The spacious private hospital room with the luxurious clothes, a television with a DVD player, a CD player, the smartphone, luxury fashion accessories, and luxury runners, suddenly made more sense to him. “I do understand—better.”
“But you have to go now before they come back.”
Jacob wandered disconsolately over to the hospital cafeteria and gift shop, and then went shopping downtown and bought gifts for her and the baby: stuffed toys, a couple of books, chocolates, perfumes, and a Blue Jays jersey and baseball cap. He called her in the hospital room, but when she finally answered the telephone she complained she was busy with little Jacob. When he tried to visit her and the baby in the maternity ward again, he was turned away by a stocky security guard, stationed outside the door of her private room, who consulted a clipboard, and said he wasn’t on the list of permitted visitors.
Her parents, dressed in a tuxedo and nightdress, appeared as if they were going out for a night at the opera, the symphony orchestra, or live theater. Sipping Starbucks coffee in takeout cups, they stood and chatted with a nurse, a physician, and another security guard outside the nursing station. He realized that was probably exactly what transpired: they were expecting to attend the opera or musical theater and their plans for a night on the town were rudely interrupted after their daughter went into labor and gave birth to their baby. When her parents noticed him standing awkwardly in the hallway, they, looking uncomfortable, glared and scowled at him. Their facial expressions told him he was not invited, not welcome to their daughter’s private hospital room, even if he was the father of their newborn grandchild, the son of their only daughter, who was living literally a drug addict on the streets. He reminded himself he was there to see Olivia and his son, Jacob, but he wasn’t interested in creating a scene. Then an armed, uniformed police officer strode down the corridor from the opposite end of the hospital and chatted with Olivia’s parents. As he glanced over at her, he made a few notes in his black notepad book and then spoke into the radio handset clipped on his shoulder. When the police officer started to stride briskly towards him, he interpreted his movements as a warning wisely worth heeding. He realized he had outlived his usefulness and the tepid welcome.
He supposed he was just a sperm donor to Olivia and her parents, who wished he would remain anonymous or a nonentity. Uninterested in what this police officer might say, he quickly strolled down the clean, polished, antiseptic corridor. He skipped the elevator and hurried down the fire exits stairwells until he merged with the cool evening of a back street off University Avenue in downtown.
He returned home on the next transcontinental passenger train out west to Sioux Lookout. Upon arrival, he learned the trainmaster told him the railroad company completed the accident investigation and thought his conduct was exemplary. Then, as he continued to work as a freight train engineer for the railroad and gained more experience, he awaited her call, especially around the time of their baby’s birthday, but weeks and months passed. The freight trains continued to run at an increasing rate through his hometown, just as the passenger train schedule was cut, just as he gained more experience as an engineer and piloted freights filled with automobiles, grain, potash, oil, coal, and every conceivable type of cargo along the railroad across Northwestern Ontario. Still, he continued to expect and anticipate hearing from Olivia, but her call never came.
1 Comment
Well scripted. Is this the end?