19. Chapter Eighteen London
Chapter Eighteen: London
I 'm reviewing a section of the California tax code when a pained yell slices through the air. Our normally quiet office is stirred into chaos, the sounds of typing and printers whirring replaced by frantic footsteps and concerned questions.
I whip my head over to Reginald's desk, where a cluster of people are gathered around.
You'd think it was strange that the IT guy's desk would be in the middle of a law firm, but he commandeered the middle desk and none of us have the heart to kick him out.
Plus, someone is always forgetting their password or needing to access files in a folder they can't find.
When the crowd doesn’t disperse, I join them to see what's going on.
"Reggie! Are you okay?" My heart lurches. Reginald is unconscious, slumped over in his desk chair with one hand clutching his chest. "Somebody call an ambulance!"
Gloria rushes over, her hand finding mine. "Everyone make room! Give him some space to breathe."
Reggie's eyes flutter open, and he wheezes, "My… heart…"
Panic seizes me. Reggie isn't just a coworker—he's a surrogate uncle to me, to all of us at the firm. I would never have guessed he had heart issues. He's always seemed so much younger than his age, like he’d outlive all of us .
"Let's get him some water, and check his bag for medications," Gloria directs. When nobody moves, she gives orders to each person around the desk.
"Reggie, you'll be okay," I say. "I'm on the phone with the ambulance and they should be here soon."
"No… ambulance," he says. "You two… take me."
Gloria and I exchange worried glances. I clear my throat. "Is it the cost? I'll cover it."
I don't even know if Reggie has medical insurance. I mean, I think McMann and Ma has a pretty good benefits package, but maybe it doesn’t cover ambulance rides?
"No…" he wheezes. "Take me to the… hospital."
Giorgio chooses that moment to enter the office, thirty minutes late and carrying a tray of coffees. "Hey guys, what's—Oh."
And that's how Giorgio and I end up slinging Reggie's arms around our shoulders and half-dragging him to Giorgio's car. Gloria sits in the backseat with Reggie, while I sit in the passenger seat.
"Reggie, stay with us," Gloria says, a frisson of worry creeping into her tone. "Do you feel any symptoms aside from chest pain? Dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath?"
He gasps for air, then says, "I think one of those… is pretty… obvious."
We all give dry laughs. Only Reginald would be making jokes while he's being transported to the hospital by Giorgio's breakneck driving speeds.
"I don't think I'm going to… throw up," Reggie says.
"That's good," Gloria says. "Just hang on until we can get you to the hospital, okay?"
The drive to the hospital is mercifully short despite the horrendous traffic. Still, it's tense. My gaze keeps darting to the backseat where Gloria and Reggie are sitting .
I haven't spoken to Gloria much since we had dinner together a few weeks ago. Not because the food was so inedible that it ruined our friendship. But because I think we both admitted things to each other that we're scared to bring up again. Scared to address. So, we've limited our time together to work and carpooling. August 1st inches closer every day, and I wonder if she’s made progress on finding her perfect guy, and that’s why we’ve drifted apart.
We get Reggie inside, where he's ushered into a hospital bed quickly. Did he bribe the nurses?
In a bed, Reggie seems to have improved and his breathing is less laboured. "Sit down and stop fussing over me. I'm not a baby bird with a broken wing."
I snort at his comparison in spite of myself and take a seat next to Gloria. Giorgio is seated on the other side of Reggie's hospital bed. He's been through rounds of tests and we've all been pacing the waiting room, anxiously anticipating news of his results.
"We know, Reggie, we're just worried about you." Gloria shifts in the uncomfortable chair next to mine. I want to grab her hand, but Giorgio turns from watching Reginald to examining me and Gloria.
Just then, the doctor walks in. "Hi everyone, I'm Doctor Eric Machado. You must be Reginald Spiller. And Mr. Spiller, are these your… grandchildren?"
"Coworkers," all three of us say quickly.
Reginald barks a laugh. "I'm not old enough to have grandchildren their age, not yet."
"Well, all your blood tests, EKG scores, and chest x-rays came back normal. In fact, you don't appear to have any of the markers of a heart attack or any other cardiovascular issues," Dr. Machado says.
I frown. Is it possible that Reginald had a panic attack that he mistook for a heart attack ?
"So, we'll discharge you soon. I don't think you need to be held overnight for observation.
Come back if your symptoms get much worse, like a cold sweat, dizziness, or fainting spells.
" Dr. Machado's brows furrow as he casts a glance over our faces.
"Oh, hi Gloria! Tell your cousin Isla I said hi.
And I'm still sorry about, um, everything I did. "
"Will do," she says. The doctor leaves, and both Giorgio and I fix our gaze on Gloria.
"What did Eric Machado do to your cousin?" I ask.
"He proposed to her on their first date," she says casually.
I snicker. Giorgio excuses himself to use the bathroom, claiming he drank too much coffee this morning. But I'm pretty sure he just wants to flirt with a nurse.
Reginald chooses that time to clear his throat, and say, "Alright, I'll admit it. I was faking it."
"You faked a heart attack?" Gloria turns her fiery, indignant eyes on him. "Why?"
"I wanted the two of you to get together," he says calmly. "I noticed the two of you have been avoiding each other. Life is too short to hide your feelings. What if I had had a real heart attack?"
My mind spins with his confession. "But you didn't. You pretended to have a heart attack so we would rush to your bedside?"
"Yes, everyone knows crises gather people together and bring out their true feelings." He looks impatient, like this is an ordinary day in the office and we’ve forgotten to change our email passwords. "So what better place for the two of you to get together than next to my hospital bed?"
"Are you going to call the hospital chaplain and get us married on the spot?" I say. An image of Gloria in a white dress, standing at an altar and vowing to spend the rest of her life with me flashes through my mind, but I swat it away .
"No, but that’s a good idea. I wanted you to give each other a chance. I've always thought you would make a good match, and I don't know why you've always been too scared to admit your feelings for each other." Reginald's voice rises, his face reddening with frustration.
Giorgio chooses the worst possible time to return to the hospital room. One of his cheeks is redder than the other, like he's been slapped.
"Did you get rejected by the nurse?" Gloria asks.
He gingerly touches his pinkened cheek. "What can I say? I like ‘em feisty.”
"See, now Giorgio, that's a man who knows what he wants and goes for it. He doesn't waste time wondering about what-ifs or worrying about whether he'll be rejected." Reggie looks at me pointedly.
"Thanks Reg. I didn't know you felt that way about me." Giorgio's chest puffs up.
"You should be more like Giorgio."
"I should flirt with a woman and get slapped across the face?" I say in disbelief. Maybe I should change law firms. Or jobs.
"Hey, it was a love tap!" Giorgio protests, rubbing his cheek.
"You should take risks," Reggie says. "Be bold. Pursue the woman you obviously care about. If you wait too long, she might not always be around."
"Wow," Giorgio says. "That was a great speech. Super inspiring."
"This has been nice and all," Gloria says, clearly uncomfortable and not just because of the rickety hospital room chair. "But we have to go back to work…"
"Gloria, I was so moved by Reggie's speech, that it inspired me to do something I've been wanting to do for a long time," Giorgio says. He turns toward Gloria, whose expression morphs from irritation to confusion. "Will you go out with me? "
Her mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. She glances at me before turning back to Giorgio, but I'm frozen. Unable to stop the wreck unfolding in front of me. "Um… sure?"
Her acceptance hits me like a blow to the gut. I can practically see her running through her mental checklist. Giorgio is a successful lawyer, charming and outgoing in ways I'll never be, and bold—or reckless—enough to ask out any woman he pleases. He probably wants a family, too.
Giorgio starts rattling off the place he could take her and asking about her schedule. I just stand there mutely, frozen in horror while I avoid eye contact with Reginald.
No doubt he’s shaking his head and mouthing, you blew it .
The rest of the day passes uneventfully.
I get back to my cubicle and continue work on files and case briefings.
All the while, Giorgio crows about his upcoming date with Gloria like he's scored a date with Miss Universe. In my mind, Gloria could beat out any pageant queen. But what’s the use in saying that?
Giorgio may be eccentric, but he's witty and handsome and friendly. He's not a bad guy, even if he is a flirt. I know he'd do anything for a friend, and that's why I can't stand his betrayal.
He knows I like Gloria. I've never said the exact words to him, but he's always ribbed me about asking her out.
And now, for him to ask her on a date—anger curls my fists.
I take a deep breath and put down the document I've been reading for the past thirty minutes without understanding any of it. Taking off my glasses, I clean them as though it will change what I’m seeing.
I was right. There is no hope for me and Gloria, and it was foolish of me to ever think there could be. She'll go off, marry someone else, and be happy and have children with him. I'll be their cool uncle, if we're still friends then.
While she's pushing strollers through the park, balancing work with family, and eating dinner with her husband, I'll be at the office. Alone. Or in my family's house that has never felt like a home, trying to placate my mother's feelings and get my siblings to give a damn about our family's demise.
She'll be happy. She deserves that much.
And me? I'll fulfil the duties and responsibilities that have always fallen on my shoulders: holding my family together like Atlas held up the sky.