Room 222

“Well well well, look at who the cat dragged in.”

When she opened the door, for a minute I almost forgot who she was. In fact, when I realized it was her, I started to get aggravated. I mean who did she think she was to take that attitude with me? The last time we were in each other’s company we had an argument, ok fine, it was a full-blown fight, but what was I supposed to do? Take it? I mean she used to batter me with names, all kinds of expletives, and not just once, but constantly, but that time it was in front of my own family with people I shared DNA with.

Now she had the audacity of almost reminiscing of some happier time, “When we were first married, we never even argued, we used to go to the St. Benedict Joseph Labre church carnival.” she mouthed as she stared off into the distance.

Shocked I thought, wait a minute. Married? The carnival? Both of those comments sounded somehow strangely familiar yet foreign to me.

I was married or as I recalled I had been, for more than a dozen years, but to this woman? She seemed familiar, but I couldn’t remember her name. I knew I had a few children; a boy and two girls whose names also escaped me. I owned a small business, a way too small home and an even tinier car.

I vaguely remembered I had scheduled a business meeting on the westside of town for some company called Forethought or Fortnite Industries. But now lying down in this hospital bed I could see on the door it read, room #222. Panic now set in, and I managed to shout out, “Where am I! Where is my wife?”

Indeed, where was my wife? Where were my children? What had happened? Why was I here?

I started to adjust my eyes to the strange eerie yellow green walls, fluorescent light and lemon lime antiseptic ammonia smell.

“Good morning Mr. Morse, it’s time for you to take your medicine.” The large overweight nurse hurriedly related. “The next nurse’s shift starts in the hour.”

Shift? How long have I been here? How long will I be here still? What is happening?”

She started again with her tale “Remember we went back to the old church carnival at St. Benedict Joseph Labre. Do you remember eating your cavatelli and meatballs? When that fight happened, you were punched in the face and your plate got knocked over and all your food went splattering all across your sportscoat, down your shirt and into your lap.” She spoke while tenderly holding my hand. “You fell backwards hitting your head and were knocked out cold, and then the shot…”

“Wait a minute, you do look familiar, I haven’t seen you in years, what is your name and why are you here again?”

The nurse adjusted the IV and looked at her chart. “Mrs. Morse five more minutes your husband needs to rest”

“Mrs. Morse?” I couldn’t remember her name or my name for that matter, and this woman calls herself Mrs. Morse, my wife?

“Maxie it’s me, your wife Eleanor.”

Was that my name, Maxie?

“Wife? I’m sorry who are you?”

“I’m Eleanor. Don’t you remember me, Maxie?”

“Where’s Lucille?”

“Who is Lucille” Eleanor asked.

I hesitated and thought to myself, no it’s not Eleanor, my wife’s name was Lucille.

“Where’s Lucille? Is she here?”

“Maxie, I don’t know who you are talking about? Who? Spencer will be here before you go into surgery.”

“Who”

“Spencer, our son”

“Our son? What and who are you talking about?”

“And don’t worry about the shop, he’s closing it up and should be here shortly.”

I thought to myself, son? My son’s name wasn’t Spencer. At least I didn’t think it was, maybe it was? What shop? God I was so confused.

“What shop are you talking about?”

“Our car detailing shop, “Carbrite” Uh… you own it? You remember, don’t you?”

“Mr. Morse its time for your medication, please take these.”

“Why am I here?” I asked before swallowing the two large pink pills and one diamond shaped white pill.

“This is common Mrs. Morse with this kind of trauma” The nurse stated matter-of-factly.

“Just rest Maxie for now” Eleanor pleaded.

Before I could tax my memory any longer to recall anything more, my eyelids wore heavy and soon it was dark and quiet.

I found myself in my house with Lucille and my daughters Christina and Marley, who were eating breakfast at the table before going to school.

“Daddy, can we get the kitty today? Daddy please?”

“Yes, of course we can Marley, for sure when I get home.”

“Daddy, you promised.”

“Yes, we will Christina, we will after school.”

Lucille was stirring a hot steaming bowl of maple cinnamon oatmeal and asked, “Honey what time is your meeting with that company? Who are they again?” as she passed me the bowl.

“It’s at 11 am they're called Forethought or Fortnite. I’m going to their facility after I stop at the office. Where’s Bobby?”

“He’s sleeping, he said he doesn’t feel well, he’s staying home today. I’m taking the girls to school, and I’ll see you later. I won’t bother you. Call me after your meeting”

I grabbed my coffee and sportscoat, gave the girls and Lucille a kiss, got in my Mazda Miata and drove to the office. As I drove through the stop and go traffic, I thought about how important this meeting would be and how it would help our financial situation to finally get out of that small rundown little bungalow if I closed this deal. I hated all the stop lights and the urban traffic; it was always stressful starting my day with all the bad drivers. The slow drivers were idiots and should have had their licenses all revoked, every last one of them. As for the drivers who drove faster than me, they who were all total maniacs, they should have been given tickets by the police, but who somehow never there when you needed them. One more light as I grew impatient, it seemed to take forever when it finally turned green, I gave it the gas.

Then it all went black.

I heard the cops saying, “These festivals aren’t what they used to be.”

I used to love going to the St Benedict Festival to see the folks from the old neighborhood, catching up on what was missed; gossip, good and bad, fortunes won and lost, reminiscing about the good ole times. The old pennies were no longer shiny but were they worthless? I kept asking myself that very question. Maybe that’s why I kept going back? But now the church festivals were being destroyed by outsiders who cared little for religious tradition, Cavatell’s or Zeppole. One by one, memories fade, no veneration of the holy days of obligation. Everyone has seemingly moved away, more concerned about interest rates, square footage and 401K’s. The churches have fallen into disrepair or worse in jeopardy of closing altogether, a faith undermined and sentenced to a forgotten ideal.

“The gangs of teens came into the food tent en masse intent on causing mayhem and havoc” Eleanor said. “They weren’t even from the neighborhood or Catholic for that matter”

Now I remembered. Yes! The smell of funnel cakes, holding my macaroni as the fight spilled over and the table flipped. I was unexpectedly sucker punched in my jaw. Man was I pissed. It felt broken when I came to. I was on a stretcher with sirens and people screaming. It was all coming back to me now like a TV screen whose reception cleared up due to having adjusted the rabbit ear antennas.

Children, where were the children? I thought to myself, these weren’t children, these were rabid feral invaders whose parents themselves never learned the meaning of adult, self-control and responsibility. Where were the guards of the castle? To preserve what was built, what had been sacrificed for, by our parents, grandparents and great grandparents. That would be us. It would be me, the guardian of my castle. How I have failed. My Eleanor of Aquitaine forgive me. There was a mob, then I heard gunfire.

I remember hearing a bird. It sounded pretty. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was just a shrieking cat. My head was ringing. My leg was burning.

It was dark, I was tired and wanted to sleep. No…I needed to sleep.

“Dad it’s me Spencer. Wake up. Wake up. I’m here with Mom.”

It hurt to even open my eyes, but I’m glad I did. He was a good-looking boy. I strained to recognize his familiarity. I hoped to remember who he was and what we had.

“Are you Spencer?” I implored, as I really wanted it to be him.

Eleanor said, “Maxie, you lost a lot of blood after hitting your head and getting hit in the leg.”

The nurse came in and said “Please try to keep down some broth Mr. Morse. The orderly will be here in the morning to wheel you into the operating room.”

“Operating room?”

Eleanor said “Yes, you have a hematoma, don’t worry the doctors are confident everything will go fine.”

I smiled at Spencer, took a sip of soup and closed my eyes.

After Lucille dropped the girls off at school, she came home to check on Bobby when the police called. There had been an accident.

They informed her, “A pickup truck had run a red light and sideswiped your husband’s Mazda, careening his car into a telephone pole.”

Lucille raced to the hospital with Bobby at her side frantically bursting into his room.

“It’s me, Lucille.” she whispered bending down close to his face.

“Lucille. They say I need an operation, what operation? I can’t feel anything. I can’t feel my feet, and I can’t feel my brain. Nothing. Even my memories are numb.”

“Daddy, are you ok?” Bobby tearfully asked, resting his head on his father’s chest.

“Lucille, am I going to make it?”

“Yes yes yes. The doctor’s said you’ll be able to walk again in time. You hit your head, and they need to operate on your leg.”

“My head, my leg? That’s what Eleanor said that I hit my head and leg.”

“Eleanor? Who’s Eleanor?”

“I promised the girls we would get the cat today.”

“Don’t worry about that now, who’s Eleanor?”

I didn’t know what was happening, the only thing I knew was that I was in room 222.

Who am I? I’m a businessman. Check. I’m a husband. Check. But to whom? I’m a family man and father. Check. But to whom? What happened?

“Maxie it’s me Eleanor. Its time. They are taking you into the operating room. Everything will be fine, don’t worry. I love you darling.”

Spencer said “Dad, don’t worry about Carbrite it will be fine. We just need to get you well and back on your feet.” Smiling, giving a kiss, said, “I love you Dad.”

I stared into my son’s eyes, recognizing somehow his familiar face and said, “I love you too my son.” and I was wheeled away.

When I woke up, it was morning and the nurse came in to open the blinds.

“You’ve been asleep for two days. Your wife should be here shortly.”

When the door opened, I was expecting to see Eleanor and Spencer but there she was.

It was Lucille and all the kids.

“Daddy!” Bobby, Christina and Marley all screamed happy to be together.

“Go easy girls, Daddy is sore, I’m sure. How are you dear?”

“Daddy we can’t wait for you to meet our new kitty Rigby.” Marley said.

Bobby shouted “Marley! You let the cat out of the bag; it was supposed to be a surprise.”

There was a knock-on room 222 door as a prayer team entered.

“Mrs. Mario Marino?”

Lucille answered “Yes?”

“My name is Eleanor Spencer; we would like to pray for you and your family for Mario’s quick recovery.

“Yes, please come in.”

“Thank you, let us pray.”