Five of Hearts

Bryce took a sharp right and walked down the long hallway.  Room 324 was just ahead, and once he was done there, he could call it a night.  He tugged at his gray shirt, and itched his neck where the strap from his lanyard rubbed on his neck.  His mind was on a bowl of queso dip, the Rockies game, and a long night alone.  He swung open the door and froze in his tracks.  An older woman, maybe in her early fifties was sitting on the bed.  A mountain of tissues were beside her, and her face was painted with sadness and exhaustion.  She looked up as Bryce entered the room, and she took a deep breath.  Bryce was about to speak, but she cut him off.  “I was wondering when you’d get here” she said, almost sobbing the words as she spoke them.

“Ma’am…” Bryce was more than ready to continue, but the woman cut him off once again.

“I’ve been here for an hour, waiting for the hospital to send some kind of grief counselor.  They certainly don’t dress you very nicely” she said.  She was dressed in a black pantsuit that fit her frame nicely, and she was looking at Bryce’s gray shirt and jeans with contempt.  “And a lanyard to boot.  I should have known.  It wouldn’t kill them to have you people wear suits would it.  Oh, listen to me.  My husband died a few hours ago, and all I can do is criticize the damn hospital.  It’s nothing personal…Bryce.”

Bryce nodded as the woman continued.

“I know I need to go home and start getting affairs in order.  Kennith, rest his soul, knew that the end was probably coming.  He already picked his headstone and funeral home.  I helped him write his obituary a few months ago.  I had to do all the heavy lifting to stay positive.  All he could think about was how he was going to die.  He wasn’t even sure he wanted the heart transplant.  We were getting closer and closer.  Do you see this?”

The woman held a five of hearts in the air, and Bryce nodded.

“We started with the ten of hearts.  Kennith had a common blood type, and we moved up the waiting list for a donor heart pretty quickly, all things considered.  Every month or so a new card came in the mail from his surgeon.  He hand delivered the five two nights ago, right after we checked in.  We were halfway there.  The doctor even had the other cards in his pocket.  He thought that we’d have a donor if Kennith could just hold on a bit longer, but he didn’t.”  The woman started sniffling, and she took another tissue.  “I guess they were off a bit on how much time he had left.  I don’t blame them.  Do you know why?”

Bryce shook his head and started to open his mouth.  No words came out as the woman’s face began to fade from white to red.

“I’ll tell you why.  Kennith just gave up a few months ago.  That man had a heart that was slowly dying, and he started off good.  He really did.  He ate right, he quit smoking and drinking…even coffee.  Ever since the night he picked out his headstone he changed.  I know he was smoking.  I found the cigarette butts on our lawn.  I found the beer cans buried at the bottom of the trash last week.  He swears it wasn’t him, but on the way here I saw the ashtray in his car was full.  Hell, I found Slim Jim wrappers and Arby’s coupons in the backseat.  Is that crap really worth your life?  IS IT?”

Bryce quickly shook his head no.  He was starting to feel very uncomfortable.  The woman stood up, and the bed rolled back from where she stood.  She took a deep breath and walked to the window.  Bryce took a step forward, but she snapped back around like a slamming screen door.

“He slept with my sister you know. I’ve known for years.  It was just ten years ago, and we’ve been married for twenty.  I’ve played nice for years, even though I knew all about it from my loudmouth sister’s co-worker, who also happens to work with me on the parks committee.  I called my sister on it a year ago, and she confessed.  Now, I haven’t spoken to her since, but I’ll have to invite her to the damn funeral, won’t I?  The hell I will.  Do  you know he didn’t even confess as he was dying?  He didn’t say a damn word, even as he knew the end was coming.  He didn’t confess about my sister, or his secretary, or even our neighbor Florence.  He didn’t confess to any of his affairs, the money he hid, the dents he put in my car…any of it!  HE DIED WITHOUT EVEN SAYING HE LOVED ME!  I STOOD BY HIM UNTIL THE END AND HE…and he…”

The woman started sobbing again, and Bryce stood there with his hands at his sides.  He moved them behind his back, the he almost crossed his arms, and then he briefly cupped them in front of him, just below the belt-line.  He let them drop back to the sides as the woman straightened her back, and wiped her tear and makeup stained hands on her hips.

“He was my husband, but he’s gone now.  I’m going to go make some phone calls.  The funeral home already has all of his plans, so they don’t need me.  I’m going to throw out his stash of skin magazines, all of the cigars he was saving, and I’m going to pour his fifty year old scotch down the drain. Once the funeral is over I’m moving all his shit onto the front lawn, and I’ll have one hell of a garage sale.  Then I’m going to sell the house and start over.  Thanks for coming, but I don’t need  a grief counselor now.  I’m through grieving for that man.  I’m going to just move on.  Thanks for finally showing up.”  The woman’s shoes clacked on the floor as she strode past Bryce.  She swung open the door rapidly, and it slammed behind Bryce’s back.  He just stood there for a moment.  He heard the door open again, and then close behind him.

“Mrs. Sewich?”  came a voice.  A younger man in a suit walked past Bryce and looked around the room.  He looked back at Bryce and pointed his pen.  “Have you seen Mrs. Sewich?  I’m Carlton, and I’m here to serve as her grief counselor.”

“I don’t know where she is” Bryce said.  “I’m just here to fix the bed so the wheels lock.”