Jessica
came running in a short burst down a slight hill in the park. Her right arm was
raised trailing a string and a kite. Once the kite was aloft, she slowed and
watched as a gust of wind took the kite and a hundred feet of string from the
spool in her hands. Up, up it went into wild gyrations as she pulled this way
and that. Her heart soared. She could not remember when something pleased her
as much as flying a kite on a sunny summer afternoon.
Now
she found something other than kites that pleased her in a different way. It
was Frankie. He was slouching on the grass of the little hill in his
un-athletic manner, watching her. They had little in common. He was a night
owl. She always rose early. He exhibited little energy, while she bounced and
ran at every opportunity. She wore warm colors and favored braids. Frankie wore
black, black jeans, and a leather jacket. He even wore black underwear.
As
she squinted at the kite crossing the sun she thought back to the time she
first met Frankie. He had come to visit his grandfather Frank Riordan who was
spending the last weeks of his life in a bed on the ward where she worked at
the hospital. She took to Frank from the first day of his admission. Even
though his body was ravaged by cancer, he had an almost jaunty smile that was
genuine, not faked. She began to realize that he had smiled like that all his
life, when he showed her a picture of himself wearing his uniform in the first
world war. There he was saluting for the camera with that same smile. He must
have been only eighteen at the time and now 75 years later he had the same
sparkle.
The
first relative of Frank that Jessica met was Carolyn O’Connor, the same Carolyn
O’Connor who was a local politico, a member of the board of supervisors. She breezed
in one day in a mauve suit talking 500 words a minute. After sitting less than
a minute she bounced up to wipe something from her father’s lips. She cracked
small nervous jokes and then laughed to cover her discomfort in the presence of
eminent death. Frank didn’t mind. He just smiled. He obviously loved her and
was used to her antics. Frank’s face beamed even brighter when in walked
Frankie, his grandson.
Jessica
at first thought he was a biker with all that black leather and chains.
However, it was obvious that he never did anything as athletic as raising a leg
to get onto a Harley-Davidson. Carolyn turned pale as she saw her unfortunate progeny.
She checked to see if any of her constituents could observe that she had a
relationship with this person before she began to talk. What she did say
revolved around black motorcycle clothes, laziness, not going to school, and
how she had to rush off to a committee meeting. In a purple puff she was gone.
Jessica
usually stayed out of patient’s rooms when they had visitors, but she found
herself drawn to this strange pair, the grand-father and his grand-son. It was
clear that they loved each other. She felt like a thief who' d just discovered a
pot of gold.