A Time for Recollection

“You are an EVIL man! A MONSTER! People will hear about this! I swear. . . if my child. . . MY CHILD wasn’t here, I would attack you with my bare hands! Where’s my phone. . . I need. . . there it is. Oh you are done for now. I’m calling the police! I suggest you RUN!!!”

“Look lady I didn’t. . .”

“Save it! You are going to H-E-L-L! I hope you know that. Where is my daughter? Sweetie stay away; it’s okay, the police are on their way.”

At that, I decided to leave—quickly.

How did this all happen? I thought. Racking my brain, I decided the best course of action was to go back, back to the beginning of the day. Maybe that will reveal what led me down this path. I fear if I don’t find out what went wrong, I may be unable to salvage any good left in me.

* * *

I woke up, as I do every day, at 5 a.m. Even five years after my last tour, some military training stays with you. Plus, I like waking up early. Waking up before everyone else has always given me a sense of importance. Now, it lets me live my idyllic “American” life before the banal rush of daily regiment takes over. As a result, every morning I try to do something unique.

Today was no different. I remember jumping out of bed because I was excited. But then what did I do?

As I was thinking, and driving away from that prior interaction, the radio host said “heads up, traffic on the freeway is jammed, and I do mean JAMMED, up folks. I suggest taking another route.”

That little remark “heads up” reminded me!

I did a headstand? Man, what a weird thing to do right when you wake up.

Odd? Yes. Fun? Absolutely. By 5:02 I was performing, or attempting to perform, a headstand on my floor. After a few wobbly failures, I ended up succeeding, getting a minute long headstand. Unfortunately, my wife wasn’t thrilled with today’s morning ritual.

“Dylan, I love you, you know that. So it pains me to say this but, what on God’s green Earth are you doing? It’s five in the morning, you know I need to sleep before my shift at the hospital. I can’t have you banging around trying to do a—admittedly pretty cool—handstand. How you didn’t wake up Grace I don’t know. That baby never gets annoyed at daddy.”

“Sorry sorry you’re right. But it was cool right? My head hurts from all the blood rushing to it, but it was totally worth it!”

“Alright silly, I’m going back to sleep. Do me a favor and have breakfast waiting for me when I get up. And check on Grace.”

With that, Amber, my wife, drifted back to sleep.

Okay, so a pretty normal morning. It doesn’t seem like anything could have caused what I just did. And to a kid. If Amber finds out about this. . . how am I supposed to look Grace in the eyes again?

As I reflected, I moved on throughout the day. After the headstand and checking on Grace, I made a quick breakfast for Amber and I. Upon waking up, she deftly took Grace out of the crib, fed her, and sat at the table watching me. I always love how she can watch me as if I’m the greatest show on TV. Her eyes dance across my face like she’s seeing color for the first time. It’s one of the first things I noticed about her. She seemed to read everything I was and will be. Guess she must have missed this afternoon, otherwise, I don’t think she ever would have agreed to that first date.

“Bacon and eggs, my favorite! Okay, this makes up for the headstand, but now that means you're starting the day back at neutral. How do you plan to win me over today?”

“Easy,” I said, “I’m going to go to work, and then after go pick up food from your favorite takeout place so that you have to do absolutely no. . . cooking. . . or. . . dishes. . . today.”

After saying this, Amber looked at me like I looked at a ration after starving in the sandy terrains of the Middle East for weeks on end. Almost shyly, I muttered out “How about after you finish feeding Grace and before I go to work, you and I have a private meeting in our room?”

Instead of words, all I received was a nod. But the joy I felt from that nod could be matched by few other things.

Alright, alright. Clearly what I just did wasn’t because of that. How about I get my mind out of the gutter and focus on the task at hand. Okay, so clearly I wasn’t some “monster” this morning. Maybe it was work?

I work a. . . stressful job. Being an insurance representative was not my “life’s calling” and I certainly don’t wake up every day “excited to work” or step into the office with a smile on my face. The only reason this rote job is marginally palatable is from the fact that it allows me to pay for a house, get takeout for my wife once a week, and ensure Grace (and any future siblings of hers if this morning is any indication) can go to college. That’s the good. The bad: just about everything else.

“Morning Dylan, how’s it hanging?” said my boss James. James is a nice guy, a bit effusive for my taste. Maybe it’s the years of Marine brainwashing, but I like it when those who lead me act like they don’t care if I live or die—unless I perform from them of course. But James, well James is just nice. And therefore I have to be nice back.

“Good morning James. I’m well, I hope you had a. . . swell evening yesterday.”

Honestly, before he even spoke, I could tell how much what I said to him meant. Were there, oh I didn’t even recognize it in the moment but yeah there were, tears welling in his eyes. He was one pat on the back away from a full blown episode of euphoria. “I had just a super day yesterday. Back to the grind I suppose.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “back to it. So, anything on the docket?”

“Oh of course. Big one today actually, Jane is out and Nancy is far too new for this one. Do you mind handling it.”

I could tell James was worried. It must be a bad case. But then again, they’re all bad cases. Being a claims adjuster isn’t for the faint of heart. If it wasn’t for my back and the odd look former veterans get in some workplaces, I would be doing almost anything else. Yet here I am; denying people left and right on their worst day because the trazillion dollar company I work for decided “actually, maybe we shouldn’t pay this person even though they have paid us on time every month for the last 15 years.”

After seeing the concern plastered across James’s face, I quickly tried to assuage it, “of course I can help. What’s the claim?”

Just then, I snapped out of it. Not for any particular reason other than the bumbling radioman must have said something that triggered a reaction. After enough training and experience, you learn to trust your instincts.

Turning up the radio, I heard, much to my horror, a news blast, “I hate to interrupt one of the greats like our good friend Stevie, but I do have some concerning news. Police are looking for a male in connection to a recent call in. Folks, I don’t mean to alarm, yes ALARM, you, but apparently this guy did something real bad to a kid. I know more, but if I tell ya on air the FCC may take away my license. Just know, this guy is a real P-O-S.”

At this, my palms got violently sweaty and I had to pull over. I was close to the takeout spot so chose to just make it there and sit in the car. As I drove, the radioman continued “. . .so I can now tell you whom to be on the lookout for. He drives a black Ford F-100, appears to be in his mid-30s, of normal height, no more than 5’11”, has dark brown/black hair in a crew cut, and a tribal tattoo on his right arm.”

What, did that mom have a photographic memory? I mean, my back was turned to her the entire time up until she confronted me, and I stayed there no longer than 45 seconds, a minute tops? Now news organizations are IDing me for the whole town? Alright, I gotta know what happened. Think Dylan, think.

“So. . . you remember the Jacobs kid? The little girl with lymphoma? I got the call. They are denying her continued treatment. Something about. . . Jesus, something about the parents not paying some month’s insurance about a decade ago. And even though they paid it later, they never paid the late fee, which technically means we can cancel their account and deny all coverage. I’m sorry to ask this of you. Jane, she would do it; between you and I, I think she would revel in doing it. But she’s out and I just can’t ask Nancy. You understand right?

Oh I understand. I understand you may be considerate, blissful, even a bit loopy, but I also know your a damn coward.

“Oh I understand. I’m happy—well not happy—but able to go. Where’s it at?”

With that, James gave me the address. The town’s hospital and said “apparently the little girl has been there for months and is at a critical stage that decides if she’s in the clear or not.”

Lovely, so these next few weeks are critical to her survival. No kidding.

“Okay, I’ll head out now. And after, are you okay if I just finish for the day. I want to grab Amber some food from our local takeout spot, and I’m sure this will just wipe me out.”

James, still ecstatic I even agreed to do it, was fully supportive of my plan, “Sure, sure! Take the day, heck, take the week! I owe you big time Dylan!”

As I go, I turn back and ask James, “Anything I should know?”

James responds, “Yeah, the parents can be a bit. . . reactionary. Just a heads up.”

I don’t know what it was about James’s response, but it sure pissed me off. Here is this guy, the boss. And he sends me to do the job of all jobs. To basically kill this little girl. Someone of her condition, requiring round the clock care, isn’t going to be able to find another provider to pay for all this. And I highly doubt her parents are multi-millionaires in this town. The cost of medical treatment for a week alone will likely cost in the hundreds of thousands. Not to mention all the experimental drugs and procedures I’m sure are in store.

That’s gotta be it! My goodness, I denied that poor girl’s coverage and now the mom made up some story to tell the cops to try and get me arrested. But it isn’t illegal to deny coverage to an ailing child. Maybe it should be, but for now it isn’t!

That thought gave me a slight pause. Woah, okay be happy about not going to jail, but you don’t need to celebrate what you did today.

With a newfound volition, I exited my car and went into the restaurant. Upon entering, I expected to see smiling faces; I did not receive the welcome I expected.

“It’s you! Dylan I thought no it couldn’t be Dylan, that sweet man that always buys from me for his wife and baby. But seeing you now, it has to be you the police are looking for!”

“Ms. Huen, please calm down. It’s okay I figured it out. I did nothing illegal, my job just caused a, rightfully, violent reaction by a mother. I could only imagine I would do. . .”

At that moment my cell began to ring. Looking at it, I noticed it was James. Expecting either another round of “thank yous” or his concern about me being tracked by police, I picked up”

“Hey James don’t wor. . .”

“Listen here you little SHITBRAIN, do you think I like getting screwed by some no good rockheaded Marine like you. Why the hell didn’t you deny that child’s coverage? Now I have corporate breathing down my neck asking why did you send Dylan? How does he know about this Provision C.II.d.iv.2.(e) of our contracts? Now we have to pay this claim in full. Dylan, what did you do?”

At that I thought back, and realized, I didn’t deny coverage. In fact, for the first time working at this company, I did something good. Not okay, not decent, but actually good. Saintly even.

“Hello ma’am, my name is Dylan, I’m with your insurer. I came to check in on little Blaire. How is she?”

In response, Blaire’s mother said, “She’s. . . she’s okay. God, I don’t actually don’t know the last time I said that and meant it, but, yeah, she’s doing alright. The new procedures and medicine are working. Experimental, but working.”

I knew what came next was hard, so I decided not to delay it any longer, “I’m so happy to hear that. Unfortunately–”

But Blaire’s mother didn’t hear me, or didn’t want to hear me, and continued, “It’s just hard you know. Do you have kids?”

“Yes,” I said, “I have a daughter that is about to turn a year old.”

“Well, treasure her. Blaire might not be my only child, but she is my world all the same. The love you have for your children can make you stronger than iron. But it can also cause you to become as weak and malleable as a tissue. Well Dylan, I sure am closer to the latter, and don’t know how I could go on if I lost her.”

I didn’t say anything for a long time. I couldn’t. What I could do, what I knew I shouldn’t do but also had to, was look at the girl—at Blaire. I saw my daughter there, ailing. And it broke me. Yeah, I may not be the smartest guy, but I’m good at my job, I’m detail oriented, and I know how to make sure the bad guy gets what he deserves. So I read all the tiny print in our contracts. And I know of a provision that states unpaid late fees cannot, in certain circumstances, be used to deny a claim. One of those circumstances: those with potentially terminal illnesses.

I. . . I helped her. I helped Blaire.

Upon realizing this, I snapped back to the present in the takeout restaurant with Ms. Huen.

“Uh oh.”

So if it wasn’t Blaire and her mom that were berating me, who was?

Realizing I still had James on the phone, I quickly uttered, “Uh, sorry James, gotta go!”

“Oh yeah, yeah you gotta go. I listen to the news. I don’t know what you did, but I know where you are, the police are on their way, asshole!”

Realizing it was too late to leave, I had to think, what did I do?

Other than marrying Amber, holding Grace for the first time, and maybe this morning, I felt better than I ever had. Exiting the elevator, I had my head up high, walking through the lobby excited to get takeout and tell Amber of my heroic act. As I went to leave, I noticed a lot of people coming in through one set of doors, so decided to use the other. Pushing them open, I exited the hospital a fresh man!

“OH MY GOD!!! THAT MAN DIDN’T HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR MY LITTLE GIRL!!! Hey you! You are an EVIL man! A MONSTER. . .”

What the fuck!

Over not holding a door?!? Seriously? I didn’t hold the door open for some kid and her mom called the cops on me, told them who knows what, and threatened to tear me limb from limb? I just saved a kids life and now I’m public enemy number one.”

“Ms. Huen, I remember! What I did wasn’t bad at all, I just–”

But my explanation was cut short, as at that moment the sirens blared and a bullhorn sounded with a fairly authoritative voice bellowing, “This is the police, come out with your hands up Dylan! We know it’s you.”

With my experience, I knew when to do as I’m told. Walking out, backwards I might add, with my hands up, I quickly felt the force of the boys in blue. Always kind to veterans, legs buckled after a swift stomp to the back of my knees, and my face felt the warm pebbles of asphalt. With the loud click of handcuffs, I was quickly whisked into the back of the cruiser.

Amber won’t like this.

* * *

It didn’t take long for the police to not only uncuff me once at the station, but to buy me a beer as they laughed at my expense. In between chortling one officer inquired, “Wait, so not only did you help the one kid and probably saved her life, but then you just, like, didn’t hold the door open for another? Bad rap man, bad rap.”

Another officer chimed in, “I don’t know about you, but this guy isn’t a criminal. In fact, he might be a saint. To Saint Dyland!”

“To Saint Dylan!” the rest exclaimed.

I don’t know about a saint, but you know what, today, I did good.