Chapter 9

Aaron stopped me outside the door when I went to see her again at the end of the week. His face bore two, long scratches and he dabbed his cheeks with a tissue. A scream came from the room, followed by the clang of metal.

            “What is going on?” I said frantically.

            “She’s losing it. She hasn’t cooperatively gone to therapy, eaten or taken her medication in three days. She’s having fits of rage and keeps saying we are strange men trying to torture her.” He looked down at the tissue, then back up at me and shrugged his shoulders.

            “And I’m guessing she did that?”

            “Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. “I tried to give her a hug and she wield around claws out.” He tried to smile but it came off more painful and forced. “I don’t know what to do.”

            “It’s so strange,” I said, looking in the through window of the room. Allan was standing on one side of the bed next to nurse Proctor. Mary-ann stood on the other, a bedpan in one hand and her other holding the back of a chair for support. “I was here Monday. She recognized me the moment I walked in. We spoke for an hour before having lunch together and then went out to the park. Just days later she’s a completely different person?”

            “Stop coming here!” Mary-ann shouted, swinging the bedpan and almost losing her balance. “I told you already, I have nothing you want. Why won’t you just leave me alone?”

            “It’s impossible to explain,” Aaron said. He stepped to the door and slowly pushed it open.

            “GO!” Mary-ann screeched.

            Allan tried to move around the bed to close the gap between them and was struck with the bedpan. He stumbled backwards. Aaron stepped forward and caught him.

            “Calm down Mary-ann, we just want to help.” Nurse Proctor raised her hands in front of her body. “Please, tell us how we can help?”

            “You can all leave me alone.” Mary-ann was losing her breath, her body sinking further into the chair. She fell, missing the seat and crashing into the ground.

            Nurse Proctor rushed forward. “We need to get her on the bed and sedated. We can’t afford another outburst like that, it could send her body into shock and cause another stroke.”

Aaron and I lifted Mary-ann off the floor and set her gently on the bed. Nurse Proctor inserted the IV and placed an oxygen mask over her face.

Nurse Proctor took a deep breath, her hands gripping her hips. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she said. “She’s certainly still got her strength.”

“I just wish she wasn’t using it against us,” Aaron said, helping his father into a chair.

“Is she going to be alright,” Allan said as he wiped his face with a kerchief. “The whole reason for bringing her here was for her to get better. What are you doing to make her--”

Aaron cut him off before he raised his voice.

“I assure you Mr. Cauldwell. I, as well as the rest of the staff here are doing everything we can to help your wife recover, or at the least, maintain.” She was calm, poised and professional. “This is the best place for her, but you have to understand that there are going to be days, weeks, even months where the small battles are lost. But if work together, we can hopefully win the war.”

            Mary-ann groaned softly, then fell into a deep sleep.

            “When she wakes, we try again,” nurse Proctor said, walking to the door. “In the meantime, go get something to eat.” She closed the door behind her and the room fell to a dull silence.

            “If I don’t see any progress in the next couple weeks, I’m taking her home with me,” Allan said after a long while.

            Aaron stood and walked to the window. It was raining and the wind blew, making it seem as though the trees were dancing, their branches weaving in an intricate pattern. “Don’t be ridiculous dad.”

            “I’m not being ridiculous. If it goes on like this, I’ll be paying them to do the same thing I was doing.”

            “She’s eaten more here in the last two weeks than she did the last two months she was at home. I’m sorry, but I won’t allow it. Prince and I are also on the paperwork and it has to be a majority decision.”

            “You’re going to team up against me to keep her here even if she’s not getting any better,” Allan groaned, his words getting caught in his throat.

            “Dad, stop thinking we are trying to make things harder on you. You need help taking care of her, and she needs help being taken care off. It’s that simple.” Aaron walked back to where Allan was sitting. “This is what’s best for her, at least for now. I promise you, I will carry her out of this place myself the second I don’t see it working.”

            Allan rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Alright.”

            “Alright,” Aaron said, exhaling heavily. “Should we go get something to eat then?” he asked, extending an arm to help Allan to his feet.

            Allan grabbed Aaron’s hand and said, “I hope they have ice cream.”

            Aaron laughed as he turned toward the door. “S**t. Sal, I completely forgot you were here.”

            “I didn’t feel it was appropriate to interrupt,” I said, holding the door open. “I’ll join you for a meal if you don’t mind.”

            The cafeteria was bustling when we walked in. Happy by Pharrell played in the background and colorful signs reading, Fat Friday and Fun Friday, were displayed all over the room. A group of ladies and young children stood by the entrance handing out bead necklaces and crafts they had made throughout the week.

“It’s a doggy,” a little girl said, thrusting a paper plate, that was painted to look like a pug, into my hand.

“It looks amazing,” I said. She smiled and wrapped her little arms around my leg.

 “Mom will love this when she’s able to come down here,” Aaron said as we took our seats.

Allan grunted, sticking his fork into a pile of mashed potatoes.

“She told me she wanted to help in the kitchen,” I said, trying to break the silence.

Aaron laughed. “Sounds like her. I’m not sure if I had a meal in my first twenty-five

years that she didn’t have her hands in.” He took a bite of his sandwich and wipe his face. “So, how’s Katrina doing?”

            “She saw me for the first time yesterday,” I said, toying with my food. “It looked like she hadn’t eaten or showered in a while. She let me bring her to the couch in her living room and I made her a cup of tea.”

            Aaron nodded his head, his face filled with compassion.

            “She didn’t speak much. Just grunted to my yes or no questions and when I tried to put my arm around her, she flinched away and started crying.” Quickly losing my appetite, I pushed the food away and sat back in my chair, my emotions a clear contrast to the boisterous room. “It’s interesting. I’ve spent my entire adult life so plugged into my job that I’ve never really known what it felt like to care for someone like I do Katrina. And I’ve only known her for such a short time.”

“She has that effect of people,” Allan said, unwrapping his brownie. “She’s kind, positive, always looking to put others before herself.”

“She has a good heart. I can’t necessarily say I care for her in a romantic way yet, but

terrible things like that shouldn’t happen to good people.”

            Allan took a sip of water to clear his throat and said, “That is the age-old question and one I’ve been struggling with myself. Where do you think Katrina learned how to love people?” he said, winking. “It’s part of the reason I fell in love with Mary-ann, and why it’s so difficult to see her in a place like this.”

            “I heard that they are thinking of putting Malcolm on the wall,” Aaron said.

            I nodded my head. “Yeah, I spoke with Alise the other day and the son of the man who painted the mural said he would do it for free.”

            “Katrina will really appreciate that,” Allan said, taking another bite of his brownie.

            A boy of thirteen wearing a Miami Heat jersey stopped at the table with a pitcher of water. “Would any of you like your cups refilled?” he asked. His left leg was in a brace that went from his thigh to his ankle.

            “Certainly, young man,” Allan said, passing his cup to the end of the table. “What’s your name?”

            “Ethan,” he said, pouring the water and handing the cup back.

            “What are you in for?” Allan said, snickering. The boy turned his head in confusion. “Your leg. What happened?”

            “Oh, right,” Ethan said, setting the pitcher down. “Well, I was playing baseball and crushed one out to right field. I took off down the first base line and I could hear my team yelling and cheering.” His voice became heavy and full of breath. “The first base coach waved me to second. I could feel my helmet bouncing up and down and almost fall off my head.”

            Aaron looked at me with a huge smile.

            “I looked out halfway to second and saw that the right fielder was about to throw. I charged forward and slid, smashing into second base just before he caught the ball. It all happened so fast. My leg got caught under the base but my body kept moving forward and bang!” he shouted, exploding his hands away from each other. “My leg shattered in like a million pieces.” By the end, Ethan was out of breath.

            “You’re quite the storyteller,” I said, tapping my hand on the table. Both Allan and Aaron nodded in agreement.

            “Thanks. It didn’t even hurt either,” he said proudly, grabbing the pitcher.

            “How long do you have to be in that thing?” Aaron asked, pointing at his leg.

            “Another six months. I had to learn how to walk again, and they said I have to keep wearing this for stability. It itches like crazy though.” Ethan shrugged his shoulders, reminding me of how unstoppable teenage boys think they are.

            “I bet it does. Well, good luck,” I said. Ethan nodded and hobbled away.

            “If that doesn’t put a smile on your face, I don’t know what will,” Aaron said, grabbing our plates and stacking them at the end of the table. “

            “Nice boy,” Allan said. “He’ll be back on the field before he knows it with that attitude.”

            “Mr. Cauldwell,” a voice said behind me. I turned to find nurse Proctor standing with her hands on her hips. “Not to alarm you, but your wife is awake. She is unclear of where she is, but she’s non-aggressive. Would you like to come back and try talking with her?”

            “Yes, of course,” Allan said as he stood.

            “I’ll take care of all this stuff. The two of you should go,” I said, pointing toward the door.”

            As I was collecting the trash, a boy and his father came by with wet clothes to wipe the table. I thanked them, threw our plates away and headed back down the hallway to Mary-ann’s room.

Allan sat in the chair next to the bed holding her left hand. Mary-ann cupped Allan’s face with her right and I could hear her whispering. Tears trickling down Allan’s face. Aaron stood at the foot of the bed, his brown coat hanging over his shoulder, gently squeezing her leg.

Nurse Proctor walked from the room and stood next to me. “What is she saying?” I asked.

“She just keeps repeating his name.” Nurse Proctor wiped her eyes with a tissue. “It doesn’t matter how many times you see it. It doesn’t make it any easier to watch.” She turned and walked away.

I sat in a chair in the hallway taking pictures and jotting down notes for an hour. The music from the lunchroom was only a muffled thump, but parents with their children, elderly with their nurses and doctors continued to dance up and down the hallway.

Aaron came to sit with me for a long while. “She’s seems pretty calm. I think my dad is going to stay with her a little while longer.”

“Yeah. He must be relieved she recognized him.” I said. I closed my notebook and stuffed it back into my bag.

“It’s all he really cares about. He’d let her stay here forever if she knew who he was every time he walked in. I’m going to take the train back to the house and then head home. I’m sure my wife misses me.”

I shook his hand and said goodbye, watching his back begin to arch as he walked, looking more and more like his father.

 

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            The following week, Prince returned with his sons, Isaiah and Joseph, and offered to take me deep sea fishing. Isaiah was in his early thirties, six feet, stocky and knew more about fishing than I think I know about journalism. His brother, a few years younger, was there only to make all of us laugh.

            “Stop it you moron,” Isaiah said, throwing a chunk of fish at his brother.

            “What?” Joseph said as he dodged.

            “You’re such a dork man. That’s not even how you’re supposed to put the bait on the hook.” Isaiah walked across the boat and stood next to his brother. “Let me see it.”

            “Nah bruv. Me got dis man. Don’t worry. Me’a catch de fish b’for you,” Joseph said, using a terrible, but hilarious Jamaican accent.

            “The fish are going to swim by and laugh,” Isaiah said, shaking his head and walking back to the other side.

            Prince laughed and said, “They’re both around thirty years old and still having the same dumb arguments they were having as teenagers. The only thing that’s different is they aren’t in a fist fight.”

            “Fist fight?” I said, tying the hook onto my line.

            “Oh yeah, they were at each other’s throats for most of their life. Three years apart and interested in a lot of the same things. Competition was their middle name.” Prince stuck his hand into a buck and pulled out his bait. “I’ve seen them grow a lot closer over the past few years though,” he said as he stuck the bait on the hook.

            “Were you like that with any of your brothers?” I asked.

            “Of course. Paul and Luke were nearly done with high school when I was born so I didn’t spend much time with him. But Aaron and I were five years apart and fought over the same things, especially when I grew taller than him. He felt he had to prove even more how much better he was at everything.”

            We walked to the front of the boat and threw our lines out.

            “And now?” I asked, slowing reeling in.

            “Very much the same as Isaiah and Joseph. We still bicker and argue, but we tend to acknowledge and respect each other’s strengths.”

            “Such a common theme with brothers. Mike and I were the same way. Three years apart, but we competed more over success in school. We weren’t very athletic. It actually took us much longer to find common ground.” My line was all the way back to the boat, so I threw it back out again.

            “What changed?” Prince asked.

            “My father got sick. Mike and I were civil before then, but we realized how much of our lives we missed because we were too stubborn. When my father died, it really changed. We hardly go a day without talking.”

            Prince set his pole in the rod holder and leaned against the railing. “You never mention your father passing away,” he said.

            “I told you, sucka!” Joseph shouted. We looked over and saw him struggling to reel. Out in the water a massive sailfish sprung through the surface, its tail whipping through the air.

            Excited, we rushed to his side.

            “Be careful,” Isaiah said.

            “Don’t worry, I got this.” Joseph began pulling hard on the pole then reeling in the slack. The fight lasted ten minutes, but eventually, the captain used a metal pole to pull it into the boat.

            “Dude!” Isaiah said excitedly. “That was awesome.” Isaiah and his brother high-fived, chest bumped and threw their fists into the air.

            “Great job man,” Prince said, helping Joseph lift the fish in the air for a picture. “Get in here Sal.”

            Smiling, I stood beside Prince and the captain took a picture. “Great catch Joseph,” I said.

            “Thanks. Now it’s time for all of you to catch one,” he said, baiting his hook and tossing his line back into the water.

            “You won’t catch two before I get my first, I promise you that,” Isaiah said, rushing back to his side of the boat.

            Prince and I left our lines in the water and sat for a while, talking.

            “I was a small kid, smallest in my class until the summer of my sophomore year,” Prince said. “I know it’s hard to believe looking at me know, but I grew almost a foot that summer. Walked into school my junior year and everyone thought I was a new kid.”

            “Yeah, I would have had the same reaction. It must have hurt, right?” I asked, glancing over at Isaiah who was tying on more bait.

            “It felt like my bones were going to come right through my skin,” he said, rubbing his legs. “I was athletic too, but I couldn’t do anything for weeks because it hurt so much. That’s when I focused more on my singing.”

            I chuckled, remembering the story Mary-ann told me. “Yeah, I heard you surprised your mother with a pretty significant part in Les Miserable on Broadway.”

            Prince looked up, smiling. “Who told you that?” he asked.

            “Your mother. I asked her what her favorite memory was and that was the one she went with.” He seemed shocked, almost disbelieving that performing on one of the biggest stages in the world, in one of the most iconic plays ever, might not be worth remembering.

            “How did your father die?” he asked, changing the subject.

            “Pancreatic cancer. They caught it and treated it early, but it came back even stronger a few years later. Stage four at the age of seventy-two.”

            “I’m sorry to hear that. How long ago did it happen?” he asked.

            “He fell into a comma and we decided to let his body decide eight years ago.” The boat lifted, gliding over a wave.

            “And your mother?” he asked, grabbing the railing.

            “She took it pretty hard, but she’s living with Mike on the upper east side and spends a lot of time with her quilting group and playing bingo.

            Prince laughed, looking out across the water. “I don’t see my father doing either of those things. But hopefully he’ll find something.”

            “Your mother’s not dead yet,” I said, standing up and walking to my pole.

            “I know,” he said, standing as well. He reeled in his line to find the bait was gone. “But I feel for him. I mean, you were there the other day when she was losing it. Aaron told me that she threw her bedpan at him because she thought he was there to ‘get’ her.”

            “And after she got some rest, she sat calmly with him for over an hour whispering his name. She’s still in there Prince, and your father needs help remember that.” I felt my line get heavier. “I think I’ve got something,” I said, pulling hard on the reel.

            “Get it in, get it in,” Isaiah said, rushing to my side.

            If I hadn’t taken a picture, no one, including myself would have believed it. An eight-foot hammerhead shark. It took all four of us to keep it off the ground and the captain said it was one of only three he had landed on his boat. After a loud round of high-fives and a phone call to my brother, we tossed it back into the ocean.

            By the end of the day, we caught two more sailfish, a yellowfin tuna and Isaiah caught a six-hundred-pound blue marlin. It took more than an hour and he had to trade off three times with the captain because his arms were so tired. Our breath went out in successive gasps when he cranked the fish up onto the boat.

            We trolled back to the harbor with smiles on our faces and more fish to take home than any of us had the ability to eat.

            “Thanks for inviting me,” I said as I stepped out of Prince’s car.

            “Thank you for joining us. We had a great time.” Prince stuck his hand out of the window and I shook it. “My boys are leaving in the morning to get back for work, but I’ll be in the city for a week. I’m sure I’ll see you again before I head home.”

            “I’ll be in touch,” I said, walking to the trunk to grab my fish. “Nice meeting you guys,” I said.

            “Nice meeting you too Sal.” Isaiah and Joseph waved as they car rolled away.

            After putting the fish into my freezer, I fell onto my bed, my arms sore and eyes heavy. Scout jumped up next to me, wagging his tail and rolling over onto his back, just before I fell asleep.