CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

TIMOTHY’S FIRST STOP for the day was the hospital. He needed to take of his mom’s bills. He needed closure; loose ends haunted him. He went directly to the billing department.

“I would like to talk with someone about unpaid bills for my mother’s hospital stay,” Timothy said to the receptionist.

“Yes sir, that will be Miss Haynes. I will tell her you’re here. What’s the patient’s name?” the receptionist asked. Within a couple of minutes, Miss Haynes came into the waiting area to meet him.

“Mr. O’Rourke, please come with me,” Miss Haynes said. They walked to her cubicle. “Please have a seat. I understand you’re here to discuss your mother’s unpaid hospital bills.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Okay, I have the file here based on the information you gave our receptionist. Your mother was in here for a breathing problem and again last week for a stroke. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.” Timothy was impressed but saddened by how transactional and routine this sounded. This feels like a government tax office. Maybe it is, since hospital bills are a tax on the living. He smiled at his observation.

“I see your mother passed away last week. Please accept my condolences.”

“Thank you.”

“And you’re an employee here?”

“Yes, part time. Right now, I work on Med-Surg,” Timothy said.

“Okay, can you wait here a minute please?”

“Sure.”

Miss Haynes left and returned a few minutes later. “I talked with our controller to get some clarity on our policy.”

“Policy? What policy is that?”

“We have a debt-relief program here for employees, and I wanted to make sure it applies to part-time workers, too,” Miss Haynes said.

“I don’t understand. What is this program?”

“It’s part of our bereavement policy. When an employee’s next of kin expires in the hospital, we forgive that debt. To bill you for your loved one’s death would be an extra burden, so we call it bereavement debt relief. Since you are unmarried and lived with your mother, you are considered next of kin, which means the debt is forgiven for both hospitalizations.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Timothy said as he shook his head in disbelief.

“Just say yes, Mr. O’Rourke. It’s our way of expressing our sympathy in your time of sorrow,” said Miss Haynes.

“Thank you. I’m stunned.”

“You’ve got a lot going on, I’m sure. We often hear that from other employees at this difficult time. We had to verify your employment with nursing, and they requested you stop by there before leaving,” she said.

“Oh, yes. Sure. Again, thank you. This was going to be so hard—”

“We understand. Good luck, Timothy,” she said.

He nodded and left the billing department. He went directly to the chapel to sit and think. Things happened so quickly his mind had difficulty keeping up. The car. The TA job. Temporary tuition deferment. Frank’s decision not to battle him. And now, debt relief from the hospital that had been at the center of his stress universe. Once he collected his thoughts, he went to Nursing Service.

“Hello, Timothy. Please have a seat. Monica will be right with you,” said the department secretary.

He sat for a few minutes considering his words for the director of nursing.

“Timothy, nice to see you. Come in, please.” He noticed the change of tone from previous encounters.

“Again, we are sorry about your mother. I know loss is difficult. I lost my mother last year. It takes time.”

“Thank you, Monica. I know it will be a while,” Timothy said.

“I asked you to come by so I could explain our bereavement policy and see if you had any questions, and talk to you about your schedule.”

“Sure. Miss Haynes explained it clearly to me. She said I owe nothing because it’s the hospital’s way of helping employees deal with loss.”

“Yes, that’s correct. We are in the healthcare business, and employee health, physical or psychological, is as important to us as our patients’ health,” Monica said as if reading from an employee handbook.

“Great. Thank you again. And what about my hours?” Timothy asked.

“I know we have you at two shifts a week now. How does that work for you?”

“It’s okay. I’m making it.”

“Would an extra shift make a difference?”

“Sure, it would help a lot. Could I do it on the Med-Surg unit and remain there?”

“Why yes, if that’s what you want.” Monica looked surprised.

“It is. That’s where Mom passed, and I saw firsthand the importance of patient care. Sort of my way of giving back.”

“That’s a lovely thought. When you’re ready to come back to work in a week or two, see the head nurse on the floor, and she will schedule however you want to work. We’ll be flexible on evenings and nights or weekends.”

“This is incredibly nice. I really appreciate it.”

“When you run a business, which we do, people often mistake our focus on the business side as cold. We don’t mean it that way. We’re on your side, you know?” Monica said.

“Thank you again. This makes things a little easier.”

“Good. I look forward to seeing you return to work.”

“Me too.”

Timothy left Monica’s office trying to process everything he had experienced the past couple of days. Since he skipped breakfast, he decided to swing by the snack bar for a quick lunch before heading to Dez’s place.

“Hi, Tim.”

“Hey, Penny,” Timothy said.

“Are you back at work already?” she asked.

“No, taking care of some family business here.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sorry about your mom. I know you were close. That was a nice service on Monday.”

“Yes, it was.”

“What can I get you?”

“How about a burger and fries.”

“And a chocolate malt?”

“Sure, why not. For Mom,” he smiled.

“For Mom,” Penny said.

She returned in a few minutes with the malt. “The burger and fries will be right up. The malt’s on the house,” Penny said.

“Thanks, Penny. That was nice of you and Ginny to come to the funeral.”

“Ginny was fond of your mom when she took care of her, and you know me—I’m fond of you.”

Timothy smiled but had no interest or energy today for the banter. He held the malt up in a faux toast. Penny walked back to the kitchen to get the burger and fries.

“Here ya go,” she said as she placed them in front of Timothy.

“Thanks, Penny. I appreciate it.”

“Sure, and if I was inappropriate earlier, I’m sorry. You’re a friend, and I don’t like to see friends hurting.”

“That’s the way I took it.” He smiled to let her off the hook.

Timothy finished his lunch, paid for the burger and fries, and left a generous tip. He said goodbye to Penny and thought about the next stop on his agenda for the day—Schoen’s.

He dreaded this conversation but knew he must have it. On the one hand, Timothy wanted this over. On the other hand, he procrastinated because he wanted to hold out for the last minute in case he needed to change his mind. It was past time to face up to Dez and refuse his offer. Timothy strung him along for a while, which made this tougher than it should have been. He knew what he must do. He recalled what Hoffen said: “There’s never a bad time to make a good decision.” This felt like the right decision, regardless of the time.

Timothy pulled into Schoen’s lot and parked his new old car toward the back. He didn’t want to have to explain that transformation. Not that he was embarrassed, but he wanted to stay focused on his reason for being here. He walked around the side of the building.

“Hey, soldier boy. Where you been?”

“Hi, Kenny. Taking a few days off after the funeral,” Timothy said.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Dez is inside. Think he’s been waitin’ for you. Come back out here before you leave,” Kenny said.

“Okay, thanks,” Timothy said.

Timothy walked into the shop and noticed mostly empty shelves. Odd.

“Well, well, well. Hey, Ed, look who just showed up. The gimp,” Dez said.

Timothy smiled. “Dez, Ed.”

Ed nodded and ashes fell off her cigarette onto the counter. She coughed and blew the ashes on the floor.

“So, did you make a decision?” Dez said.

“Yes, Dez, I did. What’s with the empty shelves?” Timothy asked.

“Getting rid of stuff. Moving out. Setting up shop at the other place,” Dez said.

“You’re closing this store? Just like that?” Timothy asked.

“Just like that. What did you decide?” Dez pressed.

“I’m staying in school,” Timothy said.

“Told you, Ed. This one ain’t nearly as smart as he thinks he is. Like I said, boy, there’s two kinds of people in this world—those that get it and those that don’t.”

“Get what?” Timothy said.

“Reality, that’s what. I told ya. Life’s mean and you gotta be meaner than life. You gotta take what ya can get when ya can get it. I gave ya a chance to take and ya didn’t. You’re gonna be the one that gets taken from. You’ll be sorry for that, I guarantee. Right, Ed?” Dez said.

“Damn straight, Dez,” Edna said.

“Dez, I’m pursuing my dream—an education,” Timothy said.

“Won’t matter,” said Dez.

“It already matters. If I decided to stay here, you’re moving. What would I have done? Gone to the other store?”

“Why not?” Dez countered.

“No, I made the right decision. I’m staying in school. I’ll figure it out. My mind’s made up.”

“Your life, O’Rourke. Screw it up any way ya want to,” Dez hacked.

“I will. Thanks for the work over the holidays. I needed the cash.”

“Don’t let the door slap ya on the ass on the way out, soldier boy,” Dez said.

Edna laughed.

Timothy turned and stared at Dez and Ed. They looked older than a few days ago. I guess cynicism ages people fast. He left by the side door to say goodbye to Kenny.

“Hey, Kenny. Do you know what’s going on in there?” Timothy asked.

“Yeah, the old bastard is closing down the shop. He’s selling everything cheap so they can get outta here. Told me I could buy Parodis at his cost. That’s a good deal. Better deal if I steal them, though.” Kenny smiled and showed his rack.

“Are you going with him?” Timothy asked

“Nope. Got me another job.”

“Where?”

“Down at the doughnut shop. Hoffen told me ’bout it. Went down there, and they told me I could get thirty-five hours a week makin’ more than I’m making here. They don’t sell no cigars, but I’ll be able to eat all the doughnuts I want. That’s a good deal ’cause I like doughnuts. Hours ain’t bad either. Gotta be there by five in the morning, but I get off by noon. I get to screw off the rest of the day.”

“I’m glad to hear you have something, Kenny. Hoffen told you about it, huh?” Timothy said.

“Yep. Told me on Monday when he came in to talk to Dez. Lots of yellin’ goin’ on in there. Couldn’t understand it, but when Hoffen left, Dez said they was leavin’ the place.”

“That’s odd,” Timothy said.

“Oh yeah, Hoffen left this for ya. Told me you’d be by and I should give it to ya. Tell ya the truth, I was gonna open it for myself but figured since he helped me get that job at the doughnut place, I couldn’t do that.”

Kenny handed Timothy a rectangular package wrapped in grocery bag paper and tied with a piece of twine. Timothy held it for a moment and knew instantly it was a book.

“Hoffen said there’s a card inside, and you’d know what to do with it.”

“Okay, Kenny, and thanks. I enjoyed working with you,” Timothy said.

“Even when I spit at ya?”

“Well, maybe not all the time.”

Both grinned. Timothy extended his hand and Kenny shook it like a pump handle. Timothy turned to walk to his car.

“Come by and see me at the doughnut shop.”

“I will, Kenny.”

“And if the owner ain’t there, I’ll give ya some free doughnuts.”

“Okay, Kenny, thanks.”

“You was always nice to me, Tim. I’ll never forget that. I’m sorry about your mom.”

Timothy paused, turned, and smiled. A toned-down Kenny was a little out of character, but today was strange anyway. He made it to the car, sat, and stared at the package a few moments before opening it. He found a handwritten note.

Dear Tim

 

It has been a pleasure getting to know you and your family. Your world is a wonderful place. As we have often discussed, life is difficult but not impossible. At times, it overwhelms. You know this. You have lived this. You are also living on the possibilities side of life. The hope or despair people feel often result from the choices they make. There is never a bad time to make a good decision. I know you will make good decisions moving forward. You are standing at the gateway of your future. Behind you is everything that has made you the person you are. Before you lies everything that will make you the man you will become. The philosopher Mengzi wrote, “When Heaven is about to confer a great office upon you, it first exercises your mind with suffering and your sinews and bones with toil.” When you pass through the gateway to your destiny and commit to its path, the same force that tested you will move in ways you never could have imagined and guide you with occurrences you never could have found on your own.

Please accept this book as a token of our friendship. It means a great deal to me. Take it immediately to Le Rive Gauche bookseller in Downtown Saint Louis. Ask for Louie, an old friend of mine. He knows what to do. And remember this: There is always hope in the shadows of war.

 

Your friend,

H.

This was the nicest goodbye Timothy had ever received. He opened the rest of the wrapping and saw a copy of The Old Man and the Sea. He thought, I read this in high school. He decided to drive to the bookstore, a place he knew well because it was close to school.