Connections by John C. Laird (top 10 books of all time txt) 📕

Keshia smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek before sitting back down. “I leave for a few days and look what happens.” She laughed, “You sure don’t do things halfway; it looks like you were hit by a truck.”

Jason managed a smile. “Actually, an SUV. I must look like Frankenstein with all these bandages, tubes and wires everywhere.”

Keshia was sitting next to his hospital bed. A beautiful, vibrant young woman, she was stunning with her dark, shoulder-length hair, flawless complexion and chestnut brown eyes, eyes he knew were capable of revealing a kaleidoscope of emotions. She was wearing black dress-slacks and a loose, dark red, off-the-shoulder blouse, exposing a tanned left shoulder and upper arm. He was used to seeing her in blue jeans, sweatshirts and tennis shoes.

He grinned and shook his head. “Wow, you sure look good.”

With a sparkle in her dark eyes, she dipped her head demurely. “Why thank you. I thought that since I had to come back for my favorite dirty old man, I would dress up for the occasion.”

“Your favorite? How many do you have?”

“Okay, so you’re my only dirty old man.”

He decided to change directions. “By the way, how did you get them to let you in? I didn’t think I was supposed to have any visitors yet.”

“Well…,” she said, drawing out the word. “You just have to have the right connections.”

“Works for me. So how was the vacation, the skydiving?”

“It was absolutely fabulous. I was so stoked! You’ll have to try it someday.”

They both fell into an awkward silence. Jason couldn’t believe a nurse hadn’t come in by now. Maybe Keshia did have some pull with someone.

Finally he mumbled, “I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.”

She was frowning now. “And why wouldn’t I have seen you again?”

“Because of the things I said the day you left.”

For the last three years he and Keshia had worked part time at the University; college money for her, post retirement money for him. They had talked often, not only of the present, but sharing stories of his past and dreams of her future. Her boyfriend, a graduate student at the University, hadn’t minded the odd relationship between the older man and Keshia.

She interrupted his reverie, “You mean things like your quitting your job because of how you felt about me? Because you could no longer deal with me just as a friend, or pseudo-daughter…”

“…or granddaughter,” he interjected.

“Shut up. And when did these revelations occur?”

“About the time your idiot boyfriend broke up with you last year. I held you, and you cried so hard and so long my shirt was soaked.”

“I remember.”

“You were so hurt it broke my heart, but I didn’t feel like some friend, or a father, consoling a daughter. What I felt was far from paternal. I was ashamed, I should have known.”

“Ashamed, why?” At least she was smiling again.

“Give me a break, Keshia! We’re not even from the same generation; they check my I.D. for senior citizen discounts, and they check your I.D. before serving you alcohol!” He was rapidly becoming upset.

Keshia stood and put her hand gently on his bandaged head, her smile spreading. “Calm down or you’ll set off all the alarms…and why should you have known?”

Jason’s voice was barely audible. “You made me alive. Inside every older person is a younger one wondering what the hell happened? Around you I was a young man looking out a window at a world I could never get back to. I could see and feel your joys, your sadness, your hopes and dreams, your passion and enthusiasm for life. I wanted that. I wanted you. I’m so sorry.”

Her face blurred as tears formed in his eyes. “I told you that if it could only be a different time and place, and I could be a young man again, I would be following you around like a puppy dog.”

She sighed softly and reached down with her free hand and wiped away his tears.

“That image is kind of intriguing. You’d really like that?”

“I’ve dreamt about it many times. After all these years, I realized the most important part of my life was still missing. You. But with me on the back side of my life and you on the front side of yours, how unfair is that? I was born too early. Or you too late.”

Keshia wiped away her own tears with a hand still wet from his. She bent down and kissed him lightly on the lips. “I have a feeling that I might never have met another man like you in my lifetime. Actually, I’m sure of it. What if the young man inside you could open that window and join me?”

Jason looked at her questioningly.

“Connections, remember?” Keshia kicked off her shoes and climbed up onto the hospital bed.

“What are you doing?”

She helped him to sit up and slid in behind him, her legs on either side of his, his damaged arms resting on her legs. “Just lie back and relax.” Laying her head against his, she put her arms around him in a gentle hug. “Better?”

He turned his head slightly and his cheek rested against the warm smoothness of her shoulder. “You really smell good.”

“Take it easy big guy. And it’s called toilet water.”

“Huh, toilet water?”

“I know, stupid name. The French have better names for it. It’s just a lightly scented skin splash. It’s rumored to have helped Cleopatra seduce Marc Antony.”

“I can believe that.”

She murmured, “Ready to go home now?”

“Home?”

She whispered in his ear, “Home is anywhere we are together, anywhere that we want it to be. Where should we go first?”

Jason closed his eyes. “You once said that you had been to Alaska and walked on a glacier.”

“Yes.”

“Can we start there?”

She smiled and gave him a gentle squeeze, “Sure, we both have connections now.”

At the ICU station two nurses and an orderly were talking. The older nurse was reading from a chart. “No change. He’s been in a coma three days now; parents deceased, not married, no children. We’ve gone through his cell phone address book. Contacted everyone but one, a Keshia Solomon. No answer.”

The orderly looked up, “I don’t think you’ll get an answer. There was an article in the Journal three days ago; a Keshia Solomon died in a plane crash in Arizona returning from a skydiving trip.”

An alarm sounded on one of the monitors behind the counter, the head nurse almost immediately yelling, “Code Blue!”

#

The orderly began cleaning the room shortly after the body had been removed. He paused for a second; he thought he could detect the faint scent of a woman’s perfume. Maybe it was just his imagination.

Then again, maybe not.

###

Text: John C. Laird
Images: istockphoto.com/pilcas
Editing: Alexandra Laird
Publication Date: 01-27-2012

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