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 All these years you and I were at war, at least in my mind, he continued.
 Every time I saw you, I
felt trapped, almost as if enemy soldiers were trying to recapture me ... to
bring me back to their ship, that floating death coop I was so determined
never to remember again.
Gary s expression remained unchanged, so Ben made one more attempt.  It took
me until now to realize what it was be-tween us, and that none of it ever had
anything to do with you. You were just unlucky to be my first child is all.
Son, I m so sorry. I only wish there was some way I could make it up to you.
Gary didn t seem angry, nor did he appear to take satisfaction in Ben s
predicament.  Okay, Dad,
he said, nodding slowly.  I believe you, or at least I believe you believe it.
But what should we do?
Gary s face was calm, noncommittal, like a parent lis-tening to his
child s I-lost-my-math-homework story.
 I want to be the kind of father I always should ve been. I want to understand
and be understood.
That s all. I don t expect you ever to forgive me. That was Ben s only lie;
forgiveness was exactly what he wanted.
Gary hesitated. Ben stared at him, and waited. Finally the son opened his arms
to the father, shuffled toward him.  I ll try to understand, Dad, and I do
forgive you.
They hugged, their first embrace in the three years since Marge s funeral.
But when Ben stepped
back, he saw nothing but pity on Gary s face. Of course! His son would never
under-stand and didn t forgive him at all; he was just thinking, How can it
hurt to be nice to the old man?
Ben deplored this moment as nothing more than a momentary amity
between two well-meaning strangers. Like Longfellow s ships that pass in the
night, he thought, reciting the verse in his mind:  ... we pass and speak to
one another, Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence.
Which might be all they could ever have between them. His revelation, he
decided, had come far too late. Still, even as the gloom of his failure
plagued his heart, Ben Smith s nature would not permit him to give up.
Later that day, Ben started to feel an odd weakness, confirming his fears. He
dialed Boston Cardiology
Associates and asked for Toby.
There was no better cardiologist in Boston, but even if there were, Ben would
have found it difficult to betray their friend-ship by seeing another doctor.
They d stayed the closest of friends and confidants ever since second grade;
Toby had no family; Ben was the only permanent relationship in his life. Over
these past twenty years, Ben had served as best man at all three of his
friend s marriages, the most recent of which had ended six years ago, in
typical Tobias Fiske fashion. Of course Ben was there to console him through
all three bitter, and ex-pensive, divorces. And after Marge died,
Toby had canceled his appointments and closed his practice a full week to
remain at Ben s side.
 I think you should come as soon as poss  Toby paused.  Ben, he restarted,
Page 47
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
 haul your ass over here right-the-hell now!
When Toby stepped into the examination room, Ben marveled at the man Toby had
become. Always solid and dark-complexioned, his friend had filled out
and matured into almost magazine-cover appearance. He looked like the
hero of a Latin American romance novel. Yet for all his physical
attri-butes and apparent robust health, Toby s relationships were only
rarely stable. Ben sighed and awaited his friend s verdict.
Toby advised him to check into Massachusetts General Hos-pital.  You ve had a
mild heart attack,
he explained, very businesslike, though Ben recognized the apparent dispassion
as forced.  Too bad you stayed on that airplane. If you d sought help right
away, you might ve avoided permanent damage to the heart muscle. As it is, the
lesions are small, but dangerous. You ll have to be far more careful from now
on.
Then he put both hands on Ben s shoulders and gazed at his face.  Ben, this is
serious stuff.
Ben realized then that Toby was terrified. Suddenly he was, too.  You better
believe I won t wait next time.
That night, as Jan Smith sat home nursing four-month-old Sarah while
her husband Noah tried to determine which bills to pay first and which
ones could wait, the telephone rang.
 Hello.
 Jan, it s your old dad.
 Hey, Dad, she answered, delighted as always to hear his voice.  How are
you?
 Not too good. Apparently I had a mild heart attack yesterday.
 My God. No!
Noah came into the room.  What s the matter?
Jan shook her head, scowled at him, then focused all atten-tion on the
telephone.
 Now Jan, don t worry, Ben said.  I m fine, sweetheart. Just staying here
overnight ...
 You re in the hospital
?
 For observation. I ll be back home tomorrow. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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