Unforeseen Events II ~ Part IV

Johnny Spence answered the phone on his bedside table.

“This better be good.”

“Johnny it’s Kate.”

“Kate?”

“Kate Asher.”

“No Kate I know it’s you but at six in the morning?”

“Johnny I have bad news.”

“Ohhh… what?”

“I’m at the UCLA Medical Center.”

“You okay?”

“No it’s not me. It’s Stewart and Paul.”

“Miller and Grant?”

“They were in a car crash last night.”

“Stewart and Paul.”

“Yes dammit, wake up!”

“C’mon Kate, what’s going on?

“Stewart is …  he’s dead.”

“What?”

“He died of his injuries from the crash.”

“Oh no.”

“They hit a utility pole at high speed.”

“Jesus. Stewart and Paul.”

“Yes,” said Kate as she began to cry.

“What about Paul?”

“Paul’s in intensive care,” said Kate, still crying. “The doctors think he’ll pull through.”

“Alright Kate. Where are you exactly?”

“I’m at UCLA.”

“Yes but where at UCLA?”

“I’m in the ER waiting room, right by the entrance.”

“I know where that is. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

As he walked through the hospital entrance Johnny saw Kate from a distance. She was sitting next to Melora Miller in the waiting room. Melora was eight months pregnant and obviously stunned. The two women had not yet seen Johnny and he turned as if to walk away. With his head lowered he took a few steps, then stopped. Assuming his game face he turned back around and approached the two women. Kate saw him first.

“Oh Johnny,” said Kate as she rose to greet him. The two embraced. Melora remained seated, staring straight ahead, a blank look on her face. 

Turning to her, Kate said, “Look Melora, Johnny’s here.”

“Oh,” said Melora and with a flat affect, “Hello Johnny.”

“Melora,” said Johnny, “I don’t know what to say.”

“We had a fight last night,” said Melora. “He left around nine o’clock saying he needed to cool down.” She began to weep saying, “Oh God, what am I going to do?”

Kate sat back down and put her arm around Melora’s shoulder. Both women were speechless. Johnny knew not to say anything. He sat down on Melora’s other side and took her hand in his. Then she let out a painful groan.

“I think the baby’s coming,” said Melora with a vacant stare.

Kate and Johnny looked at each other.

“I’ll get help,” said Johnny. He stood up and looked around. Walking into the main hall, he shouted, “Nurse! I need a nurse. We need help here!”

A middle aged nurse approached Johnny. “What is it sir?”

“There’s a young woman in the waiting room who’s going into labor. Her husband just died here in the ER.”

“The crash victim?”

“Yes. She needs help, right now.”

The nurse called out to a nearby orderly, “Max I need a wheelchair.” She hurried into the waiting room and the orderly followed her with the wheelchair.

It had been a week since the Anagama kiln firing in Mijas. The firing was a success and Carmen shipped her rush orders out to galleries in Milan and Rome. Ethan was settling into a routine in the village. He’d not seen Sally since the night of the firing. The following day she took a bus to Granada to spend time there with friends. He thought about following her to Granada but thought better of it and remained in Mijas. 

It was midday when Ethan and Pierre met for lunch at the Café Machado.

“Have you bought a camera?” said Pierre.

“I went to your guy at the pawn shop. He sold me a second hand Argus C3. It’s a 35 millimeter job.”

“What did you pay for it?”

“Nine hundred pesetas.”

“Fifteen dollars,” said Pierre. “A good price. I know the camera well. Very basic but takes great pictures. Does it have a light meter?”

“It does.” 

“C’est si bon!”

“I only got it yesterday. Figured I’d wait, thinking you might give me some pointers?”

“Happy to, mon ami.”

“What about today?”

“Today is good. Let us wait until later in the day when the light will be better.”

“Better?” 

“When the sun is low, in the mornings and afternoons, light and shadows are more dramatic. It follows that pictures taken during those hours are more interesting.”

“Hmm… makes sense… never thought of it that way.”

“I think maybe now you start your second career,” said Pierre.

“Drumming, then photography,” said Ethan. “Why not?”

Paul Grant lay in a hospital bed at the UCLA Medical Center. It had been a week since the accident. His left arm and shoulder were in a cast, as was his right leg. He had multiple contusions and lacerations on his torso and had suffered a basal skull fracture. On this day Kate and Johnny came to visit with him.

“How are you feeling Paul?” said Kate.

“I don’t know. They’ve got me all doped up with the morphine. I’m just sort of floating.”

“Have the doctors told you much about your injuries?” said Johnny.

“Yah, Doc Witherbee detailed the extent of the wounds.”

“Do you know when you’ll get out of the hospital?”

“Another week or so. Then I’ll go to a rehabilitation center in the South Bay.”

Paul closed his eyes and shook his head. “My God… Stewart. And Melora losing her baby.” 

Kate and Johnny were silent. They didn’t want to tell Paul that two days earlier, Melora committed suicide.

“Paul, I got a letter from Ethan yesterday,” said Johnny.

“Ethan?” said Paul. “Is he still overseas?”

“He’s in Spain” said Johnny. “He’s staying in a village along the south coast.”

“How is he?”

“Here, read the letter.” Johnny pulled the letter from his back pocket.

“Ah..  I’m not seeing too well. Could you read it to me?”

“Sure.” Johnny shot a glance at Kate who nodded back. He unfolded the letter.

“Let’s see here. OK…”

“Dear Johnny, How are you old friend? I hope all is well with everyone back in California. I’m doing okay. I’ve settled down for awhile in a town in southern Spain. It’s a village called Mijas. Stewart Miller lived here for a year and a half. I’m actually living in his old place. I guess he and Melora are married now. I’ve met a couple people here who knew him. They speak well of Stewart, and Melora too. I gather she spent a few months here before they returned to the States. From what they said I expect there’ll be a little Stewart or Melora coming into the world soon. Or maybe that’s already happened? Anyway I wish them well and I regret missing them when I got here. Please say hello to everybody for me. I’m still having the time of my life.  Later, Ethan “

Johnny looked up from the page to see Kate quietly weeping. Paul stared at the ceiling.

“Christ,” said Paul. “He doesn’t know. How I envy him.”

Ten days later a letter arrived for Ethan in care of ‘Post res-tante’ at the Mijas post office. It was from Kate. He picked it up with another letter, which was from his mother. He carried them unopened to the Plaza where he was due to meet Sally and Pierre for a meal. 

“Bonjour Ethan,” said Pierre.

“Hi guy,” said a smiling Sally.

“Good morning Amigos.”

The three sat down at their favorite table at the Café.

“What do you have there?” said Pierre.

“Letters from home,” said Ethan.

“Who are they from?” said Sally.

“One’s from my Mom and the other is from my friend, Kate Asher.”

“You’ve spoken of your mother but not Kate,” said Sally.

“Would you like to read them to us?” said Pierre.

“Maybe Kate’s letter but I’d prefer to read my Mom’s on my own.”

“Of course,” said Pierre.

Manuel brought a tray with three glasses of water to the table.

“Thank you Manuel,” said Sally. “We’ll order in a few minutes.”

“Si Señorita,” said Manuel. 

Ethan opened Kate’s letter and unfolded it. It was typewritten, which surprised him. “Hmm,” he said.

“What,” said Sally.

“It’s odd. She doesn’t type.” He flashed the page so the others could see it, then scanning the copy his face blanched. 

“What is it?” said Sally.

“This is bad news,” said Ethan.

Later that day the three friends walked on a trail above the village. Ethan carried his Argus C3 camera and Pierre had his Hasselblad camera strapped around his neck. Sally walked a ways ahead of the two men.

“Did you know that Sally and Stewart were lovers?” said Pierre.

“No,” said Ethan.

“Oui. Not for long though. Melora was Stewart’s old flame and when she came to Mijas it put an end to the fling.”

“And now they’re gone,” said Ethan.

“Quel?.. What?”

“I mean Stewart and Melora.”

“It’s tragic,” said Pierre. “You can’t make sense of these things. If you try you just go crazy. The power of a tragedy is that we never get over it. We puzzle and reflect and try somehow to deny that it happened. But it did happen. And ever after we carry the scars on our souls.”

Ethan took a deep breath and slowly exhaled,

“Oh look,” said Pierre as he raised his camera to take a picture.

to be continued…