Where The World Meets™
Copyright © 2005-2007 Lallouz International Magazine. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or part without permission is prohibited. I Terms and Conditions
by Yuri Lantzman
The EMTs were taking Bill’s vitals before lifting him onto a stretcher. As they rushed him toward the ambulance, Lucky hummed and skipped merrily behind. No one noticed his insane behaviour, as they were too busy tending to Bill. Just as Lucky was about to return to his office, one of the paramedics asked, “want to ride along with your dad?”
Confused at first, Lucky didn’t understand... he looked around quickly, almost paranoid to see where his slimy old man was. But Zero was nowhere in sight. Just then, his gaze fell upon Bill, who was being given an injection. The irony of it all -- to be mistaken as a Weatherton heir. Lucky’s blood was pumping at the thought of such a thing happening at the bank!
If only Bill had been conscious enough to hear that one, he might have had another heart attack or stroke, whatever it was that the old fart just suffered. Lucky exuded a look of deep concern as he replied, “of course, what kind of a son would I be if I didn’t accompany my dear father?”
He climbed into the back of the ambulance with the paramedics, towering over the semiconscious Bill Weatherton whose eyes looked as though they’d seen a ghost. He was trying to speak, but the words weren’t coming out.
Lucky grabbed the old man’s hand and held it tightly. “It’s all right, Dad, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He smiled menacingly as Bill’s face went from green to white. Lucky wasn’t going anywhere, not now, not ever. He was here to stay. He would take what he wanted, and that meant Lana Weatherton as his wife and all the riches and opportunity that went along with it. Bill got the message. Lucky squeezed his hand, hoping to inflict some pain in the process. The doctors could assume that Bill’s hand was injured from his fall. It suddenly felt like Christmas, and Lucky couldn’t have been happier!
Whether the old man lived or died, Lucky appeared the hero. No one would ever learn the truth. After all, it had only been the two of them that day in Lucky’s office. He looked down at Bill who was struggling to get free from Lucky’s tight grasp, unable to vocalize. Looking into the gray pools of Bill’s eyes, Lucky could read the desperate emotion... anger, hatred and above all, fear. This time it was Bill who knew what it meant to be afraid, and Lucky was going to take the arrogant son of a bitch down.
As the ambulance hit a pothole, Lucky intentionally elbowed the old man in the chest. Bill let out an agonizing shriek. Lucky looked to the paramedics enraged, “damn those potholes!”
He peered down at Bill and slapped his cheek playfully, “sorry, Daddy -- you know that I don’t like to see you suffer.” Oh, how he revelled at the sight of Bill’s misery.
Upon their arrival at the hospital, Lucky kept to the side of the stretcher as Bill was being rushed into Emergency. Doctors hurried over. A svelte black female physician was the first, “what do we have?”
“Caucasian male, approximately sixty-five years of age, passed out, chest pains, could be a heart attack or stroke.” The paramedic nodded to Lucky, “good job on performing CPR until we arrived on the scene. He owes his life to you.” How things couldn’t have been farther from the truth!
“We’ll need to run some tests to find out.”
“Well then, let’s find out,” the female doctor said. She asked Lucky to have a seat in the waiting room. “We’ll let you know what the situation is, just as soon as we run some tests.”
“Okay...” Lucky stopped and watched as they walked on. He called out, “where’s the waiting room?”
Lucky for Lucky, they didn’t catch his question, because just above his pointed head was a huge sign in bold letters that read ‘WAITING ROOM’ with an arrow pointing to an area that was merely 10 feet away.
It was prohibited to use cellular phones in the hospital, so Lucky was relieved when he spotted a pay phone. He knew he would have to break the news to Lana, and now seemed to be as good a time as any. As he picked up the phone, he noticed the charge of 25 cents! Were they out of their minds! He mumbled profanities as he dropped the quarter into the slot to dial Lana.
Lana arrived in tears, her mother, Deanna right behind her. Lana fell into Lucky’s arms for comfort. When she pulled back, her nose was running and her eyes black with smudged mascara. Lucky refrained from grimacing -- it wasn’t a pretty sight. Over her shoulder he could see Mrs. Weatherton trying to maintain her composure, her eyes glazed and expressing concern for Lana.
“What happened?” Lana squealed as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. It wouldn’t have killed her to use a tissue -- as though she couldn’t afford it, Lucky thought to himself. This coming from a man who was the least hygienic of all. But Lana wasn’t worried about how she looked. All she cared about was her father’s failing health.
Lucky sighed heavily and looked at Lana and Deanna, both of whom were intently fixated on him, desperately seeking answers as to the day’s events that led up to Bill’s collapse. “He dropped by the office to say hello. We were having a great time laughing and talking, and then all of a sudden...”
Lucky paused, looking at the Weatherton women with sad eyes.
“What?” Deanna barely whispered in a fright as she clutched the cashmere sweater tied around her shoulders.
As though he was performing on stage, Lucky put forth what he thought to be a brilliant performance. After all, he had them eating out of the palm of his hand.
“And then he just collapsed, right in front of me! It was horrible. I tried giving him CPR until the ambulance arrived.” Lucky buried his face in his hands and let out a sob.
“Oh, Lucky,” Lana cried and hugged him even harder. Deanna joined in what appeared to be a group hug, perhaps the beginning of a close knit family.
As the trio settled into the waiting room, Lana clutched onto Lucky’s hand for dear life, while Deanna anxiously kept track of the time. Lana was frightfully stiff -- she barely appeared to be breathing. Her mother, the picture of sophistication remained composed.
Lana looked at Lucky and whispered, “what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?” Lucky asked somewhat suspiciously.
There was no way in hell he would ever donate blood, let alone part with a kidney! He had nothing to gain in facilitating any lifesaving tactics where Bill Weatherton was concerned. After all, the man loathed him!
“We can’t exactly tell my mother about the baby now.” She glanced at Deanna, eyes still glued to the clock. Lana turned back to Lucky, “it’s just the wrong time.”
“Don’t worry Lana, we’ll tell her about the pregnancy later,” Lucky reassured her in a less than discreet tone.
At that moment, Deanna Weatherton’s head snapped toward them, her eyes wide open, her mouth agape. “Pregnancy?”
Lana looked at Lucky with mixed emotion. Was she petrified or simply downright angry? It wasn’t the first time that Lucky put his foot in his mouth.
Lana slowly turned to her mother, tears streaming down her porcelain skin. “I’m going to have this baby, so please don’t try to talk me out of it.”
Deanna lay one hand across her chest, the other, bejeweled and manicured covered her mouth. She glared at the couple. It was as though she was waiting for one of them to tell her this was some kind of practical joke. Neither of them said anything and slowly she lowered her hand from her mouth and cleared her throat nervously, “Lana, I...”
Lana interjected, “Mother, please. This is hardly the time or place. We can talk about this later.”
Suddenly the sound of baby cries interrupted, as a young mother was wheeled passed them with a newborn bundled in her arms.
Just as Deanna was about to respond to Lana, out of nowhere the female doctor appeared.
“Are you Bill Weatherton’s family?”
The three jumped to their feet, forgetting the whole pregnancy issue.
“Yes, I’m his wife. How is he?” Deanna asked, her voice filled with despair.
“Stable for the moment. We ran a battery of tests and have discovered the problem...”
“A heart attack? A stroke?” Lana asked frantically.
The doctor sighed, “I’m sorry, but I think we’d better sit down.”
