Hospital Room

This is another sad story based on a true incident, so, if you don't feel like getting your spirits down, read it some other time--that is, if you want to read it some day. I will tell you that when some of our friends and acquaintances first heard about the incident, some laughed a bit as if it were just another joke. I was anything but amused, to say the least, and let them know it. The Lord knows there are some sad people in this world who will laugh at anything. I'll never forget when Kennedy was assassinated
and some of those people around me--known and unknown by me-- laughed as if the leader of the country were nothing special. But, back to the story. My heart truly went out to my neighbor, Clara, and her family. Fortunately, Clara's kids are grown now, getting married and having kids of their own. At least she was spared the trying lot of becoming a young widow. I was alone and it was a week night. I don't remember the day, but it's not important, I suppose. Clara has been a neighbor of mine for years and we have often helped each other out not to mention frequently lending recipes to each other, celebrating good news with both families or just reminiscing a bit over a cup of that fabulous coffee we have here in this part of the world. As I said, I was alone when I heard some sort of commotion next door. Well, usually, there can be quite a bit of commotion over at Clara's what with her grown kids, their husbands and wives and the grandchildren... But this time the commotion seemed out of the ordinary. Plus, I just had this feeling. Of course, I went over and knocked. I
would see for myself. Maria, one of Clara's daughters, answered the door. In tears. Her face was swollen and she had one of her young kids on her hip.
"What on earth?" I couldn't help but ask aloud. I looked quickly around to see who was in the living room, as much as possible anyway. But there were only family present. No strangers, police or any people of that sort.
"It's daddy," Maria mumbled between sobs. We both tried to hug somewhat clumsily.
"William?" I cried. "What on earth has happened to him? Don't tell me..."
"Come in," Maria cried. "Mom's still here. She'll have to tell you.
William, the husband and father, of course, had been in the hospital a few weeks now because he'd had open heart surgery. But we'd all been to visit him time and again and had always found him in the best of spirits and improving with the speed of lightning. Not only that, but the doctors had assured us time after time...and they were well-known doctors in the city. Not only that, the hospital was one of the best. But as I was saying, the doctors had assured us of the total success of the operation. New plumbing, they'd laughed.
Of course I went in, following Maria. There was my dear Clara on the new green sofa she and I had found not more than two months ago. William had reluctantly agreed for her to buy it, but that was William, of course. He was an accountant who did fairly well in our environment. Any purchase that was made was always preceded by William's reluctant agreement. Clara would always tell him she didn't know exactly how much was in his sacred bank account but that when his time came up for the other world, not a cent would be accompanying him. "Centavo", I guess I should be saying for here that's what we have. He'd answered her that no, a centavo wouldn't be accompanying him but it would stay here and accompany her. Would she not still have needs, etc.?
"Clara, what in blazes? Don't tell me...it didn't work! His heart. I'm so sorry, dear. Truly."
"No, not his heart. He was killed. Two men."
She could hardly talk, the poor thing. Besides some of the family having already been there when the phone call came and on my arrival, other members began arriving one or two at a time. The apartment would be filling up in a short time.
"Killed?" I repeated in shock as if such a notion were dumped on us for the first time by some aliens from outer space. "What do you mean? Who...?"
"She can't talk," Maria's husband, Carlos, said as he took my arm. "Here, let's go into another room. I'll explain it to you."
What Carlos explained to me in another room was one of the biggest shocks of my life. We all know in this city and country that we live in a dangerous place and that no one, not even a general or a police commissioner, is ever truly safe, even right under the nose of the police headquarters, but this was too much to bear. It wasn't fair, I felt, to Clara and her family. What transpired in the hospital is the following (and it's a true story-- take my word for it): William's last name is Diaz. Diaz in Spanish-speaking countries is much like Smith in the English-speaking countries. So, you can imagine what's coming. The revered hospital happened to have two William Diazes simultaneously for a few days. The other William Diaz, as we now know, had connections with a mafia of some sort(no offense intended to Italians, whom we all love just as much as anyone else, not to mention their food, wine, etc.) and was, to put it short, "wanted" by them. When they learned he was a patient in this hospital, they sent two hitmen dressed in disguise into the hospital to "eliminate" William. The other William, of course. But the hitmen(sicarios we call them here) had no idea that two William Diazes were patients in the hospital. And so...
I'm just glad none of us went to the hospital and had to see the room with blood all over the place, etc. Crime scene, they call it. We remember William for the wonderful and friendly person that he was and that's that. Clara, bless her, has still not gotten over Williams' death and I feel certain it will not be anytime soon. We all do as much as we can to help her yet our attempts, I fear, are so feeble. I sometimes doubt I'd have survived the shock in her place. One's heart can only take so much. Here in our large, unruly city, we all are subject to "heart tests" on a daily basis. Would you believe it?