Among the Ducklings Read online

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  Spending his Saturday night in a hospital was not fun. This was not what Phil had in mind when he drove to town Friday for his birthday party. The hospital fronted a saltwater inlet called the Matanzas River. One of the nurses told him that the Matanzas River was named after a massacre in 1565 by Spanish forces of a group of several hundred shipwrecked Protestant French forces, for refusing to become Catholic. It was ironic to Phil that a place of healing could be so close to something that represented violent death.

  He spent the whole night tossing and turning. He tried to sleep, but once in a while, a siren, sounds of running feet, or some other hospital noise would wake him up. That’s why he was relieved when he found out the next morning that he was being discharged. In the past, he would complain about health insurance companies cutting costs and shortening patient's stays at hospitals. However, for one day, this Sunday, he would not complain. He was going home.

  When Jeremy came to his room on the fourth floor, Phil was eager to leave. No matter how pretty a hospital was, no matter how beautiful the scenery was outside his window, to Phil, a hospital would always be a hospital, a place where you want your stay to be as short as possible. If you had to stay long, you were in trouble. As Phil and Jeremy were walking in the hallway toward the elevator, it was the first time that Phil noticed how big the hospital was, with numerous rooms on both their left and their right. This caused Phil to pick up his pace. “The sooner he left, the better,” he said to himself.

  Seeing Phil's struggles with his new crutches, Jeremy asked, “Are you getting used to them?”

  “The sooner, I get rid of these crutches, the better,” Phil answered.

  When they reached the elevator, Phil checked his watch and noticed that it was already past 1:00 pm.

  “How long you think it'll take to get to the airport?”

  “It will take us about one hour to get to the Jacksonville Airport from here, and then another hour for you to check in. Don't worry Phil, we are making good time,” Jeremy added.

  They were still waiting for the elevator to come when Jeremy remarked, “Wow, this elevator took a long time.” As Phil was about to respond, the elevator door opened and Jeremy held it for Phil to step in, and then said, “Michelle is downstairs waiting for us.” Michelle and Jeremy had been married for four years. They met each other when both were studying for the Florida Bar Exam. Jeremy was now a partner at a prestigious law firm in Jacksonville, while Michelle opted to teach pre-law classes at the local college. Jeremy was one inch taller than Phil and didn't look like a lawyer, with his hair always in a ponytail. He looked more like the surfer that he also was. Both Jeremy and Michelle loved surfing, and Phil knew that this was why they chose to live in Saint Augustine Beach. Prior to moving there, they always told him how much they enjoyed the surf. If Jeremy was tall, Michelle was short by comparison, at 5 feet 3 inches. Both had red hair and in spite of the height difference, they looked more like brother and sister than spouses.

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  When they reached the first floor, Michelle was already waiting for them in front of the elevator door as if she was going up herself. Her face brightened when she saw them. ”It’s good to see that you’re back on your feet. Well, at least on one foot,” she said, looking at Phil struggling with the crutches.

  “Me too. Did you bring the luggage?” Phil asked Jeremy. After the accident, Phil had scuttled his plan to return to Miami by car. Although he could drive back, since it was his left ankle that was injured, he decided to take a flight back instead, to rest and avoid the five hour trip.

  “It’s in the trunk outside,” Jeremy replied. “Michelle returned your rental car yesterday.”

  “Thanks for everything,” Phil said to them. Deep inside, Phil knew that Jeremy felt awful about his injury. It was Jeremy, after all, who suggested that Phil take a break from Miami and come spend the weekend with them.

  “It was a heck of a weekend,” Phil said.

  “I’m sorry Phil,” Jeremy blurted out.

  “Don't be. Besides, if it was not for that fall, I would have kicked your butt again in basketball. The way I see it, the heavens intervened to protect you from being embarrassed in your own house,” Phil said laughingly.

  “At least I see that you haven't lost your sense of humor,” Jeremy said as the three reached Michelle's SUV, which was sitting idle in front of the hospital.

  The drive to the airport was uneventful. Jeremy and Michelle talked about the safari trip that they had planned last year to do this summer, and Phil wondered if he would still be able to join them as he had promised.

  As they were getting close to the airport, Michelle said, “By the way, I talked to Stacy this morning and I told her about your injury.”

  At the sound of her name, Phil, who was sitting in the back seat, tensed. Michelle, who didn’t notice, continued, “She doesn't model any more. She's been investing and producing movies this past year.”

  “I hope that she’s happy,” Phil said. It was a lie but he didn’t know what else to say.

  “Can we talk about something else?” Jeremy pleaded with Michelle, sensing Phil’s awkwardness.

  “I just wanted Phil to know that she was asking for him and was concerned when I told her about the injury,” Michelle replied. Phil knew that Michelle never lost hope that Stacy would come back to him. It had been three years since Stacy left for California and never returned. Unlike Michelle, Phil stopped believing in fairy tales weeks after Stacy left. The way Stacy treated him taught him in a hard way that love does not conquer all. He now wished he had the power to go back, four years ago, to the day that he met Stacy and change what would happen, in effect, erase her from his life, his thoughts and his heart.

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  That day, four years ago, was a Saturday and he had been invited by a former law school classmate, to an art exhibition in Miami Beach. When Phil arrived at the party, many people in the entertainment industry were present. It was a world that he was not used to, as he met many colorful characters. There was no denying their talent, by the quality of the paintings that were being exhibited.

  He was looking at a painting which was simply a yellow circle on a black background, when the painter came over and explained what Phil was seeing.

  “The black background represents the chaos in my life,” the young female artist had said.

  “The yellow circle represents my heart's hope and the order in the chaos,” the painter had added before she left to describe the adjacent painting to a potential buyer.

  Phil didn't realize that someone was standing next to him and listening to the painter until he heard her say, “Am I the only one who is not stoned here today?”

  Phil then turned and what he saw was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was as tall as he was, with the look of a South American movie star, with her long curly black hair, very white teeth and a skin tone that reminded him of a painting he once saw of an Egyptian goddess. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties.

  “That makes two of us,” Phil replied, laughing, wondering if he would have the courage to ask her out. He always heard that there were women who intimidated men simply by their looks. However he had never met one until that day. He was intimidated.

  She joined him in his laugh and asked, “Do you have a clue what she was talking about?”

  “Beats me,” he said, and then he asked, “Are you a painter?”

  “Me? No. I'm only here for the free food and drinks,” she said with another laugh. “What about you? You don't look like a painter to me, either?”

  “No. I'm not a painter. I'm here for the food too,” Phil replied

  “Liar. Besides, they only have appetizers and I am still hungry,” she said, and they both laughed.

  Until his meeting with Stacy that evening, Phil never felt such a deep attraction to a woman before. He said, “I'll tell you what. If you can guess what I do for living, I will order some real food for you.”
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  “You are on buddy,” she said. She initially thought he was a chiropractor, but after several wrong guesses, she gave up.

  “OK. You know what? I will still order the food anyway,” he said.

  “From where are you going to order it?” she asked.

  “From the restaurant, we are going to. You didn’t think that we were going to eat here, did you?” Phil asked, with a wink.

  “You tricked me. All right, deal. There is this Japanese place not too far from here. Follow me in your car,” she said.

  Phil nodded and realized he didn't even know her name.

  When they came out of the exhibition, Phil was surprised to see that she was riding a motorcycle. Phil followed her to the restaurant, which was several blocks from Ocean Drive, on South Beach. There, she parked the motorcycle in front of the restaurant. When she took off her helmet, her long curly hair floated in the wind, as if you were watching the long tails of a kite flying in the air, in slow motion. Phil stopped breathing for one single moment at this incredible sight. “She must be the sexiest woman on this planet,” he said to himself.

  The restaurant was almost empty and barely lit. It didn’t matter, because Phil and Stacy didn’t really eat. Instead, they spent the whole evening drinking plum wine, with Stacy telling Phil of funny tales of her failed photo shoots, and Phil telling Stacy about his travel misadventures. By the time both left the restaurant that night, they wanted each other badly. From that night on, Phil and Stacy became inseparable and Phil had fallen deeply for Stacy.

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  Since his young days at the orphanage, Phil had learned to shield his heart from heartbreak. He still remembered how the orphanage would line the kids up, like cattle, for inspection by prospective parents, each kid hoping that he or she would get chosen or that their real parents would somehow show up. They would then be devastated when they found out they didn't pass parental inspection, until the next line up. It was an incessant and vicious cycle that kept repeating itself, throughout a kid's stay at the orphanage.

  When Phil was thirteen years old, he was close to being adopted. His new prospective parents had chosen him in the lineup. However, he learned later, after the couple changed their minds, that they had a 14 year old boy who objected to his being part of the family. That was it.

  Phil's dream of having real parents was shattered when they declined to adopt him. Since that time, he would refuse to participate in lineups, biding his time and dreaming that one day, he would turn eighteen and take control of his own destiny.

  When he met Stacy, somehow all the resentment, all the heartaches and all the pain that he suffered growing up, suddenly dissipated. He was learning what love really was for the first time in his life. They were deeply in love with each other and were not afraid to face the future together. She, the risk taker, would take him to ski and air jumps. He, the dreamer and the comedian, would take her to exotic trips, from China to Morocco, and tell her Middle Eastern fables that he invented just to see her laugh.

  When they became engaged a year later, everyone told him how lucky he was that she chose him. He was good looking, but she was tops. She was the type of woman that would make other women jealous just because of her looks. Men would look at her and wish that they were in Phil's shoes. Phil was happy.

  Everything started to change one day, however, when she met, during one of her modeling photo shoots, a young movie director from California. He had promised her and her agent some parts in some movies he was shooting in California.

  “What do you think? Should I go?” she had asked Phil.

  “It's a no brainer,” he had said. “Besides, you will only be gone for couple of weeks.”

  “I love you for being so understanding,” she had said.

  “I love you more for coming back to me,” he had replied. In fact, she never came back. He was devastated when he learned from his secretary and saw in the tabloids, compromising pictures of Stacy and another actor. He tried to contact her but could never reach her. Instead, soon after the pictures were published, he received an envelope with no return address. In it was the engagement ring he had given to her and a card that simply read: “I am sorry.” That was the last he heard of her and that was three years ago.

  Chapter Four

  “We're here,” Jeremy said as they got off the exit to the Jacksonville airport from highway I-95. “As we promised, you're on time for your Miami flight.”

  “Thanks guys.” Phil said, grateful to Jeremy for bringing Phil's mind back to the present.

  The flight left on time, and Phil was looking forward to starting the rehabilitation process and to eventually getting rid of the crutches. Although the plane was full, he felt lonely. If only Michelle had not brought up Stacy's name, he thought.

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  It looked like a picture of a bright pebble set on a black canvas. However, the pebble kept getting bigger and bigger, slowing eating away at the blackness of the canvas. When it finally came into focus, Isabel realized that it was her eyes adjusting to the lamp by her hospital bed.

  “Are you finally awake?” she heard a voice sounding like her aunt Marcia say.

  “Where am I?” she asked, slowing turning her head, and surprised to see her aunt.

  “You are in the hospital,” Marcia replied.

  “What happened? Where is Richard? Where is Rebecca?”

  “You've been in accident. You're at Baptist Memorial Hospital. Richard is OK. He has been released from the hospital and Rebecca is getting something to eat downstairs in the cafeteria. How are you feeling?”

  “My head hurts. What happened?”

  “You don't remember the crash?”

  “Yes, I remember,” Isabel replied as the images of her last moment in the car, upside down, came flooding furiously into her head. “Is everyone OK?” she asked.

  “We will talk about that later. Now it’s time for you to rest to get better,” Marcia responded.

  Isabel felt overwhelmed and tired and fell right back to sleep.

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  “How are you feeling, Ms. Romero?” the man asked.

  Isabel had just woken up and she noticed that the man who asked the question was accompanied by Marcia.

  “Isabel, this is Doctor Herzog. He is the surgeon who operated on you.”

  “Hi,” Isabel simply replied.

  Even from her bed, she could see that Doctor Herzog was very short. He had a faint accent that Isabel guessed to be German. He appeared to be in his late fifties, with faded blond hair, and a bulbous nose. With his coat stretched by his wide body, He looked more like a wrestler than a physician.

  “Good morning, Ms. Romero,” the doctor greeted her. “The nurse told me that you have spoken to Doctor Patterson.”

  “Yes,” Isabel replied. “I spoke with him two days ago.” As she now remembered her meeting with Doctor Patterson, tears ran down Isabel's face. She never imagined herself paralyzed. Doctor Patterson had explained to her that she had suffered a spinal cord injury and proceeded to conduct some invasive tests on the lower part of her body. She could feel but could not move her toes or even her legs much for that matter. She was asked to draw and solve mathematical problems as part of what Doctor Patterson referred to as a typical neurological exam for this type of trauma.

  “Am I paralyzed?” she had asked Doctor Patterson.

  “Paralysis is a loaded word, Ms. Romero,” Doctor Patterson had said. “Paralysis is not determined by an injury but rather by how someone lives her life after an accident such as yours.”

  “Will I be able to walk again?”

  Doctor Patterson, who looked to be Isabel's age, was very handsome. He looked Middle Eastern, with a skin tone that reminded Isabel of an Indian Bollywood singer she saw once in a video.

  “The way I see it,” Doctor Patterson answered, “you have been given a second chance. You didn't have any internal injuries and while you might have suffered an injury to your spine, it was in the lower part of your spine and it was a
n incomplete injury. The fact that you have some sensation and have some movement in your leg is very promising.”

  Isabel had noticed that Doctor Patterson never directly answered the question. Not able to contain herself any longer, Isabel then had started to cry. She had just realized that there was a good chance she might never walk again.

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  “We need to talk to you today about your recovery process,” Isabel heard Marcia say, prompting her to look at them. It's been two and a half weeks since the accident and we're very satisfied with the progress that you are making.

  “If you don't feel up to it now, we can discuss this later. No hurry,” Dr. Herzog added.

  “I am OK,” she simply said. Isabel was grateful that Marcia was there in her meeting with Dr. Herzog. In reality, she had been dreading this meeting that Dr. Patterson had told her would happen.

  “You suffered what we call an Incomplete Spinal Cord Injury,” Doctor Herzog was telling Isabel.

  “Will I be able to walk again?”

  “Incomplete injuries like yours have a better chance of recovery than complete injuries. However, there is no guarantee of any recovery. Right now, there is no test currently available that can make such a prediction,” Doctor Herzog said.

  “We just have to take it one day at a time,” Marcia interjected. When she saw that Isabel remained silent, with tears rolling down her cheeks, Marcia then added, “The most important thing now is to focus on your rehabilitation, and Doctor Herzog and I discussed you continuing therapy at the Kendall Rehabilitation Center as soon as you are able.”

  “Will that help me walk again, Tia Marcia?” Isabel asked addressing her aunt.

  “Maybe. However, that is not the purpose of the therapy. The purpose of the rehabilitation is to become self-reliant, such as dressing yourself and learning how to use a wheelchair. We have arranged for you to be transferred to the Kendall Rehabilitation Center for that.”