The Apocalypse Of Hagren Roose, Page 3

  “C’mon now, I always bring you coffee,” the male voice said. A minor, if playful, argument ensued, followed by an emphatic female voice.

  “What other nurse?”

  “The one fillin’ in for Ellie,” said the male, sounding insulted. “There ain’t no other nurse, Apollo. Tammy’s here tonight. Did you catch her name?”

  The man’s voice took on a defensive tone. “Hell, I don’t know her name,” he declared, “we never swapped names while we was talkin’.” A clipboard slapped against the counter, dropped to make a statement. “So, where’d she go?”

  The woman leaning over the patient heard no reply, only the jiggle of a chair as it was pushed backward in a hurry. She leaned in close to his ear while softly stroking his hand.

  “Stay with me Hagren,” she whispered. “You can’t give up yet.”

  Two silhouettes appeared in the doorway, the taller one curvier and more agitated than its companion. “Apollo, I swear, sometimes I seriously wonder what the hell goes through that head of yours.” Linda turned to leave, throwing her hands in the air. Apollo stood firm, trying to peer past the dimness and catch the nurse he’d been talking to. The only other soul in the room was the patient.

  THE TRUNK OF Alina’s economy car had no monopoly on space. As she stuffed the four largest duffel bags inside, Catherine complained that a mischief of mice would find the space confining. Their overcoats, umbrellas, and two other suitcases were tossed into the back seat.

  On the way out they stopped for gas and their requisite coffee. The conversation and coffee was enough to keep Alina attentive for the first two hours of the trip, but the weight of the past couple days and almost incessant dreary weather, combined with the hum of the road, settled upon her barely halfway to their destination. Catherine took the wheel with simple instructions to drive until the Nita off-ramp; Alina filled the gap between the front seats with an overcoat, and, laying her head on Catherine’s lap, quickly drifted to sleep to the wet sweeping of the windshield wipers.

  When Catherine woke her two hours later she could see a halo of clouds around the full moon that hung from the top edge of the windshield. “Rise and shine, princess,” Catherine said as she stroked Alina’s hair. Her warm smile quickly gave way to a distressed frown. “Oh my—I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean—-“ Alina leaned up and rubbed Catherine’s arm. “It’s okay. Really.” She smiled as she tousled her naptime hair. “Pull over when you’re ready and I’ll take over.”

  After taking a few minutes to stretch their limbs and let the bracing night air slap them awake, Alina resumed the drive. The rain had abated and the road was ink black and saturated. The familiarity of the area was overpowering, not that she felt much kinship to it. Still, despite the dark’s aptitude for cloaking she could easily discern some places from well-lit memories: the aged, formidable oak tree by Batten Creek where she had her first kiss from a boy—and hated it; the old Stapley barn, its outline looking every bit like a capsized ark in the light of the full moon; Diggets Hill, where she would sled with friends until her lips were blue, and then plead with her father for “just a couple more runs” before they would leave, dusted with snow and smiles.

  “You alright,” Catherine asked, quickly burning through the fog of her detachment. Alina forced a smile and sighed. “Yeah, just thinking.” Catherine’s expression was a mix of curiosity and concern. “About?”

  Alina nodded toward the muted scenery. “This. It should feel like home, you know.” Catherine could see Alina’s smirk in the pale luminescent light from the dashboard. “But?”

  “You can’t put lipstick on a caterpillar.”

  THE THUNDERCLAP BELLOWED from every direction as it rebounded and channeled itself through Nita’s many hills and valleys. Jodi Roose bolted upright from her late nap on the couch, heart pounding and eyes wide as saucers.

  The digital clock cast a soft, candy-red glow into the darkened living room. Seven-thirty—she’d only slept for an hour. Sleeping at the hospital had been almost impossible. What little dozing she could do at home was paltry at best; a heavy conscience seldom rests well, no matter how soft the pillow.

  Her stomach gurgled, a reminder that she had not eaten since the small bowl of cottage cheese in the hospital cafeteria that morning. Alina and Catherine would not arrive for almost two hours. Years ago the trio would have met at the restaurant and sequestered themselves in a booth, eating and talking until closing time. Neither of the girls had stepped foot near the restaurant in four years, and Jodi rarely went anymore. Instead she would throw together some crackers and cheese; appropriate choices in light of recent events. Another stuttering gurgle broke the silence.

  Something small would suffice for now.

  Leaning across the couch, she lifted her purse from the antique side table—the first piece of furniture she and Hagren had bought together; exhaustion, for the moment, overrode her desire to cry. Purse dangling from her forearm, she trudged toward the kitchen. Her entrance tripped a motion sensor, switching on the lights. On the counter, a white ball of fur in a large, empty fruit basket raised its head lazily. Setting the purse down, she scooped the cat up, petting it softly.

  “Nitty,” Jodi admonished, “you know better than that.” Two brown eyes stared up at her as if to ask so what are you going to do about it? Jodi nuzzled the cat then rubbed their noses together. For a moment woman and feline stood motionless, petrified in the kind of stillness that only a long forgotten memory could summon.

  The kitten joined the family after three-year-old Alina had spent a full five minutes squealing with delight at a precocious white poof of a cat in a large pet store window. The noses of child and kitten touched and parted a hundred times on the way home. The little girl had trouble pronouncing the hard ‘k’ in “kitty,” but repeated “nitty” so many times that it seemed ridiculous to name it anything else.

  Jodi gently lowered Nitty to the floor then pointed toward the darkened living room. “Now go wait for Alina,” she directed. “Alina’s coming home!” Nitty ignored her, preferring instead to rub against her legs, her tail twitching.

  Jodi rummaged through her purse, withdrawing an individually wrapped fortune cookie she had saved from a small dinner of sweet and sour chicken her first evening at the hospital. The food had been decent enough, but the chit chat of the staff around her made eating in the ICU sound as attractive as shopping for insurance. She cracked it open, popping fully half the biscuit into her mouth. Leaning on the counter, she held up the thin, white strip of paper to see what randomness fate had gifted her with: The rain always ends eventually. Too tired to either discount or consider the notion, she tossed the slip upon the counter, then set to making coffee and snacks.

  THE CAR’S HEADLIGHT beams bounced against the rear end of her mothers’ vehicle as Alina slowly rolled into the driveway. Large drops from the recent cloudburst twinkled and blinked as they reflected the light, then disappeared when she cut the engine. For a moment, the only sound was that of the engine cooling down in the humid darkness.

  The sharp squeak of a screen door being pushed open melded with the mellow groan of a well-used car door hinge. Jodi Roose stepped into the jaundiced porch light, her first smile in weeks emerging. “Hi baby!” she called, arms spread wide.

  Alina bounded up the concrete porch steps leaving Catherine to get the bags from the back seat. “Hi mom!” she cried, arms equally outstretched. Mother and daughter embraced, erasing months of separation, but opening an invisible gateway to dire matters.

  HAGREN STOOD AND watched Lauren shuffle parchment around, seeming to sort them in a manner of order only she could possibly understand. He wanted to read them, to know the extent of her quiet deliberations. Upon deeper consideration he felt a more fervent desire to have this matter done with. He still had no idea where he was, yet felt the unmistakable pressure of accountability, with low odds of providing any kind of defense. A morbid chill made him shiver—he felt noticeably more feeble than when he arrived.


  Another woman appeared in the doorway, startling Hagren. “Jesus! Doesn’t anybody knock around here?”

  Lauren looked up and smiled. “She doesn’t have to knock, Mr. Roose” she said smartly. “Parisa, this is my client, Hagren Roose.” The woman bowed slightly in Hagren’s direction, the pale sanguine hem of her raiment brushed the floor as she did.

  He watched, unnerved, as Lauren handed her folder of documents—presumably about him—to Parisa. They exchanged a few whispers before the lithe brunette nodded and departed.

  “My apologies, Mr. Roose. Parisa is delivering my work to Mr. Petros in advance of our appointment.” Hagren could do little to contain the sinking feeling he had, much like he used to get when he would be sent to the principal’s office, and like those truancy visits, he stared at his feet, too. Those were dilemmas of immaturity. These troubles were far more profound.

  He looked up at Lauren, standing with perfect posture before him. She was smiling, an expression he began to think might be permanent for her. “Time to go?” he asked faintly.

  She nodded. “Yes. Are you ready?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Then you will be answering from you heart and not your head.”

  “But she just left with your paperwork, right? Doesn’t this Petros guy need time for review?” His dread kicked in to overdrive to formulate stall tactics.

  “No, Hagren. He has been doing this far longer than you or I can imagine.”

  “I’d feel better if we gave him a little more time,” he said, smiling weakly.

  “I’m sure you would, but we don’t have the time, Mr. Roose.” He was sure her smile was meant to calm, but it wasn’t working. He shuffled forward as she gestured to the door, positive that he epitomized the expression ‘dead man walking’. A group of odd symbols, distinct but unfamiliar to him, were showcased above the portal. He hadn’t noticed them before, and turned to ask, hoping for a lengthy discussion about their origins and meaning. A glance from Lauren was all it took to keep his lips together beneath the thicket of his moustache.

  Ushered through the door he dropped his gaze again, feeling both pride and courage draining from his resolve. Shoving his hands in his pockets he stepped forward, promptly bumping into Lauren.

  Both immediately regarded each other. Hagren instinctively thought of saying “excuse me” or “I’m sorry,” but the incident was minor, far below his personal level requiring an apology. A sidestep settled the issue as far as he was concerned.

  JODI ROOSE SMILED through her exhaustion as she swapped gossip and light talk with her daughter and Catherine. Buoyed in spirit by their arrival, physically she felt like an anchor. Adrenaline, fed by caffeine, propped her up during a night that never seemed to end.

  She watched Alina stroke Nitty, who sat on her lap, tail twitching. The girls giggled amid stories about the bookstore and anecdotes of Alina’s clients and their woeful tastes in interior design. It had been too long since her living room felt so warm with life; the news she had to deliver would frost matters considerably.

  Jodi hadn’t fully primed herself to broach the topic before Alina unknowingly backed into it. “Mom, you look terrible. Your eyes are so dark. Are you okay?”

  “I haven’t been sleeping well, that’s all.” She saw Catherine shoot her daughter a questioning glance.

  “C’mon. Spill it. You wouldn’t have asked me to come up if you were just tired.”

  “True.” Her mother paused for a moment, unsure where to begin. Though curtate, the delay was too much for Alina.

  “Oh my Go—are you having an affair?” Catherine’s jaw dropped open. Jodi recoiled from both the idea and Alina’s expression; that this was the first indirect mention of her father since they had arrived did not escape her attention.

  “Good Lord, no. If only—“ Alina and Catherine looked at each other. “If only what?” Catherine blurted.

  “If only it were that—” she paused, eyes darting as she sought the right word, “simple.” Two plus two was simple, so were boiling water and mac-and-cheese. Simple would have been telling her daughter of the growing rift between her and her father back when it started—simple, and disproportionately impossible. She had made excuses for his sake and her safety. What had once been a dimple was now a crater, and she had to begin filling it in.

  Jodi waited for one of them to fire the first salvo, to give her something to rally around. The pair sat facing her, silent. Even Nitty was staring at her. The enormity of the moment made itself known. In her left hand trembled her coffee cup, while her right wiped away renewed tears.

  “Mom, what is it?” Jodi struggled for composure. “I should have told you long ago, Ally,” she began, reaching for a tissue.

  “Told me what?” Alina scooted to the edge of the couch, suddenly upright and tense.

  A litany of minor arguments and disagreements boiled upward from her conscience. Every word, every instance colored by her self-imposed shame. She began with the talks she had with Hagren about Alina’s affinity for Catherine, and how she dismissed his full-throated misgivings as “Nita-lithic,” so punitive he had been in his backwater judgment. Without embellishment she related how increasingly distant her father had become and how she fumed—then railed—over his ill-advised prioritizing of his standing on the town council over his relationship with his daughter—an “emotional embargo” she’d termed it. Reminders of recitals, softball games, horseback riding, and tea parties in her room as a little girl were thrust forward to jolt him back to reality.

  Her voice and words became angry and percussive, like hail on a tin roof. For twenty minutes she spoke without interruption. Her accounts culminated after telling how his newfound fondness for liquor created such animosity that both parents all but gave up on one another. Hagren had been ousted to the living room, sleeping on the couch, and in short order began coming home with less frequency. The violence that followed was half-hearted and certainly not from the man she had fallen in love with. She’d evicted him and obtained a restraining order.

  When she finally looked up again she could see Alina with her elbows on her knees, both hands covering her mouth; Catherine was tenderly rubbing her back.

  Alina’s voice cracked as she tried to speak. “Where is he now, mom?”

  Jodi sighed, emotionally and physically spent. “At the hospital, in the ICU.” She watched Alina’s eyes. They were distant. She knew the look well having seen it more than once in the mirror. Her only child was watching her world crumble before her. Catherine wrapped her arm supportively around Alina’s shoulders and asked what Alina couldn’t at that moment. “What happened?”

  Jodi closed her eyes and leaned back in the overstuffed chair. The monkey was off her back, but now sat in her lap, pressing her into the chair. “I wasn’t sure where he had gone. He never called or came back. I didn’t know where he was until the ER nurse called me.” She sipped her coffee in the uneasy silence. Despite having both hands around the mug it still trembled.

  “Your father had been staying in that two-story rat hole a block from the restaurant.”

  “The LMT?” Alina asked, incredulous. “That’s the one.” Catherine looked from Alina to Jodi. “LMT?”

  “The Love Me Tender motel,” Alina replied, utterly unable to stop a wry smirk at the mere mention of the name. “Locals refer to it as “the LMT,” as if they were ordering a sandwich.”

  Jodi nodded and then continued. “Remember Grizzled Bill?” Alina barely nodded. “Apparently old Bill saw the whole thing and called for help. Police got there first and found him lying unconscious next to an old T-Bird with a smashed windshield and a large impact indent on the hood. Half his face was covered in blood.” Alina’s hands flew to her mouth again. “The police found an ice bucket on its side near the second floor railing. They think he,” she paused to look down and shake her head, “they told me they think he was probably howling drunk and accidentally dumped a bunch of ice on the concrete, slipped on it
, then flipped over the rail, hitting the windshield with his head.” Alina looked disbelievingly at her mother. “That’s what old Bill said he saw and the evidence supported his story.”

  Catherine suddenly coughed once, then again, her palm shooting up to conceal her mouth. She cleared her throat in a weak attempt to suppress her amusement. Her untimely reaction dismantled the uncomfortable tension that had built and was beginning to compress. “If I wasn’t so flippin’ exhausted,” Jodi said, “I’d probably laugh with you, Cath.”

  “Mom!” Alina protested.

  “What? Honey, once the tragedy of it stops burning you’ll be able to appreciate, as Cath does, the comedic side.” Alina flung a scornful stare at Catherine. “But that’s my father—your husband!” she spat.

  Mother touched child’s cheek. “I may be many things, sweetie, but one thing I surely am not is perfect. Your father’s actions toward me are one thing. All the arguments and insults, every cruelty, each indignity he showered me with are my—no, our shame to cope with.” Slowly she stood up, shaky and unbalanced from her familial confession, and gently taking her daughter’s hand silently requested her to do the same. Then tenderly placing her fingertips against each cheek, she finished. “But the way he treated you, Ally . . . a daughter he loved so much . . . that was beyond my ability to forgive.” A mother’s kiss on the nose sealed the matter from further discussion. “I can only hope you might understand my morbid sense of triumph at your father’s condition. Neither of us deserved what we got. We just wanted our family, like it used to be. But he wanted a kingdom . . . so we got a tyrant instead.”