Homeless Once More, Part Fourteen
By Cathy Roberts
glroberts@bigfoot.com
On Christmas morning, John emerged from the basement to find that he was the first one awake. He knew that Kerry was supposed to be working in the E.R. and he was surprised that she wasn't downstairs. It was six, and she did have that disgusting habit of being not only an early riser, but noisy about it as well. Well, it wasn't his fault if she were late for work.
He opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch to get the paper. Christmas morning promised to be sunny, it was already cold. It certainly didn't feel any warmer outside now than it had been when he left work last night. He had been on until midnight and he knew he should still be sleeping, but he just couldn't get Christmas Eve out of his mind. It was odd to have something else occupying his thoughts. He just wished that the something else didn't involve the death of a teenager. Oh, Christmas Eve had started out well enough with him receiving a card from a former patient. The woman had called him "an instrument of God" as she thanked him for his help. John walked back into the house, locking the door behind him, still thinking about how lucky he had been last night. Oh, he had been one arrogant bastard there was no doubt about that. How could he have been so stupid as to insist on trying to revive someone who had been down for such a long time? When he had tried that with Chase, the results had been disastrous. Last night was no different.
He had revived his patient, only to discover that the boy was brain dead. He had later disobeyed a "Do Not Resuscitate" order, just because he thought that he was going to be able to convince the boy's mother to donate his organs. Again, how could he even imagine that he was important enough to be able to convince her to do that? What he had been was stupid and arrogant. He had let that stupid Christmas Card go to his head. How could that woman, someone he couldn't even remember, tell him that he was an instrument of God? Didn't she know that God had no use for him? Well, even if she didn't know it, he knew it, and he should have known better than to do what he had done. It didn't matter that everything had worked out in the end. The only reason it had come out all right was because of actions Lucy took. He had jokingly told her that she was now an instrument of God, but it wasn't really that much of a joke. She was a lot closer to being one than he was.
John tossed the paper up on the counter, then headed for the basement. He had just opened the door when he heard Kerry coming down the steps, so he closed the door and waited for her. The least he could do was wish her a Merry Christmas. She would expect that, even if he wasn't feeling very merry about Christmas or anything else.
Kerry entered the kitchen, looking surprised at seeing him there. She was fully dressed for the day.
"John, I was trying to be extra quiet so I wouldn't wake you up. I'm sorry if I did."
"You didn't. I just couldn't sleep, that's all. Merry Christmas, Kerry." He even managed to smile at her.
Kerry smiled back, "Merry Christmas, John. Well, since you're awake, would you like to open your gifts?"
"Gifts? I thought we had agreed to only give each other one thing."
"We did agree to that, but I always have a difficult time following through with those types of agreements." Kerry walked over to the tree and plugged in the lights, then reached under the tree and pulled out several boxes.
John knelt down and picked them up, "Kerry, I only bought you one thing."
"John, I don't count how many gifts I get. Just open them." Kerry sat down on the couch and waited.
John sat down cross-legged on the floor and began to tear the paper off the first box. It wasn't easy to do. Kerry had completely taped every single seam, but he was able to pry away a little bit of tape and create an opening. Not that it did him much good. The box was also completely taped closed. He glanced over at her, noticing how much she was enjoying watching him struggle with the present. "Maybe I should try one of the other ones."
"It won't matter. I wrapped them all the same way."
"You are a cruel woman, Kerry Weaver."
"I've been told that many times, John. Maybe I should get the letter opener for you?"
"A scalpel might work better."
"Oh no, then you might cut what's inside. I'll get the letter opener."
As Kerry started to get up, John got the box open. "I've got it. You can stay there. Wow, look at this, another box. Maybe I should just go back to bed."
Kerry was laughing now, "It's not that bad. I went easy with the tape on that one."
"I hope so," he muttered as he turned the smaller box over. True to her word, Kerry had only taped this box in four places. Not that it mattered. Inside was another box. The pattern repeated itself twice more before John opened the last box and pulled out a laminated card. He laughed as he read what was printed on the front: "This license entitles the bearer to operate Kerry Weaver's stereo system at any time and without her supervision." Below that were the words: "This license can be revoked at any time for misuse, accidental or intentional." John looked up at Kerry, "Thanks. I feel very honored to now have permission to touch your stereo."
"Hey, I figured that you had earned that right by now. If you're really good, then you might earn the right to touch the T.V. by your birthday."
"I don't know if I should tell you this, but I've already touched your television," he grinned.
"We'll discuss that later. Open the next present."
"I should give you yours first."
"No. I want you to open all of yours first."
"Kerry, it's a real shame that you don't like Christmas."
Kerry bounced on the cushion. "I'll have you know that Christmas is my very favorite holiday. Now, open the next present or I'll have to open it for you."
"Okay, I'm opening it already. It might take me five years, but I'm opening it."
When John was done with the opening of that present and the one after it, he had a new sweater and new pants, plus a Jimmy Smith CD that he had been thinking of buying.
"Thanks a lot, Kerry. You didn't have to go to all this trouble for me."
"John, I already told you that Christmas is my favorite holiday, so it wasn't any trouble at all."
"Let me get yours." John leaned over toward the tree and pulled out a small box from the pile of presents, then he got up and walked over to the couch. Sitting beside Kerry, he handed it to her. "Thank you for putting me up and putting up with me. I really do appreciate it."
Kerry ripped the paper off, then stared down at the box. It was a jewelers box and she immediately recognized the name of the store. It was not a place that sold inexpensive jewelry. She knew that John had spent way too much money on her. She slowly opened the box and her mouth fell open as she saw the gold and green earrings nestled there. "Are these real emeralds?"
"Of course. I think that these will go great with what you've got on, don't you?"
"Definitely. I don't have much gold and green jewelry."
"I noticed that. Merry Christmas, Kerry." He leaned over and kissed her quickly on the cheek, then he stood and walked to the kitchen. "I'll get a bag to put all the trash in."
Kerry remained on the couch, not sure what to say. Not sure if she should say anything. She knew exactly how much John took home in his paycheck and she knew that he could not afford to buy her these earrings. Either he had saved a lot of money in a short time, or he had borrowed money from someone to make the purchase. She couldn't tell him to take them back, that would be an insult. But, no one had ever given her anything so valuable. Aside from the monetary expense, Kerry knew the value of the earrings came from the fact that he thought she would like them. Well, she did. She loved them. She removed the earrings she had already put on and then donned the new ones.
"How do they look?" she asked John.
John stopped stuffing wrapping paper into the trash bag long enough to look closely at her. "They look great. I hope you like them."
"I love them, John. Thank you very much. Oh, I almost forgot. There is one more present for you. It's in that big box on the other side of the tree."
John had no trouble locating the box. "It's heavy enough."
"I think you'll appreciate it."
John ripped the paper off and smiled. It was a heater, one that was designed like a radiator.
"You can keep it cut on while you're sleeping. You should have told me how cold it was in the basement, John."
"It's not so bad."
"I had to go down there the other day because I tripped a circuit. It was freezing down there. I know that it won't do much good for me to up the thermostat, but this should help keep you warm. I expect you to use it."
"I will. As a matter of fact, I'll even use it this morning. Mom and Dad won't be picking me up until noon, so I can get some more sleep before I have to face the rest of the Carter family."
"You make it sound like a bad thing. I miss having Christmas with my family."
"I don't. As a matter of fact, I usually have a much better time if I do miss having Christmas with them. This is the first Christmas since Chase's overdose. Not only will he be there in all his vegetative glory, but his parents will be there, too. God only knows how they feel about me and what I did to their only child."
"John, what happened to Chase was not your fault. You didn't inject him with heroin, he did that to himself."
"I should let you get your breakfast so you can get to work on time."
"John, don't do this to me. Every time we begin to discuss something serious, you change the subject or walk away."
"That's because I don't want to discuss serious things, Kerry. I know that you mean well, but I'm just not interested in hearing you justify my actions. I screwed up with Chase in more than one way. It isn't just that I revived him when I should have let him go. There's a lot more to the story than that."
"Even that is not your fault. You should not have been treating your own cousin. I reviewed the case and I told Del Amico that she was at fault for calling you into that trauma room in the first place. She could have handled Chase herself, or asked for help from me or Mark. You were the last person that should have been in there."
"Don't you think I knew that? But, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that I had to keep him from dying. It didn't matter that he had been down for over twenty minutes. I played God and brought him back. If I had enough courage, I would find some way to put him out of his misery and let him find the peace that only death can bring. But, I don't have the courage to kill him, to make it right. All I can do is keep telling myself that he's going to get better. I know that it's not true, but I try to believe it anyway. I seem to be the only one in my family that won't accept the truth about his condition."
"John, you weren't the only person in that trauma room who made the decision to revive Chase. Del Amico stood by your decision, as did the nurses. Any one of them could have stopped you, they have the right to do that. But, they didn't. So, are you going to blame them as well?"
John shook his head. "It's like I told you, Kerry. There are other ways that I'm to blame. Just leave it at that, okay? You're running out of time if you want to eat before leaving for work."
"I'll get something at the hospital. John, I really do love the earrings and I appreciate all the effort it must have taken for you to get them for me. I hope that your afternoon with your family turns out to be good."
"Me, too. Thanks for the presents." He picked up the heater, "I'll take this downstairs now and try it out."
"I hope it works. I'll see you later tonight?"
"Probably."
"Have a good day then."
"You, too."
John went on downstairs with the heater and Kerry left for work.
Hours later, John went upstairs to wait for his parents. He unplugged the Christmas Tree, then put all of the gifts for his family on the table and sat down on the couch to pass the time. Earlier, he had been re-reading the hated Christmas card and he picked it up off the side table and read it again. He wondered if his actions would have been different last night if he had never read the stupid card. Probably not, he reasoned. He was too impetuous and stubborn and would not have given up on the boy.
With a sigh he tossed the card into the trash bag that he had not yet taken out. For the millionth time he found himself wishing he had to work today. Wishing he had to do just about anything else except go to his grandparents' house and deal with his extended family.
The doorbell rang, dashing all hopes he had that Christmas had been cancelled. It was exactly noon, which didn't surprise him any. His father was a punctual man. John opened the door, ready to wish his parents a Merry Christmas, but instead he found himself staring at the man who stood with there with Roland.
"Merry Christmas, Johnny." Roland gave him a big hug, then stepped past him into the house. "Is Kerry here? I wanted to wish her a Merry Christmas, too." Roland then noticed that he was standing there alone and he called back over his shoulder, "For God's sake, Branch, don't just stand there. Come on in."
"I haven't been invited inside," Branch said.
"Sorry," John mumbled as he stood aside so that his uncle could enter the house. "Come on in."
Branch followed Roland into the living room while John closed the door. John frowned at his father.
"Where's Mom and Barbara?" he asked.
"They're already at your grandparent's. We went over for breakfast, so when it was time to pick you up, Branch offered to ride over with me."
The night before, Roland had been to the airport to pick up Branch, and Mary, his wife. Since he also had to pick up Barbara, who was due on a later flight, the three of them were able to talk about Chase and John while waiting. Roland had been relieved to find that his brother and sister-in-law had never blamed John for Chase's condition in any way, shape or form. When Branch had offered to accompany him to get John, Roland had eagerly agreed. It was time, past time actually, for John to hear it from Branch himself.
"So, is Kerry home?" Roland asked again.
"She's working today."
"Too bad. I had thought we could invite her to come over to the house with us," Roland said.
"I can always switch shifts with her," John suggested.
"That's okay. We'd rather have you," Branch said.
"Would you really?" John had his doubts about that.
"John, I really do mean that. I think that we need to sit down and talk." Branch didn't wait for John to agree or disagree, he went ahead and sat down on the couch.
"If you'll show me which presents you're taking, I'll get them in the car," Roland said.
"All the ones on the table," John replied. He looked over at his uncle. "Look, I don't mean any offense, but I've already had one depressing conversation regarding Chase today and I'm not up for another. I know that I fucked up where his addiction was concerned and I'm sorry. I told Gamma and Grandfather that I was only honoring Chase's wishes by not insisting that he go into a de-tox program. Looking back, I know I was wrong to keep quiet about his heroin addiction, just as I was wrong to fight so hard to revive him. It's my fault that he's incapacitated now. Uncle Branch, I wish with all my heart that I could go back and change things, but I can't. All I can do is tell you how sorry I am about everything. I know that my being sorry doesn't make it any easier on you."
John blinked back his tears. "I've got to get my coat." He headed for the basement.
"John, wait. Please come and sit down."
"If we don't leave now, we'll be late and Gamma hates it when people show up late."
"Dammitt, John, sit down!" Branch said, his tone firm. "I listened to what you had to say, now you will listen to me."
Roland paused at the door, wanting to see if John was going to be cooperative or not. He was relieved when John sat down in one of the armchairs across from Branch. As Roland headed out to the car, he prayed that this time John would really listen to what someone had to say to him.
"John, first of all, neither Mary nor me has ever blamed you for what Chase did," Branch began. "The only person responsible for what happened to Chase is Chase himself. I know I sound harsh, and I don't mean to sound that way. I love Chase dearly, even in his present condition. I know that you feel you were wrong to revive him, but believe me, I would rather have him this way than not at all. It causes me great pain to see him like this, but it's better than visiting his grave."
John made a sound of disgust and shook his head.
"You don't believe me? John, I can assure you that I do not blame you."
"That's not what I find hard to believe. It's the line about seeing him. How many times have you seen Chase since he overdosed? One? Two? Do you even think about Chase while you're busy flying all over the Far East?"
"How in the name of God can you ask me that? Chase is my only child, of course I think about him. Parents don't stop thinking about their children just because they're away from them."
"That's an easy thing to say, but you can't prove it. You still didn't answer me. How many times have you seen Chase this year?" John got up and began to pace, "Did you spend your nights there with him so he wouldn't awaken in a strange place and feel scared and alone? Were you there to feed him, to bathe him? Did you sit for hours trying to teach him how to hold a spoon again? Were you ever there for him, Uncle Branch?" John stopped to gaze intently at his ncle, waiting for an answer.
Branch was trying his best to keep his own anger under control. He was thankful that Roland had filled him in on how John had felt because he and Jenny had spent so much time away from Chicago. Branch and Roland had discussed the very real possibility that Chase had also felt the same abandonment as John.
"Business has kept me busy this year. Unlike Roland, I can't do my job from Chicago. Mary and I come home whenever we can and when we can't, we call to check on Chase. I'm sorry if that doesn't meet your definition of parental affection, John, but it's the best I can do right now."
John angrily shook his head, "That's a lame excuse. You and Dad spent so many years running away from grandfather that you ended up running away from your children, too. The two of you are totally pathetic, only caring about your own lives and never giving a damn about the lives of those you left behind." John then saw that his father had come back inside.
Roland's face was pale and he felt as if John had just slapped him. "How can you say that, son? Haven't I proved to you that I care about you and love you? I'm here and I intend to stay here. I also happen to think you owe your uncle an apology. He came here to reassure you about how he feels over Chase and you're attacking him. This is Christmas Day, Johnny. A day when we're supposed to at least act loving and happy, even if we really aren't."
"I'm sorry if I ruined your day, Dad. Uncle Branch, I'm sorry if the truth bothers you. You can go on without me. I have no interest in celebrating Christmas." John stormed out of the living room and to his basement refuge.
"I'm sorry, Rolly. I didn't mean to upset him."
"It wasn't your fault, Branch. These days it seems that any little thing will set him off. I'm getting tired of being patient and understanding. Excuse me."
Roland's hurt was now replaced by anger and he was determined to have things out with John. As he made his way downstairs, the only light that illuminated his way came from the kitchen, and then it was only because he had left the door open. Once he reached the floor, the darkness was almost complete, the only light being the red glow of the LCD display of a clock.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Roland could see that John was curled up on the bed. His anger quickly vanished. It pained him to see his son this way and he wished he knew what John was thinking so that he would have some idea of what to say. At times it seemed as if John was trying to deliberately push him and everyone else away. The question was why.
Roland sat down on the other side of the bed. "It's cold down here."
"It's okay. Kerry gave me a heater for Christmas. I can cut it on if you want." There was no trace of anger in John's voice.
"No. That's not necessary. I don't suppose she gave you a lamp for Christmas?"
"I like it dark."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I just like it this way."
Roland sighed, "We need to get going."
"Tell everyone "Hi" for me."
"You can tell everyone yourself. It doesn't matter that you don't want to go; you are expected, and you will be there. I didn't drive all the way over here to just return without you."
"I didn't ask you to come pick me up," John snapped.
"I never said you did. If I remember correctly, I volunteered to come get you. Now, get your coat and let's go."
Roland stood and waited for John to get off the bed. John didn't move.
"That wasn't a request, John," Roland sternly said. If John wanted a fight, then he was prepared to give him one.
"You can't make me go," John said.
"I am more than ready to fight you on this one, son. Your family wants to spend Christmas Day with you and you will not disappoint them. I don't ask much of you, John, but I am going to insist on this. I'm going back upstairs. You have five minutes to get yourself together and join us up there."
Roland went back upstairs, leaving the door open so John wouldn't trip while coming up the stairs. Branch was still on the couch, reading a Christmas card.
"Is John okay?" he asked.
"I wish I knew. He's down there curled up in the dark. I gave him five minutes to get up here."
"Wanting to stay in the dark doesn't sound healthy to me."
Roland sat down by his brother. "It doesn't sound healthy to me, either. Branch, I'm worried about him. Some days he seems fine and really upbeat and some days are like this. He gets argumentative and touchy. I think he's trying to push everyone out of his life, but for the life of me, I can't figure out why."
"Have you spoken to his psychiatrist about this?"
"He won't tell me anything about what he and John discuss."
"I wouldn't expect him to. But, that doesn't mean that you can't share your concerns with him. Maybe you and Jenny should go with John for family counseling."
"Jenny wants to do that. I don't know if I really want to hear what's on John's mind. Oh, I say I do, but I'm scared to really find out what he's thinking."
"Look what I found in the trash." Branch handed him the card he had been reading.
"This is John's?" Roland's brow creased with puzzlement as he looked the card over.
"It says "Dear Dr. Carter", so I assume it's his."
Roland read the card twice, then looked at Branch, worry clouding his eyes.
"Why would he throw something like this away? This woman obviously thinks highly of him and his abilities as a doctor."
Branch shook his head, wondering the same thing himself.
Roland put the card in the inside pocket of his coat so that he could ask John about it later. He was just in time too, because they could hear John coming up the steps.
"Ready?" John asked, acting as if angry words had not been exchanged between the three of them.
"Yeah, we're ready," Roland answered.
As they left, John made sure he left the porch light and an interior light on for Kerry. He was pretty sure that she would be home first. Holiday celebrations at his grandparents had a tendency to drag out long after they should have ended.
Once on the road, Roland asked, "So, how was work last night?"
John stared out the window, watching the city go by. How to answer that question? He could tell his Dad the truth, that he had revived a brain dead teenage boy, then kept him alive against his mother's wishes on the off chance that she would donate his organs to save a dying teenage girl. No, that wouldn't be a good topic of conversation for Christmas Day.
He sighed, "It was Christmas Eve and it was quiet. No one got shot, no children were beaten by their parents, no one crashed their car into a wall. It was an okay night. How was your Christmas Eve?"
"I spent hours at the airport waiting for people to arrive." Roland decided to not react to what John had said on the off chance that it might aggravate him.
"It must be rough working in the Emergency Room," Branch said. "I imagine that you see the worst of society."
"Yeah, we do. But, we also see a lot of good. There was this girl last night who needed an organ transplant and the mother of a brain dead boy gave her his organs. At first, I didn't think that she would do that. She had refused earlier when I asked her to consider doing that. Lucy, my student, helped make it possible when she introduced the mothers to each other. That seemed to do the trick. So, even though I had screwed up by insisting on reviving someone who had been deprived of oxygen for too long, it all worked out right in the end." John shook his head, "I should have known better though. It was the same mistake I had made with Chase. I'm sorry, Uncle Branch. I know this is something you probably don't want to hear."
"It's okay, John. I never have heard what happened that day. All I was told was that Chase overdosed on heroin and suffered brain damage as a result. The next day, Mom told me that Chase had been an addict. I'd like to know what happened." Branch turned slightly in his seat to look at John, who was still staring out the window.
At first, it didn't seem as if John was going to respond to Branch's request. But, he finally took a deep breath and said, "The paramedics brought in a bunch of O.D.'s. They had been messing around with a pretty powerful mix of heroin. Anna, one of the other doctors working that shift, called me into the other trauma room because she had Chase as her patient. He wasn't breathing on his own and the paramedic kept saying that he had been down for over twenty minutes. I heard her, I just didn't want to believe her. I took over and began to work on Chase. They told me it was hopeless, but I couldn't just give up on him. I kept working on him until I had him breathing on his own. I kept praying that there wouldn't be any brain damage, despite the fact that the odds were against him. Once he was moved to the I.C.U., I stayed with him, waiting for him to wake up. He never did. It wasn't until he was moved to the Kenner Institute that he regained consciousness."
"Mom said that you had helped Chase go through withdrawal," Branch said.
John nodded, "I wanted him to go to a de-tox clinic, but he refused to go. He was afraid that he might run into someone who knew him or the family and that grandfather would find out. He kept asking me to help him get off the heroin and I kept telling him no. I wanted him to go to a clinic. Then it finally dawned on me that the only way Chase was going to get clean was if it happened on his own terms. I went over to his place and told him that I would help him right then. We started it and later Anna came over to help. Her old boyfriend had been a drug addict and she had helped him get through withdrawal so she knew what to expect. When it was all over, Chase swore to me that he would never go near the stuff again. I saw him a couple of times before he overdosed and he acted as if he was clean. I keep thinking back to those times, wondering if I missed some sign that he was using again or getting so down that he would be tempted. The last time I saw him, he wanted me to ditch work and go to lunch with him. I told him I couldn't. I wonder now if he needed to have lunch that day. Maybe he needed to vent his frustrations about being stuck doing what grandfather wanted. He really hated not being able to do what he knew he was good at."
"Chase didn't have the strength to stand up to father. He didn't like disappointing him," Branch said.
"No one does. That's why I try to stay away from him as much as possible. He was really pissed at me for not telling him that Chase had a drug problem. So was Gamma. Hell, Grandfather worked with Chase every day, why didn't he pick up on the fact that something was going on with him?"
"We sometimes miss things like that in the people we see every day. John, Chase could have been happy being an artist and a photographer. His problem was that he enjoyed his trust fund too much and didn't want to give it up. After Mom gave him her little speech about how he liked living off of the fruits of the family business but didn't want to shoulder any of the responsibilities of the business, he felt guilty."
"That's what she told me. I gave up my trust fund because she seemed to think that the money mattered to me."
"Well, the money mattered to Chase. He didn't want to face life without expensive clothing, a maid and fast cars. I wanted him to give it up and learn how to make his own way in the world, but he didn't. Chase chose his own road and when he realized that he wasn't happy, he turned to drugs to get him that way. I did the same thing, only my drug of choice was alcohol. I found out a long time ago that I could deal with my father a lot easier if I had a buzz going. Maybe I have one of those addictive genes and I passed it on to Chase. I don't know. But, I do know that you right about me running away. You're also correct that I haven't seen much of Chase this year. It's because I'm still running away. I don't have to admit to myself that I was wrong if I don't have to keep seeing that my actions resulted in tragedy. I know that Chase was ultimately responsible for his own life and actions, but my example helped guide him. I failed my son and I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life."
"I should have told someone," John said. "Things might have turned out different."
"You did what Chase asked and no one can blame you for that. I don't and neither does Mary. We don't blame you for bringing Chase back. You're a doctor, something you had to fight to become, and you are trained to save lives. You couldn't let Chase go without a fight anymore than you could let that boy go last night. It's not in you to give up like that, John."
"I wish I knew me as well as you seem to."
Branch smiled, "You do. If you took a good and honest look at yourself, you would see that what I'm saying is true."
"We're here." Roland said as he turned onto the long driveway which led to the house. He wished the trip would have taken longer so that Branch and John could have kept talking. John was opening up to Branch, telling him things that Roland had been asking about but never getting an answer. He felt a twinge of jealousy about that, but he pushed it aside, knowing that the important thing was the fact that John was talking to someone.