Читать книгу Downloads From God: Seven Portals to Peace - Joe B. Adair - Страница 3

Rob glanced out the window at the beautiful view of the river surrounded by new spring foliage and the city of Cedar Rapids in the distance, with its jagged skyline void of the towering sky scrapers he was used to seeing. There was a peace about it that was missing in Chicago, a wonderful and vibrant city, but one that never seemed to relax. He was eagerly anticipating capturing a little of that peace and a good night’s sleep. After spending three nights in the ICU waiting room, a real bed and a hot shower were going to revitalize him. “Thank God Dad has rallied,” Rob whispered under his breath, a combination of a sigh of relief and a prayer.

The intensity of the last three days did not fit with Rob’s usual method for handling difficult situations. He had to get away from the problem, ponder it, and develop a plan. He had not been able to do that this time. If there was a chance his dad was not going to make it, he wanted to be there. His mother had died before he could get to her. He didn’t want that to happen again. Now that his dad was stable and was expected to live, Rob needed to take a break and try to regain an objective perspective.

He impatiently moved over to the elevators, again pressing the button.

“Really slow,” he said, glancing at an attractive woman in a white lab coat. Her name tag indicated she was a resident in family medicine.

“It’s shift change,” she smiled.

He smiled back, trying to keep from noting the ample cleavage that was easy to see anytime she bent forward just a little. “It’s no wonder our country is in moral decay,” he thought to himself, “when doctors dress like sluts.” He nodded and let her explanation about the elevator go without comment.

Locating his car in the parking garage, Rob did a mental calculation of how to get to his dad’s apartment. He felt guilty about the fact that he had only been back to Cedar Rapids a couple of times since his mother’s death, and not once since his dad had moved into a senior apartment complex. After his mother’s death and the sale of his childhood house, it just didn’t feel like he was “coming home.” Now this – his dad with a sudden intestinal blockage and lapsing into a coma. Maybe he would never be able to make up for the missed birthdays and Father’s Days. He did not allow himself to continue that train of thought…he needed to figure out where he was going.

With the aid of his GPS system, Rob finally located the sprawling apartment community with its park-like setting that his dad now called “home.” He easily found the office and introduced himself.

“How is Charlie doing?” the friendly woman at the front desk inquired. “Our Community Outreach nurse was over at the hospital yesterday and said he was still in ICU.”

“Well, he has stabilized,” Rob told her, “but he still has not regained consciousness.”

“Charlie is very resilient,” the woman told him, “We are all optimistic!” She handed Rob the key to his dad’s apartment. “After you called, I had Housekeeping put clean sheets on the bed. I can imagine you’re exhausted.”

Rob thanked her and hurried down the brightly lit corridor to his dad’s apartment. This place was a beehive of activity. No wonder his dad liked living here. Charlie had been a public relations executive for Quaker Oats and had always been a “people person”, outgoing , friendly, and interested in a good story. Rob was more like his mother, quiet and reserved, preferring structure and predictability to his dad’s more creative and free-wheeling nature. Being a tax attorney in a large Chicago firm was a perfect fit for Rob. Someone else recruited the clients, he did the work.

Locating the apartment, he carefully opened the door and was surprised to see how bright and cheery it was. The walls were gold with white trim. Bright orange and chocolate brown accents in the chairs, pillows, and wall decorations looked like something out of a decorating magazine. Over the sofa was a folk art painting of his dad’s beloved Hawkeyes playing in Kinnick Stadium. This apartment did not look at all like something his mom would put together. It was way too cheery. Moving into the equally well-decorated bedroom, he threw his bag on a chair and headed for the hot shower he had been anticipating, then fell into bed.

Twelve hours later, Rob awoke to the sun beginning to climb up over the horizon, its orange and gold framed by the window much like a perfectly matching piece of art for the color scheme in his dad’s apartment. He moved from the bedroom to the little kitchen to look for some coffee and was pleasantly surprised to find a fresh bag of Starbucks French Roast. As he waited for the coffee to brew, Rob realized he had no idea what his dad was really all about these days. His mom had always bought Maxwell House. She would never have even considered something else.

Rob had always assumed his mom and dad had similar values and taste preferences. Starbucks? He wondered what other things about his dad would surprise him.

Flipping on the television, Rob switched the channel from CNN to his preference, Fox News. He had been largely out of touch with what was happening in the world for the last few days since getting the call that his dad had been rushed to the hospital. The news looked like nothing much had changed – same issues, same outrage.

Rob checked in with his office. No news there, either. He really didn’t have anyone else who would care where he was…he let that thought go. Next he called his dad’s sister, Lila, in Florida but got her voice mail and had to simply leave a message about his dad’s status.

Finishing his coffee and getting dressed, Rob realized he was really hungry. Hospital food had not been much more than barely tolerable. He became intent on figuring out someplace to get something substantial to eat, and, at some level, to at least temporarily avoid the intensity of his silent dad lying in a hospital bed.

On his way out of his dad’s apartment, Rob was stopped by two tiny gray haired women. They seemed very friendly but flustered. “We want you to give Charlie our best,” the smaller one finally blurted out and the other one nodded.

“I certainly will,” Rob told them, moving down the hall to avoid the need for further discussion.

“You know he’s changed everyone’s life since he got that e-mail from God!” she yelled after him.

He took about three steps and then turned around. They had his attention, but they had gone into an apartment and he saw the door closing. “Whatever,” Rob thought, “probably a symptom of dementia.”

Before returning to the hospital, Rob took a detour to Perkins for breakfast. Perkins held decades of memories for him: childhood breakfasts after church; burgers after the little league wins; late night food after the prom; and even sitting with his mom and dad in the booth near the door three years ago. There he delivered the shattering news. He and Angelina were divorcing and she was moving back to Argentina with Arianna, their twelve year old daughter. He could hear his mother’s passionate plea to go after her, make it work somehow, remember their commitment to “family values.” By then, though, all the good will was gone. He was content to have his daughter a few weeks every summer.

As he relived that day, a cold feeling rolled over him. It was for the best! Enough of the past – time to focus on the now.