The Cure

by Linda Lavid

The view from the 10^th floor seemed to make me dizzy, or was it the stifling heat. Whatever the reason, I pulled open my purse and dug out some gum. Perhaps I was just nervous and needed something to chew. �����������

�Sure you don�t want any coffee?� Giselle called out. She was off in another room, slamming cupboards. I should have broken the news the minute she opened the door, but her reaction to seeing me was unexpected. She gave me a hug.

�No, I�m fine. Thanks.�

�Okey-dokey,� she said. �Be there in a sec.�

�Take your time,� I said, trying to sound blas� as if it were a casual visit, a simple stop-by, how-ya-doin�.� But certainly she had to be curious. We hadn�t had any contact in years. Granted, time accelerated with age, but she�d acted as if we had just spoken.�

I stepped away from the window and looked around the living room. Nothing was familiar. Not surprising. The last time I�d seen Giselle was in her other home, the one she and her husband had lived in for most of their married life. Still, I was curious if there�d be something recognizable, some token of our shared past, a photograph perhaps, or some memento forgotten. I walked to the china cabinet. Stemware gleamed behind the glass.

I first met Giselle at Oliver�s, an upscale restaurant with intimate tables tucked in dark alcoves. She had very red lips that left clear marks on the rim of the champagne glass. Her signature scent, I found out later, was White Linen, a crisp, clean smell with a hint of complication. Her fingernails were lacquered, red with half moons showing. And of course she was wearing The Ring, an emerald-cut two carat diamond that my father�d given her. A ring that now sat in a tufted row in my jewelry box. A ring I would never wear.

�Sure I can�t get you a cup of coffee? How about some tea or a glass of juice?�

�No thanks.�

For the last twenty-four hours I had debated with myself about making contact. I could have told my father that I couldn�t reach her and left it at that. But given the circumstances, I just couldn�t lie.

Her disembodied voice continued to ramble. �It�s so nice to see you. I love surprises.�

Yes, Giselle was never one to plan. A characteristic my father had loved, then paid the price for.

�Nice place,� I said to the air around me.

A small curio cabinet, filled with knock-off Faberge eggs, hung on the wall. Intricately adorned in rich enamel colors, they were ridiculously gaudy and purposeless.��

�So you�ve found my weakness.�

I turned. She was carrying a silver tray of cookies. �Most of them are from trips. In fact, your father and I picked up the green one when we were in Austria.� She placed the tray down and got a faraway look. �Now what year was that?�

I nodded politely. Trip to Vienna. I couldn�t remember the year, but my parents were still married at the time. As was she.

She walked over. �85 maybe. I don�t travel much now. The world comes to me. I shop online. Ebay.�

Standing beside me, I was struck how small she was, shorter, thinner in every way, even the strands of her blond hair were sparse and brittle looking. Her boney hand reached out for mine. �Come sit down.�

The couch cushion gave away easily. I sank low.� �You�re probably wondering why I�m here.�

She reached for the cookies. �It�s so nice to have company. Please have one.�

�No thanks.�� Was she listening?� �It�s about my father.�

�Your father?�

�He asked me to speak with you. I tried calling, but your number�s unlisted.�

�Unlisted? Yes, I had to stop all those salesmen. Imagine trying to sell me a timeshare or a mortgage . . . And how is Joe?�

�Not good I�m afraid. He�s in the hospital.�

She reared back and put her hand to her mouth. �No. Not Joe. Oh, Mindy, I�m so sorry. Here I�m going on. What�s wrong?�

�He had heart surgery last week. A triple bypass. But there�s a problem, an infection of some kind. He�s not responding to the antibiotics. He wants to see you.�

�Me? He wants to see me?�

�Giselle, I totally understand if you don�t want � �

�But of course I�ll visit. What hospital is he in?�

�The General. I could take you.�

�Would you? When were you thinking?�

�Tomorrow evening. After I get off of work. Say six-thirty?�

She looked off for a moment. �Yes. That sounds fine.�

I�m relieved. Since my mother only visited during the day, the logistics of keeping the two women apart wouldn�t be a problem.� Not that it ultimately mattered. The parties involved � my father, mother and Giselle � were all free agents, divorced and footloose for over a decade.

I reached for a cookie, then took a bite. The gum I�d been chewing disintegrated instantly. I swallowed hard and half-listened as Giselle rambled on about her two sons and several grandchildren. Remarkably, for the next ten minutes the nightmare of my father�s surgery receded. I had another cookie.

At work the next day my cell rang. It was my mother. �Mindy, I went to see your father today. Guess who showed up?�

My mother�s social life had suddenly blossomed now that Dad was hospitalized. The news was out and old friends had been setting up tag team vigils. �Who?�

�That woman.�

My breath caught. Giselle? But that wasn�t possible. I kept calm. �Mother, what woman?�

�Giselle! Giselle!�

�Oh.�

�You don�t seem surprised.�

�Well � �

�She�s very skinny and much older than I pictured. Who knew? My God, I could blow the woman over.�

�Did she say what she was doing there?�

�Your father said he wanted to see her. Do you believe it?�

�How is Dad?�

�I�m afraid not good, sweetie. The whole time we were there, all kinds of things were going off. I guess his blood pressure spiked.�

�My God.�

�Now Mindy don�t get upset. They calmed him down. Anyway, Giselle and I went to lunch at the hospital cafeteria.�

I collapsed into the chair. �You went to lunch together?�

�Yes. You know the hospital has really good food and very reasonable. I had the gumbo. It was delicious. Anyway, Giselle and I decided we needed to be practical. So we talked about the expenses, you know, for the funeral.�

�Mother!�

�Mindy, please. Let me finish. I don�t think your father has life insurance. Burials run around six thousand dollars. We were thinking about that engagement ring. Maybe it could be used as a down payment. I mean you�re never going to wear it. Giselle thought that � �

I�d just entered la-la land. �Mother,� I interrupted, �I gotta go to the hospital.�

�But you�re at work.�

�You�re scaring me. I�m worried about Dad.�

�Now, Mindy, calm down. He�s in God�s hands.�

By the time I reached the hospital I was sweating profusely. When I got off the elevator the ward nurse said, �So you�ve heard.�

Heard? I hadn�t heard anything and didn�t want to hear anything. I barreled past her. The door to his room was closed. I figured the worse � they must be scrubbing the place down. I tore in.

�Hi, honey,� my father said.� He was sitting up.

�Dad?�

�Come on in. Want this Jell-O?�

The room. Something was missing � the IV pole.�

�You�re eating?�

�Starved.�

�So, the antibiotics kicked in.�

He shrugged. �I guess.�

I couldn�t believe the change. His color was back, his voice was strong. �That�s great, Dad.�

He nodded, then slurped some soup.

�Mom called me. Told me Giselle was here. I was supposed to bring her after I got out of work.�

�Mmm.�

�Did she say anything?�

He wiped his lips. �Who?�

�Giselle.�

�Yeah, she said something about wanting to see me as soon as she found out. I think she thought I was gonna croak.�

�I guess I won�t have to bring her later.�

�Don�t think so.�

I sat in the only chair. �How strange having them both here.�

�You can say that again.�

I recalled what my mother�d said about his blood pressure. �Must have been upsetting.�

My father leaned back against the pillow and sucked his teeth. �Here I was flat on my back, feeling like crap. The minute Giselle peeked into the room I thought fur was gonna fly. That�s when everything started going off, and I coded.�

�WHAT?�

�Mindy, calm down. I�m all right.�

�You coded in front of them? Mom didn�t say anything about that.�

�This place was like Grand Central. They stripped me down and shot me up with something. Then they used one of those heart starters.�

�Dad, how awful.�

�At some point I must have passed out because I was lying on my back looking up at the sky. Buzzards were circling. That�s when I heard them talking about the weather, the temperature, how sunny it was.�

�Who was talking?�

�Your mother and Giselle.�

�So they were in your dream?�

�Dream? Hell, no. In the middle of everything I opened my eyes. They were standing right over there.� He pointed to spot by the wall. �They were talking about the weather, about having lunch. That�s when I had a moment of clarity.� He dug into a mound of mashed potatoes.� �Mindy, both those women put me through the wringer, and now that I was about to check out they were going to be one big happy family.�

It was a curious take on my father�s affair and all that followed.� He filled his mouth and mumbled. �Over my dead body. You know?�

For the first time in weeks, I felt lighter. I floated over to my father�s side.

�Yeah, Dad, screw them.�

---

© Linda Lavid
Contact

Linda A. Lavid is a writer from Buffalo, New York. She has written Thirst and Rented Rooms, both collections of short fiction, Paloma, a novel, and Composition: A Fiction Writer's Guide� for the 21 Century, a nonfiction book on writing fiction and self-publishing. Excerpts, reviews and more can be found at www.lindalavid.com