Nice Albert

Nice Albert

Albert Gregory Fleming’s day began with the laughter of children. He awoke to find himself alone in bed. His fifty-eight year old ears picked out two distinct noises; his wife Penelope clattering around in the kitchen while preparing breakfast and the smashing of pumpkins. It was two minutes to nine and his stomach rumbled when he smelled blueberry muffins and turkey bacon and eggs.

Albert threw the rose colored sheets off of himself and sat up in bed. The children were his neighbor’s kids from across the street. He could see them holding rotten pumpkins close to their chests. A wave of anger flashed over him; had his pumpkins gone bad this early? He didn’t do anything yet. He wanted to see what they would do. For the moment they were backing away from each other like two dueling gunmen in the middle of a desert town.

The boy in the khaki shorts and black shirt was Nathan Albright III, son of Nathan Albright II. Albert didn’t know the other kid. Nathan charged early with a war cry, startling the other boy. The two boys collided and there was a hollow pop! as the pumpkins exploded between them. Seeds and greenish orange innards spilled out all over their bony chests and onto their feet as both crashed into the ground. They sat in the grass for a moment and Nathan laughed. The other little boy scowled, picking seeds out of his brown hair. His white shirt was more orange now.

Albert laughed at their troubles and went to the window. He opened it quietly and his laughter died down. “Where did you get those pumpkins Nathan?” he yelled out, as angry as he could. The kid didn’t see Albert’s satisfied smile. Nathan’s mother Patricia was going to have a field day washing the kid up.

“Dad bought them early and they got rotten! Mom let us break them. I didn’t steal your pumpkins!” Nathan Albright III hollered breathlessly.

“Good!” Albert slammed the window down in mock anger and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Albert,” his wife said from behind him. He watched her from the mirror.

“Wahg?” he asked, mouth full of toothpaste.

“They didn’t steal your pumpkins.”

“I ‘oh!”

He finished and rinsed and spat. He turned and bumped into a good morning kiss. Albert smiled and kissed her back. She smelled like coffee. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” She answered through the kiss.

He pulled back. “I have to pee. Shoo,”

When Albert finished he followed his nose out of their room, down the hall filled with pictures from their past. He paused at the picture of him and his friends twenty years ago. David was the on the far left and ironically the leader of their group- in a leather jacket and jeans and a brown shirt. David, the hard smoking, heavy drinking bad boy with no heart. Next to him was Albert himself, the tallest of the group. David had picked him up from work and he was still in his khaki pants and bright yellow shirt. Carla was in the center, with a pink tank top and black jeans. Next to her was David’s friend, Lucas, in all denim and a blue shirt. The last woman was Carla’s little sister, in a dark colored dress that didn’t fit well with the image. He didn’t remember her name.

They were at the state fair and had asked a passing clown to take their picture for them. The clown graciously accepted and joked around with the camera; sticking his thumb out in front of the lens, turning it around on himself in frustration and accidentally blinding himself with the flash. Albert was four beers in and shaking with laughter. The kicker was when the clown finally stopped goofing around told them, “Say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious three times fast!”

The picture turned out great. In the background he could see the Ferris wheel with its gaudy lights, and the neon sign for the gypsy fortune teller. His acid reflux kicked up remembering that woman.

“Albert?” Penelope asked.

He looked at her. She poked her head around the corner, “You alright there? You need your coffee?”

“Yeah.” He grunted. He went into the kitchen, to the island counter and piled his plate high with turkey bacon, scrambled eggs, and a blueberry cheesecake muffin. Penelope had cut up peppers and diced tomatoes into the eggs with a handful of shredded cheese. “This is good,” he said through a bite.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.

The gypsy woman was really bothering him again. He almost saw her welcoming smile in the coffee. He could still remember the options written on the sign posted outside her lavish, crimson and violet tent. YOUR FUTURE. YOUR DEATH. YOUR ROMANCE. YOUR GLORY. Alma was her name and she sat at a small foldable table when Albert and his friends approached. She was eating chow Mein from a take-out carton and delicately wrapping the noodles around the chopsticks. He remembered her smile that hadn’t quite made it all the way to her eyes.

And then he was back, looking at his coffee and taking a sip. The sun was out, it wasn’t night anymore, and he couldn’t smell funnel cakes and hay and body odor.
​
“Are we going to plant the squash today?” he asked.

“Yeah, when it warms up.” Penelope said. She was looking at him with her head cocked, blonde hair draped over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re alright? You sure are out of it.”

He shrugged. “I’m fine, I swear. Just thinking,”

“What are you thinking about?”

“The past,”

“Happy things?”

He ate a couple of pieces of turkey bacon before answering. “It’s not bad.”

She only smiled.

Albert gave her a reassuring smile. He let out a little sigh. She was smart. He needed to act normal and pretend today may not be his last day.

He didn’t remember much about his session with the gypsy woman. He only remembered eventually sitting in front of her and the stack of tarot cards between them… he remembered her asking to cut the deck, and then she was telling him the exact date of his death. Normally he wouldn’t have believed in that sort of thing; premonitions and fortune tellers, but all of his other friends had died on the exact day she predicted. Today was his day, according to the Gypsy woman.

David took a shotgun to his face three years ago, the most recent one. Five years ago, Carla was in an accident on a busy freeway, knocked into oncoming traffic by a drunk driver. Six years ago, Lucas died of a heart attack. Now out of their group it was only him and Carla’s little sister, who had wisely opted for the ROMANCE option. It felt like the universe had purposely thinned them out, but his disbelief caused migraines if he thought about it too much.

He got up after emptying his plate and grabbed another slice of turkey bacon from the pan. It blistered a small part of the roof of his mouth. “Damn!” he cursed and ate quickly. By the time he was through getting a glass of ice water Penelope was opening the sliding glass door. She stood there basking in the sunlight which did interesting things to the dark blonde hair curling off of her shoulders.

“It’s going to be a good day.” She said quietly.

He grunted his agreement, looking out at the yard, and the patio. The patio… The patio… The grill. He laughed and clapped his hands together, “I know what we should do!”

Penelope gasped, “What?”

“Nathan and I haven’t had a cook off in almost a year.”

“That’s true,” She nodded. “Are you sure you can beat him this time?”

“Don’t doubt me.” He narrowed his eyes. Albert thought for a moment. He was better at burgers but Nathan was really good at dogs and sausages. He’d have to grill like his life depended on it. He laughed to himself.

​“Albert, Albert… Albert!” Penelope was snapping her fingers in his face.

“Huh?”

"Your eyes are twitching.”

“Oh,”

She shook her head, “My god, honey. I need to get you Adderall or something.”

“Adderall is for college students.”

“Uh-huh. We’ll need to figure out how to invite people over.”

He threw his hands up, “Easy. We’ll tell Nosy Marty we’re having a party, and the whole neighborhood will know by noon.”

Penelope gasped in fake shock, “Albert! He’s not that bad!”

“Yes he is.”

“OK, he is. I’ll take him some muffins and let it slip that we’re having a cookout. You call Nathan and make sure he’s up to the challenge.”

The conversation died off again while they cleaned up. But a question nagged him. “Penelope, what would you do if I died?”

She bumped her head on top of the dishwasher in shock and backed up, furiously rubbing the back of her head. “Sorry,” he said.

“I don’t know. Travel, I suppose? I’ve always wanted to see Australia and New Zealand.” Penelope replied. “That’s awfully morbid for a sunny Friday morning. Are you planning on dropping dead soon?”

Albert could only shake his head and force a stiff laugh.

It was almost ten when everything was done. She took a shower and he went outside on the front patio. He wedged a disgustingly cheery garden gnome in front of the door to keep it propped open. Albert was perfectly content sitting in his garden chair, thinking of nothing.

At 11:30, Nathan Albright II walked out of his house and took a short cut through his yard to the car. He was short, wiry looking man with a badly receding hairline and a perpetually distracted look about him. Nathan Albright III followed him while his wife, Patricia, watched from the doorway. The boy was holding a box that looked a little too large for him. He held the box against the side of the car until his father opened the door.

“Hey Nathan, you ready for another grill off?” Albert called out, standing from his chair and walking down the driveway.

The father smiled wryly. “When?”

“Today. Seven o’ clock,”

Nathan looked at Patricia and she nodded. “Sounds fun,” she paused, “It is Friday.”

The father got into his car and peeled out of the driveway and down the street. Nathan Albright III was still holding the box in his hands. A moment later tires screeched and his father pulled back into the driveway. “Come on, put it in!” He opened his door from the front.

Albert let them have at it in peace, knocked the garden gnome from its place, and walked back into the house. The front door and the back door were directly across from each other. He passed the living room, a small half bathroom, and the kitchen before stepping onto the patio. Penelope was weeding their new box garden. It was beside his pumpkin patch that stretched out along the side of the patio.

Only a few of the pumpkins were ripe, the others were still young. He looked down at them and wished he could have enough to sell at the farmer’s market. Otherwise Penelope would bake pastries; her wildly popular pumpkin scones.

“I gave Nosy Marty his muffins and told him about the cookout. I’m sure he’s lit up the neighborhood grapevine by now. Is Nathan on board?” She asked him.

“He’s game. I told him 7 o’clock.” Albert told her, rocking back on his heels.

“Are you going to help or just lurk about.” She said, looking up at him.

“You seem to have the weeds on the run.” he retorted, “I wouldn’t dream of meddling with your system.”

“Well, bring the bags of manure over here.”

They had a large patio and he saw the bags of manure piled up against the gate. They were ten feet away.

They had bought the three bags yesterday afternoon but it had been too hot to do anything other than pitch them over the side, and now he regretted not hauling them further into the back yard. He failed at flexing his flabby biceps- while he wasn’t weak; seventy five pound bags were stretching his limit. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do it!”

He trudged through the ankle high grass, subconsciously telling himself to mow next week. He put his back against the fence and used it as leverage, picking the bag up with his knees.

The bag was chest level when Nathan Albright III came up to him like a midget hit man and screamed, “Mr. Flemings I got something for you!”

Albert screamed. All seventy five pounds of the manure slipped out of his hands. Thankfully the bag didn’t explode over his shoes but the air that wafted up almost hurt as much. The old woman who had told him the date and time of his death had not mentioned horse droppings. He turned around and hooked his arm over the fence to keep his balance.

“You almost killed me early boy!”

“Sorry,” Nathan said, “My mom sent me over.”

“Oh?”

Albert saw the paper towel wrapped around something sticky in Nathan’s arms. “What do you have there?”

“She said these are my really, really, really, really late apologies for stealing a couple of your pumpkins last year.”

“A couple?”

Nathan narrowed his eyes. “You know I only stole two!” he raised his voice.

Albert laughed and waved his hand to calm the boy down. “I know you did, I know you did. What did you get me?”

The boy struggled to keep the treats cradled in his arm as he unwrapped them. They were Rice Krispy treats, large and evenly cut with a deft hand. “There’s pumpkin seeds in them. I had the idea. My mom said it was called irony.”

“Did she now? Hey Penelope, come see what we got from the little kid across the street!”

“You don’t need to yell darling, I’m right here.” Penelope said from behind him.

“We made some for you to,” Nathan told Penelope. She took them from his arms.

“Tell your mother I said ‘thank you’ for her gift. That’s very sweet.”

“Okay, well I have to go now.” The boy didn’t wait for either Albert or Penelope to say bye before running off to his own yard.

“Nice kid,” Albert said.

Penelope helped him get the bag of manure off his feet. They sat on the porch steps and ate the Rice Krispy treats, two each, before setting off to do yard work. He poured manure for the new squash plants and she put in the seeds. It was sweaty, back breaking work. After cooling off in the living room, under the fan, they both left for the grocery store.

When they got back he did a double take when he saw what time it was. Five o’ clock. Past his death date. He put the meat on the counter and prodded at his chest to make sure his old heart was still working. It was. Albert thought back to the night he had met the Gypsy woman. Did she say five o’ clock? Did she say tomorrow? Did she say next year? His head started pounding in fear. He wasn’t ready to go. He wasn’t ready to leave Penelope. He smelled the hay and manure for the horses, and he smelled the funnel cakes and fried foods. And the crowd! Oh, the crowd; he could smell them now, with their body odor and cigarette smoke and beer.

He heard her shoes on the linoleum and busied himself with the meat. It gave him enough time to act natural. “I’m going to start making calls. Although, I think our best bet for a crowd is word of nose. Once you and Nathan get grilling, all the boys will be in our yard.” She said.
​
“We should have gotten stuff for milkshakes.”

His phone rang. Albert glanced down at the meat in his hands. Wordlessly, Penelope reached around him, and answered the phone. She had a short conversation with Nathan Albright II and hung up. “He said he would bring potato salad and drinks. He also asked if you could marinate the meat for him. He’ll be a little late tonight.”

​She went about calling people to stop by for the grill-off. In the meantime Albert had been marinating the meat, and they put on some dance music to get pumped up for the party. After he finished preparing the meat they pulled the glass patio tables away from the shed and hosed them down with soap. Penelope swept the chairs clean while Albert cleaned out the grill. Wasps had built a nest where the charcoal needed to go. A fat red wasp crawled out of one of the cells. He stood still. The wasp took flight. He flinched when it went straight for his face. At the last second it flew in the opposite direction, around him.

Albert wasn’t a naturally cruel man towards insects or vermin, but wasps absolutely deserved to die. Their crime: existing at all. There were at least three more he could see inside the outer cells of the nest. A leg, a pair of wings, a hind end jerking up and down. Carefully, and as quietly as he could, Albert took the bars out. He placed it on the little wooden stand beside him and with both hands poured charcoal into the grill. The wasps buzzed angrily but he gave them no time to retaliate. He doused the charcoal with lighter fluid and lit it with a wind resistant match.

He smiled down on the destruction for a moment. “Hey Penelope, what time is it?”

“Time for you to stop dawdling and pull out a few extra chairs from the shed.” She answered behind him.

He turned, grinning, “Them’s fightin’ words.”

She shooed him away. He went to the shed at the far end of the yard. He was pulling the door open when pain shot up from the tip of his left index finger, rode up the nerves of his arm, and pulsed in both shoulders. “Damn!” he hissed. He thought he had been stung by a wasp but when he pulled his hand up there was no stinger or red welt. He looked over at Penelope and found her cleaning something at the sink in the kitchen. She had not noticed his hesitation.

Disturbed, Albert quickly got the job done. He dragged out two chairs at a time and positioned a total of six around the large rectangular table. Finally done with his duties, there was time to wait and relax. He watched the fire in the grill until the sun vanished behind the trees. Penelope turned on the patio light. There was no unexplained pain anymore- he kept telling himself it was old age. The first of the neighbors arrived and he got up to greet them. It was the young twins down the street, Simone and Andrea.

I will not die today.

Albert validated his status as Master Grill and amazed the young women with insight into the world of marinated meats and the perfect wines to go with tonight’s dinner. The other guests arrived shortly after. The last neighbors were the Albright family, and then it was full dark. Nathan Albright II immediately went into cooking full swing.

Albert was drinking Guinness when a surge of heart burn almost forced it back out. He coughed after swallowing it down and hammered on his chest with a fist. Nathan patted his back, “Be careful there. I’ve saved enough lives today.”

“Yeah,” Albert gave his friend a thumbs up, “I’m good.”

The cookout continued and they finally ate when Nathan was done with his bratwursts and chicken breasts. Dinner was animated, but throughout the ninety or so minutes he was out there, Albert began to feel that something was terribly wrong. The pain in his finger grew to his hand and steadily pulsed up his arm and shoulders. The guests began to leave. He gave them all warm smiles and hugs and handshakes, promising to see them soon. “We have to do this again before it gets too cold outside.”

He had to save face for Penelope. He brushed the pain off as strain from the earlier lifting. Penelope did help with the manure bags but she could only lift so much. When it was the Albright family with Penelope on the patio, Albert proclaimed he needed to use the restroom. In there he looked at his red face, the sweat blotting both armpits and chest, and told himself it was just the heat and anxiety. Don’t let he old gypsy get to you, hell, she’d probably be six feet under by now.

He pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Buried in the slot under his VISA debit and credit cards, his unused Planet Fitness card, was a plain index card. The only thing written on it was todays date in neat feminine print. He could hear her voice. He could not understand any words, but they were soothing and melodic. He could smell cotton candy and food truck Chinese. The card was hot to the touch. Shuddering, Albert slipped it back in his wallet and walked out of the bathroom.

In the living room he saw Cranium sitting on the coffee table and was struck with an idea. He beamed and took the box outside, “Anyone up for a handicapped match?” Everyone agreed but Patricia gave the limitation of one game. She was exhausted and her son needed to get to soccer practice in the morning. It was settled. Penelope was with Patricia. The two Nathans teamed up with Albert.

Fifteen minutes into the game Albert was going up for charades. He was sweating from all pores and couldn’t bring himself to smile. He was supposed to pretend to be John Wayne. He moved to put his hands on his hips and strut his pelvis out to start the famous walk, but he could only see his feet, not feel them. Oh God no. And then he mimed a couple finger guns. He could not feel his fingers. “John Wayne!” someone yelled.

He nodded, grateful someone finally got it. He wasn’t even paying attention to them. It was growing darker to. “Is there something wrong with the light, it look darker to any of you?” he asked.

“No, it looks fine.” Nathan Albright III said mildly. He was staring at Albert like a hawk watching a mouse.

“Oh, never mind then.” He said.
​
There was an awkward silence as he stood there in the middle of the patio. “I’m going to get another beer. Anyone want one?”

“Sure,” Penelope said.

“I’ll help, I want another one too.” Nathan Albright III stood up and followed Albert into the house.

It was no cooler inside than it was outside. Albert spread the collar of his damp shirt over his neck, trying to wipe some of it away. He went to the fridge, bent down, and got the cold drinks out. When he stood up, Nathan immediately took the beers from him and set them on the counter.

“Are you feeling alright Albert?” Nathan asked.

“Just a little hot.”

Nathan looked down. Albert looked down and saw that his hand was gripping his left arm again. He didn’t feel or even think about it happening. “Give me your left wrist.” Nathan said. Albert complied. Nathan took his wrist and squeezed tightly with his fingers- this Albert could feel and it was not comfortable. The skin under Nathan’s fingers paled. “Inhale. Now exhale, slow. I want you to repeat that evenly. In out in out. There you go.”

Nathan let go of Albert’s wrist. Albert was suddenly very aware of his heartbeat in his ears. It was rapid. His mouth was going dry. He really, really wanted the beers sitting behind Nathan. He wanted all three of them. He wanted to just chug them down right there in the kitchen.

“What’s the prognosis doctor?” he asked with a joking tone.

Nathan sighed. “Albert you are having a heart attack.”

Albert’s stomach dropped and his vision tunneled, darkening Nathan’s face. “What?” he choked.

“I need you to go lie down on the couch.” Nathan then led Albert to the couch and set him down. Albert stared up the ceiling fan with wide eyes, a decorative green cushion under his head. “Try not to move too much. Do you have any aspirin in your house?”

There was noise at the door. Nathan turned. Albert lifted his head to see Penelope standing at the sliding door with Patricia at her heels. “Albert, what’s going on?” Penelope asked with a frightened, cracking voice.

Nathan stood up with a grimace, “Patricia, I need you to call 911.”

Penelope gasped. “What?” she shrieked. She rushed forward to Nathan’s side and gripped Albert’s clammy hands.

“Albert is having a heart attack.” Nathan continued calmly to his wife. Patricia nodded urgently and went outside.

Penelope’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again but she could find no words. “Penelope,” Nathan said loudly. He put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. Her wild, watering eyes focused on him. “Do you have Aspirin?”

“Advil gels,” she blurted.

“That’s not the same,” Nathan said.

In the meantime Albert was trying to say something, anything. A thousand messages fluttered through his head. But he couldn’t grasp them. There was too much going on. He felt light headed. If Penelope had not been shrieking in her panic Albert wouldn’t have heard over his heartbeat. Now that he was focused- oh damn, this is what a heart attack feels like, it fucking hurts- all he could hear was that irregular beating.

“Nathan,” Nathan ordered his son. Again, Albert strained to hear him. “Run to the house and get the aspirin, now.”

“Albert,” Nathan said, “Stay with me, all right? Look at Penelope. Stay with her.”

Albert looked at Penelope through blurry, watery eyes. He blinked the tears away and smiled at her. “I’ll be fine.” He said.
“Penelope, stand behind the armrest.”

She did as was asked and leaned down, looking into his face. She held both sides of his burning face. Tears dripped down onto his forehead, his nose, and a few fat salty drops into his open, gaping mouth. She said something but he couldn’t hear it. The world was so dark. Sleep was really inviting. His eyes twitched and he struggled to keep them open. If they closed and his world became full dark he knew he wouldn’t be back. But no! He widened his eyes and got a good view of Penelope. Her blond hair frizzed by the humidity, the running mascara, the smudged red lipstick she always wore. He wasn’t going to let it all go. Was he?

He never stopped staring into Penelope’s face. She looked up once. Nathan Albright III came into view and handed his father a bottle of aspirin. Penelope lifted him into a sitting position. “Albert?” Nathan asked. He shook Albert’s shoulder hard. “Albert? Albert, you need to chew and swallow these.”

His world was a blur of outlines. Nathan Albright II’s face was a useless, convulsing blob. He finally nodded. He couldn’t keep his head up. Penelope kept his head straight. Two dirty tasting pills were shoved into his mouth. He chewed them slowly and only got them caught in his dried throat. “Patricia, water!” Nathan Sr. barked.

She was already there. Patricia poured a little bit of cold water down his throat. It helped a little. She pulled back and suddenly the Gypsy took her place. She sat on the edge of the couch, where Nathan Albright II had been standing.

Albert’s eyes widened, “Why are you here?” he murmured. His voice echoed through his heartbeat and sounded as loud as a rock concert. She didn’t answer. The Gypsy pushed him back down with Nathan’s manly hands. She was in a black lace dress with ropes of jeweled necklaces around her throat. She wore gold and silver rings on every finger, and had a small full color tattoo of a monarch butterfly on her left shoulder.

“ALBERT!” she screamed with Nathan’s voice. “STAY WITH ME ALBERT!”

With Penelope’s voice she screamed. “Albert, I love you so much. I love you! I love you! I love you!”

The Gypsy smiled sadly and leaned closer to him. The only old part of her exotic, young face were her eyes. He felt insignificant staring into them for too long and tried to look around. Nothing but vague, undulating outlines. And the colors! Patricia’s pink sundress and Penelope’s gold hair. He could feel nothing but the Gypsy’s mint scented breath as she pulled him off the couch. There was darkness. For a long time the Gypsy led him through the dark, holding both of his hands and walking backwards on an empty plane.

Her smile comforted him along the odyssey.

"You can talk sweetheart," she said. Her voice was the same as the night at the carnival.

"Oh, I didn't know. Could've mentioned something earlier," he cautiously said.

She shrugged. "Everyone needs time to mull it over."

"Stupid question," he warned her.

She laughed. His heart almost started up again. "I've heard all of them."

The darkness became brighter. He could smell popcorn, and cotton candy, and the musky smell of elephants. He could hear people playing arcade games. And then he heard the distinct noise of smashing pumpkins. "I..." he became very distracted.

"We're almost there," she reassured him. "Go on with your question."

"If I had asked about my glory or romance, would I have still died tonight?"

She nodded. "I do not have any need to lie. Nor do I need to cheat humans out of their money. If they ask, I answer. What they do with the truth is up to them. If you had asked either of those questions you would have carried on in your life carefree and unworried and not hurt yourself."

"Fate doesn't care if you tell us?"

"No. No one can stop Fate. Not even me."

"So I'm dead and your Death."

She licked her lips. "No. Yes. You're almost to my realm, and then... I'm not sure. I do not enter the afterlife of others. I merely guide them."

"I'm almost to your realm? What does that mean?"

He stepped on grass. The sun was beginning to peer through the darkness, putting a spotlight on Death. She looked up at it, almost glowing, and it was then he realized just how powerful she was. "Ten minutes ago in the mortal plane you lost consciousness." Behind her, a door made of gnarled black wood appeared. She let him ago and something shifted in the air, he almost fell forward. He caught himself. She pulled the door open and reached for his hand again. "You die in three... two... one..."


Albert woke up to an extreme pain in his chest. Fluorescent lights blinded him. He turned his head away and looked out the window of a hospital room. The sky outside was cloudy, but it was daytime. A heart rate monitor was beeping at him, 92bpm. He did not know if that was bad. He breathed heavily as if he had a nightmare but he remembered almost nothing of going under. All he remembered was the darkness after his heart attack.

“Albert?” Penelope asked softly. She put his hand on his shoulder and he turned his head. He smiled. It was a much more beautiful sight than the sky or the heart rate monitor. She was wearing her pink windbreaker and tight jeans.

“Are you trying to give me another heart attack woman?” he joked. His voice was a whisper out of his dry throat and heavy tongue.

She could not speak, only emitting a small, “Hmm.” She smiled and hugged him tight. She gave him a full kiss on his lips. Her rosy perfume drove him wild and he returned the kiss, running his hands through her long hair. When she pulled back he slowly sat up in bed. His chest protested. He finally realized he was shirtless. A large gauze covered his left breast. He frowned at it.

“I thought I had died,”

She nodded. “You did Albert,” she said. He had to strain to hear her. “You were dead for eighteen minutes. You were unconscious before the ambulance arrived. Nathan performed CPR on you until they got there. You died on the way to the hospital. But they were able to bring you back.”

“I heard your ‘I love you’ tirade before I went under.”

Penelope sadly smiled. She was crying during their conversation. She had lipstick on, but this time there was no makeup to smear. He was exhausted, but he did not want to let her know how afraid he felt. The Gypsy had come for him, but he was still alive and he did not know what that meant. How long was his death postponed? Would it be days, weeks, or years? He shook his head. Maybe worrying about a question he could not possibly ever answer would just give him another heart attack. He accepted that he was with Penelope again, but he had to make sure…

“What happened after?” he asked her.

“You were sent into surgery. You needed a triple bypass.”

He nodded solemnly. “I’ll give you some time to recover,” Penelope said, “I need to let Nathan know you’re awake.”

“Before you go, can I have my wallet? Is it here?”

She nodded and pulled it out of her purse. She did not ask a single question about why he wanted the wallet. She simply handed it to him and let him do his own thing. She went out the room door and closed it.
​
Penelope was gone and he had time to pull out the Gypsy’s calling card. He frowned. And then he laughed. The heart monitor registered a bump in his heart rate. Get rid of it! Throw it out! Forget it all! Both sides of the card were blank.