Devil's Advocate (Part Two of Three)

Part One at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/devils-advocate

Devil’s Advocate (Part Two of Three)

It had been a long day and nurse Abbott was all but done in. She had one last check to do and that would be that. Entering a private room, the patient was evident lying still under sheets whilst her partner was scrunched up on a seat next to the bed. He was thrashing about, eyes closed with a tartan blanket covering his knees; she knew at once it was his nightmare again. Tugging his arm, she peered closely as the man open his eyes, wide and alarmed at first. Exchanging glances, they both knew it was the sequence involving the devil, souls being sold and the end of the world; it was a recurring theme. They had discussed it on a few occasions.

“You should go home and get some proper rest, Mr Delaney.” The words were tender and genuine.

Frank ruffled his hand through his short fine hair and looked up.

“Maybe you’re right. Just a short break for a while. I don’t suppose Ellen’s going anywhere soon.” His accent was stoical New Jersey.

The nurse took the clipboard from the end of the bed and updated it with readings. Monitors beeped at the side, a stand with a plastic tube filtering liquid to the prone woman. It was a palliative vigil that was counting down days until the inevitable.

Frank was a tall man with rugged looks; he had an expression that cast a serious cloud over even the most genial of situations. Aged thirty-seven he had felt that he had the rest of his life ahead of him. Neither he nor his wife Ellen deserved what was happening. Cancer was stealing away his partner and was about to wipe a marriage slate that had lasted nearly twenty years. They had tried to start a family without success. It was as though they were cursed.

Taking one last, lingering look at the woman in the bed, he kissed her gently on the cheek; his silent hope that she would open her eyes again had gone unfulfilled for days now. The journey to the subway station was slow, Frank’s steps riddled with fatigue. It was a familiar route past nurses in white uniforms rushing somewhere or other, doctors checking pagers and gurneys both empty and loaded with yet another patient. Pushing through revolving doors that led outside, it was like being spewed from a merry-go-round onto waiting asphalt. For a few seconds, he stood staring at Mount Sinai hospital, Queens; the front of the building awash with glass windows. He thought about his wife lying there alone nearing the end. Pangs of guilt held him as he pondered whether to go back in. He needed proper sleep, though. He swivelled and headed in the direction of the trains.

The lateness of afternoon brought with it a sun that was soon to set in its December sky. Clouds roiled, billowing with a mild threat of snow. Leaves blew around, dancing in winter breezes. Frank made his way up steps that led to Astoria Boulevard subway. Flaking green girders straddled both sides of the track, bodies milling about on platforms awaiting their turn to board. It was another twenty minutes until the train was due to arrive to take him home. A bench next to a wall beckoned, space available to sit. It was an opportunity to watch the world go by even for a few minutes.

Frank closed his eyes and pondered. He lamented the demise of his beloved wife; he considered a future which had him alone in it. It was a desolate outlook. The bank had been considerate in allowing him time off but sooner or later he would have to return. Would he still be the same man? Breathing in, he looked up and sensed someone had sat next to him. A middle-aged woman wearing a striped scarf scurried past holding a child’s hand, pulling them along to catch their train. His gazed turned to see who the interloper was. Staring back at him was the face of a man who looked tousled and scruffy; a man with an unkempt ginger beard that crawled up both sides of his head. He was wearing a beige mac-raincoat with jogging bottoms on his legs and ragged, coloured sneakers with holes in the toes.

“You look like you need a friend, hoss.” The statement was followed by a grin, stained teeth evidence of wear and tear. The hobo’s eyes twinkled as he spoke; his speech scratchy and high-pitched like a good ‘ole boy from the Deep South.

“I already have friends. Why do I need one more?” Frank sounded resigned.

“We all need another friend. There’s no limit as far as I know.” The down-and-out looked out at people on the platform, some standing, others walking or running, newspapers held in hands, briefcases signalling office workers. It was a cross-section of humanity that was mostly in a hurry.

Frank thought of Robin Williams and the movie “The Fisher King”. It was a strange musing but these were strange times.

“Why would you want to associate with me? Haven’t you got better things to do?” As confrontational as that might have sounded, the tone was more reconciliatory than anything else.

“Oh I have things to do but I choose to speak to you, hoss. Tell me, what’s on yer mind? Your carriage will arrive soon enough and you may never see me again. Ever.” The vagrant laughed, his head thrown back in a carefree manner that suggested he was at peace with his situation.

Frank’s fingers groped for a bottle of scotch that was hiding in a coat pocket. He felt the glass but decided that now wasn’t the time to take a reassuring swig. The smell of stale alcohol lingered on his breath. He had been drinking a lot lately; it was his way of dealing with things. He wondered what the man opposite would say if he knew.

“OK. Well, you asked. My wife is dying in hospital. Mount Sinai. I don’t know how I will cope without her. Otherwise, things are fine and dandy.” The irony was tangible, both men shifting uncomfortably at the disclosure. The words had tumbled out like a verbal release, sentences uttered to relieve pressure. Notwithstanding, Frank had no idea why he was being so open within seconds of meeting a complete stranger.

“Ah…well….I’m sorry to hear that, friend. I’m Jack, by the way.” At that he held out a hand which Frank initially stared at and then reluctantly shook.

“That must be as tough as old boots. I’m so sorry. Can she be saved?”

For a few seconds, nothing was said. Announcements of trains arriving and departing echoed over the tannoy. The comforting, buffeting noise of carriages pulling away marking time as a pending reply hung in the air.

“Nope. She can’t be saved. It’s terminal.”

Jack pulled at his fingerless mittens, a gesture that meant he was thinking of something to say.

“I tell you what, hoss, this is the deal. Give me $20 and I’ll have a word with the devil. I’m sure we can come to some arrangement to help your lady wife.”

Frank went cold as the proposal concluded. The devil, the devil, the devil; there it was again. The subject of his nightmares. It was bizarre that it had turned up in a chance meeting with a drifter.

“What did you say?”

They stared at each other, passers by turning to glance at the two men from different worlds.

Jack laughed once more, ruffling his fingers through his beard.

“What have you got to lose, hoss? It might work. Maybe you should just trust me. It’s a binding contract that includes your soul.” That grin and raucous laughter again.

Frank was tired and irritable. Literally nothing made sense these days. He wasn’t sure if he was awake or asleep half the time. Jack sounded like a grifter, a carpet-bagger extraordinaire but he was past caring anymore. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled a wallet out of his jacket. He took a $50 note and squeezed it into the vagrant’s hand.

“Here, all I have is this fifty. Take it along with my soul and everything else.”

At that he stood and walked away without looking back.

****

Frank had slept for hours. His own bed felt like Nirvana, a mattress to caress his back whilst a quilt kept him warm. The ringing of his landline woke him from a dreamless slumber. He rose and stumbled across the bedroom to the phone on the dresser. He recognised the telephone number that was flashing on the display as the hospital and lifted the handset.

“Mr Delaney? It’s doctor Walker from Sinai. I did try your mobile but it must be switched off. Sorry to wake you at this hour but there’s been a development. Yes. Your wife has woken from her coma. It was unexpected. She’s been asking to drink and eat. Her vital signs have all changed. We need to run some tests but it does appear that her prognosis may have improved. Can you come and see her?”

Part three at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/devils-advocate-part-three-three

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