Carlos and Javier - Waiting for news 3

Carlos and Jose waited in Urgencias most of the morning.  Just before midday, a nurse came to tell them that Javier had suffered a heart attack and was too sick for visitors; that the medics were doing all they could to stabilise him.  She suggested they went back home and waited for the hospital to call.

The call came around seven p.m.  Javier had been transferred to cardiac intensive care in one of the city hospitals about an hour from their town.   The caller told Carlos that Javier was now conscious and had been asking for them. 

They took a bus up to the city, then a taxi from the bus station to the hospital.  When they arrived on the ward, they were met by a nurse, who warned them to stay no more than fifteen minutes at a time and not to excite him.  She pointed out a relatives’ room at the end of the ward where they could rest in between times.  They hadn’t counted on staying.

Javier was looking tired and grey.  He was connected to all manner of wires and tubes.  Carlos noticed he had a catheter again and remembered how he’d reacted last time.  This time, he appeared not to notice it was there.

“Javier?”

He blinked at the ceiling and lowered his eyes to look at them, then gave a small wave.  Something was clipped to the end of one finger.  Oxygen was hissing into his nostrils.

Jose seemed shocked to see his father in such a state.

Carlos took his arm and asked if he was ok.

“Yes.  Thank you.”  He was thinking of the vigil beside his mother not even a year ago.

“Sit down.” Javier wheezed, “Both of you, sit down.”

There was a chair on either side of the bed.  Jose gazed at the monitors and listened to the soft ping of alarms elsewhere in the ward.

“What have you been doing?” Javier asked.

“Waiting.” replied Jose.

“How long have I been like this?”

“Since this morning.”

“They’ve moved you.” added Carlos.  “You’re in University Hospital up in the city.”

Javier nodded.  He seemed to be taking the news on board.

“Who’s here?”

“Just us.” answered Carlos.

“Is there anyone else around?”

Jose got up and looked around.  “No dad.  Nobody within earshot.”

“You’ll have to come closer.”

They stood and leant in close to Javier’s face.  They could hear his breathing: uneven and rough.

“I wanted this to die with me.”

Carlos felt a chill.

There was a small change in the output of one of the monitors.

Javier waited.  Gathering himself, like he knew to conserve what energy he had left.

“I wanted to take it with me, but I can’t carry it anymore.  That’s why I wanted to tell Jose.  He’s family.”

Carlos felt the words strike him for the second time that day.

Javier reached for Carlos’ hand.  He drew it gently to his lips and kissed it, then pulled him closer.

“What did Jose tell you?”

“That you killed someone.  That your real father is the man who raped your mother.”

“Listen.”

Javier took a long and painful breath.

“I found it out when I was seventeen years old.  Seventeen.  I need a drink.”

Carlos looked around for a glass. 

Jose found a jug of water and a sponge on the table.

Javier followed him with his eyes.  “Yes.  That.”

Jose wet the sponge and put it to Javier’s lips.  He sucked from it.

“That’s good.  Again.”  He took another drink.

“I went straight home to my mother and asked her.  She howled.  I’ve never heard a sound like it since.  She ran into her room and didn’t come out for a day.”

“Again, Jose.  Just keep doing it.”  Jose gave his father more water.

“Then she told me.  The man she had married.  The one who’d fought for the Republic.  The officer, who I’d been so proud of, wasn’t my father.  It was some pig of a policeman.  I knew the man.”

“How had you never found out before?” Jose asked.

Carlos looked at him.  “Nobody speaks.”

“I’d got into a fight with a kid I’d known from school.  I beat him up, but he had one weapon left.”

Jose had been holding his breath.  It came out suddenly through his pursed lips.

“I ran away to Cadiz.  I went to sea.  I stayed away.  You knew this, Carlos?”

“Yes, Javier, I knew that.”

Javier nodded.

“I got a telegram saying my mother had died.  I worked coastal waters later, but in those days it was deep-sea shipping.  I was in Singapore.”

“So you didn’t go to her funeral?”

“No, Jose.”

Jose seemed to withdraw into himself.

“More water.  Tip the cup into my mouth.  Just a little at a time.”

Jose gently held the back of his father’s head and gave him small sips from the cup.  Carlos rubbed Javier’s fingers, which were cold.

“I went back to the town to have a look.  The grave wasn’t even marked.  It was spring.  I took a walk into the hills above town.  There’s a ravine.  The meltwater comes down from the mountains.  It had been raining on top of that and the river was full, but you could still walk the path just above it all.  I used to go there when I was a kid.  It was my little place.”

A nurse came up to the bed.  She checked a few settings and wrote something in Javier’s notes. 

Jose held up the cup.  “Is it ok to give him sips from this?”

“As long as he can swallow it, yes.” she smiled.  “I’ll bring some more.  Are you his son?”

“Yes.”

“And you must be his brother.”

“I’m his friend.” Carlos responded.

He felt Javier’s fingers close around his.

The nurse brought a fresh jug of water.  “Don’t tire him, remember.”

They waited for her to walk back along the ward.

“Has she gone?”

“Yes.” they answered.

Javier took a few breaths.

“I was walking the path and looking into the river.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  Then I saw a man standing on a rock-shelf just below me.  He took his hat off and pushed his hair back with his hand.  I recognised him straight away.”

“It was him?”

Javier nodded.  “Give me some water.”

“How could you be so sure, dad?”

“He was well-known in the town.  He coached the junior football team.”

Carlos watched and listened.

“But did you speak to him? What did you do?”

“I just ran down the bank.  I didn’t stop until I hit him.”

There was silence, broken only by the sounds of the ward equipment.

“Javier, do you need to rest?” asked Carlos.

“No.  No, just keep giving me water.”

“I didn’t see him go in.  I didn’t hear him shout for the roar of the river.  I looked for a while to see if he was on the bank, further down.  Then I watched the water for a while wondering if I should follow him.”

He let out a long moan. 

It was the sound of a sixty year burden coming away.

Carlos squeezed his hand as tightly as he dared.  He crouched down and kissed it.

Jose eased the cup to Javier’s lips.

“His body was never found.  The river never gave it up.  I heard he was missing and that there’d been a search, but he hadn’t told anyone where he was going – he just vanished.”

“He must have had a lot of enemies.” Jose ventured.

“Yes.” replied Javier.  “And a lot of friends.”

Carlos had forgotten to breathe.  He exhaled deeply through his nose.  “What did you do?”

“I took the first bus out, thinking they’d be looking for someone.  Travelled to Cadiz and picked up a ship.  I was in the Americas three weeks later.  That’s it.”

Carlos noticed how Javier’s breathing seemed laboured and painful.

Javier opened his eyes briefly and then closed them again. 

“Are you tired?”

Javier nodded almost imperceptibly.  He formed the words “Thank you.”

Carlos felt his hand being squeezed.  He leant down and whispered something Jose couldn’t catch.

Alarms began to sound from the monitors.  Oddly, they didn’t suggest urgency.  Two nurses walked quickly up the ward.

“Bleep the doctor.” said one to the other as she ushered the two men towards the relatives’ room.  She was saying something, but Carlos wasn’t listening.

The other nurse was picking up Javier’s hand and cancelling the alarms.

Carlos felt his entire world suddenly crash in on him.