Chapter 1
Should I call him?
The Dark Man just met.
Is this a door which should be open?
It’s Complicated.
The demons have started the battle, as I watch my dad laying in the hospital bed taking slow shallow breaths, they enter my thoughts. As I glance to the woman in the room, my mother, in a morphine induced sleep the demons make another advance on the battlefield of my thoughts. In the darkness of the hospital room the rain hits the hospital window of the fifth floor has a tranquil beat, drum beats of the ancient battle, the beats accompany my mood. The Angels, in an attempt to battle back, send a rhythm of hope with the beat into my soul. There is always a string of hope in the darkness of a loved ones hospital room. The string of despair broke days ago. I hang to the string of hope as a life line, knowing full well it can break at any moment, sending me into a sea of turbulence and a war with my mother.
I am in Birmingham Alabama, at the Veterans Hospital, a long way from the place of my birth, I have been summons. I would not have chosen to be here, but here I set, a weakness of the heart, a love for my dad.
Dad’s journey began back in 1931. Born to share croppers and survived the great depression as a child. His life was not easy, the first born son of twelve children, six
boys and six girls. Looking back on his stories of his youth I understand the need for grandpa to be as tough as he was on them(12 children) and knowing my uncles , well they had to be hellions.
First dad joined the navy and spent 6 months as a underage sailor before he was found out, his sister forged their mothers signature on the papers. Once discharged he waited until his 18 Th birthday, a few months later and joined the army. A veteran of the Korean War, hence our stay at the VA.
Four months ago I was summons to another hospital in another town, this summons started the change from a peaceful life to the hell I m in today. My mother was the ill one then. While at a Dr. visit with my mother, my dad suffered a heart attach (his second) in the waiting room. My mothers condition worsened to the point of not being able to walk and when she could walk herself into the kitchen she could not raise her arms to reach a coffee cup in the cabinet.
Dad had another ride in the medical helicopter to Birmingham, my mother a ambulance ride to rehab, Me an airplane ride a thousand miles from my life and job. Here I set, in the darkness of 2:30 am a rainy cold morning, traveling thru my own thoughts and fighting the demons off.
Yesterday brought news of a faulty heart valve and the day and time of the operation.. An artificial heart valve will be used, part cow which is fitting with the last name of Veal. Yes my life changed that April day. I took a leave from work for a week or two, four months later I am still here. Without a job, letting my apartment go and moving back into the bedroom of my youth. (Oh joy.)
I don’t enjoy setting in the silence and darkness of the hospital room. Too much time alone with my thoughts. Thoughts of my children whom feel I failed them, thoughts of grandchildren whom I find myself cut off from by means of my daughter and a disagreement of two years ago. The distance of mile between them and myself at this time does not compare to the distance between my daughter and myself. The thoughts of marriages which failed (there have been two) do not cause me pain, not seeing my grandchildren does. I think of them every morning and they hold my last thoughts at night. My walk thru life to this stage has been interesting and heart breaking.
It is time to go in search of coffee and a place to smoke. They have outlawed smoking everywhere these days, but a great number of use still have the habit, we find a place to tame the cravings of nicotine. From the fifth floor I must ride the elevator to the sixth, the only lounge which I am aware of which houses a coffee maker. From my quest earlier I know the coffee counter will be empty, void of coffee packs and cups at the very least. I will need to pick up the greasy phone from its cradle and dial the number wrote on the wall with black marker to the seventh floor and ask for coffee supplies. Then walk the length of the hall back to the elevators, push the up button and ride in silence to retrieve the cups, coffee, sugar and cream from the floor above, which will be waiting for me on a table behind the door of room 7124. The supplies being placed there by an unseen person.
I have been through this before just a few hours earlier. While waiting for the phone to ring on the other end I notice the trash can empty and the supplies one, no evidence of coffee being made recently. I guess they were carried away by someone which needed them more than I. After returning with the coffee and waiting for it to make, I again am attacked by the demon thoughts in my mind. This time away from the hospital room my thoughts are of dark death and long suffering. I shake these thoughts and venture outside coffee cup in hand to the smoking gutter.( As I affectionately call the area by the Blind Rehab ramp.)
Again I am a lone rider, They lock the front doors to the VA at six pm each night, but accept visitors twenty-four hours a day. One must enter and exit thru the Emergency Room doors. The ER is full, some of the people look homeless setting in the chairs and on the floor. I make my way thru the door into the muggy night air, a fine mist of rain falls. Great full not to be alone on this night others of my kind have ventured out to smoke as well. Some have the look of worry on their faces, some in wheelchairs with missing limbs, some with face parts blown away, they fight their own demons.
The VA is a sad place to visit. Once outside I walk thru the mass of people with my eyes down, I feel their pain in my soul, I am afraid to make eye contact, I will avoid conversation this morning..\
Their pain and mine will start another battle, I can hear the demons rushing to my thoughts with weapons drawn.
He walked down the ramp with the walking stick of the blind and stood listening. From my hiding spot at the end of the block I closed my eye for a few seconds and listened to sounds of the city on this hot muggy morning. Buses going by, the buzz of peoples voices. Cars stopping and starting. I missed my country home with sounds of birds and distant tractors in the fields, but these sounds were foreign to me in the early hours before sunrise. With my eyes closed they seemed to recharge me, waking my minds eye. Standing on the street corner in mist with eyes closed to the world around me I experience a moment of rebirth.
I must have stood there eyes closed longer than I realized because I sensed his presents first, could feel the strength and confidence flowing from him. His essence. When I open my eyes he was right in front of me. Handsome. I don’t think he knew I was there, you would need to ask him. I may be fooling myself in thinking he found me by accident. We start talking, the small talk of people at the smoking gutter. His politeness reminded me of someone raised in the south but his accent was of someone who had traveled the world. To say the least I was intrigued.
The dreadlocks with a hit of gray, the sunglasses, there was something about this man. I had not felt lust for a man in years, but here it was rearing it’s head. The demons rise into my thoughts again.
This man has a story to tell and I want to listen.
When given the opportunity to walk him inside I took it. I did not want this chance meeting to end. I needed to know more of him. We swapped polite information about each other, number of kids and age, number of grandchildren.
I have a son living in a group home, he suffers from mental illness and a daughter, our relationship has never been the best. She feels I neglected her in my pursuit of helping her brother. She is the mother of my two grandchildren. After years of seeing my grandchildren on a daily bases I am not allowed, by her request I don’t contact them. Birthdays missed, outings without them. School functions without grand-maw. I miss them, my heart aches everyday. The demons are back. My thoughts grow dark again. Face book has been my lifeline. Seeing their pictures and keeping up with their accomplishments. At least I might recognize them on the street.( I did not bear all my pain and worry to him, it was our first chat.)
He asked why I was there at the VA. I told him briefly of my dad and the past few months which brought me here. It was nice to talk with someone not connected to me by family. We parted ways after exchanging phone numbers. My ride to the fifth floor felt less burdened.
I return to dark hospital room in which my dad lay sleeping. Thinking as I settled into the oversized chair, of the man whose path had crossed with mine which of us would be the teacher and which the student? I hoped secretly I would be the student, I felt I could learn much.
The Angels filled my thoughts as I drifted into sleep.
Chapter 2
It is after 3:30 am when I stir. My neck is stiff and my lower back feels as if I have been beat. I make my way to sixth floor again hoping cold coffee awaits me. Stepping from the elevator a cold chill surrounds me, the silence of this place, no one walking the halls at this hour, but the feeling of someone there. I call out, "hello". when no one answers I am grateful.
In my mind, I blame the chill I am experiencing on the lack of sleep and the early morning hour. I continue my walk to the end of the hall where the door to the waiting room awaits me. As I place mt hand on the door handle I hear a faint jingle, turning my head to my right I catch a reflection of light. Curious I let go of the door handle and take a few cautious steps into the crossing hall, again calling,"hello".
there must be someone roaming the halls, a nurse on her rounds checking patients or another lone soul in search of cold coffee. No one answers, I leave it alone and return to my mission of caffeine, then the faint sound is heard again. It reminds me of a cat’s collar with the bell. No cats should be roaming the halls. This time my curiosity gets the better of me and I can’t stop myself. A few steps, and I am standing in the middle of the hall. Each step is taken tentatively. "Don’t let fear build inside," I tel myself as I walk on. Standing there in the darken hall, I glance to my right, a door creaks, a faint light can be seen and that jingle can be heard. "What is going on?" I ask myself. I turn to the left, no one there. Standing still and only turning my head back to the right I see a shadow of something small coming from the cracked door. My heart is racing, I feel panic setting in.
As the door opens wider a creature about two foot in height comes walking , carrying a gold illuminated vase about eight inches high. As the creature clears the door it expands it’s wings and takes flight, coming down the hall in my direction. I drop to a squat so not to be knocked down by the thing of nigh-mares coming at me. As it passes by within inches of me it stops in mid-air before me. I see it’s face in the dim light,Grotesque. Hissing with a look of anger in it’s red eyes at being seen, I see the maker of the jingle. A small gold cross dangles from the creatures neck, I think I see a face swirling in the purple mist coming from the vase. All this takes place in a second, a blink of an eye. the creature disapares into the air as if it was never there. a cold chill engulfs the hall.
I stand slowly, on shaking knees, wrap my arms around myself, warming against the chill. I walk slowly down the same hall which just a few moments earlier I was in search of coffee. glancing above and around with each step in terror. Each shadow made by the dim light causes fear. te sound of the elevator en-route, up or down I do not know causes my heart to jump. My mind racing, panic building, I chose not the open door to the elevator but the stairs. the warmth og the stair well is welcoming. with each step I feel calm rreturning to my body. I relese my aerms from around me and grab the hand rail. Relizing I am still shaking, each step settles my body and my brain begins to process what just happened.
By the time I reach the fourth floor landing I still can not reconcile what I believe I saw, by the second floor landing I have convinced myself I was sleep walking or having a night terror. By the first floor and the exit door to the outside, I realize I had no coffee in hand, but told myself the walk of a few blocks to the all night gas station, in Birmingham, at three-thirty in the morning would be safer than the sixth floor waiting room.
Just as I went to push the door open I hear it again. The jingle. Fear rose within me again, I turn and look up the stair well, standing and listing. Afraid to breath, I burst thru the door right into the arms of the blind man, Edward. As he held my trembling boy my hands on his chest, under his shirt I feel a small cross on a chain. What is this man doing here at this hour of the morning alone. I shiver gain.