The Safety Zone (a novella by Bob Racine) - tenth and final chapter

Chapter 10            “Oh Death, Where Is Thy Sting?”

Urged on by Chaplain Blanchard, Cara screws up her courage and takes a gamble with love, affection and friendship totally out of character for her.

Cara’s face was soaked with tears by the time Chaplain Blanchard arrived at her bedside.  She felt so stupid summoning him, practically a total stranger.  But she remembered how supportive he had been that afternoon, when she was in the throes of remembering the horrible scene.  And here was someone she knew was paid to listen and not ask anything for himself. 

He did not violate the sovereignty of her body and person by taking her hand without asking or even embarrass her by inquiring as to what was wrong.  He did not father her.  He just sat down and, without verbalizing, his body language asked How can I help you?    

“I’m so lonely!”  She looked pitifully into his eyes.  She sniffled and coughed for a few minutes before she got her voice back.  “I’m plain lonely.  I don’t know what else to say to you.”

“This is not a new feeling, is it?”

His words made her tears even more profuse.  Old wounds and deprivations were called forth by that remark.  He waited a few beats and added, “You’ve experienced a lot of loss.  That’s enough to make anyone lonely.”  And, Cara thought to herself, enough to make anyone desperate. 

Then she screwed up her courage and asked him, “Please don’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

“Of course not,” was his instant reply.

She confessed to him all she had been thinking and remembering about what transpired between her and Dagne – all the frantic maneuvering, all the dashed hope, all the drastic walk across that room and what was really driving her, all the metamorphosis of mind and emotion through which she had passed over the last few days, all the banality of her soul and spirit. 

It seemed quite unreal that such confessions were flowing out of her.  He listened, showing no shock, no displeasure.  His face was blank but fully attentive.  She ended her monologue by admitting the most painful and embarrassing fact of all: “I thought I was getting a friend out of all this-   all this-   hospital time.  I had a picture in my head about all Dagne and I were going to do together after we were discharged.  What a pipe dream!”

The chaplain said nothing for several seconds, then leaned a little closer to her before saying the last thing she ever expected to hear from him:  “You have gotten a friend out of it.” 

Cara had had some amazing things revealed to her over the past hours – the completion of her surgery without her knowing about it, Dagne’s mental illness, her own saving of Dagne’s life, Chuck’s secret guilt.  But this seemed the most preposterous of all.  I’ve made a friend?  Oh, I see, he’s talking about himself.  Chaplain Blanchard is my new friend.  Oh, yeah, really! ! !  Here he is ready to run away with me, to meet me for lunch every day!  Tell me another one!  But then he continued.

“The friend you’ve gotten is not exactly a new friend.”

“You mean God – Jesus?  A heavenly friend?”

“No, Cara.  I’m talking about a flesh and blood person, someone who’s been around in your life for quite a long time.  Friends stand by each other.  They keep the vigil.  And this friend has been unspeakably vigilant and faithful.  He hardly left your bedside after you were brought in here and while you were sleeping.  He worried himself sick over you.  Believe me!  I was on hand to observe.”

Vernon, a friend!  Somehow in her universe she had never been taught to think of family members as friends.  A friend was somebody you discover on your own, with whom you share a lot in common.  What did she and her brother have in common?  They didn’t think alike; they didn’t live alike.  And they had never been able to have thirty minutes of conversation without some kind of disagreement. 

What Vernon had done for her during her hospital treatment was nothing more than she would have done for him.  He did his duty.  Family is family.  Or is it?

“We don’t like each other very much,” Cara snarled.

“Isn’t it about time you took a closer look?” Blanchard suggested.   “My wife and I have serious differences of opinion on things, but she’s more than a family member or a lover to me.  She’s my best friend.”

At that moment, as if on cue, Vernon walked in.  The chaplain took one look at him and reflected, “Well, speaking of favorable omens!” 

“Hi there, Reverend!  Don’t tell me you’ve been here in this room ever since I last saw you.”  The chaplain got up and signaled to Vernon to take the chair he had been occupying, the one closest to the bed.  But Vernon objected.  “No, no, I can pull this other one over.  You keep your seat.”

But at once the matter was settled, when the beeper on Blanchard’s cell phone went off.  He activated it and walked a space away from the bed to confer with his caller.  Cara looked up at Vernon.  His eyes met hers, eyes that contained not the slightest suggestion of irony or brashness. 

“How ya doin’, Sis?  You look a bit better.”

“That’s a nice friendly question!” she remarked.  She was aware that it sounded snide and was not sure whether she meant it that way or not, but  whatever irony her remark may have contained was for once lost on him.  Now how was this going to work, she wondered. 

Blanchard shut off his cell phone and spoke apologetically.  “I’m going to have to cut out for a little bit.  A patient I’ve been counseling died early this morning, as we thought he would, but the family has arrived from out of town and they’re waiting for me to join them in the chapel.  We’ve been in expectation of this for about three days.  But, Cara, I’ll be back before the day is out.  You won’t have to summon me again.  I promise!  You two have a nice visit together.”

“Okay, Reverend, thank you for stopping by,” said Vernon.  “See you later.”  Blanchard departed, and Vernon then sat down in the chair nearest the bed and seemed poised to give her his full attention.  “I’m surprised to hear that you called him in.  Summoned, I believe, was the word he used.”

Vernon did not miss much.  Cara had to hand him that.   

“Are they letting you off for all this time,” she asked.  “How can they do that?  I’m afraid I’m going to cause you to lose your job.”

“You let me handle that.  You just get well.”

How did this happen, she asked herself.  A moment ago she was pouring out her grieving heart to the man of God, and abra cadabra he had vanished and brother Vernon had taken his place.  She was a little shaken by this speedy substitution.  The chaplain had all but instructed her to make friends with Vernon. 

She felt as if she had been charged with a mission.  She was supposed to make a move now, to breathe life into something that had been dormant at best.  Disliking Vernon had always been so easy, and, perhaps, kind of fun!  She was struck with the notion that maybe she was giving something up, something on which she had thrived.  To stick her toe into the water she looked at him and dropped what she knew was the most loaded question she had ever asked him.  

“Vernon!  How close are we?”

His response was precisely what she would have anticipated – pretending not to hear the question.  “How what?”

“Would you say we’re close to each other?”  She was no more surprised by his next device – making a joke out of it.

“Well, between the chair and the bed I’d say there’re about three feet.”

Repressing her irritation, she refused to let him off the hook.  “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he conceded.  “Well, I come to see you, don’t I?”

“If I were to die, would anybody miss me?”  He was so stirred and made uneasy by her question that he moved to the edge of his chair and started pinching his chin between his thumb and index finger, a nervous tic she had witnessed a myriad number of times.

“Would I miss you, if you die?  Of course I would.  You’re not planning on it, are you?”

“I wouldn’t know how to plan that kind of thing.”

“Old Witch Denison did.”

“Are you comparing me with her?  She’s mentally ill.  I might not be the most cheery person in this world, but I think my mind works okay.”  She took a deep breath before forging ahead.  “No, I’m not planning it.  I just think about-  how much I’m-   needed.”

“Be thankful you don’t have an ex-spouse needing you, one you hardly ever see.  I could stand to be a little less needed and wouldn’t shed a tear over it.”

She felt like throwing something at him.  “You love to turn every conversation around to the subject of you, don’t you!  I thought you were answering my question.  I thought we were talking about how much the life of Cara Hutchins is worth.  And you have to drag your damn domestic troubles into it.”  She was astounded by the first swear word she had used in years.  Uh-oh, is my life a little shorter for it?  “Can’t you get serious about this?”

“Serious?  I’ll tell you-   you want serious?  Yesterday afternoon when you were out cold for so many hours and half out of your mind and this morning when you were in the operating room and the outcome was so uncertain-  that was serious.  Serious business!  I get this phone call that you’ve crashed down to the floor and hurt yourself and they were fighting to calm you down.  I got pretty damn serious over that.  I left work at once and rushed over.” 

“Sorry to inconvenience you,” she growsed.

He looked at once wounded, a reaction to her she never remembered witnessing before.  “Sis, that’s unfair.  I never said anything about being inconvenienced.  You think I blame you for the accident?”

Now we will see what he is really made of, she thought.  “Do you know why the accident occurred?  Do you have any idea why I was all the way around to the other side of Dagne’s bed?”

“Frankly, no!  I guess you were taking a walk to the bathroom and stopped by on your way back.  How do I know the whole story?  You haven’t been too clear about the details.”

“You didn’t hear me when I was reliving it here in this bed, screaming and screaming?”

“You were kind of babbling.  I couldn’t understand a lot of your words.”

“Well, I’ll tell you a detail.  I was desperate for Dagne’s love and acceptance.  That’s why I was there.  I didn’t know why she had rejected me.  Her curtain was drawn and she wouldn’t answer when I called to her.  I had to know.”  Cara’s voice had started to quaver.  Her body was shaking, and her breathing had become a little labored. 

“You told us you smelled blood.”

“That happens to be true.  I did.  But if that’s all there was to it, would I have gotten out of bed and taken that horrible walk around to the other side of her curtain?  Would I have suspected anything like what I found?  Wouldn’t I have simply rung for the nurse and let her check things out?  I thought it might be my own blood or something outside in the hall.  It wasn’t any smell that made me go to her.  It was my own desperation.” 

She could tell that Vernon was for once as shaken as she was.  She even noticed that his eyes had dilated a bit.  For all of a minute or more the only sound that was heard in the room was Cara’s audible and stressful breathing.

“You want me to call the nurse?” asked Vernon.  “You having difficulty with the lungs?  You all right?”    

For a fleeting second Cara herself was not sure, but his sensitivity to her bodily needs helped calm her down.  He really was worried about her.  He had been for days.  The chaplain was right about that. 

“I’m all right,” she finally declared.

“How did you become so desperate?” he asked in earnest.

She was thunderstruck at his question.  What a wall she was going to have to penetrate, if any friendship was to be forthcoming for the two of them.  She wanted to push him away, but she knew that he had asked the $64,000 question, and it was too important to brush aside.  She took a few breaths before responding. 

“How could I be desperate!  Shall I tell you my life story?  What part aren’t you familiar with?”

She saw that that remark had struck home.  He got the import of what she was saying.  He did not ask for any further enlightenment.  He sat back in his chair, and he too started to take huge breaths.  She was relieved to know that he had the imagination to fill in a lot of spaces.  She closed her eyes a long while and let the dust settle, before she returned to the subject at hand.  Finally, with eyes still closed to avoid the critical stare she knew she might encounter in his face, she declared, “My life is empty, Vernon.  I’m not close to anyone.  How about yours?  Tell me about your days and nights.”

She expected a hasty comeback, some saucy pun, but all she got from him, her eyes still closed, was silence.  Has he, like everyone else, blown the coop? she wondered.  With a little fear and trembling she opened her eyes and saw something she would never have expected to happen in all the years of her life.  Vernon was crying.  He had his head down and he was sobbing.  She had never seen him do that since he had become an adult.  The tears were soaking his face. “Vernon?”   

He looked up a little timidly and directly at her, tears and all.  He was not trying to hide his overt feelings.  Their eyes connected.  They held each other’s gaze, as he muttered, “I thought I had lost you.”

“Did you?  Was it that bad?”

“Damn it, Cara, hasn’t it sunk in yet?  Hasn’t anybody in this hospital told you?  You might’ve been impaired for the rest of your life by that surgery.  It was touch-and-go, and when you had this other shake-up on top of it to carry with you through all that cutting on the table, I got very worried.  I thought I might lose you.” 

“And it mattered to you all that much?” She hoped the question did not sound facetious to him, because that is not the way she meant it. 

“You’re damn right it mattered.  I’m the same as you underneath.  I may be a wiseacre, sometimes even a smart ass, but I’m made of the same stuff you are.  Can you believe that?”   

“I want very much to believe it,” she heard herself say.  This was not another trap, was it?  Vernon was not playing with her, was he?  She looked again at the tears that were still flowing.  She knew he could not fake a scene like this. 

“We’ve both messed up our lives,” he continued.  “We’ve both done a shoddy job of putting friendships together – friendships and marriages.  We’re both living alone, licking our wounds.  You’re all the family I have left.  My kids now live a long way off; they have their own lives, lives I’m not a part of.  I have a few bowling buddies.  I could be close to them, if I was willing to tank up and carouse on the weekends.  But I gave all that up years ago.  Not good for the old health!  The thought of doing that now depresses me. 

“I go home to that little apartment of mine, and there’s nothing there but the TV set, the evening paper and caffeine free coffee.  I’m miserable as hell, Sis.  I would be paralyzed with grief, if I were to lose you.”

Cara was stunned.  What she had suspected and wanted to believe but did not dare believe was now indelible fact.  But you and I couldn’t take the place of a wife or husband, she remarked silently to herself.  I couldn’t be for you what a male friend would be.  And you couldn’t take the place of the female friend I thought I had gained.  What does friendship between them look like, she wondered.  In the wisp of a second the answer became clear.  It frightened her how clear it was.  How would he react, when she sprang it on him?

“Loss weighs a lot less heavy on you, when you can share it,” he declared.  “That’s what we can do – share it.  We could do so much for each other, if we could just cut out this contest we get into.”

“Contest!  Yes, that’s exactly what we do.  But, Vernon, what are we competing for?”  She sincerely wanted to know.  Facetious remarks had by this point been totally abandoned.

He gave some thought to this question, while he took out his handkerchief and started drying his eyes.  After blowing his nose, he cleared his throat and replied, almost whispering, “I really don’t know for sure.  I think we think we’re still children.  You’re the quiet and creepy older sister, and I’m the bratty little kid brother trying to rattle you, the way boys like to rattle girls.  We just carry on, deep into middle life, as if we’re still playing those games.  And I suppose it’s mostly my fault.  It’s hard to resist the chance to make you wrong, to show you up.  I hide what I’m feeling behind my jokes.”

“You’ve certainly come out from behind your jokes today,” Cara remarked.

“You do a good hiding job too,” he maintained.  “You hide in your grandmother’s tomb.  It wouldn’t be so bad if the tomb was open, but you close the coffin lid behind you.  I guess I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to get you to come out of that stuffy head of yours and play.”       

“Well, you’ve got a lot of help from Dagne now,” she exclaimed.

He did a double take before he responded.  “A lot of help from Dagne!  I don’t get it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”  He looked a little quizzical, but she could tell he was poised to hear more.  To distract him from her strange riddle, she blurted out, “Would you consider moving in with me?”  She could have sworn that heaven and earth had suddenly set aside everything else they were doing and were waiting with bated breath for this astounding conversation to continue. 

She saw that at least Vernon had been stopped cold in his tracks.  He stared at her, as if someone had just dashed a pitcher of cold water into his face.  She let the silence continue for a few beats before she went on.  “And don’t tell me you haven’t thought of the idea already.  Don’t play hard to get.  Just answer me straight, Vernon, a plain yes or a plain no.  Would you consider it?”

 “Do you think it would work?” he asked.

“We won’t know unless we try it.  You’re having a hard time paying your rent, aren’t you?  Two can live cheaper than one.  I’ll give my present boarder notice, and you can take her place.”

“There’ll have to be adjustments,” he cautioned.  “It wouldn’t be smooth sailing.  And you’d have to put up with a lot of baseball talk.”

“Speaking of that, isn’t there a game on right now?” she proffered.

“You bet there is.  The Redsox and the Cardinals!”

“Why don’t you turn it on and watch,” she further proffered.

He dropped his jaw slightly and stood to his feet.  Incredulity was written all over him.  “Are you serious?  You wouldn’t mind?”

“After all I’ve been through, I can think of worse tortures.  Besides, I might as well start getting used to it.”  She made it a point to smile as she said this, a little timidly, but it was a smile. “Go ahead, turn it on.”

He looked at her silently for a few seconds, and in his face she read appreciation.  He looked as if he wanted to thank her for giving him the crown jewels.  Then he took the remote, started pressing buttons, and in a matter of even fewer seconds he had the picture up.  Betty Woolsley in the next bed, whom Cara realized had remained respectfully quiet throughout all the bedside conversations during that day, spoke up.  “Is that Boston and St. Louis?”

“Nothing less,” answered Vernon.  More conversation followed between the two of them, consisting of introductions and past reflections on what is still thought of by some as America’s favorite sport.  Cara felt outside the loop.  Why could Vernon not choose basketball or football or hockey as his center of interest?  They at least moved fast.  They stir up much more excitement and fever in the blood. 

But she was grateful for some of the outside world entering into her cloistered cove of convalescence.  And she knew from Vernon’s mannerisms that he did want to move in with her.  He had been candid with her and quite honest, and she not only found that most refreshing but also knew it signified what was possible for them on a bigger scale.  Give and take, somebody has entitled it!  Sister and brother had their work cut out for them.

The woman Cara had superstitiously thought might be the death of her in one way or another had almost become exactly that, though in a fashion far removed from anything she might have expected.  But truth be told, Dagne had finally had the opposite effect.  Everyone was lauding Cara for saving Dagne’s life, but in a strange way Cara knew that Dagne had saved hers, even if she would never be able to get anybody else to understand how. 

The woman who flaunted her bared breast and inadvertently opened up the catacombs where Cara’s grandmother had kept the granddaughter’s spirit captive, who had called up the specter of death and damnation and tried to embrace them herself, had been both the fall and the rising of Cara Hutchins.  What Dagne had stirred up would be difficult to stifle any time soon.  Oh, death, where is thy sting?

“Vernon!”  She had to speak his name twice before he heard her over the ballpark hubbub coming out of the television.  “Vernon!  Would you pull my curtain back?  I’m tired of barriers.”  The streak of metal rings scraping against the overhead fixture, as Vernon granted her wish, had never sounded so good to Cara.  It was almost identical to the sound of chains being loosened, just before they drop from a prisoner’s wrist and legs. 

                                     The Safety Zone

                                          The End

Much thanks to all of you who have followed this novella and either have read it through, are in the process of reading it or are planning to read it at your convenience.  Let me make it clear that I never expected any recipient of the blog entries to complete the reading of it by the end of the ten days I took to post them.  People absorb fiction at different speeds.  (I myself am not a speed reader.)  The chapters can be saved and stored in anticipation of a convenient time and circumstance for reading.  As I said at the beginning, this is an experiment, and naturally I would be pleased to know how many have finished it and when.  I am sure some of my readers will not read it at all, preferring editorials and essays instead.  And there are more of those forthcoming.  It does take time and concentration to take on a complex and lengthy narrative of words.  At any rate, whichever group you fall in, it has been a pleasure for me to share it. 

To read other entries in my blog, please consult its website:  enspiritus.blogspot.com.  To learn about me consult on the website the blog entry for August 9, 2013.