Jarrod Jackson walked into his house mesmorized by the scent of flowers.  Halle, his 6 year old daughter,  had outdone herself this time by picking what Jarrod assumed was “the most flowers ever.”  This assumption came from a promise made by Halle herself the day before.  She picked flowers everyday from the bushes his wife planted years before, and when Jarrod sarcastically quipped that “the house could use more flowers,” her promise to pick “the most flowers ever” brought on a huge smile.

Jarrod loved Halle like any father  loves his daughter, except more.  She was everything to him, and he loved coming in from the station every day, walking into his house, and seeing her run into his arms.

Today he said hi to Karen Krittle the babysitter, then walked towards the room he knew Halle would be in, and of course here she came as fast as she could.
“Hey Halle,” he said tenderly as her lightweight frame and long blond hair leaped into him.  A mosquito could have done more damage, but the feeling was so amazing.  “Were you a good girl for Karen today?”
“I tried to be.  But I might have been bad once.”  Karen smiled from across the room, nodding no way in silence behind her back.
“Oh well, I know you can be better next time” He said with a big smirk on his face and tickle in his fingers as Halle laughed in return.

Karen said goodbye for the evening to Jarrod and Halle and walked out of the house, leaving Jarrod and Halle alone for the time being.
“What are we going to do tonight dad?”
“After dinner, maybe if you eat all of it, we’ll go get some ice cream for dessert?  How does that sound?”
Halle’s eyes blew up huge.  “Really?  Ice cream?  That’s amazing!  I’ll eat it all daddy.  Promise.”
“Well then, we’ll be going for ice cream,” the father patted the daughter on the head and sent her to wash up for dinner.  At 6’4″ and solid in frame, Jarrod hovered over his daughter like a mythical giant over the normal people of the world.  His size worked for his occupation as a Oakham police officer in Central Massachusetts, really close to the ends of the earth.

Real crime in Oakham happened once a month, and with Halle waiting for him to arrive home every day, that was no problem for him.  His real excitement started when he was off the clock.  As he started to place the Macaroni and Cheese that karen had made earlier in the day in the oven, he pondered how fulfilled his life had become.  He never thought it would be this way, but it was this way and more.

He didn’t move very gracefully across the kitchen quite yet, and he was thankful for the ways that karen went beyond what he paid her for childcare, like preparing the evening dinner for Jarrod and Halle.  She said it was much better than seeing them eat McDonald every night.  Jarrod guessed that she was correct.

Twenty minutes went by and they felt like forty as he tried to find the right utensils, plates, cups, and what to put in the cups.  Jarrod loves his Mountain Dew, and he was thrilled that Halle hated it.  Water was always good enough for her, just like her mom.  He called to Halle to come down for dinner, very proud that everything was ready.

Another 5 minutes went by and Jarrod ran out of things to do.  He called again, and heard nothing.  Immediately he imagined the worst and ran up the stairs towards her bedroom.  She sat on her bed, appearing okay, but with tears in her eyes.  “Sweetheart, are you okay?”  Jarrod said without scaring her, but with enough intensity to show his concern.
“Daddy, my tummy hurts,” she whimpered softly, allowing his heart to melt just a bit before he answered.
“Oh, it’s okay sweetheart, let’s lay you down here in bed.  I’ll bring some dinner up to you in a few minutes if you feel better.”
“Daddy, am I gonna be in trouble?”
“No, baby, why would you say that?”
She just peered over at the corner of the bed.  Jarrod needed to stand and walk around that corner to see where her eyes were.  As he turned and looked, a pile of vomit mixed with blood stared back at him.
He quickly turned to Halle.  “What happened Halle?  Is this yours?”  He felt kind of stupid asking the question because she was the only one in the room, but she had nothing on her clothes.
She just looked up at him with big eyes, then held her stomach and groaned a sad and pitiful sound.

Immediately Jarrod cradled his daughter in his arms and headed out the door, down the stairs and into the garage.  He wished he had cleaned it out because he was forced to wiggle his way through countless boxes that he had never unpacked when they moved into this house.  Finally he found the 2005 Nissan Sentra he would be driving to the hospital, and gently placed Halle inside the back seat.

Running back inside to grab his keys and his cell phone, he tripped on one of the boxes again, and this time, almost broke his foot in the process.  This might be fitting, he thought since he was going to the hospital.

Finally in his car, he backed out of the garage, and almost hit Karen’s car on the way out.  I told her not to leave it here again after work hours without telling me, he thought to himself, realizing that mistakes happen and he had more important things to deal with at the moment.  Occasionally Karen’s husband Bob would pick her up from the house and they would leave the car overnight in the driveway.  This was fine with Jarrod, but he was afraid he would hit the car if he was ever in a hurry to leave.  Like at a time such as this.

The drive to UMASS University Campus was about a half hour.  To live  as far away as he could from the world in a place like Oakham always seemed so wonderful until today.  Now he couldn’t get into Worcester fast enough. He was a cop, after all, and it would be easier to get forgiveness than permission, right?  Halle seemed okay, but he wasn’t taking chances.  He’d already lost his wife, and this circumstance was doing an amazing job helping to remind him of that fact.

Halle looked so much like Chloe, her mother, and the love of his life, that every time he turned around, he could see his wife lying back there, in a much bigger car, but with the same awkward groaning and facial expressions.  His foot kept pushing harder on the accelerator at each thought that strolled through his head.

They finally arrived at the emergency room, where he parked at the  front glass doors of the newly designed wing, and quickly threw the keys to the valet parking guy in the red polo shirt, who for some reason was taking his time getting to the car.  It doesn’t matter, Jarrod thought grabbing the back door and reaching in for his daughter, who by this time seemed to be mostly asleep.

Moving swiftly into the rotating automatic doors, Jarrod headed straight for the nurses station.
“May I help you?” she said quickly, realizing there was some gravity to this situation.
“Yes, my daughter, pretty all of a sudden, started complaining about a stomach ache, then she showed me a place near her bed where she had vomited some stuff and it was mixed with blood and she needs to see someone very quick.”  He was urgent in his delivery, understanding what it takes to see someone in emergency rooms, in America, Canada, or anywhere else in the world.

A female nurse, hearing the uproar, and seeing the 6 year old girl in his arms, motioned the man in the Oakham police polo and kacki shorts to bring her to the table next to her about 15 feet away.  He immediately obeyed.

“Thanks for seeing her so quick.  Really quick actually.”
“Well, keep in mind I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse, and I’m just doing a preliminary examination, to see where we stand right now.  In a few minutes, you’re going to have to give your information to the front desk, so we have a long way to go.
Now honey”, she said to the recently wakened Halle, “Tell me what hurts.”

“My tummy” the girl said almost inaudibly
“How long have you had this tummy ache sweetie?”
“Right before dinner.  Daddy was going to make me Mac and Cheese,” she said smiling.
“Yum, I love Mac and cheese,” the nurse said repaying the smile, then looking at Jarrod.  “Okay, Mr…?”
“Crowe, Jarrod Jackson.”
“Okay Mr. Jackson, what I need you to do is to take this sweet girl back into the waiting room and make sure she’s as comfortable as possible until the doctor is able to see her tonight.”
“What?”  he said shocked.  “Did you hear what I told the other nurse?  She vomited blood.  That sounds like she needs help now.  Right now!”  He said this loud enough to cause the security guard at th front desk to walk back and extend his chest.
“Sir, she is going to be fine.  I know what to look for in an emergency, and I know how she’s doing, and right now, there are others we have to look at, okay?”

He just stood there for what seemed like 5 minutes, but actually was like 5 seconds, and gazed at her and the security guard and his beautiful daughter.  She looked scared now because he looked scared, so he scooped her into his arms and carried her slowly past the front desk into the waiting room.  He laid her down on a long brown leather flat chair and sat next to her, whispering in her ear to sleep so the pain wouldn’t be to bad.

His phone rang.  Bob, karen’s husband was calling, but he had no use for small talk about the Red Sox tonight or a make up call about their car being left in his driveway.  He just didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Time elapsed and people came and went.  Two ladies talked loudly about their combined 9 recent trips to this place.  It wasn’t difficult, but from what he could hear as he half paid attention, one had feet circulation problems, and one had “bathroom issues.”  An odd trilogy of people, two guys, one lady joked against the West wall of the waiting room that the lady had an Ipod touch in her purse for more than 3 months, and she left the store casing around it.  About 3 times, Halle woke up, complaining that she “had to go to the bathroom”.  He took her with the care of a member of the royal guard around Buckingham palace.  One time he had to wake her up just to go answer insurance questions at the front desk.  Time just passed, and eventually, 3 hours later, they called her name.

“Halle Jackson!”  the words sounded like the London Symphony Orchestra or better.  he stood her up for what he hoped was one of the last times of the evening, and carried her to the small room the nurse had pointed him to go.  he walked in, and there was more waiting.

Sitting in a room like this brought back the memories of Chloe, and what she had gone through.  Correction.  What they went thrugh together.  Phone call.  I’m not going to answer the phone Bob.  Ugh.

The doctor walked in smiling, and began his interview, asking Jarrod a few questions first.  He answered robotically, and eventually, the attention was on Halle.  As the doctor began the examinations, he remembered these were the same questions they had asked Chloe.  All of them.  They were routine now, but soon, they would ask about the vomit and the blood, and they would become more pointed.  Ultimately they would need to “run some tests” and then what?  Is stomach cancer hereditary?  Does his beloved daughter have what his precious wife had when she passed away 3 years ago.  Oh God! Big beads of sweat began to drip through his hairline and down his forehead.  He started shaking.  The doctor noticed and asked jarrod if he was okay.

The phone buzzed again.  Text message from his captain telling him to call him asap.  “Excuse me doctor, but I have to call my captian.  as you can see (motioning to his shirt) I’m a police officer, and he’s asked me to call.”  The doctor nodded, somwhat irritated at this intrusion, and continued asking Halle questions.  Jarrod dialed the number – 508-882-3346.
“Hey Captain, what’s up?  I’m kind of busy.”
“Where are you Jackson?”
“At UMASS, the emergency room for Halle.”
“I hope she’s okay, but I have to tell you something hard.”
“Uuhh, ok, shoot.”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but Karen Krittle, your babysitter was found dead today in her car parked in your driveway.”
Stunned, Jarrod immediately sat down in the empty chair to his right.
“What…what happened?”
“Apparently she drowned in her own vomit.”

This house - the inspiration for this story

The 83 year old man looked out of his upstairs apartment window wishing it would stop raining.  It seemed like that’s all it ever did anymore, and he couldn’t go out when it rained like this.  His cane probably wouldn’t hold up, and he would slip, or fall.  Either way, it wasn’t a satisfying image rolling around in his head.  Today he would be content to peek out at sheets of rain coming down in waves on the roof of the silver Nissan driving below his Brooks-E. Mountain St corner window view.

Days like this tended to bring back memories of his wife of 58 years.  Equal in age and life wisdom, she quadrupled him in energy and “spunkness” – the description the kids had given her when they were younger – until she left him for another life.  One he  never believed or hoped in, until that day.  The day of the car and the lights…and the rain.
“Why the hell did she have to drive all the time?” He thought to himself, feeling the new found flushness of his face.
“Because I still can,” he could almost hear her saying back to him, as smug as she always was, and as cute as she always would have been.  A tear emerged from the inside of his right eye.

Just as he was getting lost in his thoughts, that boy came around the corner again, the one that lived in the house next door, but was constantly walking over toward his house, and moving towards his entrance.  He knocked at the window, waving the boy away.  This was not a loving gesture by any means from his point of view, but the boy waved back, as if to say, “I don’t really care if you’re being mean and waving me away, I’m still gonna hang out here where you can’t come down and see me anyway.”

“Dumb kid” he muttered to himself, certain that he was quite clear as to what he wanted from the boy.  And even more clear that this generation of kids would ruin the world as he knew it.

It wasn’t like it used to be, for him or the world.  The world used to be so simple, and he used to be so loved.  She loved him.  He didn’t know why, but she did.  She always did.  Through their young adult life and through his career,  the kids and the bills – she loved him through all that.  And now, she was gone.  Sure the kids were still there, and their kids and even some of their kids, but about 3 months afer she left (he preferred to use this term), he realized their visits had been about her and not him.  Love seemed to be no more.

Despite the bumping and movement he heard in his hallway, he was tired and wanted to take a nap.  Tomorrow the senior agency would come and pick him up for his weekly appointment to “some kid doctor who couldn’t tell a cold from a cat” he would lavishly share with anyone who would listen in the waiting room.  He needed his rest.  “Damn noises in my hallway,” he spouted off, walking slowly away from the noise and towards his bedroom, where he hoped not to wake up.

In about two hours of napping, he dreamed.  Dreaming always takes so much out of you, and he was never a fan, but this time it was no use.  He couldn’t stop from dreaming.  He dreamed he was at a party.  The party must have been at his only daughter’s house.  She was so beautiful, though he never told her so, preferring to leave the “mushy” stuff to his wife.  It seemed that the party centered around him – they were celebrating him.  Whether it was his birthday or anniversary, he could not tell.  But he did see the sign that said his name, and for once his family all centered around him, smiling and laughing about his life.  He decided that he would take the opportunity during a quick lull to ask them all a question.  After all, they were all there, and he wanted to know.
“Why did you stop visiting me when she died?” He asked his room full of family members and friends.  Immediately their smiles turned to scowls, and they turned away from him, one by one.  Unsurprisingly, he opened his eyes in a cold sweat, and the daytime rain had given itself over to a nighttime drizzle.  He took a sip of the water sitting at the side of his bed.

“Finally, the son decides to show its face,” the 83 year old man thought, smirking to himself as he peered out the same corner window he gazed at .
“What?” the man watching TV in the other room asked, deafened by the volume of old reruns of Miami Vice blaring from the speakers.
He ignored his son’s question, only to ask one in return.
“Why are you here again?”
Begrudgingly, the man stood from his father’s favorite seat and said, “I told you dad, I am going to take you to the doctors office today.”  The younger man shut off the television and asked his dad if he was ready to go.
“Don’t rush me, I’m putting on my coat.”  The man reacted a bit more harshly than he should have, the son thought, and responded, “You okay dad?”
“I’m fine,” came the predictable response, with an unpredictable tag along.  “I just don’t understand why you people don’t love me.  No one loves me…like  she did.”  The last 3 words trailed off, but the meaning was clear.

Silence in the room for the next 5 minutes as the man readied himself for the doctor.  The son eventually broke the silence.

“Dad, who did you have fix your apartment door and paint the hallway?”
“No one.” The dad responded, looking at his son like he was an alien.
“Someone did it.  And did a great job too.  I asked your idiot landlord how much that was going to set you back, and he said he didn’t do it, and you didn’t ask.”

“Nope. I did not ask.  And if I did, he would have waited until I got in a damn car accident to do it.”  The words stung himself  more he thought they would.
“Well, someone must love you, because the walls didn’t paint themselves and the door didn’t fix itself.”

His son opened the apartment door for him, walked him slowly across the freshly painted hallway, and towards the newly-fixed front entrance, as a beam of sunlight shone through it’s window and splashed on the old man’s face.