First Kiss by Barry Garelick

First Kiss by Barry Garelick

The night Anne became ill, she and Mark had talked as they often did at the end of the day. The sun was setting, casting long shadows and a reddish glow on the living room wall. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?” Anne asked. The two of them, now in their seventies, had told this story for many years. It was a story with many facets though some of the details were becoming hazy.

 “I don’t remember.” Mark tried to keep a straight face.

“Yes you do. You were at my apartment and we were sitting on the couch.  We were playing cards forever when you put your arm around me.”

“We weren’t playing cards; that was another time.”

“I thought you said you didn’t remember.”

“I lied. We weren’t playing cards. That was another time. We were at your apartment sitting on the couch. I put my arm around you, and you told me you didn’t want to get involved since we were both working at the same place.”

“I thought we were playing cards.” She looked puzzled.

“That was later when we went out the first time and saw a movie. ‘Melvin and Howard’.

“But we didn’t go out that night. We just sat on your couch.  Where we weren’t playing cards,” he added.

“I remember you agreeing with me about not getting involved. You said that made sense considering that people gossip, and if we break up how awkward that would be. I told you that you were very logical.”

“That I remember.”

“And then when you were getting ready to leave, I kissed you. You stumbled backward.”

“I don’t remember stumbling.”

“You stumbled.”

“It was probably because I was confused.”

“Your logical approach convinced me that I might be wrong,” she said.

“I’ll say this just once. We played cards at my apartment the night of the movie. That was the night we slept together.”

She thought a moment. “I thought we were playing cards at my place.”

“Different time.”

“It’s all jumbled. I remember playing cards forever. I was wondering when you would make a move.”

“I was winning.”

That was the end of the discussion. No more stories were told that night, and shortly after, they went to bed. Anne had fever and chills that night, and slept for most of the next day. She thought it might be the flu, but the day after that they knew something wasn’t right, that it wasn’t just the flu. Their doctor wanted her blood drawn and after seeing the results, he wanted CT scans done at the ER. The next day they drove the half hour to the hospital from the small California coastal town where they lived.

& & &

They were greeted by an upbeat receptionist at the ER as if they were checking in to a hotel. Mark tried to picture what the woman would look like if she were angry, but found it difficult. She directed them to a nearby station where an unsmiling man who Mark guessed was in his early thirties, took more information about Anne and entered it into a computer. Mark tried to imagine what the man would look like if he smiled. This also proved difficult.

Without looking at them, the man said “I see the information your doctor sent over. Have a seat back there. Someone will be with you shortly.” He pointed to a group of chairs at the back of the room behind the receptionist’s desk.

“Everyone’s so young here,” Anne said.

“Everyone is so young everywhere.” Mark said this as if it were a fact to be known, though he struggled with it. Age had begun to increasingly confuse him over the years. It seemed sometimes that the people he knew and hadn’t seen for years, although increasing in age, were isolated in his memory as he last knew them, having no knowledge of the world in which Mark lived. He was a man of the future compared to his image of them, living in a world they could not conceive of, filled with computers, internet, cell phones, social media, electric cars and electric cigarettes.

They continued to wait for what seemed a long time though it was only ten minutes. A black woman in a red uniform carrying a kit full of tubes and needles, came over and asked for Anne’s name and date of birth. “Just want to make sure you’re the right person. My name is Darleen. I’m the blood person. That’s what I do, she said, putting a band around Anne’s upper arm, and swabbing Anne’s the lower arm with alcohol. “All day long.” she added, as she tapped on veins that looked promising. 

“I had blood work done a few days ago,” Anne said.

 “Yeah, I know; they probably want to see if anything has changed. Small pinch. Good,” Darleen pushed the needle into a vein. Anne closed her eyes. “Yeah, lotta people here today because of a virus. Vomiting, dehydration. They’ll put an I-V in you to get you hydrated. That’ll help; it usually does. I’m guessing you might have that virus. But I’m not a doctor. Just telling you what I’m seeing. Stay right here; I see the doctor coming. I have to go find my next victim. Hope you feel better.”

The doctor approached them – a woman with dark wavy hair who Mark guessed was in her forties. She wasn’t wearing the usual white gown and looked like anybody else, except for the stethoscope around her neck.

“You’re Anne?” she asked, looking at the white name band around Anne’s wrist. “I’m Dr. Richardson; I’ll be your doctor today. So tell me why you’re here.”  

Anne told her; most of it the same information she had given the man at the computer.  Dr. Richardson typed on an iPad. “Your doctor wants us to do a chest X-ray and a CT scan of your kidneys and liver,” she said. “That should give us some ideas of what’s going on.”

“Just so you know, I had hepatitis when I was nineteen,” Anne said. “I almost died. Do you think this is hepatitis?”

“I don’t know; we’ll know more when the scans are done. Sorry; I know you want answers.”

“I just want to be better.”

Dr. Richardson talked a bit more and in her soothing way mentioned that Anne would get an anti-nausea drug when they hooked her up to the I-V. “That should help a bit,” she said and then asked if Anne had kids.

“We have a daughter; she lives in Seattle,” Anne said. “She’s twenty-eight.”

 “It seems forever since I was that age,” Dr. Richardson said.

“Tell me about it.”  

“Yes, I know.” It was clear from her expression that pleasantries were over. “I have to go; someone will get you shortly. I’ll see you later today.” Mark watched her exit through a door into the labyrinth of the hospital and wondered whether they would ever see her again.

“Do you remember her name?” Anne asked.

“Richardson.”

“Richardson,” she repeated. “Do you have your little notepad with you? I want to get peoples’ names before I forget. I’m going to write a letter to the hospital thanking them and mentioning the people who helped me.” Mark fished a small notebook out of his shirt pocket.

“No one thanks anyone any more. Maybe the doctors. But not the technicians.”

After a few minutes, a young woman in a green uniform called Anne’s name. “They’re ready for your X-ray,” the woman said and then turned to Mark. “They’ll come get you once she’s in a room.” She walked Anne to a door that Mark now viewed as a barrier, confining him to an eternal wait.

Some minutes later, the woman in green came to get Mark, leading him to a small room with a curtain for a door, where Anne lay in bed, now hooked up to a monitor on the wall. The room was across a hall from a large area filled with a bank of computers at which various bored looking workers sat, some typing at keyboards and others talking with each other – loudly, he noticed.

“Did they take the X-ray?” Mark asked.

“Yes. There were people ahead of me. Oh, I forgot to get the names of the people in the X-ray room.”

Mark looked once more at the area across the way. He saw one of the workers chatting with a nurse who looked up and saw Mark. She broke off the conversation, and was now heading toward their room.

 “I’m Susan,” she announced, entering the room. She was thin and blond and yet another person who looked to be in their twenties. “I’ll be your nurse today; how are you doing?” She talked in a monotone.

“I feel terrible,” Anne said.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to put in an I-V line and get you hydrated.”

“The person who took my blood said I would feel better once I was hydrated,” Anne said.

“Maybe.” She looked for a promising vein on Anne’s arm. “I mean, yes, that sometimes helps.”

 “How long have you been at this hospital?” Anne asked.

“About a year. Right after I finished nursing school.”

“I’ve heard great things about this hospital.”

“It’s all right,” she said as she finished putting in the I-V line. “Someone will be here soon to take you for your CT scan.”

 “Dr. Richardson said I would get an anti-nausea drug.”

“Yes, I’m injecting it into the line right now.” When she was done she said “It may not relieve the nausea; it doesn’t always work,” and left the room.

“Her bedside manner could use some improvement,” Mark said.

“She’s probably overworked. Like just about everywhere.”

“Yes, I imagine that’s true.”  .

“I feel sorry for people just starting out in the working world.” Anne sighed and looked sad. “Having to learn all about work and being overworked, bad bosses and people who compete with you and make you look bad.”

He knew Anne was thinking about their daughter. “I think Laura will figure out how to survive it.  Like we did,” he said.

“I know. But I hate to think about all the crap she’s going to have to put up with; like we did.”

“Not everyone is bad.”

“True. Not everyone. There were people who were kind to me. I remember them.”

“I’m sure she’ll find kind people. They still exist.”

& & &

Anne rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. They said nothing more; the buzz of conversations across the way could be heard and then the sound of nurses in the hallway outside the room, talking with a patient on a gurney being wheeled to a scan or an X-ray or surgery, who knew where?

“Hello,” said someone outside, and the curtain was suddenly pulled open by a tattooed arm belonging to a pleasant looking man in a blue uniform. Another person in their twenties, Mark thought – they run the world.

“OK, Anne; time for the CT scan.”

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Devon.” He looked at her quizzically. “I’m not used to people asking my name. I’m usually the one asking.”

“I just want to write a letter to the hospital naming all the people who helped me today.”

“Nice of you. I won’t be doing much, though. I’m just your Uber driver to the CT room. Except I don’t make as much as an Uber driver.” He unlocked the brake on the bed and unhooked her from the monitor.

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy the ride.”

“I’ll do my best.” Mark heard them talking outside the room in the hallway, their voices fading as Devon wheeled the bed down the hall. When they came back about twenty minutes later, Anne had Mark write down two more names.

“When will they know the results?” she asked as Devon hooked her back up to the monitor.

“Hard to say. The radiologist has to review the image; that can take a while.”

“And then they’ll know?”

“I really can’t say. I wish I could. They’ll talk to you about it. I hope you’re feeling better.”  He smiled and then was gone.

“He was very nice,” she said.

“Yes, he seems cheerful.” 

Anne lay silently.

“If they don’t find out what’s wrong with me, I’m dead meat.”

“They’ll find out.”

“You think they will. You don’t know.”

“I’m fairly certain.”

“I hate waiting,” she said. Mark looked at his watch and then at Anne and her curly blond hair which she had set it with curlers before they set out for the hospital that morning.

After a few more minutes of silence, Anne said “I was just thinking.”

“What?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“If I die before you do, I really want you to get married.”

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. Not to mention that I may die first.”

“Don’t you dare. Anyway your family has longevity, so it’ll probably be me. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I can’t imagine getting remarried.”

“People get married again in their old age. I can see you with Coreen.”

They knew Coreen from church. She had divorced long ago and brought up her two children alone. She was an artist and taught art classes in elementary school. This was the first time Anne had brought her up as someone he could marry.

“I don’t see myself with her.”

“You don’t find her attractive?”

“Yeah, she’s attractive, but whenever I talk with her I feel awkward, like I don’t know what to say. And she always looks at me in a funny way.”

“What funny way?”

“I don’t know. Like she’s expecting something.”

“She probably likes you. She told me once that you’re very nice. Anyway, I think you’d be good together.”

“I hardly know her.”

“You’d get to know her. You’ll be lonely. I know you.”

He sat thinking about what he would do if Anne died. The house was too big for one person and he wasn’t very good at keeping it clean. He would have to hire someone to come in to clean it. Or move. That meant either an apartment or assisted living, and he wasn’t keen on either. Or he could rent out the bottom floor. Or remarry, as Anne had suggested.

It was hard for him to imagine remarrying – or even going on a date. There was so much history and baggage to catch up on unless he knew the person fairly well. The women he knew fairly well were not yet widowed. It was easier for people in their twenties, even thirties to have relationships, he thought – life still appeared to hold possibilities at that age. He thought how few people he talked to in the course of a day, other than email conversations with people he rarely saw. His life would indeed be lonely.

& & &

Over the next two hours, Mark would pace in the little room and then sit down. Sometimes Susan, the nurse, would stop in and check the monitor and I-V bag. “How are we doing?” she would ask in her almost cheerful monotone.

“The same,” Anne would answer.

“Shouldn’t be too long before the doctor sees you,” she would say and then leave.

When the room felt too confining, Mark would wander into the hallway, hoping to see the doctor coming with news. He saw Darleen making the rounds, with her kit full of needles and tubes. Devon would sometimes pass by taking yet another patient for a CT scan. And the girl in green would come by, leading people to yet another room. The people at the computer bank continued to chat, and occasionally he would see Susan talking with them, more animated when she was with them than with Anne and Mark.

“I was just thinking,” Anne said at one point.

“What about?”

“What movie we saw on our first date. I don’t think it was ‘Melvin and Howard’. I think it was ‘Ordinary People’.

“That was our second date. We saw ‘Melvin and Howard’ on the first date. It was at the Cento Cedar,” he said with some ruefulness. “Another great movie theater in San Francisco long gone.”

“I’m sure we were playing cards when you put your arm around me.”

Mark was about to disagree when Dr. Richardson suddenly came in, accompanied by Susan. “Well, we have the results of your X-ray and scans,” she announced. “It appears you have pneumonia.”

“Pneumonia?” Anne said.

“Yes, we see it on the lower lobe of the right lung, which is likely affecting the kidney and liver functions as well.” She went on talking; mentioning something about fatty deposits on the kidneys that needed to be monitored over time, among other things. Suddenly tired with relief, Mark was half listening, wondering whether doctors worry less about their ills, or whether they have the same cold fear that others experience when something seems horribly wrong with no obvious explanation.

With the doctor in the room, Susan now seemed quite pleasant. “I’ll get the I-V started, doctor,” Susan said, all smiles.

 “It will take a week or so for you to get your energy back to normal,” Dr. Richardson said. “So have your husband do all the chores.”

“He’s been great; he made me chicken soup last night.”

“Sounds nice,” the doctor said.

“I love chicken soup,” Susan added in a friendly voice. It was the most animated Mark had seen her all day. People are different in front of their boss, he thought.

“I called in the prescriptions for antibiotics you’ll be taking in the next week,” Dr. Richardson said. “And we’re giving you an I-V antibiotic that Susan is getting started. Once that’s done, Susan will get you the paperwork. Then you’re free to go.” She and Susan disappeared behind the curtain and Mark and Anne were now alone, waiting for the I-V antibiotic bag to empty into Anne’s body.

& & &

On the ride home, Anne looked at the piece of paper with the names of all the people who had been with her that day. “I’ll write the letter to the hospital when I have the energy.”  

“Not tonight I hope.”

“Definitely not. I meant in the next day or so.” After a few minutes she said “Oh, you were right, by the way!”

“About?”

“We didn’t play cards the night I kissed you. We were just sitting on my couch. And you put your arm around me.”

“I told you.”

“And you stumbled.”

“Yes.” Full admission. A moment later he added, “A life changing moment.”

“The kiss or the stumble?”

“Both.”

She smiled and said nothing more. They were almost home; ten minutes, he guessed by the landmarks he used to gauge distances. For people passing through for the first time the landmarks were just part of the scenery of a new area they knew little about. “We’ll be home soon,” he said. “And life can resume.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “Life can resume,” she repeated before yielding to a light sleep.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Barry Garelick 2024