…Life Beyond the Window a short novel by Sahara Sutter The Fairy Tale was merely propaganda

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up with him as your father,” I said to no one in particular.

“Ok Rosa. Things are all back together but I want to see how you are doing on Wednesday. Do you think your son can get you back here for a few minutes then? In the meantime, keep all your cuts clean and dry. I will drop off some antibiotics for you at your son’s home this evening and tell you how to take them. Before you go, I want to give you another tetanus shot too – just to be sure because our records are not clear when you last had one.” Milner walked over to the supply of Tylenol and provided it to Rosa with instructions for use. He also reminded her that the police would probably want to talk with her about this incident and to keep away from Trevor for the time being. He also told her if she did not feel safe with her son that he could contact a safe house for her to go.

Right on-cue her son approached as Milner was helping Rosa from the table. She briefly told him what had happened. Milner updated the son on how to care for the wounds, the antibiotics being delivered, and the need to return on Wednesday any time after 10:30 in the morning for a check up on things. Both men helped Rosa to the car, a late model Cadillac with wire wheels and off they went.

“I have been with him since I was 12. He found me wondering the streets in Bombay. He has been showing me how to help others ever since. The man saved my life in a multitude of ways and I shall forever be indebted to him. If I did not also work for state department working on health care policy and social reform, I would be here 24 hours a day every day. This is that important to me.” Sal said. “But he keeps saying five more years and he is going to quit.”

“Then what?” I inquired.

“I don’t know. He talks about moving to the islands and just kicking back.”

Several other patients with relatively minor ailments presented and were dispatched gently, yet quickly with lollipop in hand. We started to close up the clinic about 4 pm as an afternoon rain brought activity to a halt.

You Are the Sunshine of my Life – Stevie Wonder

It rained the entire way home. Wow, yet more fodder for the cats to make the short hyper drive into a schizoid mode about the house screaming the sky is falling. The mail truck was glad to arrive in the garage and next to a very dry black Buick. I was quite ready for the feline frenzy when I opened the door. I could easily handle the disregard, disrespect, and made to feel like an intruder. That is not, however, what I met when I opened the door and entered though.

Speaking of uninvited guests, there she was sitting on the floor of my living room with what was left of a lone sunbeam coming down on her at a low angle and three of the usually warring four cats the pure picture of contentment in her lap. Laszlo was rubbing his head against her thigh.

I really must get those security air leaks in my head checked out. Just when I thought it was safe to put all this into some corner destined for forgetting and ignoring with a do not disturb sign prominently affixed.

So how do you engage an illusion – an invasive one at that? Who shows up uninvited and for God only knows what reason? I was not really angry or afraid, but slightly annoyed. I desperately needed to make a trip to my own personal cat box, but had to endure the discomfort and deal with this now while I could. Mother nature would just have to wait - and who knows for how long. Why was this happening? Why now? Why me? What did it mean?

I wanted to ask if she came here often; if she needed a key or perhaps something to drink. Could I call her a cab? Was she lost? Could I have her autograph and perhaps a mug shot? Was she for real? Truthfully, I don’t think she talks, at least not in the usual sense.

I sat down a few feet from her on the floor also and just looked at this younger image of who I am certain was at least partially me…. and said nothing. I was too taken in by it all. This seriously was something I had not seen or experienced before. I never recalled enjoying my youth or just being carefree and feeling alive. And never before had I seen my Attention Deficient Hyperactive Disorder hyper paranoid cats so relaxed, so at peace – at least not without the benefit of veterinarian intervention. Please, please, please someone make sense of this for me. I was going to have to accept that I was having my own psychotic break and fighting any signs of mental weakness has been a lifelong crusade for me. I had to overcome everything and carry on. How could this happen? How and why now after all my years of wondering what I had done to deserve the hand I was dealt?

I was not sure if she was actually communicating this or if my brain had taken on a voice of its own. She had not moved much. She had not looked up at me but instead she gazed out the window and at the cats nestled in her lap.

Please, tell me who you are and what I can do for you? Are you here to torment me?

There was a pause in activity, another glance at something far away and out the window.

I have saved for you what you missed growing up. It is all here; the summer days, the friends, the surf, the boundless joy. I am happy and I am loved. I have your dreams, aspirations, and joy.

I was torn between wanting to know more and wishing she would vaporize into oblivion again, only this time permanently. I had learned to live without nuisances like emotion that just muddied up the works and hampered professional study in the sciences of black and white, binary code, and yes or no. I was completely unprepared to communicate in such a language – especially with an apparition. I wanted to believe but needed hard-core evidence before I come make such a leap. Where did this broad come from and who sent her to mess up my regimented, simple life? What kind of sicko would do this to me and technically how did they pull it off? How was she in the backseat of my car at night on 95 headed south the other night? I was beginning to give up hope on any Hollywood type of video trickery. Ahhh - my iPhone! A picture! I could get a picture. Proof could be found there.

I pulled out my phone from my pocket and brought up the camera.

You already know what you will find…. She looked up at me for the first time and established eye contact.

I have to try anyway – to have some proof of my insanity, I thought. Click.

A picture of my living floor appeared on the iPhone screen with three cats heaped together with a slight appearance of being a few inches above the floor. The shadow was slightly displaced and Laszlo was nearby the heap and looking up at me. Swell, more non-conclusive results. Isn’t there enough of mushy answers out there now?

I must be going.

But why? Where did you come from and where have you been?

She was gone and the heaped cats re-entered reality with a slight thud onto the carpet en masse. Sophie was the most notably disturbed. It kinda felt like the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy claims that people come and go so quickly around here.

Without a doubt, I felt blasted by a loneliness that had not felt to this degree since the usual holiday gathering letdowns that I had the privilege of experiencing every few months. Which come to think of it, another one of those dreaded days was coming up very quickly. On Thanksgiving I would be reminded once again that coming from a long line of single child families results in having no aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no brothers or sisters, no living mother or grandparents, God only knows who to suspect for father, no husband, and perhaps most tragically, no kids - unless of course the feline variety count. The millennium of evolution that took its time to create my DNA hit a brick wall at the short side of a dead end.

Her departure just brought all that good news to the front forward of my life again. Somehow I needed to make plans for Thanksgiving - something to keep me busy and keep my mind off of never attending a parade in person with family members or never sitting down to an extravagant meal made with me in mind. Worse yet, that was just the start of the holiday season, which generally ended the year with a serious hangover on December 26. Halloween, however I just loved. I so enjoyed the kids coming to the house and dressing up myself, putting on spooky music and giving out candy. It was a time when anything was acceptable, almost anyway. In addition, some of the office parties and get-togethers were just stress-free relaxation of altered egos. Besides, I got to be creative with some elaborative costumes.

Nonetheless, back to whatever obliterated reality it was I just experienced. In addition to having no family to discuss this with, I was also very reluctant to bring up the topic with anyone. Family might protect you. Coworkers and friends are more inclined to gossip with others and create stories that go into unintended and incorrect directions and eventually take on a life of their own. I doubt there is any information of such events that are even remotely credible on the Internet and I am always leery of how easily traceable that is. Your security and privacy is not necessarily guaranteed nor is it free of public and news media consumption and folly.

My next best step had gone to the top of the list out of personal necessity. A visit to the bathroom was in order. Hopefully, there was nobody hiding behind the shower curtain ready to lecture me on some poorly managed aspect of my life.

In fairly short order, I determined that there was not the first blasted thing that I could do. I was trained to be too logical, too scientific, to believe in ghosts. Yet, this is not something I could totally ignore or yet in any way that I have been able to ascertain so far, to control, or have any influence upon. She did not just appear at my beckoned call. She did not show up even when I was thinking about her and she had the good consideration not to show up when I was busy concentrating on something, were taking care of patients or when such a distraction might become a safety issue. Ok, perhaps with the exception of driving back from St. Augustine. At least not so far anyway.

“So Sophie, tell me what you think about all that.” She seemed to understand it, adapt, and adjust rather readily. “Tell me how you explain it. Muse, Sagan, Laszlo - what do you guys think of this? Do you have anything to contribute to the cause here? Is there any chance she gave you some treats or cat nip or other assorted drugs to make you so instantly cooperative, calm, and docile? What did she use to buy your silence? Do you think I can get her to babysit for you guys during your more hyperactive moments? Perhaps my homeowners' insurance would appreciate a little cat protection to aid in keeping the curtains, furniture, dishes, and wallpaper in one piece here longer.”

As expected, my feline friends left me high and dry with absolutely no information and no hints of ideas to explain the phenomenon. At least they were not frightened, which I suppose made me feel better because obviously I have no idea if or how often she shows up when I’m not here.
That week went on at its usual level of endless fires to put out and projects to delay and deadlines to move up in an eternal juggling act of priorities with dwindling resources that demanded more time than was humanly possible. But somehow we all managed to get through it and management must be at least marginally convinced that no one can do it better because they still keep us around while forever telling us we must do better and more and faster and cheaply.

Quite quickly, my calendar said the next day is Saturday again. I considered what I was going to wear to the ceremony tomorrow and put together my brief speech for the attendees. It was going to be a simple thing. Maybe some local media, the mayor would be there along with heads of various civic social and charitable organizations, but truthfully, I was hoping to keep my own head down as low as possible and remain as anonymous as possible throughout the entire ordeal. It was only at the mayor’s insistence that I agreed to be present at all.

So I packed up “office-grade working” pant suit, blouse, and heels into my gym bag along with my stethoscope, lab coat, and another box of lollipops. As I got ready to leave to go to the clinic early that morning, I put on a bit more make-up, some nice gold hoop earrings and tended to my hair in a preemptive attempt to have it still decent looking for the ceremony later that day. Fortunately, the weather was uncharacteristically almost pretty for November, if not the absolute warmest, with a clear, light breeze.
I got to the clinic about 20 minutes before its scheduled opening time. Sal and Antonio were already there and sitting at the back to folding table and drinking coffee. I let myself in the backdoor and found them in mid conversation.

“Laurie said that she sees Annabelle about once a week and asks her about her medications. She usually checks her supply and finds the same number of tablets as the previous week. Laurie goes ahead and gives her one dose while she is there. To me this indicates that Anabelle is headed for some serious issues here soon. I asked Laurie if it would be possible for her to make sure Annabelle takes her medication on Sundays and Thursdays and remind her to come by the clinic here on Saturdays, Wednesdays, Fridays while we are usually open. She was quite agreeable to that and I think that could be a minimally acceptable treatment regime to keep Anabelle on track. It also makes things easier for you. So when Annabelle shows up today please reinforce this plan with her and I will take a few doses to Laurie so she can ensure Anabelle is taking it on two other days of the week. Does that sound like it might work?” Antonio had obviously been busy.

“Thanks. That makes things a lot easier for me. Did Laurie say when she would be in? I could certainly use her on Wednesday. Will she be able to give some of the influenza vaccinations for us?” Sal responded.

“Hi guys. Good morning! It’s good to see you again,” I said.

“Cindy, my long lost cousin! Good morning. I so glad you came back to join us,” Antonio said.

“Laurie may be here today, but I definitely know she plans to be here Wednesday. I told her about you, Cindy. She wants to come and meet you and she sounded very excited about it. And yes Sal, as long as there is a PA or myself here to supervise, she can help with the injections. Although I would prefer she manage the nasal spray whenever possible.” Antonio said.

“Sounds like it is going to be an interesting day. Don’t forget I need to take off by 11:30 and will not be back until about two this afternoon. If I can get back sooner, I definitely will do so. And Milner will not be here today, is that right?” I inquired and reminded.

“I am guessing we will have to close down for an extended lunch. I will put a sign on the door so people may come in to make an appointment or inquire about services, and when we will be open and available - unless Laurie is here to do some assessments,” Sal said.

“Well since Milner is not here, I guess it is up to me it’s to update the saying on the chalkboard for the day. Does anyone mind?” I said.

“Go for it!” per Antonio.

By 11:15, I was reminding Sal that within the next five minutes I would need to go change to prepare for my appointment. He graciously triaged the six patients waiting and asked five of them to please return this afternoon and apologized for the inconvenience. I saw the remaining patient with an upper respiratory infection. I provided some necessary advice and over-the-counter drugs to alleviate some of the symptoms. He was informed of methods to prevent its spread to other people within his home environment and at work. The presentation of his lollipop made him smile and he mentioned he would give me a hug if he were not afraid of likewise making me sick. I patted his back, thanked him, and wished him a great week on his way out the door. I then scurried off quickly to get ready to leave myself.

Upon exiting the restroom in my business attire and heels with my hair down and combed out, Sal managed a “Wow, it must be something special that you are going to.”

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that. I am sorry to bail out and I feel bad about that, but I will be back as soon as I can and will try to make up for it. Is there anything I can bring back while I am out and about?” I asked

“If you get the chance, we could use with some more paper towels from the dollar store at the corner of West Bank and Main. They seem to be the cheapest. I can give you a few bucks to buy what you can with it.”

“Sal let me see what I can do. Keep your money for now. I think I can manage it,” I replied.

At the far end of the property was the 1600 square foot community center. Here, community service volunteers and students accepted, sorted, and loaned out infant clothing and car seats, the local newspapers dropped off extra copies of food coupon flyers, community social workers made appointments to speak with residents, evening classes were given for meal planning, finances, dress for success, etiquette, soap making, sewing, public services, and vaccination clinics. College students taught basic computer and literacy classes and retired business personnel provided tips on starting small businesses and each meeting had childcare services during the class. Those given ‘community service’ sentences helped keep the grounds in good shape or volunteered in the community center. Student Nurses checked blood pressures and blood sugars. Social Workers helped with services, applications, transportation, and community services for the elderly.

The building was intended to be a shrine for working people who wanted to get ahead and the community focal point for those wanting to help others. I dreamed of it being one place where resources could come together to create a synergy of making a real and lasting change in lives. I watched as a few workers put up the finishing touches on the city bus stop sign at the west entrance of the building. It had taken several meetings to get the bus to stop there in time to get many local residents to work at the local fernery, landfill, and auto shop.

The building was simple, but functional with more design than just four concrete walls. The architect put in some low maintenance details to make it an inviting place of comfort and help. Solar panels were placed on the roof to keep electricity costs at a minimum with an agreement with the city that any sold back to the company grid was credited to city coffers. There was a generator for power should the center need to be used as emergency shelter for the nearby residents. Aluminum cans, glass, and paper were also sold to the recycling center help to defray some costs and pay for the employee from Parks and Recreation who worked full time at the site to maintain the grounds, building and coordinate activities.

I admittedly made myself only an occasional visitor once the site plans and contractors were put into place and busy. I wanted this to take on a life of its own – without influence from its unintended and somewhat guilt-ridden benefactor.

The ceremony and ribbon cutting proceeded as planned. I told an audience of grateful community members and face-showing political persons marketing themselves how important this community was to my grandfather, how he felt obligated to help those who wanted to help themselves and his belief that the future is indeed a bright one. Therefore, to each person of the community, I dedicated Walters Sherman Park and Community Center after dear ole granddad, Walters Sherman, and prayed that it would inspire dreams, hope, and happiness for all who entered. I thanked all those involved and insisted all present relax, enjoy, and recycle the love to others.

For my efforts, I was presented with a plaque, flowers, handshakes, and applause. Nonetheless, I was anxious to get out of the view and escape the good hearted hugging by others – when I heard my name by a familiar voice.

“Cindy. It is my turn to buy you a smoothie. Would you like to get out of here?” It came from the mouth of Antonio.

“How did you know to find me here?” I was genuinely surprised.

“I didn’t. I just showed up for an event that I thought was one of the best ideas I had heard in ages,” he said. “I could say I was surprised to find you being part of it, but seriously I am not. I am impressed though, yes. Very.”

The crowd was closing in. It seemed everyone wanted to tell me what he or she thought of the place and thank me.

“Please get me out of here,” I whispered to Antonio.

We found our way through the crowd and to his car parked two blocks away.

“There is a coffee shop off of Euclid. They make smoothies. Does that sound ok?”

“As long as it does not include a microphone, stage, and tons of people staring at people, I am wonderful with it,” I replied.

“That was quite some show and place. How did you manage to pull that off? I had no idea,” Antonio almost stumbled across the words.

“Even dear ole granddad could not drink up all of his assets… and since I was his only heir, I got it all. I do not recall ever even meeting the man. I know he made a large profit selling his father’s manufacturing plant in the 50’s and he invested the proceeds. He died in 1964 and it was placed into a trust to be used only for my education until I was 25. Since I was in the military when I turned 25, I put it into technology funds at that time.”

“That had to work out well for you,” he said.

“It did, but it never felt like it was my money. Besides, wealth is won by depriving others of comforts and necessity. I thought long and hard about what to do with it. Whom could I help the most and how? I have always felt the working poor got the worse end of the deal. Society just seems to go out of its way to keep these people poor. Banks charge higher interest rates, the government makes sure they do not qualify for Medicaid, perverse incentives make them question whether there is any advantage to working at all. Simple mathematics shows you that for the wealthy to remain wealthy, the poor must remain poor.”

“For someone with some bad memories of someone she has never met, you said some wonderful things about your grandfather,” Antonio retorted.

“Don’t remind me – but the community needs a hero – some image to live up to. The myth is more important than the truth. The other prevailing myth is that he sent mother away to boarding school. I really wanted to dedicate the park to my mother, but I think she would prefer not to share her saga with the world. She would not want to be remembered that way by strangers. Her story stays with me. The truth in this case would serve no purpose at all. It is just another example of the love / hate relationship that makes the universe go around. You cannot define good without the existence of evil,” I said.

“OK, so please answer a huge mystery for me. If Granddad and Mom were Shermans, how did you end up with a name like Peterson? Perhaps we are cousins after all.”

Piano Man – Billy Joel

“Do you think Sal will want anything too?” I asked.

“I’ll call him before we leave here and ask. What would you like? We will sit here a spell before taking off.”

“Wow. A berry banana smoothie, small one with loads of whipped cream sounds divine right now,” I said.

“You got it. Go find us a seat. Some place quiet. By the way, you dress up nice!”

I took that to mean, find a place out of the view of curious eyes. My pant suit get up and heels with his usual jeans and tee shirt made us quite an odd couple. Thankfully, the place was not busy.

I found a quiet table for two in the back and beside a window overlooking the downtown street. Within three minutes, Antonio arrived with two smoothies and a couple of croissants in hand.

“OK, so back to the question, if you don’t mind me asking. How did you end up a Peterson?”

I first sipped the smoothie to try it out. “Mother apparently married someone named Randal sometime before I was born. I could only find mention of it on her hospital admission form before she died. The records also indicate were the hospital Case Managers tried, but never found him. They thought he lived in Alachua County somewhere for some reason, but looked all over. Perhaps, ultimately they figured I would have a better life and protect me from the media hounds if I was not associated with the Sherman name. Granddad had quite a bit of influence and was well known in the DeLand area. Maybe he insisted I have a different name. Maybe Mother made it up. I do not know. I know Granddad was notified when mother became ill and about my birth. He was listed as family on the hospital records and hence my inheritance, especially after no record of a marriage certificate for mother was ever found. I have no idea how or why she ended up in Ocala by herself if she was married,” I explained.

“Randal Peterson?” Antonio asked in half a statement and half a question. “Well that explains that question.”

The smoothies and croissants were perfect, filled an empty spot, and wiped away the hype of the day so far. I was anxious to get back and get to work seeing patients. Antonio also mentioned he had a few calls to make and things to coordinate. He asked about what was in store for Sherman Park and what programs and services were being put together. We talked about all my favorite things - ideas and resources and putting things together in ways that had not been attempted before.

“Cindy, thanks for being there – for doing this – for being such a great inspiration to others. You did something that most people would not do or even dream of doing. You stepped beyond and into humanity. I am glad to know you and I just keep coming across more amazing things about you,” he almost gushed.

“Ok, Panama. Enough with the fan club. We have plenty yet to do. Thanks, but let’s get going. Call Sal. I need to pick up some paper towels for him at the Dollar Store too.”

Antonio retrieved his cell phone from his pants pocket and dialed. He informed Sal of where we were and asked if there was anything he wanted from the restaurant. He declined, but I could not help but overhear that Antonio’s ex-wife had called inquiring if he was going to come home for Thanksgiving so she could make plans.

“Wow, time flies doesn’t it, Sal. I will look my schedule and call her back. Sal, I have to stop by the boat really quick, and then I will be in. Cindy has to make a stop; she’ll be there in about an hour.” He hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket.

“I want you to come by the houseboat to show you some pictures – really, I know that must sound bad. And oh, by the way, I have someone I want you to meet,” he said.

That is twice about someone "special" to meet. I was thinking Laurie must really be anxious for some reason.
We got back into his car and Antonio drove me to my car with instructions to follow him to the houseboat. I asked if I should pick up the paper towels along the way. He said he had plenty at the boat and we could just bring those back to the clinic.

I followed him and wondered if he remembered that I had been out to his content little island address last month and unbelievably remembered the way. This is significant considering that my Garmin was not in the mail jeep I was driving. I was, in fact trusting my sense of navigation and my own misguided and wayward means of direction but I found the trip back and forth from home to the clinic was actually pretty relaxing and straightforward. Nonetheless, he took a different route to the boat than what we had done on that rainy night. The route was a bit more rustic meaning more dirt roads and it was no doubt the shortcut that probably wreaked havoc on the suspension of his late model and well-tortured Chevy. We got there in about 10 minutes.

The area was much as I remembered it only brighter. The daylight showed a houseboat in need of some cosmetic work and TLC and floating alongside the dock. It was not a larger extravagant houseboat; it was more along the lines of functional and austere with just the barest necessities of life.

He invited me in, told me to be careful walking on the dock. I removed my high heels and he held my hand as I crossed from the dock onto the boat. He briefly showed me around or more like pointed me around to various things on the boat for example his favorite spot to sit in the evening while downing a margarita and watching the sunset or where he kept his fishing gear and the key to the cabin. The inside of the cabin was well laid out to make the most of what room there was. A small galley, a small bathroom which I believe he referred to his head, and eating area and a bed with the closet pretty much so made up the entire living space. It was definitely something that was designed to accommodate a single person. Notably, under the east-facing window was an aquarium with a few inches of water, a rock, and a live turtle. Upon realizing that I had noticed this unexpected pet, Antonio introduced me to Gibraltar or Jibby for short. He was probably three inches wide and according to Antonio had been his companion for the past eight years.

Antonio did not waste much time looking for the reason for my visit. He shuffled through various papers and photographs in a drawer adjacent to the galley before exclaiming, “here it is!”

“Here, look at this picture. It was taken probably 30 years ago. This is my father and my mother. Here is my sister, Terra. The man standing next to my father is his younger brother or my uncle. I know this was taken a while ago, and my father has since passed on, but is there anyone here in the picture you recognize?” he asked.

I took a look studied the faces, the background, the black and white ink and really had no idea why he thought I could recognize anyone. Perhaps he was thinking since I spent so much time in this county that there was a chance I had encountered his relatives at some point.

“Your mother is just beautiful,” I said. “Otherwise, I recognize you, you haven’t changed all that much. You can’t deny that hair. But that’s all – really.”

About that time my eyes scanned to find a photograph on the opposite wall. It was a picture of a young man on a surfboard with his hands clenched together looking out over the ocean and onwards towards the sky. The sunshine had reflected on the water surrounding him and sparkled. It was precisely the same image that had made its way into my consciousness on the day I was driving to St. Augustine.

“This - this I have seen before. This is an exact copy of an image I saw while driving St. Augustine that day. It was a slightly cool day to be surfing and nonetheless a young man was sitting on his board in precisely this position on that day. Where did you get this photograph… and who is this?” I asked.

“I’m glad you like it. That is me. I was probably 18 years old and you are right, it was cold and I was contemplating the present and the future and everything in between and just waiting endlessly for the ride that never came. The sister was on shore with the camera and took a picture. I have always liked the shot and have kept it ever since,” he said.

The picture was of youth embarking upon a professional career that will soon engulf his life. I wondered if there was some way my hallucinations are nothing more than moving pictures of the very same thing.

“Antonio, I have seen this image before. Are you sure it has not been published somewhere?” I asked.

“This is the only print and I still have the negative - so no. What you see here is what there is.

“OK. I delayed you long enough to take a look at some of the family and see if perhaps you knew any of them.”

“OK - then wait a minute. My turn. Where are the pictures of the wife and kids? Surely they must be around here somewhere,” I asked.

“Yup” he dug through the drawer some more and pulled out two pictures. “Here is a picture of my wife and myself on our wedding day 25 years ago. Med school had interfered with little things like dating, so I got a bit of a late start on things. Here is my daughter Helena she is from Peru and unfortunately passed away shortly after we got her from a bout with meningitis at the age of six. Standing next to her is Salihu from India. He joined us when he was 12 years old and has been an absolute joy.”

Not feeling it was my business to ask any more personal questions, I could only comment, “You have such a marvelously interesting life.”

With that, Antonio gathered up half a dozen rolls of paper towels and headed out the door. I followed him and took the paper towels from him so he could lock up the houseboat. We returned to our respective cars. I placed the paper towels in my vehicle, thanked him for the rescue from the ceremony and the smoothie, and told him I was headed back to the clinic. He said he would catch up a bit later.

I arrived at the clinic in a somewhat disoriented and confused state. I was not accustomed to such public attention and certainly did not expect to see Antonio there and nor could I find any completely satisfying explanation as to why he felt to compelled to show me pictures of his family at his boat. It was nice, but it seemed out of character given how much he had to do and knowing that the clinic was unstaffed while I was away.

I parked around back of the clinic. There were a few people waiting patiently outside the front door. I grabbed my clinic clothes and usual stuff I took to the clinic, grabbed my heels that still were not on my feet, several rolls of paper towels, and exited the mail jeep. I entered the backdoor and headed directly to the restroom to change my clothes before too many people noticed how I was dressed. Already I was sorry to be running around in my stocking feet because the damp mud had made its way between my toes and I would have to take a few seconds to clean them off on the welcome mat to prevent trailing in my tracks behind me.

I had one foot in the door and quickly got a surveillance of the activity in the room. Someone was at the big exam table talking to the patient. It was a slightly overweight middle-aged lady who I assumed to be Laurie. Sal was at the front desk coordinating things, making phone calls, scheduling, and negotiating with suppliers, shipments, and all the usual things that he does. I felt good that they were able to carry on without me and simultaneously guilty that they were doing all this on their own.

In stealth mode, I tiptoed to the restroom when I heard it. It was Laurie talking to the patient. She was joking and laughing, as was the patient about nothing I can really discern with any detail. However, it was less what she was talking about than the voice itself. I knew this person and knew her very well. Her voice literally stopped me in my tracks as I stood there, high heels in one hand and clinic clothing hanging on the other arm and gaped - no doubt with my mouth wide open and in some type of catatonic trance. The only thing about the encounter I recognized was her voice. Her hair, her clothing, her size, nothing visually was as I remembered so fondly.

Laurie and I had spent several years providing home care services. She excelled like no one else I had ever seen with HIV and AIDS patients. She provided the highest level of TLC imaginable. She took home and cared for AIDS babies and cried and suffered tremendously when they died. She stayed with failing young men during their last moments on this planet as they died in her arms. She had advocated for them to those who do not understand, did not agree, or had a moral or religious conflicts. She educated physicians on lab values and medications and treatments. She became best friends with the local HIV/AIDS/infectious disease public-health physicians and support groups. Laurie spoke nationally at conventions regarding the care and treatment in the humanity of living and dying with AIDS. I could only stand in awe and wonder of her. She had a compassion and drive that was well beyond my personal ability or comprehension. Laurie was indeed a one-woman crusade at least locally who was on a non-stoppable mission to provide comfort in the care for patients afflicted with a fatal illness.

Unfortunately, her personal life was simultaneously in shambles. However, females seem to weather the initial storm of their battered youth better than many males. They seem to be more innovative and find ways to overcome their adversity and carry the pain in a back pocket just to serve as a reminder. Guys, on the other hand seem to manifest and display results of any childhood damage much earlier in life. They seem to be less resilient and hurt on a deeper and demonstrative level much earlier. They may overcome it later in life but they seldom refer back to it, instead treating it as physically and emotionally nonexistent.

Girls on the other hand may take years before they allow the pain to catch up. The mental maladjustment often shows up 20 or 40 years later - or just when you thought they had safely conquered the beast, only to find it had been growing and hiding the whole time waiting to find the most inopportune time to leap out and totally destroy a life.

Laurie had been born to an alcoholic mother and traveling father. Although she had several step brothers and sisters, she was an only child and she grew up spending many hours taking care of her mother and all the things that had been left undone in the active day-to-day living. She was, nonetheless a rebellious teen and got into her fair share of fights (losing a few teeth as a result) and this is probably where she learned her signature opinionated and assertive nature. She was a beautiful person with long softly curled hair, hazel eyes, a quick smile, a definite enjoyment of life and she made steadfast connections with everybody she encountered. There was a brief marriage to a young man who was socially charming but quite unable it to be morally or financially responsible. His final fatal flaw in judgment was best exemplified when Laurie came home to find him in the shower with her stepsister. That was also the end of her relationship with everybody who had any remote links of possible DNA in common with her on the family level.

It was after her mother experienced a massive G.I. bleed that Laurie decided to enter nursing school. It was right before graduation from nursing school when her mother went into a hepatic coma and died.

I had lost track of her ever since my move into informatics. I had heard rumors that she was no longer working and had moved out of the area. As hard as I found it to believe that she could give up something that was so deeply a part of her, I could only hope that she had gone on and continued doing what she was doing on another level or in a different area. To see her here now was just surreal – and I was instantly aware of some significant emotional pain. By her appearance, obviously something had happened. Something had tortured and taken over her life and completely devastated a vibrant, intelligent, motivated, caring, extraordinary lady. Then I recalled that Sal had said she had lost her nursing license and was working at the clinic to assess patients in an aide type capacity.

Nonetheless, her intuition remained intact as she felt me staring at the back of her head. Without turning to look at me, she said “Windy Cindy!” She knew I was there.

Tears were welling up enormous buckets within my eyes. I was feeling equal measures of joy and pain. What had happened to my friend? How did I allow this to happen? Where was I when she needed some help? Why, why did she not find me?

“Laurie.” It was all I could manage to say yet its two syllables filled my every emotion.

She excused herself from the patient. Removed her gloves and came over to briefly look at me at eye level before giving me a hug that nearly squeezed my stuffing out.

“You are shorter than I remember,” she said.

“That is because my Cindy stretchers are in my hand,” I said giving some attention to my high heels. “I have learned to lose these things at every possible opportunity. I only wear them when I have no choice. I like being a little shorter and a lot more comfortable now days,” I replied.

“Please, I wasn’t quite done with a hug.” We held on again for several wonderful and silent moments.

“Let me change quick and then I will come and help you with patients. I still have so much to learn here and I am very anxious to get caught up with you and spend some time together. How long are you here today?” I asked.

“I’m here until about four and then I have to check on someone. It is so great to see you. I can’t believe I am so lucky that our paths cross again.”

“God, I missed you and wondered how you were doing,” I said as tears leaked down my face with no acknowledgement on my part.

I left with a smile to go change clothing, but not before saying hi to Sal. Once in more appropriate clinic attire, I still could not believe I ran across her, here of all places. Yet, I also found so much of everything associated with this place and Antonio to be just a shade short of miraculous. Why should this be any different – which was more of a statement of fact rather than a question.

I rejoined Laurie within minutes. She was already onto her the next patient – a man who appeared to be 65, but claimed to be 50. He maintained the plants along and between various roadways in the city. His hands, arms, and the skin covering them showed the wear and tear brought by years of exposure to the elements and of physical labor and an abundance of Florida sunshine. He had come in complaining of low back pain – hardly surprising. Laurie was providing information about proper lifting, some simple back exercises to do every morning and evening, advice about wearing a hat when outside, as well as some sun block which his employer should provide to him, and how to make a hot pack to help relieve his discomfort at night along with sleeping on a firm surface and not in his hammock.

I provided him with some Tylenol and gave instructions for use and asked him to tell me how he would tell his wife he is to take them. He could repeat to me what Laurie had told him – in an effort to verify what he had heard. He told me he had to get going to pick up his four-year old granddaughter because his wife had to get to work at the Pancake Restaurant. After the usual hugs, I gave him a lollipop for her as well.

Several other patients came in for minor issues – some, I think just for a dose of social interaction, some TLC, perhaps to see Laurie, and the candy. There are seriously very worse ways to spend your time. During the first break in action, I asked Laurie to tell me what she had been up to and how she was doing. She had to know it was coming.
“So much has happened; so much has changed. I am finally able to do what I love and not do what I do not…. and to be who I am … and I found a way to accept that. I realized that great love does not come without great pain, but it is necessary and it is what keeps me going. It is both what makes me strong and brought me to my knees,” she said.

“Cindy, I lost everything. My nursing license, my house, my car, my friends, my self-respect. My father disowned me. I did time for diversion. I was Baker Acted for two weeks. Sal found me literally sitting on the train tracks one evening waiting for the 6:10 from Lauderdale to run me over. He brought me back, gave me hope, and showed me how to return the favor for others. I am happy now and managing fine.”

This time, the tears did not simply leak, they flooded. I cried and held her. I could not believe how I had failed a dear friend.

She grabbed me by the shoulders and said, “Please don’t. I am fine - better than I have ever been. None of this was your fault and truthfully, it was the best thing that could have happened to me. I am doing more good for more people than any damn hospital administrator – which is something they may not believe – but I KNOW. This is what I was supposed to do. The civilized world can keep its imaginary charity. This is where life happens.”

“Don’t let her tell you too many stories,” Sal chirped up. “Laurie is fantastic with our clients. I needed her. I was just looking for someone to work that weekend when I pulled her off the tracks. I figured she had nothing planned to do that weekend and would be available!” He smiled and put an arm around her. “She really is very incredibly special.”

“She has been that way ever since I first met her,” I said.

“OK Windy, go fix your makeup before the next client accuses me of beating you!” Laurie said in her trademark unflappable and assertive way.

The day progressed and 4 o’clock arrived.

“I gotta get going,” Laurie said.

“Wait, can’t we go grab some dinner or something. There is so much time we need to catch up on,” I said.

“That time does not exist anymore. The only thing that matters is now. I’m not much for getting out anymore… but what if we do dinner in the park next week?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? That is a great idea. I would like to see the park with people enjoying it. What can I bring? What do you like?” Last, I recalled, she was making a steady diet of Merlot.

“Let's see --- hmmm… some 7-up, and some Kentucky Fried Chicken – extra crispy with some mashed potatoes and gravy. That sounds just yummy.”

“You got it. Sal, am I on the schedule for next week?” I asked.

“No, Milner agreed to take over to pay you back for this week.”

“That still works. What time can I come and pick you up and where?” I asked Laurie.

“I can meet you be here at 5 pm. How about that?”

“It sounds like a date. Be careful out there. See you next Saturday.” I was smiling. So was she.

“Sal, if she had not talked, I would not have recognized her. She has aged 20 years, put on 50 pounds, lost some teeth, and generally, looks like that train did hit her. This was a beautiful, energetic, and intelligent RN on a collision course with administration over values and ethics and resources, but never did I expect an outcome like this.”

“From where I stand, the world would be full of these people if only more of them were lucky enough to survive,” he said.
The remainder of the afternoon was slow enough to allow some time to ask Sal about the computer issues.

I asked him what he had in mind, what would he like to see, what system did they have now and basically, how did he think I could help.

I had noticed and Sal verified that the entire medical, social, and family history of each client resided solely in the head of the volunteers at the clinic. Sal knew everyone the best. He knew who was related to who and how, where they lived most of the time, what work they did, what problems they had shown up to the clinic with, what treatments were done, and what social services were contacted. All of the medical records literally lived in Sal’s memory. Milner certainly had enough experience to provide a good portion. Dr. P could fill in many blanks, and Laurie also knew these people well. But Sal is the one with the comprehensive picture.

This did not help when recruiting volunteers who usually felt more comfortable with some type of medical history. This was especially true for those volunteers without Emergency Room experience and consequently not accustomed to problem patients presenting without a track record. Not only that, but when the clients from the clinic did end up in the Emergency Room, there was no record as to what had been done previously at this clinic which resulted more than once in inappropriate treatment and intervention by the hospital.

“It is as if the working poor uninsured people disappear in the world of documentation. They simply do not exist,” Sal said.

Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding

“Many have some type of identification on them. A few even have a driver’s license and own a car. Most have some type of structure to live or sleep in. But I would be surprised if 2% of them owned a computer. Although they have access to some at the library about half a mile away,” he said.

“What if,” I wondered aloud – “What if, we created for them something similar in size to a credit card that could contain their information? They could carry it wherever they go, put it into their wallet, or wear it on a chain around their neck. I can get you a card reader for here and one for the local hospital and you would have the ability to update the information. Some fields would be automatically filled in – like the clinic name, address, and phone number. We could include all the usual info and swipe it each time they visit the clinic for tracking purposes. The hospital could do the same. Maybe we would be able to determine how effective intervention here is in keeping them out of the Emergency Room, progression of chronic illness, longevity, functional independence, etc. It would take a bit to get it going work-wise, but simple to maintain if it is designed to be mostly a check system with some narrative. We could measure how good Laurie’s patient education is working, how many are vaccinated each year and who did not. We could get a better picture of the working poor who have been so invisible and how we can best help them,” once I get started with ideas, I sometimes have issues shutting up and figured I should do so now.

Sal sat there looking at me – no doubt wondering if, and when, I would stop, but probably being too kind or not wanting to interrupt things. “We have got to talk with my father about this…. he will be so very happy to hear these ideas!”

On cue, the back door opened to present Antonio.
“You are the right person, at the right place and at the right time,” Sal said.

“I was just stopping by to see how things were going and check up on Cindy.” He was thankfully keeping the events at Sherman Park today confidential which I appreciated.

“Cindy has come up with some ideas for our documentation debacle. I’ll let her explain,” Sal replied.

I went through some ideas again with Antonio. His eyes lit up. He asked questions and contributed more ideas of his own.

“You know cousin; I love the way you think!” he said.

Changing the subject, I retorted, “Do you have any idea how many Peterson’s there are on this planet? Unlike my other reproductively challenged ancestors, they were quite a prolific clan. The odds of sharing a closely related stray shred of DNA are at best remote, but nonetheless a nice thought – so thanks,” I said.

“Sal, what do you have planned this evening?” Antonio inquired.

“I promised Mother I would come by Grandmothers’ house and move some furniture for her tonight to get ready for company soon,” he replied.

“How about the people here?”

“Milner is going to have dinner with his girlfriend in Daytona, Laurie declined and I think I have forgotten to invite Cindy until now,” Sal said.

“OK, so allow me. Cindy, we invite staff from the clinic every year to join us for Thanksgiving at my Mother’s home on the beach. Do you already have plans? I’d love for you to come and meet everyone,” Antonio said.

“I have the exact same plans every year,” I replied. “Watching football and ordering pizza from whatever poor guys who could not get out of throwing dough and delivering on Thanksgiving Day.”

“OK Sal, please tell her to expect one more guest. I told Margaret I would be there for Thanksgiving and I will come by the home Wednesday to make some pies and get the turkey ready,” Antonio said.

“Did you get the notice on the board and to our clients about the meal at St. Paul’s Church? How about a check? Did you get that out to St Paul’s?” Antonio inquired.

“Of course. One-hundred-dollar donation – like always.” Sal appeared to enjoy being one step ahead of him.

“Somehow I knew that,” he said. “OK – it’s 5:15 now…. It looks pretty quiet here --- Sal you have plans…I really want to kick some ideas around further about documentation. Cindy, let’s go grab some dinner and talk this out more. Are you able to do that?”

“That sounds great.” I was secretly elated.

“I know just the place. If I recall correctly, you like Mexican?” he asked.

Antonio presented a gourmet bag of burritos and tacos from a nearby Taco Bell. He spread out the napkins on the table, placed a large cup of diet coke in front of me, and divvied up the remaining contents of the bag.

“It was the best I could do given the circumstances and amount of planning and ambition that I was not willing to put into this project that would require a sacrifice of more time away from you. Words just cannot express how glad I am to have met you.”

“Antonio, please allow me to say that the feeling is absolutely mutual if not, even more so. You are absolutely the most incredible individual I have ever encountered. I never could have imagined that someone like you was possible within this world. When bad things heave up mountains, you find goodness surviving in the cracks and shadows… And for the record, I really do - and I am embarrassed to admit this, I really do like Taco Bell. Usually I am a bit ashamed to admit it and much less to eat it in the company of others, but for you, I make-a the exception,” I said in sad attempt to imitate an Italian accent. “You, my dear sir, do some amazingly incredible stuff and the world owes you much more than I think you know.”

“Cindy, I want to know everything about you. I think about you a lot,” he said.

WHOA – wait a minute. Danger-danger, Will Robinson! Recall potential incoming complicating factors - wife, home, son, family, work— and oh yeah, that whole potential in-bred second cousin thing removed three times and sideways thing. Thoughts raced through my head.

“There really is not much to know,” I replied – thankful for anything remotely coherent.

“Joke if you would like, but I’m serious.”

“Gee, I don’t know…what kind of Thanksgiving pies do you make?”

“Pecan – from scratch – the best you have ever had,” he boasted with feigned pride.

The squawking of seagulls and roar of remote motorboats rode on the breeze and filled the quiet.

“Tell me about something you have written,” he said while crunching down a taco.

“First you tell me what happens in five years,” I short circuited things once again both in hopes of changing the subject off of me and finding out what he had in mind of a future that could possibly follow up his current crusade of humanitarian salvation.

“I want to quit what I am doing and sail to the islands and hang out, kick back and relax. I love sailboats but I just don’t have time for them right now. I want to spend time on myself – which I know sounds incredibly selfish – but I want to at least try to do it for a bit and see how it goes. I want to take my first vacation in decades, permanently. Not that I do not enjoy what I do, because I do. I cannot imagine doing anything else as a doctor. Nevertheless, I am saving up my hopes for this dream of taking off. Maybe I will go visit France again and roam and take in the countryside.” He was looking out at the horizon the entire time.

“OK master distracter. I haven’t forgotten my request. Your turn….”

I searched my internal memory banks for something simple that I had written on a lonely night somewhere, sometime.

“How do you touch the morning sunrise

Or collect the stars above -

But to breathe art into living

And soar by falling in love.”

Come Saturday, I was ready to catch up with Laurie. She was at the clinic as agreed at 5 pm. Colonel Sanders chicken parts were comfortable in the bucket and bag with the mashed potatoes and gravy. The 7-Up was in the cooler. I could not stop myself and picked up some chocolate chip cookies from the bakery at Publix too.

I entered the clinic to see Sal, Milner, and Laurie trying to wrap things up for the day. I noticed a saying I had given Milner on the chalk board in his ‘no-frills’ stoic handwriting.

“There isn’t anything you can’t do – just things you haven’t tried yet.”

“I could not provide a citation and perhaps I may have written it myself. But I thought the chances of the author (if there is one) showing up at this remote clinic on a forgotten street along the back road of nearly nowhere showing up here was unlikely at best. And if he or she did, not only would they get full and glorious credit, I’d love to meet them,” he said.

I helped clean up a bit and put things away. Laurie said she was hungry so we said our good byes and piled into my mail jeep.

“Geez, this car smells goooood! Hurry and get to the park! I am starved,” she said.

“There are some rolls on the top of things in the bag. Grab one,” I said.

She proceeded to tell me how the patients were, how things were going for some of them, the songs Milner sang today (Camp Town Ladies) and how Dr. P came by looking for me and realized I had the day off. I was surprised he did not call if he needed anything from me.
It was a short drive to Sherman Park. The sun was just beginning to think about preparing to call it a day. A few people walking their dogs and strolling along the path in the park. A few kids were laughing loudly in the playground.

We found a picnic table, put a blanket on it that I kept in the jeep and opened the feast.

“Thank you so much for this,” Laurie was very serious.

“I am just so happy to see you. You were one of the folks I liked to worry about,” I said.

“Well, your instincts were correct. I was something to worry about there for a while.” She had already made her way into the mashed potatoes and chicken.

“So tell me about yourself. Married? Kids? Joined the circus? What?” she asked.

“I have no one anywhere. Millions of years of ancestral evolution came down to me and I dropped the ball. No family, no kids, no boyfriend. I have cats that make up for some of it – sometimes. No, I am just a lonely nun masquerading around in street clothes.”

“Sounds like where I was at one point. But it’s not true, you know. You have a different family – a large one that needs you more than anyone has ever needed anyone. You care for them, you cry and laugh with them. You give them hope and they give you love.”

She turned and looked at me and held my hand as she said, “Cindy, it is not about leaving genes behind. It is about taking hugs with you.

“The way I see it, our bodies just separate us and breathe life into our isolated existence. They are nothing more than high maintenance vehicles that transport and imprison our spirit. Bodies need repair. Minds require care. It turns out that nothing about life is as I thought it was…. I was so wrong and disappointed with the whole thing.” She reached for more chicken.

“Laurie, you were and continue to be an incredible advocate and hero for patients. I have seen you go light years above and beyond. I have seen you leap tall buildings and slay dragons for patients!” I said. Her care for patients was the same, but her outlook on life had certainly changed from mostly hedonistic to resigned and accepting.

“It was letting go of the pain and finding something to fill up the empty spot. I had to redefine everything and start over. It is not always easy, but it is on my terms and on my schedule. I have time for friends and compassion. I live in a world that others may not be able to see, but it is custom made for me. I work part time putting up stock and ordering supplies at Pizza Hut. They feed me every night. My life works just fine. You just have to have faith,” she said.

“Faith is a vaporous promise intended to provide incentive and keep people in line,” I said with an underlying and unbelieving disillusionment that she missed out on.

“Faith is everything and the essential element that keeps life going,” she responded with a profound sincerity.

Her previous long waves of hair previously streaked with gold were now wrinkled wires, shorter, dull, and tattered. Her hazel eyes were smaller and dim. Her spirit was tamer and subdued, but still glowed.

“You are doing it right now. Listening, spending time, and being concerned. Those were things missing in my life before because I was too busy talking, chasing a dream, running away, and not caring." Then she changed gears and replied, "I think people here are going to like this park. Did you see the dog park fenced off over there?” She shuttered in the cool breeze.

“Wait a second,” I said. I picked up the empty wrappers from our picnic. Gathered all the remaining food and removed the blanket from the table. I shook it out before wrapping it around Laurie.

“No, I don’t need this, I’ll be fine.” She was munching on a cookie

“Then think of it as something that makes me feel better then. Come on, let’s get you home before it gets too dark.”

We walked back to the jeep. Stars were starting to light their presence in the sky. A few fireflies were gaily dancing about.

We got into the jeep. I turned it on and cranked up the heat. “OK, Laurie Glory – where to?”

“Can we drive over the bridge? I want to see what it looks like at night.”

“You got it.”

I drove around the paved area near the water’s edge on the far side of the bridge.

“Want to get out and take a look?” I asked.

“Nah, that’s enough to last me awhile. I got to get to work tonight yet. Guess they will save some money by not feeding me this time though! Thanks for chow.”

“S’aright. Where’s home?”

“Take me back to the clinic. I can handle it from there,” she said.

“Laurie, it’s dark, it’s cold, and you’re alone. I’m not going to drop you off at the clinic to walk through that to wherever.”

“Yes, you are” was all she said.

“Can I take you to work?”

“I can get there from the clinic. Don’t worry. I do this all the time.”

Swell. Finding her after 10 years, and I am going to get Laurie killed.

“Tell me something. I’d like to do some community visits or outreach stuff. Would you be able to help with that and get me on the right track?” I asked.

“Sure. I can show you where everyone lives. And who to avoid. They would appreciate someone who came out. Dr. P comes by every now and then. He pretty well knows the place too.”