CHAPTER TWELVE
Mitch’s brother put him in touch with the volunteer coordinator for the hospital, and he’d made arrangements over the phone to come in that Thursday after work.
Because he was a police officer and an ER doc’s brother, the coordinator let the background check and training class slide and just asked him to come in a little early to fill out some paperwork. He’d have to do the training later.
Thursday finally rolled around, and Mitch was set to meet up with Johnny a little before six at the hospital. He’d purposely scheduled his volunteer time on this particular day in order to keep his mind off what it meant to him.
Today marked the second anniversary of Jimmy’s death.
Mitch planned to stay busy enough that the thoughts and feelings always lurking in the back of his mind couldn’t catch up with him.
Shoplifters, vandals, and car accidents kept them running from call to call all day.
Adam hadn’t come right out and said anything about it, but Mitch interpreted his somber and sincere attitude as a sign of acknowledgment and respect.
“All right, chief, I’m outta here,” said Adam.
They were in the locker room, changed, and ready to head out.
Adam gave him a slap on the back and a sympathetic smile.
“If you want to grab a drink later, let me know. I’ll be around.
” He kept it casual, but Mitch got the message. He was there for him if he needed it.
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.” The sudden lump in his throat made him turn away with a cough. He was a little surprised to realize he actually meant it. He did appreciate it.
He took a cab to his favorite sandwich shop and, after scarfing down a double turkey on wheat, walked the rest of the way to the hospital.
Arriving ten minutes early, he used the time to call Jenny and the boys.
They seemed to be doing all right. Neither of them brought up Jimmy, but each knew the other was thinking about him.
She invited him out to the beach house for the weekend, and he told her he’d think about it but not to count on him.
Johnny had been busy with a patient when he arrived. No stranger to breaking dates to deal with an emergency, he asked the nurse to let Johnny know he’d try to stop by again on his way out. He made his way to the third floor and reported to the volunteer services desk.
“Hello. I’m Mitch MacDonald. I spoke with someone earlier this week about helping out today.”
The pretty brunette at the counter had been watching him since he got off the elevator and was staring at him wide-eyed.
She closed her mouth and blinked. “Uh, yes, of course. Cynthia told me you’d be coming in today.
She has you lined up to help in orthopedic recovery.
You can report to the front desk on the fifth floor, and they’ll tell you what to do.
Also, I’ll need you to fill out this paperwork before you head up. ”
She smiled coyly and handed him a clipboard with a few pieces of paper and a pen attached. “Don’t forget to put your phone number.”
“Sure, no problem. Be right back.” She was cute, but too young. He filled out what he needed to and then headed upstairs.
They put him to work helping patients who’d recently had surgery get up and walk around. The head nurse gave him specific instructions for each patient.
“I’ll tell you exactly what each patient needs and how much they can take.
We’ll start with Mrs. Lewandowski. She had a hip replacement a week ago and should be able to do two laps, walking slowly and with the walker, around the ward.
You’re there to keep her steady, help her if she needs it, and get her back to her room in one piece. Sound good?”
How hard could it be? “Sure, let’s do it.”
He spent the next hour helping little old ladies hobble around on new joints.
One younger guy had hurt his knee playing softball and bitched the whole time about how he didn’t need any help.
He had to eat his words and say thank you after he tripped and would have gone down hard if Mitch hadn’t caught him mid-fall.
“Okay, last patient for today. I saved the best for last,” the nurse said with a smile. “Mr. Barnet is one of the few surviving World War II vets in the country. He’s quite the character. I think you’ll like him.”
They entered the small, all-white room. Mr. Barnet glanced over from his TV, where Jeopardy was playing at top volume. “Oh God, Marge, now what? Can’t a man get any peace in this place? Who’s this guy?”
Mr. Barnet had to be in his nineties and looked it. He was bald and wrinkled, but had intense, alert blue eyes that indicated not much got past him. He farted loudly and looked away. Mitch suppressed a laugh.
The nurse reached up and turned off the TV. “Mr. Barnet, this is Mitch MacDonald. He’s here to take you for a walk. You need to get that hip moving. I expect your best behavior.”
“Come on, Marge, I’m an old man. Give me a break. Just this once?” His dentured smile did nothing to persuade her.
“Not a chance. Get your ass out of that bed and get moving.”
Mitch chuckled at the nurse’s bossy command and jumped in. “Hey, Mr. Barnet. I saw some pretty hot numbers down the hall, what do you say we go check ’em out?” He moved to help the old man out of bed.
“Stop trying to look at my butt, Marge! You think this is some sort of peep show?” Mr. Barnet scowled at the nurse who Mitch knew was named Beth.
“Fine, I’m leaving. Two laps tonight, Mr. Barnet and not one step less.” She left the room laughing.
“Mean little thing, isn’t she?” Mr. Barnet had a mischievous grin as he struggled out of bed and slid into his slippers.
“I’m sure she means well,” Mitch said. He liked the old coot. “You ready to take a stroll?”
“At least you’d be able to catch me if I fell.” He grabbed his walker and maneuvered it out the door. “What are you doing here helping old farts like me, anyway? Young, handsome fella like yourself. You must have better things to do.”
“Well, if you must know, I was tricked into coming here. I think it’s supposed to be penance for being such an asshole or something like that.”
“Humph, honest at least,” he snorted.
They took their first lap and a half without incident.
They talked amicably while making slow progress around the ward.
Mitch told him about what he did for a living and then found out about Mr. Barnet’s family.
His wife had passed on a few years ago, and he now lived alone in the house he’d lived in for the last fifty years.
His kids, grandkids, and great-grandkids visited as often as they could, which usually meant once a month or less.
In Mitch’s mind, that didn’t seem like much.
Halfway into the second lap, Mr. Barnet slowed considerably and became winded.
“Why don’t we rest a sec? I’m getting tired,” Mitch suggested.
“Don’t bullshit me, young man. I know damn good and well you’re not tired. I am, though, so I will rest a second.” He sat on his walker, which was also designed to be a seat. “Maybe we ought to head back,” he said, nodding toward his room.
The ward was a big circle, so whether they headed back or kept going, they had about the same amount of distance to cover. “We may as well finish the lap. I don’t want to get fired, and you heard Beth. She seemed pretty serious about you getting two laps in.”
“Ugh, all right. Help me back up, eh?” Mitch did, and they continued on slowly.
“Why do you call all the nurses Marge?” he asked. A half a dozen nurses had engaged them in conversation along the way, and each time Mr. Barnet had called them Marge.
“I’m an old man. I can’t be bothered to learn everyone’s name. I just call ’em all Marge. Easier that way.”
Mitch laughed. “Must be nice being old. You can do whatever the hell you want, and no one complains.”
Mr. Barnet smiled at that. “One of the few good things.”
They made it back, and Mitch helped him into bed. “You did great, Mr. B. How’s that hip holding up?”
“Oh, it’s fine. I have no idea why they even bother fixing me up,” he scowled. “I’m gonna die any day now anyway. What’s the point?”
“I’m sure a stubborn old bugger like you has a few good years left.”
“Will I see you again, Bob?”
It only took him a second to figure out what he meant. “I assume all the men you meet you call Bob then?”
Mr. Barnet smiled. “You catch on quick, son.”
“I’m not sure what they’ll have me doing each week, but I’ll stop in and see you even if they don’t have me working on this floor. Would that be all right?”
“Whatever. Could you hit the power on the TV on your way out?”
Mitch had been out late the night before.
A couple of times a month he’d make his rounds, working his contacts trying to get information about Manuel.
Where was he? What was he doing these days?
He rarely garnered much useful information but needed to stay in touch and make sure his contacts didn’t forget about him.
Sooner or later, someone would know something, and he needed to be available when that finally happened.
He hadn’t gotten anything concrete the night before, but he did hear a rumor that there might be an officer inside the NYPD who was helping Manuel stay one step ahead of the police.
This came from a convenience store owner who overheard a conversation between two, not-so-bright men shopping for beer not too long ago.
There wasn’t anything he could follow up on immediately, but he would keep his eyes open at work. The problem was, there were so many NYPD officers, he might never find the mole.
Once he finished his hospital shift, he no longer felt like meeting up with Johnny.
He was tired and morose and had used up all his good humor on the fifth floor.
He thought for a second about Adam’s invitation to get a drink but dismissed the idea quickly.
He already knew where he was heading, and it wasn’t the kind of place you went with a buddy to shoot the shit.
It was the kind of place you went when you wanted to get drunk fast with no questions asked.