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The Gate House :: Demille Nelson
Страница: 52 из 490I see the sky clearing, and white clouds blowing across the horizon. I can see the head of Hempstead Harbor, and boats, and I see land across the Sound, and there are flights of gulls circling over the water.”
“It’s very beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“I should have noticed it more.”
“We all should.”
Neither of us spoke for a full minute, then I moved to her bedside.
She was clutching the stuffed bear, and I saw tears in her eyes.
I took a tissue from the box and patted her cheeks. She took my hand and said, “Thank you for coming, John.”
Her hand was very cold and dry, and this, more than her appearance, made me aware that she was closer to death than to life.
She squeezed my hand and said, “I never liked you, you know.”
I smiled and replied, “I know.”
“But I respected you.”
Deathbed confessions are admissible as evidence, and deemed to be truthful, so I said, “Thank you.”
She further confessed, “You’re a good man. There are not many left.”
I agreed with that, and said, “You are a lady.”
“You’re lost, John. Find your way home.”
“I’m trying.”
“Call her. And call your mother. And your children. Reach out to those you love, or once loved.”
“I will.”
She squeezed my hand again, and said, “Goodbye.”
I returned the grasp, then let go of her hand and moved away from the bed. Then I turned back, bent over, and kissed her on the cheek.
I left the room quickly and headed to the elevator.
CHAPTER TEN
I exited Fair Haven Hospice House into the bright sunlight, and took a deep breath of fresh air, glad I was out of there, but happy I went.
Though Ethel and I never cared for each other, she’d been one of my last links to a long-ago past, and a link to George, whom I liked very much. So, to be honest, I was feeling a little sad.
Also disturbing were Ethel’s mentions of Susan. I was perfectly happy carrying around a grudge, and I didn’t want to hear that Susan was… well, whatever.
On that subject, it occurred to me that Susan could be coming here for a visit, and I didn’t want to bump into her, so I kept an eye out as I made my way to the parking area.
Also, I could imagine my mother coming to see her old socialist buddy. In America, politics crosses all lines – class, race, ethnicity, and levels of intelligence.
“It’s very beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“I should have noticed it more.”
“We all should.”
Neither of us spoke for a full minute, then I moved to her bedside.
She was clutching the stuffed bear, and I saw tears in her eyes.
I took a tissue from the box and patted her cheeks. She took my hand and said, “Thank you for coming, John.”
Her hand was very cold and dry, and this, more than her appearance, made me aware that she was closer to death than to life.
She squeezed my hand and said, “I never liked you, you know.”
I smiled and replied, “I know.”
“But I respected you.”
Deathbed confessions are admissible as evidence, and deemed to be truthful, so I said, “Thank you.”
She further confessed, “You’re a good man. There are not many left.”
I agreed with that, and said, “You are a lady.”
“You’re lost, John. Find your way home.”
“I’m trying.”
“Call her. And call your mother. And your children. Reach out to those you love, or once loved.”
“I will.”
She squeezed my hand again, and said, “Goodbye.”
I returned the grasp, then let go of her hand and moved away from the bed. Then I turned back, bent over, and kissed her on the cheek.
I left the room quickly and headed to the elevator.
CHAPTER TEN
I exited Fair Haven Hospice House into the bright sunlight, and took a deep breath of fresh air, glad I was out of there, but happy I went.
Though Ethel and I never cared for each other, she’d been one of my last links to a long-ago past, and a link to George, whom I liked very much. So, to be honest, I was feeling a little sad.
Also disturbing were Ethel’s mentions of Susan. I was perfectly happy carrying around a grudge, and I didn’t want to hear that Susan was… well, whatever.
On that subject, it occurred to me that Susan could be coming here for a visit, and I didn’t want to bump into her, so I kept an eye out as I made my way to the parking area.
Also, I could imagine my mother coming to see her old socialist buddy. In America, politics crosses all lines – class, race, ethnicity, and levels of intelligence.