Getting Old Is Criminal (23 page)

They are dressed, dare I say, colorfully?

When I reach the table, I am hardly seated when Anna makes an announcement. “I say. I say,” she begins, raising a glass of champagne. “We have so much to talk about. Here’s to us, the new Four Musketeers.”

What have I unleashed?

And what will they think when I suddenly disappear one day when the case is over and I no G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 2 7

longer show up at Group? Will they wonder if I’ll ever solve the Jack-not-loving-me case of my own?

I wonder, too.

They might miss me. And I actually might miss them.

THIRTY-FOUR

CRISIS

Iam running so fast, my heart is pounding and I am breathless. I feel a stitch in my side, but I keep going. The phone call put me in a panic. Will I get there too late? Will she be dead by then?

The hospital seems so quiet, but then again it’s a Saturday night. When the elevator finally gets up to the ICU, I see so many friends waiting. Ida and Bella are leaning over Irving, trying to comfort the distraught man. Mary sits next to him on the couch, holding his hand. Tessie sits in a chair across from him. His best friend, Sol, paces, unable to hide his fear. Yolie and Denny stand huddled in a corner, hugging each other. The two of them are crying. Enya is praying, and even a couple of the Canadians are there as well. Finally, I see G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 2 9

Sophie. She is seated away from them, near a window, sobbing.

By the number of empty coffee cups, I get the feeling they’ve been here quite a while. They look weary and worried.

Ida hurries to meet me halfway.

I have to ask it. “Millie. Is she . . . gone?”

“No. But she may be in a coma. Somebody mentioned putting her in a hospice. But no one’s told us anything definite yet.”

“Oh, God, what happened?”

Ida and I move away from the others. “If it wasn’t for Mary, she’d be dead. Thank God, even in his fright, Irving had the sense to call her right after calling nine-one-one. He actually remembered she once was a nurse. She ran over. When she saw that Millie had been vomiting and was choking to death, she knew what to do.” Ida tries to hold back her tears. “It may be too late anyway.

Mary told us she even had a seizure.”

“What caused all this?”

“Brace yourself: Sophie. Remember when she announced, when we were doing our quilting, that her doctor had a cure for Alzheimer’s?”

“Oh, no.”

“Yes. Irving would have tried anything to save Millie. Sophie encouraged him to go. From what we could piece together, he took Millie to Dr.

Friendly, who gave her an experimental drug.”

There seems to be a mild commotion. Irving is 2 3 0 • R i t a L a k i n

yelling at a nurse and everyone surrounds them.

We hurry back.

Irving tries to pull away. He is shrieking. “No, no, I won’t. I can’t.” He is near hysteria.

I turn to Mary. “What’s happening?”

“They have a form that Millie filled out a long time ago. To pull the plug and not resuscitate her if the doctors feel she is beyond care. But Irving won’t sign it.”

“Let me go to her. I have to be with her. Let me!” Irving is wailing. It is heartbreaking.

“All right,” the nurse tells him. “But only for a few minutes.”

Sweet, gentle Irving shouts, “I’ll stay as long as I want!”

The nurse leads him out. I am aware of Sophie staring at his back. She can’t bear it and turns away. Ida and I exchange glances. Bella sees us. We all three head over to where she now stands.

“Sophie—” I start.

“No, go away.” She won’t face us. “Leave me alone. I mean it. Go away!”

Ida gently pats her on the back. She winces. We leave her standing there.

Hours later, some of us are still there. We have been taking turns waiting. Irving had his way. He’s still with Millie. We’re sitting in a circle of chairs and couches. Ida, Bella, Mary, Enya, Yolie, Denny, and me. Enya leads us in prayer.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want . . .”

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 3 1

Sophie still won’t join us. I feel terrible for her suffering. But I can see her lips moving with ours.

It is near midnight when Irving comes back to us. We’ve been sleeping or dozing or reading, but we are still there. He looks exhausted, but there is a small smile. We look to him expectantly.

“She is out of the coma. She will live.”

We all run to him and embrace him. He tells us to go home and rest, but he is staying.

As everyone picks up books and newspapers, sweaters, preparing to go home, Irving walks over to Sophie.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobs. She can’t look him in the face. “It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

He puts his arms around her and holds her.

“Please don’t blame yourself. Millie wouldn’t want you to.” He kisses her gently on the forehead.

We are all in a puddle of tears.

*

*

*

We stand outside for a few moments, breathing the cool nighttime air. Yolie and Denny tell us they will walk back home.

“Tell them, Denny.” Yolie insists, pulling at his shirt.

His head is bowed. “Yolanda wanted me to tell you about us taking Irving and Millie to that awful doctor. But I didn’t listen to her.” He cannot look at us.

Mary tries to comfort them. “Millie was in very 2 3 2 • R i t a L a k i n

bad shape. You knew that. She was near the end.

Irving wanted to try anything—maybe it would have helped. But you mustn’t blame yourself.”

Yolie asks, “What happens to her now? Will she come home?”

Mary answers. “I doubt it. I believe she will have to go to an Alzheimer’s facility. She will need much more care than you can give her.”

“What about Mr. Irving?”

Ida answers that one. “He’ll need all the help all of us can give him. Maybe you’ll stay with him?”

She cries with joy. “I will never leave him alone.” Denny hugs her.

They walk on, clutching each other. Mary drives Enya home.

The rest of us pile into my car.

As we drive across the street to where we live, Sophie tells us she’s made a decision. “I’m gonna call the AMA and tell them about Dr. Friendly.”

We nod, though in the dark of the car she can’t see that. It doesn’t matter. She knows we are on her side and support whatever she wants to do.

We continue to hold vigil most of Sunday. There is no change in Millie.

Finally, utterly exhausted, back in my apartment, I notice that I have a message on my cell phone. It’s from Hope Watson. Apparently the prodigals have just come home from their week-end trip. She thought I’d like to know that and maybe do something about my sister.

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 3 3

*

*

*

Monday afternoon I’m back at Wilmington House, yet again. I look around for her. Evvie is nowhere to be found. I make discreet inquiries, since everyone seems to be on an Evelyn and Philip watch. Not seen today at all. Not at lunch. Or breakfast. But, I am told with snickering, there are hints from kitchen staff that meals are being served by room service. In Philip’s room. Maids report there has been a Do Not Disturb sign on all day.

Even the staff is in on the excitement. No wonder Hope gives me a dirty look as I pass her in the lobby. I move away quickly before she starts asking questions. I ponder what to do. Go upstairs and knock on his door? And make a fool of myself? No way.

I try Evvie’s apartment first. I knock, but no answer. I open our adjoining doors and enter, but there’s nothing to see but the usual spotlessly clean rooms left by the daily maid. I stand listlessly in the middle of her living room.

I don’t remember the last time I felt this unsure.

What do I do now?

THIRTY-FIVE

NIGHT GAMES

H
it me.” Evvie indicates her cards. She’s showing a three and a deuce.

Philip deals. It’s a ten. Evvie groans. She turns
over her card. Also a ten. Phil singsongs, “Take it
off. Take it off.”

It’s midnight. They are in Philip’s apartment,
straddling his king-size bed. Two bottles of champagne sit in their buckets, one empty, one with
only a quarter left. They’re drunk and by now
everything’s funny.

Evvie sits on her knees and struggles to unbutton her blouse. Too drunk to manage it, she tries
to pull it over her head. It isn’t easy since she’s purposely put on as many pieces of clothing as she
could. She can’t stop laughing. Neither can Philip.

Alongside the deck of cards lay the already disG e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 3 5

carded strip poker items. A sun hat—Evvie’s.

Sunglasses—Evvie’s. One beach robe—Evvie’s.

One sweatshirt—ditto. The only item on Philip’s
pile are a pair of socks.

She mumbles, almost incoherently, “Not fair.”

The blouse is now stuck over her nose. She giggles.

He reaches over. “And it’s also not fair you put
on twice as many clothes as I did. Here, let me help
you.” He gently tries to pull it off, but she keeps
trying also, which causes them both to fall side-ways as the blouse rips. She is down to a T-shirt
and bra. For a moment they look intensely at each
other, their faces very close. He reaches out and
gently smooths her hair.

Her lips are close to his. She whispers, “You
must be cheating.”

“How can I be cheating? You see what I deal.”

His breath blows wisps of air into her ear. She
shudders, deliciously.

They both manage to pull themselves back up.

Evvie hiccups, and then giggles. “Well, you better
not be.” She reaches for the cards and starts dealing, clumsily dropping many of the cards.

“So, go back to what you were telling me,”

Philip urges.

“I was singing at this club in the village. It was
my big chance. The joint was filled with service-men on leave. I was good. I know I was.”

She deals him a six. He indicates wanting another. She deals him a king. He turns his card over.

Another picture.

2 3 6 • R i t a L a k i n

“Gotcha.” Evvie is gleeful.

Philip reaches for the tie that hangs lopsided
around his neck. She leans over to help him pull it
off. And falls against him. He holds on to her.

“I was good. I coulda been the next Doris Day.

I know it.”

He nuzzles her hair. “I’m sure you could.” He
moves her so she’ll be seated in his lap. Her face is
in his neck; she makes little hiccupping sounds.

“So what happened, Evelyn dear?”

“I met a soldier that night. I was dumb enough
to marry him and that was the end of my career.”

She starts to cry.

He rocks her gently in his arms.

Her voice is slippery. “You coulda been a star,
too, with your golden voice.”

“I dabbled a bit in the arts. I acted for a while.”

That interests Evvie, but she is too immobile to
respond with any energy. She mutters. “Would I
know you? Where would I have seen you?”

He stops her with his lips and kisses her long
and hard. He pulls away. “Not important.” He indicates the cards. “You lost again.”

She looks confused. “Were we playing?” She
doesn’t remember the cards being dealt; they were
all in a jumble.

“We never stopped, and you lost again,” he says
as he lifts her T-shirt and slowly removes it. He
looks at her. “You’re beautiful.” He pulls the
straps of her bra down and gently kisses her
breasts. She moans.

G e t t i n g O l d I s C r i m i n a l • 2 3 7

“Now help me.” He lifts her hands to help him
take off his shirt. She stares at his naked chest.