THE DIAGNOSIS
The call came in the night while I was fast asleep holding Aretha. It was one of those rare moments where she had not thrashed all through the night. I checked that she was still breathing and quietly slipped out of bed making sure not to wake her. It wasn't every day I got to have the luxury of holding her close, so naturally I was upset when once I got into junior's bedroom, I picked the call.
"Hello, is this Mr. Moore?" The strange clinical voice asked.
After revealing my identity to the caller, he introduced himself as doctor Rogers from Almond hospital. I had a flash back of a medium sized man in a blue scrub underneath a white lab coat.
"I'm afraid the diagnosis doesn't look too encouraging, sir. Your secretary has blunt head trauma, five cracked ribs a fractured hip and a punctured lung. She might not last tonight. Even if she does, it will be extensive work to make her whole again; she will need physiotherapy to learn how to work again, she might or might not have breathing problems, and she will definitely not remember who she was before this whole accident, that is if she even recovers from this at the end of the day."
Something about the doctor's tone made me think he preferred her dead.
"Is she on life support?" I asked curtly.
"No, but-"
"Then she still has a good chance of making it out alive." There was silence on the other line, confirming my suspicions. "Let me reiterate this doctor, I will cover all the expenses there, and I want her to have a fighting chance. There might even be a bonus for you if she makes it out alive, but . . .if I found out there has been any hanky panky, however small, then. . ."
I left him to figure out what I could do if he decided to misbehave.
"Yes, sir, alright, sir, I will do all in my power to help her get a quick recovery." He blabbered on.
"See that you do." And I cut the call. Fatigue flooded my veins. I was tired, tired of having to fight off greedy people.
I knew for a fact there was a cabal of doctors that sold the parts of people who were on the verge of dying, or those it seemed that didn't have a chance at life. I also knew there were those doctors, the more cut-throat one's, who didn't mind going the extra mile to exterminate their patients in a bid to become rich. They sold these parts to people who were terminally ill and didn't mind paying through their teeth to get good health.
It was a hot dirty business, getting rich at the expense of people's lives, and I hated the thought of it.
I walked back to my room, ready to snuggle behind Aretha, when her body jerked and she began to moan. I checked her temperature and found out she was burning up. Peace was short lived. The saga had started once again. I sighed as I walked into the bathroom to get a wash cloth.
*
I was about ready to keel over when I walked into the meeting an hour late. With little time to spare after tending to Aretha, I hadn't had time to even open my wardrobe to pick a suit. The clothes I wore the day before beckoned to me from the chair where I had hastily thrown them, so in my haste I had donned them. Looking at the disapproving faces of the ten men seated before me, that was obviously a big mistake.
"Mr. Moore." Mr. Hendricks pulled his bifocal glasses down the length of his nose and fixed his steely gaze on me. "Your behavior recently has been very disgraceful. You waltz in here looking like you spent the night with a harlot, you stink of alcohol, and worse still, you act like you own the damn building."
I smirked on hearing this. "I do own this building."
He visibly swallowed and looked away, but not before I saw the disgusted look he gave me.
"What Mr. Hendricks is trying to say is, you lack feelings, Mr. Moore, how do you expect us to endorse your drug when you can't even get your life in check?"
"And who are you?" I removed the dark glasses from my face and squinted at him.
"Preposterous!" Another of the suit-wearing men exclaimed.
As if in planned sync, they all got up one by one, grumbling at the top of their voices and headed towards the door. One of them huffed as he passed me.
"You're not welcome." I shouted once they had left the board room.
I slumped into the seat Mr. Hendricks had just vacated and stared balefully at the table. The unopened water bottles were the only audience to how stupid I had just been.
Clap, clap, clap, clap!
The sound of someone clapping were like gunshots to my ears, and I held my hands over them. Kelly came into view. She stood with her hands akimbo watching me. The expression 'she could murder me with her eyes,' swam into my head, and I blinked rapidly to focus on her face.
"I do hope you're happy now, Mr. Moore. All the years of planning and you just messed it up in only a few minutes. You should be very pleased with yourself right now."
Never in all the ten years Kelly had worked for me had she called me Mister Moore. Matter of fact, I had insisted she call me by my name as well as the rest of my staff.
For her to use mister and my surname in the same sentence to address me, that meant she was pretty upset with me.
I should have said something, but all I did was stare at her, trying to figure out how I was going to solve the shit I had steeped myself into. No one knew about Aretha's illness, neither did I want to make it public. I was a very private man and I also hated pity. That was why I had never gotten a nurse to look after her. I paid the housekeeper extra to do the job, but even she had other duties to attend to, so for six months, I had been cutting back on work and going home to be with her.
Yes, yes, work suffered, it suffered terribly, but my wife came first. Last night had been the worst of it all, Aretha had groaned all through, and not even the morphine had helped dull the pain she was in. When I couldn't take her rising screams any longer, I had drowned out the noise by taking a shot of vodka. One shot turned into two, and then three. I later found myself downing the whole bottle.
Later on I drove Aretha to the hospital and had her checked into the ICU, like doctor Perry had initially advised. After she had been somewhat stabilized, I had driven like a madman to the office because Kelly called reminding me the representatives from the Department of Justice's drug enforcement administration had already assembled and were getting impatient.
It was only when I had driven halfway there that I forgot I had sent Eric to buy me some coffee and I had forgotten to alert him I was leaving the hospital.
I wouldn't even have come into work today had Kelly not called to remind me. I noticed she was staring at me like I was a wild animal from the zoo. I also knew she had been waiting for a response from me, but when I said nothing, she shook her head the same way someone would when they're disappointed.
"Well then, since you don't think you owe me an explanation, get ready to hire another assistant because I quit."
And she flounced out of the boardroom, heels clacking on the tiled floor.
That's right, Kelly, walk away like the others just did, like Aretha is eventually going to.
Everyone walks away from me eventually.
I wallowed in self-pity as I slumped further into the chair.
Hi, guys, In hope you are all enjoying the story so far. get out your popcorns because it will soon get spicy.
THE FUNERAL Aretha's condition took a turn for the worse and I was called in by the specialist. One look at her and I knew she wasn't going to last the night. He left me alone by her bedside but all I could do was stand and stare. She was all skin and bones having stopped eating over a month ago. She lay asleep looking deceptively peaceful, but I knew that was only a ruse, for when the pain came, it was like an avalanche. I didn't know when my feet moved me forward and I knelt in front of her and caressed her balding head. She opened her eyes and in a moment of clarity, smiled at me. "I love you, Alex." I smiled through the tears in my eyes, happy she had recognized me, but a few seconds later, she closed her eyes and drew her last breath. "No, no, no, no, you can't leave me, you can't." I got a hold of her and shook her hoping she would wake and tell me 'surprise' like she used to do when she was hale and hearty. Unfortunately, that never happened. I broke down completely, sobb
AFTERI woke the following morning wondering how I had gotten into my bed. Memories of the day before assailed me and despair hit me all over again like a flower in full bloom.I closed my eyes as tears filled them. I was too damn emotional for a man. I squeezed my eyelids, feeling the pain flare up behind them. I sighed and opened them again. All around me, traces of Aretha had all but vanished. The matching golden filigree bedside lamps she bought, the two gilt high backed chairs in front of the bed, the pure cotton bedsheets she favored over the silk one's I preferred. Even her clothes, shoes and all of her ornaments, every single item, I had given to charity.They were a painful reminder of what was meant to be, but wasn't.My eyes widened when they fell on the curtains.Who in their right mind would agree to have sunshiny yellow curtains?Aretha, that's who.She had always loved the colour yellow. Not just any shade of yellow. It had to be the exact shade of the sun - yellow with
THE VISIT". . .so I punched him in the face.""But why did you punch him in the face, Mr. Moore?" The policeman cocked his head like he was expecting to hear something along the lines of well, because after x and y, the next alphabet wasn't z.I stifled the look of irritation creeping up on my face and answered tiredly. "Because he was badmouthing my wife and talking about her in a disrespectful way. You don't get to talk bad about a man's wife and expect not to get punched in the face."The five police men looked at each other and nodded. "He's right." One of them announced."But where were you exactly?" The one in the middle asked.I lifted my hands that were propped on my knees and put them on the table. The policemen close to my left must have thought I was going to bring out a weapon or something, because his hand went to the waistband of his trousers and hovered there. When he saw all I did was change posture, he relaxed, but I noticed his attention was drawn to my knuckles.Pa
THE OTHER SIDECould this morning get any messier?Twice, I had spilt tea on two different ties, and twice, I had changed them. Two charcoal grey ties that would have immediately screamed elegant.I blamed the two cups of tea I had binge-drunk in a fit of anxiety. The offending items sat on my bedside table looking deceptively innocent.The question that had been creeping into my head after I removed yet the second tie, was what was I going to wear?I was meant to meet with some members from the DEA today at my laboratory and I didn't want to mess it up like I had done the last time. The first impression was nothing to write home about, so the second one had to be near-perfect."Why don't you wear another tie?" The robot asked from behind me.I had put back the microchip I removed back into it's head because I felt guilty and wanted to apologize. Not to the robot, but to Aretha, my wife. I knew she wouldn't like me shutting down the gift I bought for her.I stood in front of the full
THE ENDORSEMENTHelp! I need an antidote for anxiety.It had been one week. One week of twiddling my fingers and wearing my carpet thin. One week of not hearing back from the DEA.I was almost foaming at the mouth. Every day like clockwork, I would get to the office before anyone, because I was going stir-crazy at home, amongst my staff. I probably checked the company mail about ten times every hour. When that didn't yield any fruit, I shifted my attention to my personal mail, and then it was back to the company mail once again.And then I began to ruminate.Maybe they got some alphabets mixed up. It had happened to me once when I sent a mail to a company and waited for weeks for a reply. They eventually called saying they hadn't gotten any mail from me. Turned out I had mixed up an n with an m.So maybe that was what probably happened.Mr. Hendricks did seem impressed, so what was the big hold up about?A thought occurred to me. Perhaps they wanted to send me a personal text message
SECOND CHANCES"So, Mr. Moore, what can the public expect from Exceva in the long run?"Mr. Moore, how many people do you perceive will be cured using Exceva?""Mr. Moore, will you . . .”I mentally shut out the words of the third reporter. At that point in time, I was about ready to keel over. My eyes had become blurry and red and they stung, but I lifted my shoulders a little higher and pasted on a smile that didn't reach my heart. "As you all know, my wife was diagnosed with womb cancer. Unfortunately, she wasn't diagnosed on time, and as a result. . ." I looked down and shook my head, valiantly trying to keep the tears which threatened to swim to the surface, at bay.I looked back up at all the reporters that swarmed around, eagerly waiting for the rest of my words and I knew I couldn't let the water works reign free. "Exceva was meant for people who have been diagnosed with early stage cancer. It is a drug that's meant to give sustainability, but above all, restoration and comple
RAIDEDSix hours earlier"Bless me father, for I have sinned. . ."Sweat pooled on my forehead and I was not able to speak further. The priest must have sensed my distress, for he sat up and peered at me through the peep holes in the confessional booth."You can speak freely, child of God, there is no condemnation for you in the house of God."I stayed quiet for a bit as I sat on my hunches. I took in the statue of the mother of God which stood on the right of the altar, and then I swung my eyes to the altar itself where the tabernacle lay. Its presence relaxed me a bit and I breathed easier.Clearing my throat, I began to speak. "I've been having murderous thoughts."There was silence as I waited for the priest to comment. He seemed to be pondering on what I just dished out to him."What kind of thoughts are these? Speak clearly so I can understand what you're talking about."I sighed dramatically and made myself as comfortable as I could on the kneeler.This was going to take some t
AT SEAAs I opened my eyes, I realized two things immediately.My insides were on fire and every breath I took was torture.What was happening to me?Where was I?Most importantly, who was I?To my right, an annoying machine beeped nonstop.I shook my head to clear it of the blurriness but it brought on an intense wave of dizziness that almost made me pass out. Then there was the jack hammering in my head like someone was drilling a hole inside of it.I lifted my hand in order to touch it but found a wire dangling from the inside of my wrist. It extended to an IV hung on a stand beside me. I noticed the same thing was on my other wrist as well.What the devil was going on here?I tried to talk but became aware something was in my mouth. That wasn't all. This something was plugged right into my throat and led directly inside of me. I felt it each time I breathed because it hurt like a bitch.I became aware of the pain that seemed to come from every part of my being. It seemed like a li