Chapter Three
The Heart Attack
Later that evening, Mr. Malmsteen was in his car, his driver bringing him to Mr. Eisen's house.
"I'm glad you're ok sir," his driver said. "As soon as I heard the news I rushed over to the building and looked for you."
"I'm fine," Mr. Malmsteen said in a very annoyed voice. "Just drop it already. I have reporters hover me all day because of this."
Hitting a few bumps in the road that lead towards Mr. Eisen's house, the driver apologized to his boss very time they ran over one.
"Well, there it is sir," the driver said, stopping in front of Mr. Eisen's driveway.
"Do you expect me to walk all the way up there?!" Mr. Malmsteen yelled.
The driver didn't say anything. He turned the car so that it was facing the driveway before he moved forward. The driveway was far smoother than the road they were just on.
"Terribly sorry about that sir," the driver apologized. "Do you want me to get the door?"
Mr. Malmsteen didn't say a word while he opened his own door, slamming it shut once he got out. Walking up to the door, Mr. Malmsteen didn't give a time for his driver to come back. Passing by all the plants and flowers that led to the front of the house, Mr. Malmsteen gave a forceful pound on the door.
Mr. Eisen appeared on the other side just a few moments later. "Hey, you don't look so good buddy," Mr. Eisen said, walking up to his friend. Mr. Malmsteen had become very pale and his eyes were bloodshot.
"I'm fine," he said, walking into the house. "So, where's the family?" He turned around to see Mr. Eisen close the door behind him.
"Just the in the other room," he pointed, heading in that direction while Mr. Malmsteen followed behind. "I hope you're in the mood for seafood."
Walking past the stairs that were in front of the door, they passed through the enormous living room that Mr. Eisen has. On the other side was the dining room area where Mr. Eisen's wife and two kids were sitting at the table. White plates followed by forks and lives were in front of each of them, with two sets in front of empty chairs. In the middle of the table was a large dish that was covered.
"Hello Richard," Mr. Eisen's wife said, getting up from her seat and hugging him. "I'm glad you're ok. I was worried sick about the both of you. Well, now that the whole incident is behind us, let's eat."
All three of them sat down, Mr. Malmsteen taking a seat between Mr. Eisen and his daughter.
"Do I remember you?" Mr. Malmsteen said to the little girl that sat next to him.
"Richard, you remember Emma, right?" Mr. Eisen said.
"So, what are we having?" Mr. Malmsteen said. He picked up his fork and knife before setting it back down.
Mr. Eisen's wife leaned forward in her seat and removed the cover, placing it next to the dish. A steaming pile of lobsters were underneath.
"Doesn't this look yummy?" Mr. Eisen's wife said, sitting back down in her seat. She licked her lips as she studied the lobsters. "Well, everybody grab one." Mr. Eisen's wife leaned forward again, using a utensil to pick up one of the lobsters before dropping it on her plate.
Mr. Eisen used the same utensil to grab a lobster befriend handing it to Mr. Malmsteen. Once everybody had a lobster on their plate, they all started to eat, all except Mr. Malmsteen who looked down at his dinner.
"You ok," Mr. Eisen whispered, bumping Mr. Malmsteen's shoulder. He didn't respond.
"So Richard, how's your son doing?" Mr. Eisen's wife asked. "What was his name again, Aaron?"
"I haven't had any contact with him for some time," Mr. Malmsteen said. "Once I sent him off to his crazy uncle when he was little, I haven't even tried to contact him."
The room quickly became silent. Only the sounds of utensils hitting the plates and the cracking of the lobsters could be heard.
The silence was broken when Mr. Malmsteen let out a few very violent coughs. He balled one of his hands up and coughed on it. The hard coughs that he was throwing out sounded like he had a cold coming on. He turned away from the table as he didn't want to be coughing in front of everyone who was eating.
"Are you sure you're ok?" Mr. Eisen asked. "You don't like it."
Mr. Malmsteen stood up, continuing to cough. He walked towards the back of the room where he was staring at himself in a mirror. Continuing to couch, he realized that his breath was starting to shorten. A numbness was filling his body. He looked at himself even closer in the mirror, noticing how tired he looked. Clinching his chest, he tried to take a big inhale of air but couldn't. Something was stopping him from breathing. Falling onto the ground, the last thing he heard was Mr. Eisen's wife yelling "oh my goodness! Hank do something!"