Spike and I did some good work on Raven’s last full day with his wife of 63 years.
“Friendship Center first on the way?” I asked.
“That works. Can you run back here after that and drop me? I will need a car, since I have a conference call with the Judge back in Arizona and I will need to leave lunch early.”
“Yeah, I got it,” I said.
We launched early to head up the big hill. We passed the grim façade of the Bortz Elderly Warehouse and pulled into the lot at the Emmett County Friendship Center about some enhanced care for Big Mama in the wake of Raven’s Big Trip.
Then back in the Police Cruiser to head for Potemkin Village. We talked to management, informing them officially of Raven’s imminent departure from their roost. We managed to get in to talk to The Ritas at Senior Homecare Solutions to have the Enhanced Care Package transferred to Big Mama.
It is quite confusing. The senior leadership of SHCS is all named Rita, as is the Lovely Rita from the Friendship Center.
“How do you think it is going to go?” asked the senior Rita.
“I have absolutely no idea,” I said. “This is not the same Big Mama who came here. But I think for sure she is going to miss him. But some times she doesn’t seem to care, either. That might account for what has been going on lately with his wandering.”
Spike frowned, adding, “I think she is going to miss him once she realizes.”
I signed and initialed some paperwork and then we went down to the front desk to adjust the weekly shopping order for Glenn’s Market, deleting the cranberry juice Big Mama won’t drink, and Raven’s Depends and hand soap and paper towels that she doesn’t consume, and are piling up in the pantry.
Then there was nothing for it but to go up to the apartment. Big Mama and Raven were on the couch, waiting for something to happen and naturally we obliged.
I turned on Turner Classic Movies and was rewarded with a Dick Powell film called “Cornered.” It looked noir, and the restoration of the original movie make the dark shadows stark.
“Powell is just making his post-war transition from tenor to hard-boiled detective in this film, Mom.”
Spike checked the movie guide on my iPad and gave us the synopsis: “After the end of World War II, a former Canadian Air Force pilot who was a POW returns to France to discover who ordered the killing of his bridge of only 20 days.”
We watched Powell go through his paces with a dour focus. “Says here the guys who wrote the screenplay were blacklisted after they made this film. Tail Gunner Joe McCarthy got ‘em.”
“I guess the Vichy Government in France was an easy target, once the fighting was done. Collaborators.” I mused.
“Vichy?” asked Big Mama. “I do not remember Vichy. Aren’t all these films from Germany?”
“No, Mom. It is all Hollywood.” I looked over at Spike. “It is interesting what goes and what stays, isn’t it?” Dick Powell looks good in a suit, I thought, and he was arriving in Buenos Aires to track down the Nazi sympathizers we saw it was time to get to lunch.
We organized the folks as best we could and got the parade moving toward the elevator as the plump and sinister Walter Slezack was greeting Powell at the airport.
Raven was having a better day than he has been, though we got off on a slow start with his soup. I got a call as we played with the silverware, and went out in the hall to talk to someone about the status of Task Order 73.0, back in Washington, and I kicked myself that I was supposed to be monitoring the office email better.
When I got back Spike had cut up the sandwich halves into manageable chunks, and pointed at his watch. “Gotta go talk to the Judge,” he said.
“Are you coming back?” asked Big Mama. She has expressed interest in our comings and goings with the backdrop of Raven’s Big Trip.
“Yes, Mom. I will be back for happy Hour. I have to work now, though.” He got up and gave a wave to the Cowboy and Irene at the next table.
“I want to give you a hug,” said Irene with that scary smile of hers.
Big Mama got through her sandwich and I was surprised to see that she liked her pecan pie. Normally she doesn’t do much on dessert. Raven did pretty well, and I thought that there was one more meal to go here. He did not want to stand up when Big Mama announced that she was ready to go back up to the apartment, and I went out to the hall to grab the wheelchair. By the time I got back, Raven had recalibrated, and decided to walk.
Walter Slezak was just getting shot at the end of the movie when we got back, and I watched the credits roll as the folks got settled on the couch.
“Back at four,” I said. “I have to do some meetings. We will do Happy Hour, OK?”
“At four?” asked Big Mama.
“Yep. See you soon.” I shut the door to the apartment behind me and felt the relief I always feel when the show is over. I stopped at the package store to get a bottle of Vitamin V to get through the last few days of the trip, and saw Spike’s rental car in the driveway at the house, and once in the kitchen I heard the murmur of voices from behind the closed door to the library.
I thought about a salad for lunch, and thought about raking the leaves that Autumn has deposited on the compound and then the phone went off in my pocket. I peered at the number when I fished it out of my jeans. Local number. Crap, this can’t be good.
It was Former-Four-Inch-Heel Mary from the Bluffs, Raven’s destination the next day.
“We don’t have a copy of your Father’s latest chest x-ray. We will be needing that for his admission tomorrow.”
Me, cleverly: “What chest x-ray?”
Mary’s words hit me like a jolt of adrenaline to the heart. The idea of doing something medical back home in Washington is one of awful dread: visions of the Beltway flashed before my eyes on the way to Bethesda, then no place to park, acres of shuffling retirees in the pharmacy…”Now Serving number A9!” on the PA, and looking down to see I am holding ticket F84.
“Doctor B wrote a requisition for the x-ray on the 5th,” she said. “Let me check out what we can do. I will call you back.” I thanked her and my pulse spiked. No chest x-ray, no admittance. Doctor B is going to be out of town next week. Federal Regulation loomed. The x-ray was apparently mandatory. I could be stuck here for another week. Crap.
I looked at the clock, and saw it was one-thirty. I could still pull it off. I jumped on the computer and placed the cell phone next to the mouse to wait for Mary to call back. I had no more than logged on to the company account than the phone chimed at me.
“I just faxed the requisition over to Northern Imaging. You can get the x-ray done this afternoon,” she said. “And you won’t have to deal with the hospital. There is a wheelchair just inside the front door.”
I thanked her profusely, and breathed a sigh of relief for small mercies. Then I Googled the location of the clinic, which turned out to be just around the corner on US-31. I might be able to pull this off, but that meant getting Raven awake and dressed for the chill, downstairs, into the police cruiser and across town.
I could hear my brother’s voice behind the door to the library. I jotted a note on the pumpkin-colored pad on the island in the kitchen:
“Fuck. Raven needs chest x-ray or no Admission. Launching now. If not back, handle dinner with Mom.”
I went into the library where he sat in front of Big Mama’s computer and handed him the note. His eyes widened as he read it, and nodded. Then he shrugged, pointing at the phone where the voices babbled from Arizona.
I gave him a salute and headed for the door.
The Bluesmobile roared up the hill and I did not feel one bit bad about using the handicapped placard. I hustled to the elevator, each second of he slow-motion cycle an irritant. “Don’t be uptight, I said to myself. “Do not get him upset. No not get Mom in an uproar. Will she want to go too? Crap.”
I did not quite burst into the apartment.
“Hi, Mom!” The elder Socotras were seated right where I had left them, watching a youthful Pat O’brien in a film called “Riffraff.” Raven was awake, a good thing, and he appeared dry. I opened the closet and found one of Raven’s coats from last season, the last time he had needed one. I found a sweatshirt, and stuffed him into it.
“Gentle,” I said to myself. “Be gentle. Do not get him agitated.”
“Where is he going?” asked Big Mama.
“Special haircut,” I said. “It is part of getting ready for the big trip tomorrow.”
I got him on his feet and got his pork pie hat out of the media center where the outerwear he doesn’t need resides. He liked the hat, and he liked wearing his coat. He tugged the sleeves down for comfort as I guided him toward the door.
We made it to the elevator, we made it to the lobby, and Raven began to surprise me. He said “Hello” to the gal at the front desk. He grasped the crash bar to the front door and pushed it. I could see how he was able to navigate on his missions to other apartments. There was still someone in there.
I kept up a commentary for him, explaining about the police cruiser. He likes cars, always has.
So far, so good. I did not want him to nod off, so I gave enough gas to keep him interested.
“Whee,” he said, as I accelerated out of the turn and down the hill toward the junction. My Dad always has the capability to surprise me.
There were a couple show stoppers to come, after I missed the turn to the clinic and was passing the cemetery to our right. I didn’t want to think about the symbolism, and looked in the rearview to see if we were clear to pull a big official-looking four-lane U-turn on US-31.
One of them came as we waited to check in. The nice lady at the desk asked for Raven’s picture ID.
“Sorry,” I said. “He hasn’t carried a wallet in a couple years.” I did have his insurance card, and she relented on the specific provisions of he Health Information Privacy and Portability Act.
Luck. Pure luck, just as it was with our x-ray tech, who took fine care of us in the bowels of the clinic.
“My name is Lisa, she said.”
“What?” asked Raven. The man was astonishing- he was working the room.
“Lisa-with-an-L,” she repeated, with a smile.
I had hoped we could do this without stripping him to the waist, but that was not going to happen. I found myself in a lead coverall and Raven shivering as his skin touched the cold plate against the wall. He began to slump to one side immediately after Lisa got him positioned and strode briskly to her shielded station to snap the x-ray.
We had to try a couple times, and I kept up a running commentary on who Raven had been and what he had done. He was slumping again and I was on the verge of despair when I realized something that might work.
“Lieutenant Socotra!” I said in a parade-ground voice. “Att-en-shun!”
Raven’s back stiffened and his shoulders came back.
“Perfect!” said Lisa-with-an-L as the machine buzzed.
Damn, I thought. It is purely amazing what goes and what stays.
Copyright 2011 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com