The Loose End

Bob Healey awoke to emptiness. The tranquility of being alone in the home was something he had always longed for, even if it was for just a fleeting moment, especially with the hustle and bustle of living in greater Boston. But without his beloved Pat by his side, the void left space for his mind to wander. Feelings of guilt, loneliness, and cringe cycled through his mind.

Nevertheless, he began the morning like any other, donning his mustard-yellow cloth robe he wore everyday since 1987 when Pat bought it for him. The thread count was thinner than his 80-year-old light gray hair, exposing his upper thighs on both sides. A dark blood splotch stained the front bottom corner, a vestige of the time his grandson William had a bloody nose during a sleepover. The golden covering was a multifaceted tool.

Bob began his descent downstairs, old wooden floors creaking the entire way. The stairway walls were lined with photos of their children, in chronological order, staggered along with the steps. The joke had always been that the reason he and Pat had 8 kids is because they had no room for number 9 on the wall.

First, there was John, or “Jack,” as he was called by close family. He was 59 years old, standing at 6’2” with thick, salt and pepper hair, and bright green eyes. The picture was of him in his Northeastern University baseball uniform from his freshman year. Jack was a standout center fielder for Boston English in high school and always promised that “the Red Sox won’t win another World Series until I’m on the team.”

His collegiate career started off with a bang, leading his team in home runs, RBIs, and fielding. He was scouted by a number of teams, from his beloved Red Sox to the Montreal Expos. But, what started out with a bang ended with a whimper. The summer after his freshman year, he met Carol, a young girl from Quincy during a day out at Nantasket Beach. Before sophomore year began, she was expecting.

Neither Bob nor Pat took the news very well. They offered no support. After a pre-birth wedding by the Justice of the Peace, Jack dropped out of school and began working as an apprentice for Billy Murphy, a local plumber. It wasn’t Fenway, but it was enough to begin a solid career that was able to buy a house near Wollaston Beach and support four children, Paul (39), Chris (37), Natalie (31), and Nicole (28). Bob considered Jack to be “The Great Disappointment.”

Then there was Mary, aged 58, single, and always teetering on the edge of anxiety and depression. She was the opposite of Jack. Jack was charming, funny, tall, and handsome. Mary was short, heavy, and either extremely quiet or extremely talkative, with nothing in between. Bob never knew what kind of day she was having. But, she was an academic wizard, getting scholarship offers from Harvard, Amherst, and Brown. However, her choice was Blaine School of Hair Design. After graduating, she went on to build a sizeable group of loyal customers, which was counterbalanced by Mary’s unreliability. She couldn’t hold a job for more than a few months and after 5 firings, relegated herself to giving “under the table” cuts in her apartment, which, like her, was outfitted in the Bohemian style. But between that and her disability checks, it was more than enough to pay the bills.

2 years after Mary, Moira was born. At 56, her life had its fair share of ups and downs and drama. However, Moira was the type of person who’d be sipping vodka-laced lemonade on the patio while her house was burning down behind her. She could compartmentalize her mind at will, which served her well as a paralegal. Whereas the turnover rate for her fellow paralegals at Eckstein and Eckstein Law group was way above average, Moira was the steady continuity, enduring years of getting barked at by high-end attorneys.

But this compartmentalization was her vice as well. She got pregnant at 25 and married at 26 to Ritchie Hallion, a tow truck driver she met when she accidentally rear-ended a school bus in Bob’s old, brown Dodge Dart. Together, she and Ritchie had one daughter, Zoey, now aged 31, who bounced from living at Ritchie’s apartment and Moira’s house after their separation 27 years ago.

The family, namely Bob and Pat, still loved Ritchie and treated him as one of their own, with Ritchie always stopping by whenever he was in the neighborhood to grab a coffee and say hello. More than once after the separation, Ritchie would make an unauthorized tow with his boss’ truck free of charge for Bob. Bob and Pat hated the separation, but knew that Ritchie had a problem with the bottle, and would occasionally get abusive.

But the biggest source of heartburn for Bob and Pat was Louis Utley, Moira’s live-in boyfriend of 3 years. Louis was by all means a good guy, having graduated Suffolk Law School before becoming a prosecutor at the Dedham Court House. He had bold dreams of opening his own practice, but between working 80 hour weeks and dealing with Moira’s spending habits, the time and money was never there to get started.

Bob and Pat liked Louis, but Moira’s situation left them uncomfortable. In addition to loving Ritchie, he and Moira were still legally married, and the whole situation had been confusing for Zoey growing up. Then there were Moira’s spending habits, which had nothing to do with Louis, other than the fact that he lived in Moira’s house, and she’d always borrow money from Bob and Pat to pay the mortgage.

At 56, James, or “Jimmy,” was Moira’s “Irish twin” who provided no relief for Bob and Pat. At 6’3” with a permed mullet, his 245 lb. muscular frame was striking. After high school, he began working as an installer of above-ground pools while serving as a bouncer at the Aquarius nightclub in Quincy. This is where he got involved in the professional wrestling business.

Back in 1988, a few guys from the World Wrestling Federation took notice of Jimmy. After spending his savings on wrestling lessons in Florida, he tried to make his climb to the big time. But, after years of toiling around smaller independent organizations and wrestling in high school gyms, his claim to fame was losing decidedly to Greg “The Hammer” Valentine on WWF Superstars, submitting in quick fashion to the figure-four leg lock. Soon, drugs and alcohol consumed his life and his hopes. He spent the last several years drifting and living in his van. Pat still held out hope for her baby. Bob, however, resigned himself to the idea that he’d get the call any day that Jimmy was gone for good.

Thankfully for them, 54-year-old Joseph, or “Joey,” was the unlikely success story. He was unlike the rest, standing at a whopping 5’7” with pale skin. He was a chubby kid when he was younger, inheriting his genes from Pat’s side of the family. After getting over 4 years of speech delay, he labored through a stuttering problem until he was 13. Because of all this, he was often the recipient of Bob’s angst growing up. Bob somehow thought he could slap the stuttering right out of him. As awful as that sounded, it killed Bob’s heart thinking of all the times Joey tried to communicate but was left in tears after Bob yelled at hit him.

But the “runt” of the litter grew up to be a graceful, sleek greyhound. He went to the US Air Force Academy before becoming an E-3 AWACS pilot. After ten years and multiple trips to the Middle East, Joey turned in his Air Force wings for those of American Airlines and the Boeing 757.

His wife, Ann, was a stewardess turned stay-at-home mom, helping to raise their 3 boys, Troy (26), and twins Michael and Mary Ann (24). They owned a nice ranch in Medway with a sprawling 3 acres of land with an in-ground swimming pool. Bob and Pat loved the property, but rarely visited. Ann was a free spirit, raising the kids liberally. The kids were good kids, but got away with far more things than Bob and Pat liked, freely grabbing Devil Dogs, cookies, and juice, talking back to Ann and Joey, and getting their fair share of TV time. The one occasion Pat tried to talk about child raising didn’t end well for Pat, with the confident Ann asking her “if you’re such an expert, why aren’t all your kids perfect?’ It was Ann’s steadfast confidence that turned Pat off. Pat would never be the alpha so long as Ann was around. Pat was “always right.” Ann didn’t give a shit.

At 52, Maureen was the wild child, causing Bob and Pat endless angst. She was the “it” girl. She was also the mother of Liam, aged 36. She never knew who Liam’s father was, being any one of three men, but bearing no resemblance to any of them. There was Peter Delaney, Scotty Plansker, or Steve Viveiros. She loved all three, but never demanded anything of them. Nor did they offer any support. Maureen, with her short and busty frame, made good money as a bartender at one of those new trendy clean sports bars. She was currently dating Scott McLean, a high-end civil attorney she’d met through Moira.

Martha, on the other hand, was a nun. The quietest out of all the children, the newly-crowned quinquagenarian was always just kind of there, never creating problems, helping out when needed, and excelling in school. Bob always thought she and Maureen would’ve been better if they shared attributes equally versus each taking a 100% share of the partying and the piousness, respectively. Still, it was nice to not have to worry about other men with Martha. If she’d been anything like her sister, Bob would probably be dead.

And finally, there was Jason, 47, who should’ve been Martha’s twin. If all the children were like him, Bob and Pat would’ve probably aged less. He was the family priest, and perhaps closest to Bob and Pat. Whereas the others all witnessed the parents at their worst, Jason came along when things were less stressful. He always got the better treatment. Nevertheless, he decided to enter the priesthood after a semester of the Communications program at Emerson. He was a source of pride for his parents, mainly Pat, who attended mass twice a week at St. Pius, where “Father Jason” served. His siblings hated him, as he was a symbol of what life under a better version of Bob and Pat would be. He held no baggage, and it was heavily noted. And they were all jealous of his big blue eyes, an outlier in their sea of green peepers.

Finally, there was Bob and Pat, he in his Marine uniform, her in a white modest wedding dress. Bob met Matilda Patricia “Pat” Monahan while swimming the Neponset River in Mattapan. Although she was four years his elder, she and her friends would gawk over his “Marlon Brando” body, a body that followed right along with Brando’s own throughout the years. They were best friends, each being with each other through their worse trials. Bob was still madly in love with her, but taking care of her at home became too much for him to handle.

Each day for the last two years, he’d wake up and head to the nursing home. The last two weeks were more trying, as Pat was moved to inpatient hospice care. Some days were good, some were bad. But he always made the trip.

He headed to his usual spot at the kitchen table for his breakfast of Capt. Crunch with crunch berries and no milk before he was interrupted by the resoundingly loud hearing-impaired telephone.

“Mr. Healey,” said the soft female voice, “I’m Margaret with Parkway Care. Mrs. Healey isn’t doing so well and you might want to come over.”

“What’s going on? She was fine yesterday,” he replied.

“She tried to get up and took a big fall,” she continued.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” he said.

He donned his lightweight jacket and headed out to his silver 1997 Grand Marquis.

“How’s it going, Bob?” shouted Mike Mooney, his neighbor of over 50 years and best friend.

“Not good! She took a fall!” Bob shouted back.

Mike, at 78-years old himself, shuffled across the driveway with his tired old knees.

“Listen,” he said, “I know this is hard. If you need anything, pal, just let me and Phyllis know!”

Bob reached over, and gave his friend a big hug and customary kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you!” he said, “I couldn’t have done any of this without you two!”

Coming up to the Parkway Care Center, his heart began to sink. “Is she going to make it? Is she already gone?” he wondered to himself. The walkway was lined with tulips and daffodils, the latter of which was Pat’s favorite.

Margaret was her nurse, a young girl from Dorchester. In many ways, she reminded him of Pat. Unlike the attitude most nurses had given him during Pat’s time away from home, this one was different. She had an energetic and happy demeanor, yet still brought a sense of comfort to him.

“Mr. Healey,” she said, meeting him at Pat’s door, “I’m glad you could make it!”

“How is she?” he asked after giving her a side hug.

“She was in severe pain. Her head was okay, but her shoulder not so much,” Margaret replied, “the doctor has her on stronger pain meds. But she’s alert right now.”

“Oh good, dear,” he said as he proceeded into the room with Margaret in tow.

“What kind of trouble are you getting into?” Bob asked Pat in his typical wiseass fashion.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Pat replied, “you probably left your shoes at the side of the bed again. I tell you all the time I’m going to trip over those things.”

He reached down and planted a gentle kiss on her lips.

“This medicine is starting to work, I think,” Pat said.

“Well, before you fall asleep, we’ll need to change you to make you feel more comfortable,” Margaret interjected.

Bob took his seat on the built-in bench at the window while Margaret went to work.

“I’ve changed so many diapers in my life, I never thought I’d be on the receiving end of it, ha ha,” Pat joked.

“Don’t worry Mrs. Healey, it happens to all of us eventually,” Margaret assured her, “how many kids did you all have, 9?”

“8,” Pat replied. There was Jackie, Mary, Moira, Jimmy, uh, Joey, and uhhhhhh, Maureen, Martha, and Jason. He’s the priest.”

“Good job, Ma!” Bob enthusiastically exclaimed. She hadn’t been able to rattle off their names like that in a while.

“All except Jason was Bob’s too,” Pat casually blurted out.

Bob’s ears perked up as he and Margaret shared awkward stares.”

“That must’ve been a lot of work,” said Margaret, trying to change the subject.

“No,” Pat said with a sigh, “my husband was sequestered on jury duty for a week. Mikey Mooney had come over to bring us a lasagna Phyllis made. Anyway, one thing led to another and…”

“Mr. Healey,” Margaret said as Bob had gotten up from his seat and headed towards the door.

“Mr. Healey,” she said again, grabbing his shoulder near the doorway.

“I’m sorry, but I should’ve warned you,” she continued, “but the morphine can make people a little delusional and in her condit..”

“It’s okay sweetheart, I know,” Bob replied with a laugh, “I’m going to get a coffee.”

“Okay,” she said, “I’ve dealt with this before and just because she says something doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Bob continued on his way to the cafeteria, giving his pleasantries to the staff along the way. A trip down the elevator brought him to the Lilly Café, where doctors and family members of residents moved around the breakfast buffet. Bob made his way to the coffee station, getting himself a dark roast, black.

A small table with two seats was the only open table. Fortunately, a copy of the Boston Globe sat ready to read. Three wilted tulips filled a small white vase on the wall side of the table.

“Dad!” a voice startled Bob as he felt a firm hand on his back.

Jason, appearing in his black clergy shirt and matching slacks, took the second seat. “I heard about Ma, how’s she doing?”

Bob looked deeply into Jason’s deep blue eyes. He looked over his dirty blonde hair. He studied his firm jawline. His thin, light pink lips. He looked at the three wilted tulips.

“I don’t know. I don’t….I don’t know,” said Bob.