Chapter Six Hundred and Seventy-two - A friend will cheer for you, grieve, and help. (part four)
Chapter Six Hundred and Seventy-two - A friend will cheer for you, grieve, and help. (part six)

Chapter Six Hundred and Seventy-two - A friend will cheer for you, grieve, and help. (part five)


(part five)

“I’m happy to be relied upon but . . .” Blane said.

“No talking,” Heather said. “Just eat. I’ll tell you what Holmes Olivas said.”

She set down a plate of comfort food — mashed potatoes, meatloaf, a pile of warmed vegetables, and a salad.

“I have cake when you’re done,” Heather said.

“Happy two years, Charlie,” Blane said, looking up to the ceiling as if Charlie was there.

He pointed to the ceiling. The fluffy white clouds had disrupted the previous blue ceiling. There were cherubs and birds and . . .

“Mike finished the ceiling,” Blane said.

“He says he has more to do,” Heather said with a shrug. “I think it’s very beautiful.”

Blane nodded. He took off his facemask and ate in earnest.

“Oh my God,” Blane said. “This is perfect. Are there more potatoes?”

Nodding, Heather got up to get him some.

“Don’t tell him that I told you, but Jeraine made this for you,” Heather said. “He knew that this was your favorite comfort food.”

“He knew I’d be in rough shape?” Blane asked.

“I don’t think you have to be an oracle to know that this pandemic is wearing at you,” Heather said.

“I love my new treatment rooms,” Blane said.

“In the Castle?” Heather asked.

Blane nodded.

“It’s a great space,” Blane said. “That’s not to mention that it’s nice to be at the Castle. When I’m not working, I can either read or hang out with Delphie or just sit on the bench and watch the garden grow.”

Blane nodded.

“I guess it’s kind of cold now,” Blane said.

“You have warm clothing,” Heather said.

“That I do,” Blane said. “I’ll tell you — after a night surrounded by people on ventilators, it feels like a luxury just to breathe. And, then breathe again.”

Blane shrugged and took the warmed mashed potatoes from Heather. He took a few bites and set it down.

“What happened tonight?” Heather asked.

“Oh,” Blane shrugged. “It’s not like tonight was any different than any day in the last year.”

Heather waited while Blane collected his thoughts. When Blane finished his mashed potatoes, Heather got up to bring him a slice of cake.

“There was a protest outside the hospital,” Blane said. “I had to push my way past the angry protest. People punched me. Spit on me. If I still had AIDS, they easily could have killed me. As it is . . . Well, I said that already. The horrible outside the hospital are not match for the horrors inside.”

“I . . .” Blane dropped his head as a tear fell from his eyes.

Heather went around the table to sit next to Blane. She stroked his back for a few minutes until he felt stronger.

“I’m sure you want to know about Julie,” Blane said.

“Sure,” Heather said. “But mostly, I want to know how you are.”

Blane nodded.

“Julie is really sick,” Blane said. “She’s in the ICU with organ failure. I don’t know how she got so sick so fast. This virus just sucks. Just sucks. I mean, she’s been fine. John told me that this is how the disease progresses in some people. They are fine for weeks or months after being sick. Then something happens.”

Blane sighed.

“And, she’s definitely getting the best help possible,” Blane said. “But it’s going to be quite a journey back.”

“Did you treat her?” Heather asked.

Blane nodded.

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow...


The comments to this entry are closed.