The Special One. James Griffin

your mother… I presume Mrs. Bartlett is your mother?”

      Sounds of chair legs scraping the floor, clipboard being slid off of bed’s footboard hook

      “Yes, we are her children. Two of the three. I’m Bob and this is Ann.”

      “And there’s one more, if I understand correctly?”

      “Yea, my older sister, Julie.” answered Ann.

      “The eldest child, then?”

      “The brat, too. Hmmpf.”

      “Shuttup, Annie. Yes, Doctor, Julie would be the eldest child. She’s 54.”

      “I believe the nurses have told me she usually comes in the afternoons.”

      “Couldn’t tell ya. I work in the afternoons.”

      “So do I, driving a truck.”

      “And besides, we, uh, as I understand it, Mom just got down from the ICU a day or two ago, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “That’s true ‘nuf. Like my sister says. We know people aren’t supposed to be up there in ICU.”

      “We have visitors’ hours in the ICU. Your mother had plenty of visitors up there, as I recall. Father—“

      “Carroll! I know him. From St. Mary’s.” said Ann.

      “Yes, he was there each morning.”

      “Making his rounds, no doubt.” said Rob.

      “Various others, women from the church.”

      “Yea, the blue hair brigade, huh .”

      “Not all blue hair, as I saw. Some with brown, even blonde.”

      “Hmm… Probably the organ player. Maybe even the rectory’s housekeeper, Mrs. Keever. Mom was friends with her.”

      “She still is, Ann.” said Dr. Birnbaum. “One visitor brought a high school aged girl with her.”

      “Ah! That had to be Julie. Julie and Emily.” said Rob.

      “She’s a stay-at-home mom. Husband works, has a good job. Sells brand new tractor trailers, right, Robbie?”

      “Yea. The girl… was she about seventeen?”

      “I’d say that sounds about right.” answered Dr. Birnbaum.

      “So, uh, what’d they show up, like, what? once?” asked Ann.

      Sound of the clipboard being put back on its hook

      “Your mother, I must say in all honesty, is doing wonderfully. At eighty years of age, she is healing as quickly as a teenager. Not a sign of infection anywhere, lungs clear as a bell, heart strong. It was a miracle she didn’t break a single bone besides her leg, which was unavoidable, having been crushed beyond any repair in the accident. Tough lady. Wants to live. Tough.”

      “But will she wake up, Doc?”

      “No one can say, Rob. The scans show normal rhythms, no permanent neurological damage shows up anywhere. We simply don’t know the answers a lot of the time. “

      “Hypothetically speaking, Doctor,” asked Ann, “what would happen if we unplugged her?”

      “Your mother is not technically ‘plugged in’, Ann. She doesn’t even have an intravenous line any longer. She does, however, have a feeding tube, which is the one in her nose, and as of right now, her digestive tract is functioning perfectly. The only outward thing we are doing for her is feeding her. If we take that away, your mother will simply starve to death.”

      “Oh.”

      Sound of steps leaving room, then sliding to a stop at the door

      “Oh, I’m sorry, Ann?”

      “Yes, Doctor?”

      “The answer to your earlier question? about the woman with the high school girl? They were here every day, including the weekends. Have a good evening.”

      Footsteps going down the hallway

      “Screw him. Come on, Robbie, let’s get out of this stinkin’ place. Wanna eat with me at ‘Hitters’? Come on… I’m cravin’ a bacon cheeseburger, how ‘bout you?”

      “Right behind ya.”

      Footsteps leaving… TV across the hall is on again. A promo for “American Idol”. Now a commercial for the Toyota Prius. Best gas mileage of any car, according to “Consumer Reports”. I wonder if I’m really alive or if this is really some sort of purgatory? Was I that bad a person?