Mortal Mistakes

  Karen turned her face toward Jenny and enjoyed Jenny’s childish wonder at the heavens, and the intriguing trails of fireflies nearby. She reminded herself that she needed to phone Mrs. O about taking Jenny again. She and Jenny would be moving into an apartment, in three days. Karen felt that she and Jenny had stayed in her parent’s home long enough. Both families needed privacy. And after working full time for Paula for the last few weeks, she could afford her own place. It had been good for both Jenny and her grandmother, to spend time with each other, over the last two months. But it would be too time consuming to drive Jenny to her grandmother's place every day, after they moved to their apartment.

  Karen's thoughts were interrupted by a voice that crackled over loudspeakers from a brightly decorated, reviewing stand, "WE HOLD THESE TRUTHS TO BE SELF-EVIDENT. . ."

  *****

  “What are the odds of that? It’s got to be a billion to one!" Robert Louis Gatewood whispered softly to himself. He had just arrived in the park to watch the fireworks show, when he chanced to spot Jenny and her mother. He slipped behind a large clump of forsythia bushes nearby, and secretly watched the pair.

  ". . . THAT ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL, THAT THEY," the loudspeakers continued to blare.

  Robert had last seen Jenny a few weeks ago and had looked for her in the nursery play lot many times since, as he walked past on his way to work. Now, miraculously it seemed, here she was in the park, within a few feet of him. In subdued light, he studied the attractive lady, who shared the picnic blanket with the little girl. He supposed that she must be the child’s mother.

  The thick bushes that separated Robert from Karen and Jenny’s view were hindering his view of them. A distant walkway lamp began to light as dusk settled on the park. The lamp barely illuminated the rapidly darkening area.

  Robert removed his knife from his pocket. His eyes strained to study the faces of both mother and daughter. He silently opened the sharp blade of the knife. He looked around to see if anyone might be watching. Quietly, he proceeded to snip some small branches from a forsythia bush that hindered his view of Karen and Jenny.

  "ARE ENDOWED BY THEIR CREATOR WITH CERTAIN UNALIENABLE RIGHTS, THAT AMONG THESE ARE," the loudspeakers continued.

  Two teenage boys had been ambling along the paved walkway around the lake. They were horse playing along, waiting for the fireworks show to begin and also looking for girls, who might be interested in their company. Occasionally they threw a lit firecracker to one side or the other of the path. That usually brought a alarmed shriek or expletive, from someone nearby, which was their mischievous objective.

  "LIFE, LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE STAND FOR OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM."

  A local celebrity then began to sing.

  One of the two pesky boys happened to notice Robert. Thinking that Robert was probably behind the bush relieving himself, he threw a firecracker in Robert’s direction. The teen misjudged his throw and placed the firecracker much closer to Robert than intended. The missile fizzed through the air and exploded with a loud bang, within inches of Robert‘s head. Robert’s entire body wrenched from the surprise and from the pain in his ears. His sudden reaction caused him to jerk his knife cutting his left hand.

  "Watch out, Joey! Dude's got a knife!" the second boy yelled.

  “I see it," the first boy shouted and quickly threw a whole pack of lit firecrackers in Robert’s direction.

  Robert was as unsettled as were the two boys. He jammed his forefingers to his ears, which stung from the detonations of firecrackers. He hurried around the end of the clump of bushes opposite the boys and directly toward Karen and Jenny.

  The two boys watched with wide eyes and gaping mouths as Robert scurried around the bushes with the knife in a bloody hand.

  Karen bolted upright to a sitting position, at the sound of the nearby firecrackers and the boy’s loud shouting and then a fast approaching stranger wearing a tee shirt and baseball cap. She and Jenny were directly in Robert's path and looking straight at him. Robert hesitated a few feet short of the mother and child. Through eyes that darted from boys to Karen and Jenny, he checked their startled faces. Karen was terrified, seeing the knife in his hand, and what appeared to be blood on his other hand. She immediately made a connection between Robert and the man in her nightmare months ago. Robert could see that both the mother's and child’s eyes were fixated on the knife in his hand.

  The boys glared wide-eyed at Robert who returned their glare. His eyes continued to dart from the boys to the mother and daughter in between. Time seemed to stand still to all five distraught people, as they stared at each other in awe.

  ". . . AND THE LAND OF THE BRAVE," the vocalist concluded.

  The first volley of the fireworks display thundered skyward with five sequential booms that shook the ground. The sky turned to flaming orange and red from mushrooming rocket explosions that pounded the heavy atmosphere with their noise.

  “EEEEE!” Karen screamed.

  In the flashing sequence of light, Jenny recognized Robert, and screamed, "Bluhh maan! Her eyes were wide with fear. She thrust a tiny arm and hand toward him, palm out, as if to fend him away. Her other hand groped desperately for her mother. Karen snatched Jenny closer with a sweeping scoop of her hand and arm. Still lying down, Karen felt helplessly vulnerable.

  The boys were still yelling. "That freak has a knife! Somebody stop him! Help! Police!"

  After quick looks, to the left and right, Robert charged toward Karen and Jenny.

  “EEEEE!” Karen and Jenny screamed in unison.

  One of the boys threw another pack of lit firecrackers in Roberts direction.

  Five huge rockets blasted from their launch tubes sequentially, vibrating the earth around the park and lighting the sky with brilliant, silvery, sparkling light. Hundreds of screaming whistles accompanied sparkling streaks of light, high in the sky just as the boy's firecrackers exploded in front of Robert. The smell of burnt sulfur began to permeate the warm humid air around the lake. Thin clouds of smoke settled over the park.

  Robert side stepped to the right at the last second, and hurried past Karen and Jenny. He quickly disappeared into nearby woods and continued to put distance between himself and the two boys.

  Karen's heart was pounding. She brought her weak trembling legs underneath herself and rose to her feet scooping Jenny to her waist. She watched Robert vanish into the night. In the hot air, her skin suddenly felt cool and damp. She was squeezing Jenny so tight, the child could hardly breathe.

  Another volley of rockets thundered from their launch tubes. The sky turned greenish blue with their blossoming explosions. Small sparkling blue lights spiraled toward the ground with hundreds of popping, crackling, secondary detonations.

  Robert assured himself that the two troublesome boys had not followed him. He watched another volley of fireworks from behind a large tree. He could not believe his poor luck. After months of wanting to see the beautiful little girl again, he had finally done so, only to have the encounter spoiled by a couple of meddling boys. He was completely flustered.

  Ever since his life in an orphanage, Robert suffered from panic attacks when faced with any sort of accusative confrontation. The panic attacks always caused him to feel compelled to escape. He experienced such an attack when the old woman at the nursery charged menacingly at him. That confrontation and the one tonight brought back memories of experiences in the orphanage.

  As always, this evening’s confrontation with the two boys and his subsequent panic left Robert feeling weak and defeated.

  He made his way around the lake through the woods on the west side. The program was almost complete, by the time he made the wide sweep through the woods, to where he could see the place where Karen’s picnic blanket had been. Karen and Jenny were no longer there. Gone also, were the two annoying boys. He walked toward the Cossan Street exit from the park, and then to the n
earby train station. He used a public restroom to wash dried blood from his hand.

  Thoughts of Jenny, and haunting memories of his childhood, of past panic attacks, and of Marge, occupied him as he rode the northbound train. He sat with his forefingers lightly pressed against his ears, and stared blankly at the floor as usual. He strained to recapture a mental image of Marge before they were sent to different foster homes. The only picture that would come to his mind was one of Jenny as she appeared tonight, dressed in a red, white and blue outfit. He had not seen anyone as cute as Jenny, or as attractive as her mother, in weeks.

  The train's doors swished open at the Lake Street Station. At first, he thought that he might be imagining it.

  I don’t believe it. Yes, I think it is! It's the same perfume he concluded.

  He still remembered and recognized the fragrance even though it had long faded from his souvenir newspaper in the sealed plastic bag that he still kept in his refrigerator.

  Jan Murray took a seat opposite and to the right of Robert, on the other side of the car. His heart leaped! He elevated his line of sight a few degrees without moving his head or tilting his baseball cap. He saw shapely legs that certainly could be hers. Is it really possible that two miracles have visited me in one evening?

  "Did you enjoy the fireworks this evening sweetie?" Jan asked with a drawl.

  “Sweetie?” His heart skipped a beat. His breathing stopped. His thoughts raced. Could she actually be speaking to him? How could she know that he had seen fireworks? The baseball cap tilted upward. The movement was so slight that it was barely detectable. His eyesight moved from her thin ankles to her bare knees, hesitating briefly at her beautiful suntanned thighs, then past her white twill shorts to her soft pink blouse. His heart was racing faster and faster! He was about to stutter an answer, when the silence was broken.

  "Yep, I sure did, Jan. How about you?" a tall, handsome young man sitting next to her replied. He spoke with the same southern accent.

  "Well, you know that I'm not as crazy about fireworks as you, but they were okay.” She said. “I'm glad you enjoyed them. And I did enjoy going with you."

  Robert's heart sank. His face reddened beneath the bill of his baseball cap. He realized that he had almost made a fool of himself. His gaze was frozen on her chest. When he realized it, he quickly lowered his head and directed his eyes toward the floor.

  The train stopped at Sherman Station. Robert lowered his hands from his ears to his sides. His fingers nervously touched the bulge in his pocket caused by his knife. His hope had been so suddenly crushed it was painful to him. “Sweetie?” He peeked beneath the baseball cap at the young man who was seated next to Jan. He looked at the stranger’s feet and slowly moved his sight up, to examine more of him. He was taller than Robert and had dark brown wavy hair. His face was a little thinner than Robert's and he was clean shaven. He was very muscular and athletic looking.

  Robert lowered his eyes to the floor again, easing his hand away from his pocket, and put his forefingers to his ears. He did not look up until the two rose to leave the train at the Elm Street Station. He felt utter disappointment as his eyes followed her shapely legs toward the exit. He raised his head, to catch a final look at her stunning face.

  The sudden motion, of Robert's cap, as he raised his head, caught Jan's attention. She glanced back over her shoulder at him and vaguely remembered seeing his face before. For some reason, it was a haunting face that was etched in her memory. Yet she couldn't quite place him.

  “What are you thinking about Jan?” her brother asked, as they walked away from the train. The train began to move again.

  Robert moved to the vacant seat, which Jan had just occupied. He inhaled lingering scent of her perfume. He closed his eyes, breathed deep, and savored the fragrance, which still permeated the air around him.

  *****

  A remnant of Jan's fragrance still clung to Robert's clothes when he entered the door to his apartment, twenty minutes later.

  A stranger was just entering an apartment across the hall. The tall brooding man had lived there for only a few weeks. He had not yet introduced himself, and Robert did not want an interruption just now, so he promptly entered his apartment and closed the door. Once he was inside his apartment, he removed a pair of latex gloves and a roll of tape from his pocket. He laid them on his kitchen table along with his knife. He removed the tee shirt and draped it over his face inhaling the barely remaining fragrance of Jan Murray’s perfume.

  Across the hall, Stan Bronsky trudged to his bed and collapsed from exhaustion and pain.

  Chapter 19

  On a steamy hot July day, Stan sat in Dr. Griedlach’s reception room. He had been waiting anxiously for over an hour. He scanned the front covers of dated health magazines, and pamphlets that described the friends and enemies of various human organs. His impatience added to dull pain in his head that had lately established near permanent residence.

  "Mr. Bronsky."

  The words came from the direction of a big vase of plastic flowers, which sat on a narrow counter next to a small reception window. The window opening was located just high enough so that Stan had to place himself squarely in front of it and peer in, down, and to the right in order to see the source of the verbal summons.

  "Yes," Stan replied as he completed the last two steps toward the vase and little window.

  A small name plaque, in front of the window opening, advertised the working presence of Ms. J. Kalin. He peered down at the top of Ms. J. Kalin's head as she meticulously scribbled something beside his name on her computer screen. This was his third office visit over the last few weeks and he had yet to see her face.

  Table for one, non-smoking, he derisively thought, as she completed her busy typing. She seemed all too unsympathetic and mechanical to him.

  "I need your insurance card Mr. Bronsky," she commanded with a up stretched hand, still addressing him with only the top of her head showing. She had black hair peppered with gray. It was folded into a bun running down the back of her head. Stan diverted his impatience and nervousness by estimating the percent of gray hairs in her head. He was reminded that his own hair was becoming increasingly frosted. He guessed that he probably had three times as much gray as did Ms. J. Kalin.

  “Sure," he answered. He removed the state medical card from his wallet and placed it into her upstretched hand. The card was a icon of embarrassment to him. To Stan, the card symbolized his personal failure. His private insurance lapsed thirty days after he was fired from CTC. With all his debts, and with no income, he was forced to apply for state aid, including food stamps and medical assistance. Welfare assistance barely covered his share of subsidized housing.

  "Doctor can see you, now." She continued her computer exercise, without looking up. "First room on the left, Mr. Bronsky." Her right arm thrust upward again, as she spoke, with his card loosely dangling from her index and forefinger.

  ‘Doctor will see you, now,’ he echoed sarcastically to himself, after he had waited twenty minutes in the eight by ten examination room. His eyes had not failed to visit even the smallest detail of the room, from the cold examination table, to the beaker of tongue depressors on the cabinet, to the soiled spots on the floor underneath the sink, and those on the edge of the exam table. He wondered how often the room was cleaned and concluded that the person who did the cleaning, didn‘t pay near as much attention to detail as they should. He wondered how they, or the doctor, overlooked visible grime in a room that ought to be a sanitary example.

  Stan had become acutely aware of dirt, dust and grime over the last two months. For the last two months, he lived in a small apartment in a run-down building. It was a aged brown brick building in a declining neighborhood. The building’s peeling paint and chipped plaster depressed him. It‘s stairs and hallways were dark and dingy. There was graffiti on many of the walls. Most of the building’s windows were grimy or broken or
had cardboard patches. Just thinking about the place caused his stomach to tighten. In just three months, he had gone from the upper middle income life to humiliating poverty. Gone were the good paying job, the spanking new house in Eagle Brook, two nice cars, and boat. Most importantly, Karen and Jenny were missing from his life. Now unemployed and seemingly unemployable, Stan simply existed.

  Three miserable months. What a life, he thought. Heartache and despair gnawed at his spirit. His eyes began to moisten. Tears wanted to form as he constructed Karen's pretty face in his mind, and his darling Jenny's too. Oh, my sweet little Jen. He longed desperately to see them, to be restored as a family.

  The door sprang open, interrupting his dispiriting thoughts.

  "Stanley, how are you today?" asked Dr. Griedlach. His dark brown eyes peered over gold rimmed reading glasses into Stan’s tense moist eyes.

  "Hi, Doctor Griedlach," Stan returned a slightly choked greeting. “Sure hot today!" He tried to make small talk. “I guess that’s normal for July though.”

  The doctor nodded agreement and briefly checked Stan’s vitals.

  "Stan, let's walk down to my office and talk." The tall lanky doctor drawled the words in his southern style. Then he turned and led the way to his plush, but cluttered, office. "Have a seat over here on the couch." He motioned for Stan as he moved some medical journals and folders out of the way. Then he closed the heavy oak door to his office. The room was quiet. It smelled of stale cigar smoke.

  Stan had already visited Dr. Griedlach's leather couch once before, after the first inconclusive x-rays and brain wave tests. The x-rays showed a trail of scar tissue leading inward from the old shrapnel wound at the base of his skull behind his ear. Dr. Griedlach wanted to follow the x-rays with further tests. But Stan was so disappointed that the first tests hadn’t found a problem, and so distraught at the time over the loss of his job and family, that he put off having more tests. A recent visit to Dr. Ravit for a pain prescription convinced Stan to allow Dr. Griedlach to do further diagnosis. So a few days ago he underwent further testing.