Empty Nest
Margaret Eppes heaved a deep sigh as she stared out the window into her garden. The cup of coffee had gone cold in her hand as she forgot to take a drink. Through the window she could watch the shadowy memory of two young boys playing catch, the older boy tossing the ball to his younger brother while the little one clumsily juggled the ball dropping it on the ground and letting out a small cry. The shadow of the older boy ran to his younger brother and gave him an encouraging pat on the back. Margaret smiled sweetly at her recollection.
"Well, Margaret, we have an empty nest for the first time in more than twenty years. First Don joins the FBI and leaves us, disappearing for months on end, and now Charlie is headed across the pond." Alan said entering the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee as he took a seat. "I have just enough time for a quick cup of coffee before taking a shower and leaving for work."
The phone ringing so early in the morning startled both the Eppes. Alan jumped up to grab the phone. "Hello?"
"May I speak to Mr. Eppes?" A low quiet voice asked.
"This is he," Alan answered, a little put off by the subdued voice on the other end of the phone.
"Mr. Eppes, my name is Agent Colson, from the Phoenix, Arizona FBI office. I am calling about your son: Agent Don Eppes. I regret to inform you that he was injured in the line of duty and is in critical condition. He is in a hospital located in Flagstaff, Arizona," the professional sounding agent spoke in a monotone voice.
Alan's polite smile faded instantly as he sat down hard in his seat. "Oh, no…Donnie."
"What?! Alan, what? What's wrong with Don?" Margaret stood up quickly and moved closer to him. Her voice seemed to raise an octave with every word. She leaned down, trying to hear what was being said on the phone.
"What happened to him, Agent Colson? Will he be alright?" Alan felt a dull pain begin in the pit of his stomach. Alan suppressed the image of his six-year old son running around with a toy gun shooting at imaginary robbers. Don's then curly-dark hair would fly around his face and cover his dark brown eyes. Alan never did find out where his son managed to pick up the toy gun, he certainly would never have purchased the toy for his child. But Donnie would never give the toy up, and finally Alan had resigned himself, despite his hippie tendencies, to allow his little boy to keep playing cops and robbers.
"He and his partner, Agent Cooper, were attempting to apprehend a fugitive; that resulted in a gun battle. Your son was hit twice, once in the arm and once in the chest. He was rushed to the Flagstaff Medical Center. Once he is stable, sir, he will be airlifted to St. Joseph's Trauma Center in Phoenix. Sir, we would like to make arrangements to fly you out here." Colson's voice spoke almost too quickly for Alan to decipher the words.
"Twice…" Alan's voice died as he picture that six-year old falling to the ground in a hail of bullets and crying out for his mommy and daddy. "We'll be ready to go on the next plane out of LAX," Alan's voice gained strength as his parental gut told him his son needed him.
"Sir, I've booked seats for you and your wife on the 2:00 pm flight out of LAX. I'll have agents meet you at your arrival to bring you to the hospital. I am sorry sir." Alan did not hear anything else the agent said as he hung up the phone.
"Alan, what happened to Donnie?" Margaret's voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up at his wife and saw the fear in her eyes.
"He was shot hunting a fugitive," Alan answered softly. "We leave in about six hours."
"Oh, Alan! Where is he? My, baby!" A few tears escaped from Margaret's eyes as she leaned against him putting her head on his shoulder. Alan wrapped his arms around his wife as they both cried softly. Alan remembered the day his first little boy had fallen down the stairs; he had rocked the little one in his arms while he cried himself to sleep.
"We need to pack. I have to call the office and tell them I won't be in for a while," Alan said pulling away from his wife. He stood up and began walking towards the stairs in a daze.
Margaret sat down in the chair her husband had vacated. She picked up the phone and dialed an international number.
"Hello?" Charlie's voice was a welcome sound to his mother.
"Charlie! I am so glad you are home. I needed to talk to you…"
"Mom, can I call you back? I'm kinda busy right now. I just met this great girl, Susan, and we're leaving for a dinner party soon. You'd like her, Mom. I'll give you a call tomorrow," Charlie interrupted her.
"Charlie, your father and I are leaving for Phoenix in a few hours. We won't be home for a while," Margaret paused, suddenly unsure about informing Charlie of his older brother's injury. She could hear how excited her youngest son was as he interrupted her, and she knew he would be devastated to hear about Don.
"That's great, mom. You and dad need to get away, take a vacation. Just give me a call when you get back; and I'll tell you all about Susan," Charlie spoke fast, and she hardly had time to say a word before he said goodbye and hung up. She was left staring at the phone, caught in the wake of hurricane Charlie.
"Why did you call him? Donnie wouldn't want him to know." Alan stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching his wife as she fought back tears.
"He has a right to know if his brother is hurt. If Donnie dies…" Margaret paused, before continuing. "If Donnie dies, Charlie will be devastated."
"This isn't about Charlie!" Alan was surprised by the anger in his voice. "The past has always been about Charlie. Charlie has always been your focus – our focus. Don has been pushed aside and ignored since Charlie was three. The needs of Charlie always came before Don's. Right now we need to focus on Donnie – and Donnie's needs and wants. Donnie would not want Charlie to worry yet."
Margaret was stung by the angry words of her husband. "I know this is about Donnie. I can't change what happened, and I don't regret giving Charlie what he needed. Don understood," Margaret looked away and tried not to cry.
While she defended their decisions in raising Charlie, she also felt the guilt for the decisions that had forced Donnie to grow up faster than he should have. She knew that Don had sacrificed more than either of his parents for his genius little brother: Donnie had lost his childhood. Margaret thought back to the day she announced that she would be accompanying the thirteen-year old Charlie to Princeton. Even though the eighteen-year old Don would have been horrified to have his mother tag along with him to college, the look that flashed across Don's face was one of jealousy – but only for a moment. The stony expression returned to his face, and he teased his little brother for needing his "mommy," affectionately tousling Charlie's curly hair with a smile.
"What if all this happened because we choose Charlie over Don? He grew up to be independent, but we let him pull away. I know he's an adult now, but what if his joining the FBI and working for fugitive recovery is really some unconscious need of his to get our attention," Alan's voice was full of emotion.
"We did not cause this. Don't say that!" Now it was Margaret's turn to be mad, as she rose and head up stairs to pack.
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"Mr. and Mrs. Eppes?" A man tall man dressed in a dark suit met them as they stepped off the plane. "I am Agent Tompkins. Agent Colson asked me to escort you to the hospital. Please follow me. I'll have someone retrieve your luggage." The man turned and walked swiftly down the hall.
Margaret slipped her hand under her husband's arm, leaning on him as they followed the swift moving agent out of the airport. A dark sedan was parked in a no parking spot, and the agent opened the back door and motioned for the Eppes to climb in.
"How is my son?" Alan asked, leaning forward for agent Tompkins to hear him as they pulled away from the airport loading zone.
"I am sorry, sir, I don't know the answer to that question. We should be at the hospital shortly," Tompkins answered glancing at Alan in the rearview mirror.
The Eppes huddled next to each other in the backseat, each facing out different windows of the car. The ride to the hospital seemed to last forever, as they tried to take comfort in each other. Alan patted his wife's hand while Margaret continued to cling to his arm.
"I'll drop you off at the front door. Agent Colson will take you upstairs to the ICU," Tompkins said catching Alan's eye in the mirror. He pulled up in front of the large hospital, and the Eppes climbed out of the car and rushed through the doors.
Agent Colson was a short man with a brush cut; he was closer to their age than their son's. His blue eyes were serious yet soft with sympathy as he greeted the Eppes quietly. "Sir, Ma'am, I am sorry to meet under these circumstances. Your son is one of the most promising agents that I have had the pleasure to work with. His skills in Fugitive Recovery are matched only by his partner Agent Cooper." He shook hands with both Alan and Margaret before leading them to the elevator. "Don is on the third floor."
"Agent Colson, how is he?" Margaret asked finding her voice.
"Ma'am, I'm not a doctor, and the hospital would prefer to talk to his family," Colson said punching the 3 button as the doors closed. "He doesn't look good though."
"Alan…" Margaret turned quickly to look at her husband.
"Let's wait until we talk to the doctor, Margaret," Alan patted her hand again. While he tried to comfort his wife, he couldn't help himself from thinking the worst. How would he face himself if Donnie died? He had argued hotly with his son the day he announced his decision and had even called him a "Nazi," a term he regretted the moment it left his lips. Donnie had accepted his apology, but the tension continued to color their conversations. How could he fix the rift in their relationship that his son's job had caused?
Stepping from the elevator they were greeted by an Indian doctor with the slight hint of a British accent. "I am Dr. Bajaj; Mr. Eppes, Mrs. Eppes. Please follow me to a waiting room." The doctor lead them to a small private waiting room and motioned them to sit on the couch. "Your son received two gun shot wounds. The first bullet passed through his arm in a clean wound that will need some physical therapy to recover. The second bullet did more damage. It entered Don's chest and punctured his lung. The bullet fortunately missed hitting his spine, but it did take some work to remove. Your son has yet to recover consciousness. However his condition is improving, and we are optimistic about his prognosis. More than likely we will be able to move him out of intensive care tomorrow overnight. Unfortunately, you will not be able to stay over night, as he will not be able to have visitors once he is moved."
Alan and Margaret both sighed with relief, but protested not being able to stay with Don. "Please, Doctor. We haven't seen him in months. We need to be with him," Margaret pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.
"I am sorry," Dr. Bajaj said, his voice soft with sympathy. "The visiting hours for the main floors of the hospital are only until 9 pm. We will take the name of your hotel and call if there is any change. I will leave word with the desk that you may both stay in the room till then. However when the nurses arrive you must promise to stay out of the way."
"We promise," Alan said simply.
Margaret lowered her head to Alan's shoulder and breathed deeply, while Alan brushed his hand over his eyes.
"I will need one of you to fill out his paperwork, but the other may go to his room immediately," Dr. Bajaj said standing up and motioning them to follow him again.
"Go to Donnie. I'll fill out the paperwork," Alan graciously let his wife go first.
"Thank you, Alan," Margaret spoke softly before following a nurse down the hall.
Alan took a seat and began reading over the paperwork in front of him. His vision blurred as tears of relief filled his eyes, and he found he couldn't read the paper work. Alan set the clipboard down on the seat next to him and lowered his head into his hands. He his whole body began to shake as he was washed over with emotion.
"Mr. Eppes?
Alan sat up immediately and focused in on the red-haired man who took a seat across from him.
"I'm Agent Billy Cooper, Don's partner," the red-haired man said, his intense blue eyes seem to stare through Alan. "I just wanted to say Don is good at what he does, and despite this incident, he is gonna go far in Fugitive Recovery."
"Agent Cooper. We haven't been able to speak to our son in four months because of this job! My wife and I have trouble sleeping or we wakeup with nightmares where he is hurt or killed. The first word we receive from him in months is a call from a stranger who tells us our baby boy is alone in the ICU of a city we have never been to. And you have the nerve to tell me he is gonna go far," Alan's voice rose, drawing disapproving glares from the nurse station. "My son should be a baseball player not a gun-toting Fed! I would do anything to make him quit! I am going to see my son, and I expect you to stay away." Alan stood up and marched down the hall into the room where his wife had disappeared.
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"Oh, Donnie…" Alan's voice dropped to a whisper before dying out as he entered the room and looked at his eldest son lying in the hospital bed. Don lay with a blanket pulled up to his armpits and his hands resting above the covers. Margaret sat next to Don, her eyes filled with unshed tears and clinging to his right hand.
Alan approached the bed as quietly as he could before gently taking his son's other hand. Don looked so young and pale, bundled under his blankets. The serene image was disturbed by the cannula tube in his nose and the IV attached to his hand. Alan could see the ugly bandage around his son's right arm, as well as the thick padding that went around his chest peaking out from under the blankets. Alan reached out and stroked his son's short-dark hair, wishing it was the curls he had as a little boy. When Don moaned softly in his sleep, Alan drew his hand back.
Alan struggled for where to put his hands. He didn't want to wake Don, but at the same time he wanted to pick him and cradle him like a little baby. The doctor's encouraging words echoed in Alan's head, trying to keep in mind that Donnie would be alright.
"Alan, he looks so young. He doesn't look old enough to be carrying a gun and hunting down evil people. When did our little baby grow up?" Margaret's soft voice barely made it above the sound of the beeping machines that surrounded their son.
"He grew up while we were at one of Charlie's math competitions," Alan said sorrowfully. He stood and walked around to the other side of the bed, putting his arm around his wife and resting his hand on hers that still clung to Don's. "He's gonna be alright, Maggie. We just need to be there for him when he wakes up. He's not gonna like us fussing over him, but he'll put up with it for a while. We just need to get it out of our system. Hold him while we can, before he flies the coup again." Alan smiled at his wife before lowering his head to her shoulder.
The two Eppes began their watch until the nurse arrived to inform them visiting hours were over. They were both sure that neither would get any sleep that night.
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Margaret and Alan dressed quickly and headed for the hospital, arriving an hour before the ICU would allow visitors. The two Eppes headed to the cafeteria and forced themselves to eat eggs and sausages. After Alan removed the half eaten plates, they sat quietly sipping their bitter coffee without tasting it.
"I met Don's partner yesterday," Alan said as a red-haired doctor reminded him of the cocky agent. "I didn't like his attitude. He didn't seem sorry that Don was hurt at all, only concerned with getting back to his job. I told him to stay away."
"Alan, Don is not going to be happy with your behavior," Margaret shook her head sadly, knowing that she probably would have reacted the same way. "I know you hate him being an FBI agent, but that's his choice, and we're not going to change his mind. No, the best thing to do is to smile nicely and support him. It is good to see so many people respect him."
"I don't care. That Cooper guy is trouble. I think he sees Don as a means to and end, not as a person, someone's son," Alan had a far way look for a moment before jumping on the second thing his wife had said. "How could my son be an FBI agent. I took him to peace demonstrations, Maggie. He watched them arrest me at sit-ins. He was a flower child. And now he carries a gun and wears a Kevlar vest. He arrests people; he shoots people."
The Eppes entered the room hoping to see their little boy with dark eyes wide waiting for them to arrive. Instead they found him in a deep conversation with the red-haired agent.
Agent Cooper was leaning over and laughing at something Don had said. Their son who sounded almost breathless seemed at to be happy and content.
When his dark eyes glanced at the door, Don's face broke into a warm, happy smile. His eyes crinkled and he lit up seeing his parents. "Mom, Dad! I didn't know you were here!"
Margaret jumped forward, catching Don's hand and pulling it up to her lips to kiss it. "Nothing would have kept us from being with you! As soon as they release you you're coming home with us to rest. No arguments, Don. Let me have this at least," Margaret said sensing Don was about to protest.
Alan glared at the other agent before standing behind his wife. "Yeah, son, give us a chance to smother you before you go back to hunting bad guys."
Don looked back and forth between them. He chastised himself for wondering for just a second if Charlie was receiving an award whether they would be here, or would it just be dad. He had played so many baseball games with only Alan in attendance or neither parent being able to make it. Charlie had an award; Charlie had a competition; Charlie had an interview. Don slowly looked away, hiding his emotions as he often did. His eyes landed on Billy Cooper.
"Dad, this is Coop, my partner," Don smiled weakly as he introduced them.
"We've met," Alan replied shortly.
"Yeah, Don, your father was just telling me about how good a baseball player you were," Coop flicked and odd look at Alan, choosing to keep the argument just between them.
Alan looked away, still angry and resentful of Cooper, but he struggled to keep this from his son. He swallowed his pride before turning back to look at the two agents. "And Agent Cooper was telling me what a good agent you are."
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Don lay sleeping on the couch. Margaret picked up a blanket that was flung across a wingback chair and proceeded to tuck in her eldest son. She moved slowly, knowing that if he were to wake him, he would be embarrassed by her fussing.
Margaret watched him sleep, as she gently stroked his dark hair. He was not that different now than he was twenty-five years ago when the little four year-old would fall asleep on the couch clutching his baseball glove. Alan had bought him the glove after they had taken their first family trip to a Dodgers game. Don had been excited and bounced his way to the car as he clung to his father's hand.
"Please, daddy, can I play baseball too?" Donnie's little voice squeaked with excitement as he grabbed hold of Alan's leg. Wrapping his little arms around his dad, he looked up into Alan's eyes. Donnie did have a great puppy-dog look as a little boy, and Margaret could see Alan's heart melt.
"You know, Donnie, I think there is t-ball league that we might be able to get you into. Let's stop at the sporting goods store on our way home. Every great ball player needs a great glove," Alan said, pulling Don's little arms away from his leg and lifting the boy up.
Margaret smiled at down at Don, thinking maybe she could still find his glove and tuck that in with him. She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his forehead.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she had to rush to get the phone before it disturbed Don.
"Hello, mom," Charlie's faraway voice was a welcome sound in her ear, a small chance to have her entire family around her at one time.
"Charlie, I'm so glad you called. I miss you, honey," Margaret tried not to gush too much, knowing he would bristle at her mothering. "Don was just asking about how you were doing. He's here right now, and I wish you were here too."
"Don's there? Why? Is he okay?" Charlie sounded slightly concerned, somehow despite Charlie's ability to be completely unobservant; he always seemed to sense what was happening to his brother.
Margaret heard the voice of Alan in her ear: "Donnie wouldn't want Charlie to know." She hated lying to her son, but she knew Alan was right. Donnie was the protective older brother; he didn't want his baby brother to worry about him. She gritted her teeth, deciding that full discloser wasn't necessary.
"Yes, Charlie," Margaret smiled into the phone as she spoke to her youngest. "Your brother is just home for a visit. We are planning to go to a Dodgers game tomorrow. He's resting right now – jetlag – but you can talk to him later, I'll have him call you when he wakes up."
"Wow, that's great! First you get a vacation and then Don comes home," Charlie added sarcastically. "I picked a good time to leave for England. Almost feels like I'm missing out. I wish I had time to tell you about Susan. She's great mom, I wish you could meet her. We went to a show and then took a walk through the park. The maze of the park, mom was a perfect example of a Fibonacci spiral. If you take the point of origin and work your way out…"
Margaret smiled to herself as Charlie seemed to fly out in its own Fibonacci spiral. For a minute, she felt complete. Alan was working on the house; Don was home for her to fuss over; and Charlie was growing into a fine man. She could only hope it lasted.
The End
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