Chapter 9
"What's wrong, Fishman? What's wrong is that you're out in Tinsel Town when Hobson needs you here!"
Chuck held the phone away from his ear, wincing. "Hey, wait a minute, Crumb. I just talked to Gary a few days ago, and he said everything was fine."
"Yeah, well, it's not so fine anymore," Crumb said, accusingly. "He made me promise not to call you or Marissa, but since you called me, I guess I'm not technically going back on my word."
"He made you promise?" Chuck ran a hand through his hair. He didn't like the sound of this. "What the hell is going on?"
"What's going on is your ex-partner was running around here like a maniac trying to do everything. He ran his ass off so much that he made himself sick!" Crumb practically bellowed into the phone.
"Sick?"
"Yeah. Sick. He's in the hospital right now."
Chuck felt a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. "Gar's in the hospital?"
"You sound like a damn parrot, Fishman. Yeah, he's in the ICU with pneumonia."
"Pneumonia? ICU?" Chuck repeated, then winced at his stupidity. "Is he gonna be all right?" He heard Crumb sigh.
"I don't know. I went to visit him this morning, and he didn't look so good. On the way out, I ran into his doc coming in, and asked him a few questions. He said that there can be complications of this type of pneumonia."
"What kind of complications?" Chuck stood up and turned off the television.
"I didn't understand all his medical mumbo-jumbo, but it sounded something like the possibility of the bacteria moving into the bloodstream or infecting the brain."
"Shit!" Chuck grabbed his empty beer bottle and flung it into the garbage. "Did you call his parents?"
"No. I tried. Hobson said that they're traveling around the country."
"Okay. I'm taking the first flight I can get. In the meantime, have Marissa keep trying to get in touch with his parents. I think Gary keeps-"
"Marissa's not here."
"What?" Chuck paused in the act of pulling the phone book out of a drawer. "Where is she?"
"She's at her mother's house. I guess her mom had some surgery and Marissa wanted to be there to help her afterwards."
"Oh man!" Guilt flooded through Chuck as he remembered Gary telling him about Marissa going to her mother's house. He had forgotten all about it; too caught up in his own life at the moment to spare a thought for Gary back in Chicago. He groaned, all hell was breaking loose. "How long has Marissa been at her mother's?" He couldn't recall the details that Gary had told him.
"About two weeks."
"Two weeks? Gar's had to do everything by himself for two weeks?" Chuck leaned over the kitchen counter, his head in his hands, the phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. Why hadn't Gary told him that he needed help? Chuck thought back to the phone call Gary had made a few nights ago. He remembered the awkwardness; the forced lightness of Gary's voice. Maybe Gary had tried to tell him. Maybe he hadn't listened.
"Hey, I've been tending bar most nights." Crumb sounded slightly defensive.
"Yeah...yeah, I know, Crumb. It's just that Gary can get really busy doing...uh...doing other stuff."
"Yeah, well...whatever it is that he does is gonna have to wait, 'cause the kid sure ain't gonna be doing much of anything for awhile."
Chuck thought about Crumb's words, wondering where the paper was. "Have you seen Gary's cat around?"
"Huh? I'm telling you that Hobson is sicker than a dog, and you're worried about some cat?"
Chuck bit his lip, "Well, Gar's very attached to that cat. He'd be pretty upset if something happened to it."
"Fine, Fishman. If I see it, I'll be sure to give it a bowl of milk, okay?" The sarcasm practically leapt out of the phone.
"Yeah. Um...Crumb? If you see Gary before I do...just tell him...uh...tell him that I'm on my way and that I'll take care of everything, okay?" Chuck closed his eyes, picturing Gary trying to drag an IV pole around while out saving the world. The image almost made him smile. Almost.
Gary put the spoon down, giving up on his attempt to eat the evening snack of orange sherbet the nurse had brought him. He pulled the O2 mask, which had been temporarily resting on top of his head while he tried to eat, back down over his mouth. He glanced disinterestedly at the TV. The Cubs were playing. He wondered if they were winning.
His eyes burned from the fever, but he didn't really feel like sleeping. He ached all over, but his chest most of all. The very act of breathing seemed to sap all of his energy. He watched as Sammy Sosa came up to bat. Boy, what he wouldn't give to be at Wrigley Field with Chuck. A couple of hot dogs, and a few cold beers. Perfect. Gary pictured the scene--the sun shining, the wind blowing out, the ivy rippling in the breeze. He could almost hear the cries of the vendors as he attempted to take his mind off his misery.
His mental imagery worked. For about a minute. Then he groaned softly, as he tried to get comfortable. Gary knew he should try to sleep, but he was too anxious about the paper. He hadn't seen it all day. What if some kid was out there getting run over by a car this very minute? What if a woman was being mugged in Lincoln Park? Or someone had a gas leak and their house exploded? The possibilities for disaster were endless and they all raced through Gary's fevered mind.
At least when he had been stuck in that theater for those two days, the cat had delivered the paper to his dad. Of course, Gary hadn't known that at the time, but he had thought that maybe Chuck would find the paper. While Chuck might have placed a few bets, Gary was sure that he would've saved anyone that needed it. Pretty sure anyway.
This time, there was no one the cat could go to. No one that Gary knew of anyway. Maybe the cat would find a new person.
At this point, Gary wasn't sure if he cared or not. He'd had a decent life before the paper--well, except for his divorce from Marcia. The paper had succeeded in isolating him from most of his friends. Chuck had hung around the longest, but even he, in the end, had left.
Marissa was still here, but Gary wondered how long she would stick around. He couldn't blame her if she left, or at least, distanced herself from him. What if someday she met someone and got married? How would she explain someone like Gary to her husband?
Who would help him then?
