Those Old Familiar Places-Chapter 1:The Letters (Part I)
Jason whipped open the door of the penthouse, his keys in hand. He stopped startled at the sight of his mother standing there, her hand poised to knock. “Monica!” he exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”
“Jason!” She cried, holding her hand to her chest and exhaling with a shaky laugh. “You scared me to death. I had no idea…Is this a bad time?” It was obvious that he was just leaving.
“Yes…no, please come in.” He actually grabbed hold of her arm and was pulling her into the room. “I’m really glad that you’re here. I was just going out, Spinelli’s sick. He has a fever and a cough and I was going to get some cough syrup. Now, that you’re here, would you mind checking on him, seeing what you think?” He looked at her anxiously, not liking to impose.
Monica looked at her son. He appeared extremely worried, frazzled even. She had never quite understood the relationship between the socially inept hacker and her mob enforcer son. She wasn’t the only one in the city to puzzle over it. It was an unlikely alliance, a combination of such disparate personalities. Still, it was almost reassuring to see Jason this upset over someone, even if it was Spinelli, it meant that he was still human, still cared.
“Well, Jason, I don’t have anything with me. My bag’s back at the house. I stopped by to…” She paused looking down at the old shoe box she was carrying. It was clear that now wasn’t the time. He wouldn’t hear her or be receptive, even if she tried. “Sure,” she looked at him with sad eyes as she acquiesced to his request. It had been a long time since she had accepted that whatever interactions she had with her only remaining child were always going to be dictated by his time, his world and it appeared that tonight, even on the domestic front, would be no different. Besides, she was a doctor and it would just be selfish of her to try and take Jason’s attention away from Spinelli when he was sick. In plain fact she knew she couldn’t succeed anyway. So, she pushed down the familiar feelings of rejection and jealously that washed over her whenever she dealt with Jason and his priorities. “Of course, Jason, I’ll check on Spinelli and see what I think.”
“Great!” Her reward was twofold. A quick flash of a smile that reminded her of his younger self when the world lay before all of them hopeful and untrammeled followed by a spontaneous kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be as quick as I can. You can go on up. His room is the last one down the hall on the right. “Is there anything else I should get?” He stared at her intently. He certainly respected her as a doctor, if not a parent.
She sighed as she shifted into medical mode. “I presume you have some acetaminophen?”
He nodded, “Yeah, I gave him some a while ago. So, just the cough syrup?”
“Sounds about right. I won’t know anything else until I examine him and I don’t even have my stethoscope…” She was starting up the steps when he called to her once more.
“Monica?” His voice was hesitant as she paused and looked back at him. “Could you stay until I get back? I don’t want him to be alone.”
“Of course I will, Jason. It isn’t a problem.” It was of course, she couldn’t help the flash of hurt that consumed her as she saw herself as he seemed to, only as a means to an end. Someone to help his friend but nothing more. Somehow she could never adjust to the situation but to stay connected to him she would endure it Another brief smile and he was gone.
Monica walked down the hall feeling uncertain, nervous even. She hadn’t had a lot of dealings with Spinelli. As rarely as she saw Jason, it was even less frequent that Spinelli and she crossed paths. He disconcerted her-his unique language, his uncoordinated body movements, his bestowal of nick names on everyone-it was all alien to her. “Stone Cold!” She snorted to herself as she raised her hand to tap on the bedroom door. “I mean really, what kind of name is that?” Her son was supposed to be a doctor and instead he was an assassin for hire and his roommate had made it so that every time he opened his mouth the world was distinctly reminded of that fact.
“Come in, Stone Cold,” came the muffled response to her knock.
She opened the door and stuck her through it. “Spinelli, it’s not Jason, it’s Monica Quartermaine.”
Spinelli was sitting up against the brass frame of his bed. He was dressed for bed in a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, the ever-present computer lay opened on his lap. The night table by the bed was covered with tissues, a container of pain pills and a bottle of orange soda. He looked up at her in shock and moving the laptop off his legs started to get up. “Oh, Matriarchal One, I am afraid that Stone Cold has left our domicile on an errand of mercy for his health challenged grasshopper.” He had spoken in such a rapid and agitated manner as to induce a fit of harsh coughing that caused him to double over as he tried in vain to regain his breath.
Monica moved to his side and rubbed his back speaking to him in low soothing tones as she tried to get him to calm down and not exacerbate his coughing fit. With a whooping sound, Spinelli attempted to get air into his embattled lungs, his red face and his teary eyes marked the effect the out of control seizure had upon him.
“Sh, sh, that’s right, just breathe, Spinelli. There’s lots of air, plenty of air,” she murmured as he fought his way through the attack. Monica felt vaguely guilty, that her appearance could be so intimidating so as to cause such an extreme and painful reaction on the part of the young man. She was positive that this wasn’t the type of effect which Jason had envisioned when he had asked her to check on his roommate.
Slowly, the coughing subsided until Spinelli was only giving one or two little coughs as he breathed heavily, his body trying to restore its oxygen equilibrium. He reached for the bottle of orange soda and gulped down several swallows which resulted in another minor round of coughing, but it was much less severe than the initial bout.
When he had gone several moments without coughing, his head bowed and his breathing rapid and harsh, Monica spoke quietly. “That’s better. Now why don’t you sit back on the bed and let me take a look at you. Jason asked me to come up and check on you.” She threw in that last as a way to establish her bona fides, to create a short cut for him to place his trust in her as she examined him.
“Stone…Cold,” he was once again capable of speaking, “asked the Matriarchal One to see to the Jackal’s physical well being?” He sounded surprised and a little unsure of how to behave in this unexpected encounter. He hadn’t spent much time in Monica’s presence and he had sensed her feelings of disapproval towards him on the few occasions they had met.
“Yes, I’m afraid I don’t have my bag with me. So, I can’t do more than a cursory exam but I promised Jason I would.”
Monica heard the trepidation in his voice and was a little surprised to find that she wanted to make him feel more at ease, less uncomfortable. She was beginning to think that perhaps he was just as awkward in this encounter as she had been initially but surprisingly was no more. He was just a sick boy who happened to have captured her son’s heart and his trust. She felt her resentment flowing out of her to be replaced by a sensation she hadn’t felt or at least been allowed to indulge in quite a while-maternal concern.
“The…Matriarchal One needn’t bother, the Jackal simply has a bad cold or perchance the flu. Stone Cold is just apt to overreact when his grasshopper is ill. My sincerest apologies for his having disturbed you unnecessarily.” He was babbling, upset that Jason should have coerced his mother who had no kind feelings towards him into paying him this unexpected and unlooked for visit. All his emotions of the moment were even further compounded by the pervasive embarrassment that accompanied the thought of his mentor’s mother poking and prodding at him, even if she were a renowned member of the medical profession. The only silver lining in the whole uncomfortable situation was the fact that she didn’t have her bag with her so hopefully that would limit her invasiveness.
“Nonsense,” Monica responded briskly, hiding an inner smile at the idea of Jason ever overreacting to anything, though she was beginning to think the particular occupant of this room might be the exception that proved that rule. “After all that coughing, I think I should look you over and try and ascertain if it’s something to keep an eye on. Anyway, “ she gave him a conspiratorial smile, “Do you think it’s fair to ask me to face Jason without doing as he asked when by just cooperating for a few minutes you could set both his and my mind at ease.”
Spinelli gave a dejected sigh, “The Jackal of course has little choice but to acquiesce to such a well reasoned and logical counterpoint. Do with me as you wish.” He once more lay back against the head board, his entire body tensed at the thought of the ordeal to come.
“Now, Spinelli you’re liable to hurt my feelings if you take an attitude like that. I am not going to do anything very radical, just check you over so I can report back to Jason.” She reached over and delicately picking up his wrist took his pulse. “Hmmh,“ she murmured, “It’s a little elevated but not too high and perhaps not surprising after what you just went through.” She smiled and reaching over felt under his jaw and ears, kneading the flesh while Spinelli stared down at his hands entwined in his lap and swallowed uncomfortably. “Lymph nodes aren’t particularly swollen,” she noted clinically. Now she was gently lifting his chin up with her finger forcing him to look at her unless he wanted to appear rude. “Do you have a headache?” She placed a soft hand on his forehead, first brushing away the bangs that overhung it.
He nodded his head reluctantly, trying to rack his brain in a vain effort to recall when anyone had ever shown such motherly concern for him. A quick empathetic flash of pain passed through him as he recognized the loss of children and grandchildren from her life. They should have been the natural recipients of this concern. He was just acting as a filler, a dutiful favor for her son.
“Is there a thermometer?” Monica asked him quietly, loath to remove her hand, the physical connection somehow comforting them both.
“Indeed, in the bathroom. The Jackal will just run and retrieve it…” He was already halfway out of the bed when he once again began convulsively coughing.
“Spinelli!” Now she was angry in that concerned way that parents have when a child does something to cause itself harm. Monica pushed him back down and sat with him while he weathered the spell. “Don’t you dare get up out of this bed again,” she said to him in a tone that was an amalgam of warning and worry. “I’ll get the thermometer.”
As she headed for the bathroom, she could hear him pleading, “Could the Maternal Doctor please avert her eyes from the disorder present within the Jackal’s inner abode?”
Monica had to laugh, it reminded her of Jason’s bathroom when he was a teenager. Clothes were strewn everywhere, towels hung haphazardly though she was both shocked and amazed at the numbers of bottles of shampoo, conditioner and mousse clustered around the tub enclosure and the sink.
“All this and his hair still looks like a rat’s nest,” she said in wonderment.
The thermometer was lying on the counter, precisely aligned with the sink and next to the package of plastic tip covers. It was obvious Jason had placed it there after using it earlier and she marveled that he could walk through this messy bathroom and not compulsively straighten it up. “He must really be worried,” she thought to herself as she picked up the thermometer and returned to the bedroom. Monica sympathized, she felt oddly uneasy as well.
“Here we are,” she announced brightly as she came in. It worked, Spinelli’s face cleared as he realized she seemingly didn’t condemn him as terrible person for having the universe’s messiest bathroom.
“The Jackal regrets his paltry efforts at being a gracious host for Stone Cold’s Maternal One.” He was looking at her shyly as she placed the thermometer in his ear, and together they waited for the beep.