic. He was right though. The loss of my mother was the hardest thing I’d ever had to endure. “How does any of that justify your father excluding you from the wake?”
I looked away from him. I was tired of seeing the glint in his eyes. They always shined like that when he knew he was right about something. Like a predator with its teeth clamped tightly around its prey, he was unlikely to let up. I felt my face getting red. My fingers thrumming against the table became more erratic. I felt a pain in my stomach an angry gnawing. “It doesn’t alright!” I let the rage and anger release. “It doesn’t make it alright! My father doesn’t deserve me worrying about him, wondering if he’s ok!” I’d stood up and I was spitting my words out. How much bottled anger was I releasing, how far back did this go? “He’s shut me out! I can’t even talk to him, he won’t even fucking talk to me! The man’s a prick!” I’d started sobbing. “He’s a fucking prick!” I’m sure my face had gone beat red. I couldn’t catch my breath I was trying to suck air in through the tears. So many terrible memories seemed to rush through my head. The way we felt when Jen was kicked out of the house. The way Mother wouldn’t let Father in her room in her final days. My father’s anger when he’d found out what kind of novel I’d published. The first time I heard him call me a smut peddler or the time he told me I was going to hell, and now, the time he told me I wasn’t allowed to go to my own brother’s wake. I’d partially collapsed. I was leaning against the wall. I was vaguely aware of Adam’s hand on my shoulder. After ten minutes of silence with Adam uneasily switching between kneeling near me and sitting at the kitchen table I got up and entered the washroom. I had made myself sick to my stomach with the unbridled emotions. Crying the way I did was emasculating. I felt as if I was a child devoid of control. I popped two antacid tablets and hopped in the shower. I did my best to not think about it, to not think about any of it. I just let the water wash over me, as if it could somehow rinse away the misery.
I emerged from the shower somewhat refreshed and quickly dressed in my room.
“Let’s go get a bite to eat.” I said without making eye contact.
“Sure.”
We left my condo and upon entering the garage I tossed him the keys to my car. “If you don’t mind?”
“No not at all.” I got in the passenger side and Adam started the car and got us on our way.
“Were you ok to drive last night?” I was staring out the passenger window unwilling to make eye contact. I’m sure my eyes were trimmed with embarrassing redness still.
“Not really but that never stopped me before.” I could hear the grin in his voice. That angered me. I wanted to point out that my brother had just died in a car accident but I had no fight left in me. I felt exhausted and drained. We arrived at a restaurant, the kind that served all types of food, the jack of all trades master of none. I ordered pasta with Portobello mushrooms and a thick cream sauce, Adam had fajitas. The food wasn’t great but it was the dependable mediocrity one expected from these restaurants.
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for but I knew I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Look if you ever need to talk to someone…” For a moment I thought he was going to offer himself as an unlikely confidant but he pulled out a card. “He’s very good, highly recommended and discreet.” He slid the card across the table. Eyeing it I could make out the Psychologist written below the name in gold font. “He works out of L.A. near the location of my villa. Anyway I figured you could come and stay with me for a bit and see him for a few sessions. Obviously I’d cover the charges since he’s out of your price range.” The smug way he just slipped that in, I felt two feet tall. I remember the last time he handed me a card, his business card, I wasn’t too happy then either.
“Can we please not talk about any of this?” I didn’t want to see a shrink to be told I’m not normal, that I’m a wreck. I just needed to get past things without people dragging them to the surface over and over again.
“John it’s not just about this. You’ve been miserable for as long as I’ve known you. At first you were angry and upset because you weren’t getting anywhere chasing your dream and now that you’re published you’re even more miserable. I think you need to speak to someone.” I was in fact miserable and he wasn’t helping.
“Do you not like me?” I blurted it out.
“What do you mean do I not like you? I flew to Toronto for you because your brother died. There is nothing I wouldn’t drop for you. You’re my best friend.” His eyes looked hurt and defensive. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen this response from him. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, it was stupid of me to ask, I don’t know what I was saying. Let’s just drop it.” I was desperately trying to back pedal.
“No let’s work it out, what did I do? I mean if you don’t tell me I’ll never know, so just tell me.”
“I’m just upset about my brother and everything else, honest.” I was lying but I wanted it dropped.
“You’re upset about your brother so you think I dislike you? That doesn’t make any sense.” He caught himself a little too late. He was chuckling at my comment mocking me again.
“It’s that.” I pointed an accusatory finger at him. “It’s your condescension, you’re mocking laughter. I get it alright. I know I’m nothing. I’m your pity case.”
“You have it so wrong.”
“Do I?” I felt eyes upon us as our voices had risen above the general din in the restaurant, I carried on ignoring them. “You have a long list of celebrated bestsellers attached to you and I’m nothing.” A non entity, worthless, I’m nothing.
Adam clasped his head with his hand covering most of his face before slowly drawing his hand down it and back to the table. He appeared exasperated or perhaps it was defeated. “I’m going to say something very honest.” His voice was serious and his face showed no sign of his genuine smile. It was an Adam I was unfamiliar with. “I don’t want to ever have to repeat what I’m going to say.” He swallowed as if preparing to push the words out. “I’m jealous of you.” I didn’t believe him but not because he didn’t look sincere for he did. I didn’t believe him because I found it impossible for anyone to be jealous of me. It was my turn to smile and shake my head dismissively as he had done to me many times before. “Fine, I’m just trying to be truthful. Really open up because I can tell you’re hurting but obviously you don’t believe me.” He rose to get up and leave, he was reaching for his wallet.
“Wait. Look I’m sorry I just don’t see how or why you could ever be jealous of me.” I was laughing through my words. It was all so preposterous. He was a multimillionaire success story and I was his charity case. The notion was ludicrous. He sat back down but by no means did he settle back into his chair. He appeared agitated uneasy, something I’d never seen before.
“What talent do I have John? Name one talent that I have.”
“Well you’re a renowned literary agent.”
“And what exactly is that John? What do they do?” The question was rhetorical. His words were building up speed, coming faster. “If you’re good and I mean if you’re really good you have the ability to see greatness in others. I’m good at what I do John, fantastic even, but its meaningless. You have real talent John but you are too buried in your own misery to realize it. My fancy clothes…” He stood up again. “…all of this. Is just me trying to feel ok about being me.” The man who had never once failed to appear the very picture of confidence was stammering his words. I’d never seen this man before, he was alien to the Adam I was used to and yet far more human. “We are opposites. I try to build myself up at every opportunity I can.” He’d pulled out his wallet and picked some twenties from it. “You work at tearing yourself down. The sad thing is you’ll never realize how great and gifted you are.” He threw the twenties and my car keys on the table and quickly left. The last thing I saw was the pain in his eyes. It was a very real pain the kind that existed in the eyes of those who felt betrayed. Perhaps I had betrayed him. I left soon after him. I gave him a five minute head start so I wouldn’t bump into him in the parking lot. I didn’t want to make things any more uncomfortable for him. As I sat there I felt the eyes of the patrons upon me. I was happy to leave the restaurant. I had barely touched my pasta. My appetite still hadn’t returned. My stomach still upset gurgled angrily unwilling to settle.
I stepped out of the restaurant and into the cool crisp air. I went out a moment too soon. I caught Adam as he was getting into a cab. He shot a backwards glance at me over his shoulder, a look of anger and pain. I felt my stomach sink. I felt guilty for asking him the question earlier. ‘Do you not like me?’ Friends don’t ask questions like that. Was he really a friend? The cab he’d got into pulled away. I felt terrible for what had occurred. He’d done more for me than anyone else. Perhaps it was the growing tab of things I could never repay that caused me to feel the way I did about him. If that were true I was a terrible person. He was a much better friend to me than I had ever been to him. I got in my car and drove home.
My condo felt small, constricting. I wanted a drink but my stomach was still gnawing at itself fiercely. The wake was still a few hours off and I had time to kill. I felt as if everything was spinning out of control. I left for a walk. I needed to get away from my condo, its walls felt too tight it was hard to breathe. Stepping out into the cool crisp air was refreshing, peaceful. I could feel the anxiety slowly slip away. During my walk I continuously glanced skyward. The clouds were billowing in lines extremely far above me. There was something majestic about the way they caught the sun’s light. It stirred the remains of my Catholic upbringing and for a moment I wondered if Frank was amongst the clouds, if he was in heaven. Part of me wanted to believe in God but I had great difficulty reconciling a benevolent God with the pain and suffering that existed in the world. How could a God be benevolent and take the life of my niece, my brother, my mom. And if God wasn’t benevolent I didn’t want to believe in his existence. It was just too cruel to think of this as part of a master plan. I think I wanted my brother in heaven because I didn’t like the alternative. That he’d become nothing, nothing more than a string of memories waiting to be forgotten with time. I shook my head. It was terribly depressing. I had no idea how long I had been wandering. I refused to wear a wrist watch or carry the time with me. I only felt anxious having it there, a weird quirk that my brother had chastised me over.
We’d been out on a walk shortly after he’d moved into his house with Megan. We were reconnoitering the neighborhood so to speak. It was around then I’d stopped wearing my wrist watch, when the anxiety had become too much.
“So really you aren’t wearing a watch anymore?”
“No.”
“So what do you think of the neighborhood?”
“It’s nice. I really think you did well.”
“Good good. Hey do you have the time?” He turned at me grinning. “Oh wait right you don’t have a watch on you anymore. Forgot that, sorry, my bad.” He was grinning wildly.
“I just find I stress less about what I should be doing or where I should be if I’m not wearing one.”
“Really? I mean it doesn’t bother you that right now you don’t know what time it is?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Strange cause it would bother me not knowing what time it is. Speaking of which do you have the time?” He was laughing before he had finished the question. And he’d taken a couple steps away from me in case I lashed out at him.
“Fuck you Frank.”
“I’m sorry little brother but sometimes you’re quite neurotic you know that?”
I sighed.
“I mean that in the nicest possible way, and oh yeah, do you have the time?” He bolted down the street and I chased after him. It was one of the last times I can remember us acting like kids again. And just like when we were children, I wasn’t able to catch him.
Maybe Adam’s right. I held the card he’d given me. Maybe I did need help. I headed home. Upon arriving home I’d noticed it was much later than I’d expected. I had only half an hour to get to the funeral home in order to catch the beginning of our two hour window of visitation. I quickly changed into a black suit and headed to leave. Passing through the kitchen I noticed my phone was flashing. I didn’t want to stop and check it but I was worried my Dad had changed his mind and didn’t want us coming anymore. I quickly played the message.
“John it’s Jen. I just wanted to make sure you were still going. Also I told Aunt Beth to tell Dad… god I can’t believe I just said that, it’s like fucking broken telephone. Anyway I just told her we would go through Frank’s belongings for him. I don’t want Dad’s memory of Frank being ruined even if the prick hates the two of us. Ok well part of me wants…” The message cut her off but I knew what she was going to say. I felt the same way. There was a part of me that wanted Dad to realize that Frank was just as bad as me and Jen, maybe worse. That was the jealous part, jealous of Frank’s relationship with Dad. I left the apartment and headed to the funeral home.
I pulled into the funeral home’s parking lot. I was twenty minutes late for the two hour window I was given. I knew my sister would be angry at me and she was right to be, we were given so little time as it was. I felt anxious and my stomach continued to gnaw at itself, a dull aching pain. I’d have to lay off the drink for a few days, last night’s binge certainly wasn’t agreeing with me. I headed inside following the signs guiding me to the correct room. There was something unsettling about funeral homes. The air inside them smelled stale. They were often decorated with thick old style curtains and period piece paintings. This one was no exception to the rule. Thick green curtains with gold trim lined the window frames. Gold wall paper with a dark burgundy pattern covered the walls. Gaudy oil paintings were scattered throughout, the prominent themes seemed to be fox hunts and landscapes with setting suns. The doors to the other visitation rooms were open to create an inviting atmosphere. It was unnerving as I passed by the rooms containing other grieving families. I caught myself glancing in at strangers. Their faces I’d never seen before but the emotions of grief, loss and reserved sadness I knew well. It was something we all shared here. Perhaps funeral homes were too inseparably connected with pain and loss for anyone to feel at ease. A plaque outside informed me I’d found the right room. The room was roughly half full. There were various relatives I hadn’t seen in a long time but mostly the room contained work colleagues of my brother, people I vaguely recognized if at all. My father obviously was nowhere in sight. My sister made a bee line to me and hooked her arm in mine leading me back out of the room.
“About time you arrived.” She sounded a little cross but relieved as well. “I need a fucking cigarette so badly you have no idea. I didn’t feel comfortable going till you arrived.” She looked pissed but not at me I could tell the difference from years of reading her. “You know there is no one else from the family. I mean some cousins etc. but really it’s just you and me.” She barely took a breath, I couldn’t have said anything if I wanted to. “Oh you didn’t bring that Adam did you?” Her face flushed an angry red as she pushed out his name. “Cause he’s a real ass!”
“No. He’s not here.”
“Good. Better that way!” She was already storming down the hall towards the front entrance pulling her pack of cigarettes from her purse. I turned towards the gathering of vaguely remembered relatives and my brother’s acquaintances and headed into the fray.
Most of my interactions started with ‘You’re Frank’s brother? My condolences he was a good man’ or ‘John? It’s your cousin (insert name here). It’s been ages, you probably don’t remember me’ I didn’t remember them. ‘I’m so sorry about your brother.’ They said it as if it was their fault, why did people say that? The first familiar face approached me since I’d spoken to my sister. It was Tiffany. She wore a short black dress showing off a healthy portion of her fit muscular legs. Her makeup was thick to hide the imperfections in her skin that weren’t there. She smiled at me her eyes absolutely lighting up. When they glistened like that it was a sign she was nervous about something.
“Will you forgive me?” Her large eyes seemed impossibly larger. They were sparkling jewels in their beauty.
“It’s ok, I’m sure you didn’t mean what you said.”
“No I meant it.” She smiled nervously. “I just shouldn’t have torn into you last night. You’d just lost your brother.” She was talking fast, something she did when she was uncomfortably trying to just get things off her chest. “I wasn’t being considerate.” She reached in and hugged me. I could smell her hair. It brought rushing back a flood of memories and associated smells. The smell of her sweat, the way her skin felt against mine, the way her tongue moved when she kissed me. “If you need me, call.” Her lips where almost touching my ear as she whispered the words. She kissed me on the cheek before separating herself from me. Her beautiful eyes met mine. It was a glance of longing, one I was familiar with. I shared it. I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted something to take away the pain. It was good that she walked away, if she hadn’t I wouldn’t have remained strong. I was so tempted to chase her as it was. I felt a hand gently clasp my shoulder.
“I can see you fighting the temptation. Best to let that one go I think.” It was Edward. He swung his hand around to shake mine and I took it. It was odd to be formal with Edward. He sounded less feminine in this very public setting like he’d disguised a portion of the lilt in his voice. Or perhaps it was the suit he was wearing. Perhaps seeing him in the conservative black suit was playing tricks on my mind, made him seem more restrained, less himself. I finished shaking his hand.
“Good of you to come.”
“My condolences.” He leaned close and cupped his hand over his mouth to direct his voice into my ear. “I’ll try to keep my jokes to a minimum. I know this isn’t the place for my shenanigans. Besides Mark has told me if I try anything I’ll be sleeping on the couch.” He lowered his hand and glared jokingly at Mark. Mark returned the glare and reached out to shake my hand.
“My condolences John.”
“Thanks Mark.”
The two of them headed over to a display of photo’s that my father had set up. I was too afraid to look at the photos myself. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jen and I weren’t included in the display. A few more strangers approached me with stories of how they knew my brother. They shared their anecdotal memories of how funny Frank was or how friendly a man he was. I hated listening to them, especially when they said how missed Frank would be. They said it as if he was someone meaningful to them, someone they cared about. It always sounded false as if these were just the things people felt they should say. It angered me.
“How’re you holding up?” It was Rachel. Her countenance was filled with kindness. Her kind eyes always warmed me. There was something about her presence, so calming.
“Not so good to be honest. A little better now that you’re here.” I offered a faint smile. “I hate this. I really hate this.” I blinked a couple times fast and looked up at the ceiling. I could feel the tears trying to well. I wasn’t going to let them.
“Want to go out for some air? I’ll go with you if you want?”
“I’d like that.” I leveled my gaze again blinking rapidly the whole time. “Is my sister back?”
“She’s here. I’ll tell her we are stepping out for a bit.”
“Alright, I’ll be waiting by the door.” I felt a pressure building in my abdomen. My stomach churned uncomfortably as I slowly worked my way to the entrance. It was then that I saw her. She was entering as I had just reached the entrance. Her hair was black that pitch black that is so common with Asians. Her face was mottled with what I could only imagine was adolescent acne scarring. Her eyes were large slanted almonds. It was certainly her, the girl from the picture. The woman my brother was with.
I’d come face to face with her at that entrance. The words were spoken out of shock as much as anything else. “Hello… I ummm… you knew Frank?” I felt myself flush. I hated myself for opening my mouth. I could have just let her pay her last respects and be on her way. Judging her reaction this was something she wanted even less than me. She looked dreadfully uncomfortable or perhaps I was just projecting how uncomfortable I felt.
“I knew him.” She offered a forced smile. “You’re his brother aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“You have the same eyes.” I saw the pain of a widow in her. That pain so barely hidden below the surface.
“How long did you know my brother?”
Even with tears welling up in her eyes she laughed at my question. “Seven years.” She laughed again. “Seven years, I knew him seven years.” Were they together that entire time? Did he keep that secret?
“What’s she doing here?!” It was my sister’s voice. “Isn’t that the girl?!?” What right does she have to be here!?!” My sister was glaring at the poor woman and making her way towards us. I felt terrible. If I hadn’t spoken to her perhaps my sister never would have noticed her. Besides she probably had more of a right to be here than most of these people. At least she had a significant connection with my brother.
“I shouldn’t be here.” She turned and started down the hall towards the building’s exit. I chased after her. I felt terrible for my sister’s actions. She was no less considerate than Adam had been the night before. Seven years. I tried to think back on the past seven years for anything that would have indicated an affair. I couldn’t think of anything. I caught up to her outside her car. Tears were rolling down her cheeks freely now. She turned so she was facing away from me, keys in her hands her fingers nervously wrapping around them.
“I shouldn’t have come.” She was shaking her head. “It wasn’t a good idea for me to come.” She turned towards me but her eyes stared down at the ground as if she was embarrassed that she was crying. “I just wanted some closure. I needed it. I haven’t been able to sleep since…” She pulled out a tissue and mopped away a streaming tear. “God I’m pathetic.” She looked so vulnerable, in every way she was the grieving widow.
“I’m sorry about my sister.”
“Oh that was your sister? I see, I see. Well that explains a lot.” She mustered a laugh through her tears. “So she knows does she?”
I nodded. “I found a photo.”
“Really?” There was a spark of anger in her eyes. “I didn’t think he’d keep one. He always said he couldn’t keep anything, that he could get caught if he did.” She forced out a feigned laugh and winced as if the notion he had a photo pained her. Slowly a more genuine smile crossed her face. “I suppose I should be happy he had a photo of me right?” She grinned; it was toothy and wide but instantly contagious. Under better circumstances I would have immediately grinned back but it just didn’t seem right. I offered a soft smile instead.
“I have the photo on me if you’d like to see it?” I made the offer gingerly, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not. She seemed to consider it for a moment.
“Ummmm…. Sure, ok.” She dabbed her eyes with the tissue again by this point it was soggy and ruined. I retrieved the ledger from the car, the photo still wedged between the pages. Removing the photo I handed it to her. Her face lit up as she took it from me.
“I remember this.” She pointed at the photo. “We were out at a restaurant.” The photo seemed to transport her to a better time. A smile quickly grew to a grin. “We couldn’t go out because we were always worried about running into someone he knew, someone that could tell his wife. This photo was taken in Montreal we went to a restaurant there. He told his wife he was at a golf retreat for the long weekend. We were so happy. Everything about that weekend was what we could have been. What we should have been.” The happiness of remembering was replaced with tears. There was bitterness in her voice. She had waited so long on the outside, never really allowed in. I rummaged through my pocket and offered a scrunched up tissue.
“Here, it’s not used I promise.”
“You sure?” She took the tissue examining it while raising an eye in my direction. “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.” She smiled and giggled even while tears streaked her cheeks. “I’m pathetic aren’t I?”
“Not at all.” I offered my warmest smile. “You just lost someone you loved. You have no idea how hard all of this has been on me.” I looked away. Just mentioning my pain caused a lump to catch in my throat.
“I guess I should be going before your sister comes out here and chases me off the property in a fit of blind rage.”
I chuckled “You sure you didn’t meet my sister before?” I wanted to keep the conversation going. I felt she knew things about my brother and this would be my only chance. She was opening her car door. “Wait how about we go grab a coffee? There is so much about my brother I’m sure you could tell me, so many things about him I don’t know and will never know unless you tell me. Please?” I was desperate sounding with my please. I didn’t want to let go.
“Awwww, well how can I say no to that?” She smiled at me. “You sound so pitiful, like a lost puppy.” She grinned again, it was contagious. I couldn’t help grinning myself. “Is the coffee place a block away ok?”
“Yeah that would be fine.”
“Do you want to hop in with me?” I thought about my car but the place was only a block away, I could walk back.
“Ummm sure I’ll hop in with you.” It was a two door sports car, red in color with all black leather interior. The car was manual, something I’d never learned. The car lurched around the parking lot in spits and spurts and I wondered if she herself knew how to drive it. She noticed me clinging to the door frame.
“Relax. I’m a good driver.” The car jerked out of the parking lot and onto the street.
“If I’m going to die with someone I’d like to know their name?”
“Sarah.”
“That sounds awfully Asian.” I chided.
“Your brother said the same thing the first time I told him my name.” A hint of sadness appeared in her eyes again. She pulled the car sharply into the coffee shop after almost missing the entrance. “There you go, you’re alive!” She announced it excitedly. “And you didn’t even lose a limb.” She grinned impishly at me. “Shall we?” She hinted at the car doors.
“Sure.” Walking into the coffee shop I felt guilty. The viewing was still going and I had abandoned my sister there. I just didn’t want to be surrounded by strangers offering their forced condolences. At least I knew Sarah’s pain was real. Besides I was feeling terrible and the change of scenery and fresh air put me at ease. Even my stomach churned less, although the bloating sensation worsened.
We found a table just inside the entrance. Sarah put her jacket on the back of the seat and pulled her wallet out of her purse. “What can I get you?”
“No, no, I’ll treat.”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s just a coffee.”
“I’m actually feeling a little off so I’ll pass.”
“You won’t let a woman treat you to a cup of coffee?” She pouted her lips and hung her head in an attempt to act hurt.
“Sure.” I chuckled. “Just a coffee, black please. I’m going to go to the washroom quickly, I’ll be right back.”
“You are looking a little pale. You don’t have the stomach flu do you?” She raised both hands up and formed a cross with her fingers as if I was a demon or vampire.
“I hope not.”
“We don’t have to get coffees if you don’t want to.”
“No I want to. I really do, I just need to splash some water on my face. I’ll be right back I promise.” I got up and headed to the bathroom. I felt a little light headed. With every step I felt suddenly more nauseous. It couldn’t still be the alcohol from last night. I wonder if Adam was sick if we had caught some food poisoning from the restaurant. I quickly entered the stall and collapsed over the toilet just in time to vomit. It came so suddenly. My eyes watered and I blinked a few times before glancing into the bowl. A red gelatin mass floated in the water. My heart started pounding, what the fuck was that, was that blood? It couldn’t be food, could it? I got up and stumbled to the mirror. I was pale, ghostly, I felt the nausea rush over me again and after dry heaving once, more of the red gelatin came out and splattered into the sink. It smelled like blood, oh god what’s happening. I quickly pushed my way out of the bathroom. I felt extra aware, my mind buzzing with anxiety, my heart pounding. Sarah was in line half way to the counter.
“Sarah, I need to go! I have to go to the hospital, something is wrong!” I felt light headed. How much blood was that? Could I afford to keep losing blood like that? I didn’t think so.
“Are you ok? Is that blood?!” She looked startled. I must have splattered my clothing either at the toilet or the sink. You could see a few of the patrons in line take a step back upon hearing I had blood on my clothing. I’d become dangerous, perhaps I had a disease and I would infect them with whatever it was, or worse I’d just killed someone in the bathroom. “Do you need an ambulance? Do you want me to drive you? It may be quicker.”
I didn’t want to be alone. “Could you drive me?”
“Of course.” Hurriedly we headed for her car. “What’s wrong?” She asked while retrieving her keys from her purse.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“Was it a lot of blood?” We got in the car.
“I think so. It looked like a lot anyway. I threw up twice in the bathroom.”
“All blood?” She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
“Yeah, all blood.”
“God.” She looked worried. “Anyone you need to call?”
I shrugged. “My sister but I don’t know her number.”
“You don’t have a cell phone?” She looked at me as if a cell phone was a mandatory item, I suppose in many ways it was.
“No.” She dug into her purse with one hand leaving only one on the wheel. It made her already erratic driving even worse.
“You can use mine.”
“Sadly I don’t know her number off heart.” The only numbers I knew by memory were my brother’s and Adam’s. My brother’s number wasn’t any help to me anymore and I couldn’t bring myself to call Adam, not after how I’d treated him. The rest of the car ride was in silence. She probably thought I was an idiot at this point. I couldn’t worry about that, I was doing my best to fight the swelling nausea. I didn’t want to throw up in her car, ruin her leather interior. It wasn’t long till we pulled into the entrance of the emergency. Wait times were always horrendous. I wondered how long you had to wait if you were vomiting blood.
“I’ll park the car and come in with you.”
“You don’t have to do that, you’ve been more than helpful. I’m so sorry about all of this.”
“I’m not just going to leave you here, go on in, I’ll be there shortly.” I was happy she was coming in. I didn’t want to be alone. I entered the hospital. The sterile white, the smells, I hated all of it. I hated all the things it made me think of, all the terrible memories, the times I visited mom. I approached reception where a middle aged woman clad in sterile white nonchalantly greeted me.
“Health card please.” She barely looked up from her screen.
I fumbled through my wallet and dug out the card she requested placing it on the counter in front of her.
“Thank you.” She swiped the card. “What seems to be the problem?” She blinked once or twice having noticed the blood but didn’t seem otherwise phased by it.
“I’m not sure. I just started throwing up blood.” She reached behind her and picked up a plastic bowl.
“In case you feel nauseous again you can use this. How many times did you throw up?”
“Twice.”
“And a lot came up both times?”
“I think so. It seemed like a lot.”
“Do you have a history of ulcers or stomach cancer?”
“No history of ulcers and no stomach cancer that I’m aware of.”
“You didn’t accidentally consume a corrosive substance by any chance?” She cracked a smile. She could probably tell I was nervous. It instantly made her more human. It was funny how a simple gesture could trick us.
“No, no I didn’t.”
“Here is a questionnaire for you to fill in. If you could take a seat right there someone will be with you shortly.”
“Alright.” I sat down at the designated seat. It was just across from her desk. I suppose they wanted to keep an eye on me. It was hard to think they were taking me seriously when they’d given me a questionnaire to fill in. I felt the pressure building again in my stomach, the waves of nausea worsening. I placed my bowl on the floor and began to fill in the questionnaire. Are you depressed? Check. Are you stressed? Check. Anxiety? Check. With each box ticked my estimation off the severity of my condition seemed to rise.
“I see they gave you some homework?” It was Sarah. I shuddered violently as a shiver ran through my body.
“You ok?”
“I’m going to be sick.” I clutched for the bowl and managed to position it just in time. My blood pooled into the container filling it half way.
“Oh god that’s a lot of blood.” Sarah looked panicked “Nurse!” I threw up a second time. Less blood then the first but the bowl was filling fast. I felt light headed. The nurse approached me and quickly began to take my blood pressure. She didn’t say anything of the results. There was an anxious quickness to the nurse’s movements that undermined the calm of her voice.
“We’ll get you another bowl.” I handed her the questionnaire as she took away the one I’d nearly filled.