The Sandstone Affair

“Excuse me? Did you just call me a prostitute, Miss Sharp? I will have you know I am both an accomplished writer and editor of a national magazine.”

“Pffft, Ladies World,” I responded. “That’s not even journalism. Recipes and articles about stars and their pets, self-help tips for depressed housewives and gardening stories? The day’s going to come when a smart women’s magazine that showcases real news comes along and wipes Ladies World off the rack.”

“I doubt you’ll see that day, Miss Sharp. Because you’ll be working at Walmart which is the only place I can imagine that would hire someone as rude as you,” she said, red in the face and furious. Dr. Louden intervened.

“I can see we’ve gotten off track. Let’s take a five minute break and when we come back Miss James will talk about portfolios and what today’s publishers are looking for,” he said waving everyone out of the room. I stayed to talk with her more, but Dr. Louden motioned for me to go to his office.

“We don’t treat one of the most successful alumni of the school like that!” he sneered as he sat behind the desk with me standing there like a chastised child.

“She works for a bloated, old-school kitchen rag. What could she possibly have that I would even care about?”

“Oh my dear.” Dr. Louden laughed in a sinister way I’d never heard before. “You may not like her style but she has more connections in this city than you have words in your vocabulary. I hope you like writing for the Oklahoma Shopper Express because when she’s done with you–they’ll be the only place that will take you.”

Poor Dad. I railed and screamed and carried on about Valerie James every time I was denied a job. I talked about how corrupt the system was, how unfair life could be, how I was being oppressed because I was so much more talented than she had ever been. Every time I got told no, Dad would listen, and nod and say, “You started it.”

Dr. Louden was wrong about me ending up writing ads at the Oklahoma Shopper Express. Even they wouldn’t hire me. So I did the only thing that I could do. I started the magazine that would wipe Ladies World off the racks. If only Valerie James hadn’t played dirty, Lynx would have been that magazine in only a few more years.

I finally end up at the hospital and a volunteer guides me to my dad’s room. The nurse catches me right before I enter. She talks to me to mentally prepare me to see Dad in his condition.

“He’s heavily sedated and requires the breathing tube but is off the ventilator. He slips and out of consciousness,” she explains.

“When will he be fully awake and alert again?” I ask hopefully. She looks down at the floor and bites her bottom lip. As an ICU nurse I’m sure she has said this stuff a hundred times but she genuinely looks like she cares.

“He may never,” she says softly. “The treatment center has done all they can, and this last embolism has weakened him past where we may be able to bring him back. He can understand you sometimes, but he’s going to be out of it more than in from this point forward.”

“But you can still save him, right? He can turn the corner, can’t he?” I know I’m badgering her to tell me what I want to hear–what I need to hear.

“I don’t know,” she says solemnly. “His eyes are open now, so why don’t you go in and spend some time with him while he’s awake.”

“I… ah… I don’t know what to say,” I confess. She reaches out and puts a compassionate hand on my arm.

“Tell him you’re here. Tell him you love him,” she says softly. “The best thing you can do with people is tell them you love them.”

Even with her counsel, it’s hard walking into the room and seeing my dad this way. He looks so much smaller than I ever remember him being, withered and pale. The lights are dim and the machines hooked up to him glow eerily with patterns and numbers I will never understand.

“Dad,” I say loudly as I take his hand in mine. It seems smaller than I recall. His eyes open about halfway and he gets a slight smile. “Dad, it’s Julia. I’m here, Dad. I’m here.”

He squeezes my hand. He knows. After a few minutes his eyes close and his breathing shallows to a steady even puff. I keep talking to him, remember old times, good times, how much he loved Mom, and how much he means to me. The numbers don’t change, and I figure he’s out for a while.

“There’s something I need you to know,” I say. “I started seeing Mark. I know you always liked him. To be honest, I wanted to like him too, but I guess I was still hurt from Greg. I see now that Mark is totally different. He’s smart and strong. He isn’t really intimidated by me, at all. He challenges me. I guess that’s why I was so afraid of getting too close to him.”

I stop for a moment, and check the machine again. No change. Finally I’ve found the one person I can share this with who won’t be able to judge me or talk me out of what I’m doing.

“I’ve given him parts of myself. First it was just my body, but I think my heart may not be far behind. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I might actually be changing. Somehow, I think he might be healing me. I fight him, of course. But less and less. And I’m feeling more and more solid.”

I check the machine again, no change. His eyes still closed, his breathing even. Then a shadow crosses his bed. It’s Mark.

I jump up. “How long have you been there?” Oh my god! Did he just hear that?

“I just got here.” He shrugs. “I was worried about you, and your father.” Despite what I said to my father, Mark’s surprise appearance instantly makes me put my defenses up.

“Well, you need to go,” I hiss at him. “How dare you show up here? I told you I didn’t need you! Do you think my dad needs to find out right now about our profane agreement? Aren’t patient files confidential? How did you even know to come here?”

“I’m a rich man,” he says, rolling his eyes, “in a city that runs on money. It’s not hard for me to learn things. This isn’t the first time I’ve visited your dad, as you’re well aware. I doubt he’ll find anything profane in my being here.”

He’s right. Dad always did like him, and Mark was the one that helped to transfer Dad to Glenvale after all. He had as much a right to visit Dad as I had.

“I’m sorry, Mark,” I’m acting like a harpy when the truth is I just don’t want him to know how deeply he’s affecting me. I’m just not ready to give him that yet. “I’m just overwhelmed, you know.”