"I'm not inviting you over because you saved my life, although I'm grateful for that. I'm inviting you over because I think I was wrong about you. You're not Bob Simpson. You're an offshoot of him, but you're not him. And I think that maybe you're starting to get out of that stage. My daughter adores you Bill, absolutely adores you. But I also realize that maybe you feel the same way about her. That maybe you were telling me the complete and honest truth that day I came over to your house. If that is so, I apologize for not believing you and ask that you understand why I didn't."
"I do." I said. "I probably would've reacted the same in your shoes."
"I suppose you would have." He said. "I'm not sure I like you yet. I'm still holding judgement on that matter, but I'm going to give you a chance. Just like any father gives any suitor their daughter brings home."
"Thank you." I said.
"You asked me the other day if I wanted to live to see grandkids."
"Yes." I said.
"I do." He nodded. "And I assume that you intend to provide those grandkids?"
I swallowed nervously again. "Yes." I finally said. "I do."
He nodded slowly, taking a long drink from his beer. "Be sure you treat my daughter right Bill." He said. "She's the only one I got. I intend to live long enough to kick your ass if you ever hurt her. Do you understand?"
"I do." I told him. "And you're gonna have to live a long time to see that Mr. Blackmore."
We stared at each other for a moment. Finally his expression softened. "Who do you like?" He asked, jerking his head towards the television.
"Like?" I asked.
"In baseball?" He clarified, as if I was an idiot. "You're from Spokane so I assume you like the Mariners."
"Well to tell you the truth Mr. Blackmore…"
"Jack." He said. "Call me Jack."
"Jack." I said, the name sounding strange on my lips. "To tell you the truth I'm not much of a baseball fan at all. In fact I don't really follow sports at all."
"You don't watch sports?" He asked, looking at me as if I was some sort of communist radical.
I shook my head. "No."
"If you're going to be my son-in-law Bill, we're going to have to change that."
The next day Jack Blackmore went under the knife for a triple bypass operation. They cut open his leg and removed arteries from it. They then split open his chest, stopped his heart and installed those arteries in his heart, bypassing the occluded vessels. They restarted his heart and sewed him back up. The procedure took nearly five hours to complete from anesthesia to recovery room. Nina and Mary spent the day there, hanging around in the surgery waiting room, reading old magazines, drinking coffee, and worrying.
I spent the day in school and at work, doing some worrying of my own. At the front of my mind was the fact that I'd most likely pushed fate off of it's path once more. Mr. Blackmore, Jack, was supposed to be dead in all likelihood. But now he wasn't. Was fate going to work swiftly to reclaim him? Was he going to die on the operating table, a victim of reaction to anesthesia, improper procedure, or some other malady? Was he going to die of a post-op infection? A thousand things could go wrong, any of which a vengeful fate could seize upon in order to take the wayward Jack Blackmore out of the picture.
Since he was in the hospital where I worked I stopped up to see how things were going at every opportunity. I popped by upon arrival to find Nina and Mary still in the waiting room, waiting anxiously. I hugged Nina and told her it would be all right. She wiped a few tears away as she heard this. The words felt almost like a lie on my lips. By my second break he was out of surgery but not allowed any visitors yet. I offered more words of encouragement before heading back to my station. By my last break they'd both been in to see him. Their moods were better and they were more relaxed. He'd come out of surgery just fine, they told me, though he was in considerable pain.
I went back up when my shift was done and found them both in the private room that he'd been moved to. They were sitting in the chairs by his bed, just watching him as he floated in and out of consciousness. I guessed, correctly as it turned out, that he'd been heavily medicated.
"How's he doing?" I asked the two women in his life.
Before they could answer, Jack himself spoke up. "Like shit." He said thickly, his eyes turning to me.
"Not good huh?" I asked him, stepping closer.
"It feels like someone chopped my goddam chest open with an axe." He said.
"Jack." Mary admonished automatically. "Your language."
He gave her a look, a look that only people that have been married for thirty-three years can pass.
I stayed with them until visiting hours were over. They seemed to have no problem with my presence there. Nina and I held hands as the conversation went back and forth and as Jack went in and out. He tried explaining the finer points of the Mariner's strategy to me but the Demerol or whatever they were giving him made him continually forget what he was saying.
When we finally left him for the evening I rode the elevator down with Mary and Nina and we walked out to the parking lot. Their car was parked in the visitor lot while mine was parked in the employee lot. I walked them to their car and it was time for me to make my leave.
Mary walked around to the driver's side of her car while Nina and I stood at the passenger door, looking awkwardly at each other.
"Well," I said, "I'll see you tomorrow. Are you going to be here?"
"Only in the late afternoon." She said. "Since Daddy's doing fine I'm going back to school and ROP."
"Oh." I nodded, casting an eye at Mary, who was watching us, refusing to get into the car. "Well, I'll see you at school tomorrow then and I'll probably stop by here after work."
"Good." She smiled hesitantly. "Well…"
"Well…" I repeated. We continued to stare at each other, casting nervous glances at her mother.
"Oh for Christ's sakes." Mary suddenly announced. "If you want to kiss each other go ahead and do it. I've seen you do it enough through the curtains."
With that she huffily got into the car.
Nina and I looked at her and then at each other, astonishment and embarrassment on our faces.
"You heard Mom." Nina told me, smiling.
"Yep." I said, leaning in and kissing her.
The next day Nina went back to school, as she'd said. She would not be able to visit her father in the hospital until at least four o'clock. Jack was continuing his recovery and was reported to be doing well. Mary Blackmore was holding vigil at the hospital.
I reported to work as usual, not stopping upstairs. At my first break I stood hesitantly outside the central supply department. Finally I pushed the elevator call. When it arrived I rode upstairs.
When I entered the room Mary and Jack were talking softly about something. They both looked at me strangely as I entered. We stared at each other, nobody wanting to talk, neither of them wanting to ask me what I was doing there without Nina.
Finally I stepped in. "Jack?" I asked. "How are you doing?"
He hesitated for a moment, continuing to look at me. At last he said. "A little better. Not much, but a little."
"Good." I replied, going over and grabbing a seat.
Jack stayed in the hospital for two weeks. He suffered no post-op infections and in fact made what was termed by his cardiologist a "remarkable recovery". During this time I made it a habit to head upstairs on breaks and check on him, to pass a few words with the elder Blackmores. It was only two days before they stopped looking at me strangely and started greeting me with something approaching warmth. And of course I visited after work when Nina was there.
Understandably Nina and I had little time or place or mood for physical affections. Our brief kiss as we parted at night as Nina climbed into her Dad's car, Mary climbed in her car, and I climbed in mine became an accepted ritual with her mother but there were no rendezvous at the empty house, no making out, no dates.