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| Page Eight |
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Shortly thereafter, the elder Brackett was escorted to the table. Kel rose not only as a point of etiquette, but also as a token of respect. Brent offered his hand in greeting, and suddenly Kel felt self-conscious about his injury. Pasting an uncomfortable smile on his face, he gingerly shook his father’s hand. Brent frowned. “What happened to your arm?” “Oh, I had a little accident at home. I’m fine.” Eager to deflect attention from himself, Kel asked, “Did you have any problems finding the restaurant?” “No, not at all. Your directions were quite specific.” Appreciatively eyeing the premises, Brent remarked, “This place has a very cozy atmosphere. How did you happen upon this amazing little discovery?” Kel inwardly smiled at the memories of many pleasant evenings he shared with Dixie here. “A friend introduced me to it several years ago. I hoped the change of venue would provide a fresh start for us. There would be no ghosts from the past to haunt us.” Signaling the waiter, he ordered a round of drinks for the two of them, preferring club soda for himself. He decided he could not afford to have his thoughts clouded by alcohol, nor his famous temper unleashed by lowered inhibitions. No, tonight Kel needed his complete faculties. His father’s brow furrowed. “You’re not having your usual?” “I’m taking some medication,” Kel lied. “I heard you took a rare day off today. Is everything okay?” That was the problem with a small community like Rampart, news traveled fast. How much did his father know about last night? Kel’s answer was evasive. “I had some personal business to attend to.” “I have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you this afternoon,” Brent said. “I thought our last meeting went rather badly.” Taking a sip of his drink, Kel proceeded, “That’s why I wanted to see you again so soon. I think we’ve allowed this situation to go on long enough. Don’t you agree?” |
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His father sighed. “So, has the prodigal son experienced some glorious epiphany since we last met?” “Dad, I’m simply tired of this ridiculous state of affairs. We’ve been at odds since I was a kid. Okay, I’m not a brilliant psychiatrist, so maybe I’m too dense to understand the official psychobabble explanation. But I’m smart enough to know this standoff has come to an end.” “You always have been willful.” The men were granted a respite when the waiter came to take their order. They sat in silence for several minutes, each studiously avoiding contact. It was painfully obvious neither felt comfortable in the other’s presence. Finally, Brent addressed his son. “I understand you were upset with me last night.” Kel shot his father a baleful glare. “We’re not here to discuss MY problems. We’re here to discuss OURS.” “Okay, so what’s really on your mind?” Attempting to keep his tone of voice devoid of emotion, Kel asked, “Why DID you move to Los Angeles? Of all the places in the country you could have relocated to, why did you have to move here, and why did you choose to practice at Rampart?” Brent stared at the table centerpiece. “Your mother wanted the two of us to make amends. Since it was obvious you weren’t going to make the first step, she thought I should swallow my foolish pride and initiate the process.” “I don’t understand.” “When you were a boy, we used to enjoy spending time together, as strange as that seems now. We went almost everywhere together.” A small smile escaped Brent’s lips. “I used to take you to the hospital with me, and you’d tell anyone who would listen that you were my son, and you were going to be a doctor like me when you grew up.” The older man remorsefully shook his head. “But soon your youthful boasts appealed to my vanity. I envisioned you as my own immortality, so I wanted to remold you in my image. Since you were always so willing to please me, I assumed you would be agreeable to this arrangement. I honestly pictured us spending quality time together over the years, and in due time, I foresaw the day when you would take your rightful place as my partner in my clinical practice.” “But it didn’t quite work out that way,” Kel said flatly. “Unfortunately, it didn’t. I pushed you away instead. In my arrogance, I refused to recognize you as a unique individual. You always had a sense of your own identity.” “I resented you dictating my life,” Kel stated. “You never bothered to ask me if I wanted to participate in your grand plans or not. All I knew is one day I was Dad’s precious son who could do no wrong, and then the next you found fault with everything I did. No detail was too insignificant to escape your exacting scrutiny. I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” “But that was the problem,” Brent explained. “I loved you too much, but in an unhealthy way. Ironic, isn’t it? Here I was, a well-renown psychiatrist, but I wasn’t able to see I was sabotaging our relationship. Every time you rebelled and became angrier, I became more critical. Because you failed to conform, I assumed you were stupid and ungrateful. I felt like a failure not only as a father, but also as a psychiatrist. My ego wouldn’t allow me to admit I had failed. Until the day you left, I had to keep trying to remake you.” Kel rubbed his face. “Why didn’t you say anything before? |
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“Saying ‘I’m sorry’ has never come easily to me. I didn’t realize the full implications of what I had done to you until you were gone. By that time, we were barely speaking to each other. Over the years, begging for forgiveness became next to impossible.” Conflicting emotions swirled within Kel. He was angry with his father for not mentioning any of this earlier, but he understood how difficult it must have been for him to do so tonight. Kel took after his father in that respect. It was not in his nature to cross emotional barriers without significant effort. If it were not for the encouragement of Dixie and Joe, he would not be here this evening having this conversation. He knew he was hardly in a position to judge his father on this particular point. But he also felt a myriad of other feelings: abandonment, betrayal, resentment, bewilderment and surprisingly, still even love. Kel saw his father with new eyes. Brent didn’t look so arrogant and controlling now. Instead, he came across as an aging pathetic figure that once hoped to live forever through his son. For a long period of time, the two men did not speak. They were content to nurse their drinks and stare into oblivion. They were relieved when the waiter served the food. For a few moments they would be spared the necessity of having to engage in conversation. As they began to eat, Brent looked on with genuine concern since Kel seemed to have trouble carving his steak due to his injured hand. “Do you need any help with that?” he offered. “No, that’s okay, I have it under control. I’m pretty good with a knife, if I do say so myself,” Kel grinned. “I see you haven’t lost your sense of modesty over the years.” The son shrugged. “It’s hard to be humble and great at the same time.” “You’re a lot like your mother in some ways, very resilient and single-minded. I know you tend to think of it as a sign of weakness, but you’re more compassionate like she is.” Brent softly said, “After all these years, your mother has never forgiven me for driving you away from us. I’m not sure I’ve forgiven myself.” Kel was confused. He wasn’t sure what he expected from this evening’s meeting, but his father’s uncharacteristic confession certainly wasn’t it. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Recent conversations with Dixie and Joe weighed heavily upon his conscience. Years of hurt could not be easily erased with a simple apology. Yet, they needed to begin somewhere. He thought of his mother, and the years of anguish this rift must have caused her. Didn’t he at least owe it to her to make an effort? |
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Staring at his nearly full plate, Kel tentatively cleared this throat. “Dad, as you’ve pointed out before, I’ve never been good at maintaining relationships. But maybe now is a good time to begin. Don’t you think it’s time we started behaving like two grown men and put aside our differences, if for no other reason than for Mom’s sake?” “I don’t even know where to begin,” Brent said reluctantly. Cautiously leaning forward, Kel spoke. “Perhaps it’s time for you to visit me in my office for a change. You know, see me in my natural habitat? It’s possible I subconsciously went into emergency medicine to spite you or to prove something to myself. But somewhere along the way I discovered it was my passion. I really love this field, and I’m good at it. I can’t imagine being happier anywhere else but the emergency room of Rampart. What do you say, Dad?” Brent considered his son’s proposal. “I don’t know. I heard the head of the department can be a real bear and a force to be reckoned with.” “No, those are all vicious rumors,” Kel chuckled. “He’s a real pussycat once you get to know him. At least that’s what the head nurse is fond of pointing out.” “Speaking of the head nurse, do I have your reassurances she’s not going to bite my head off if I set foot in the ER? She must think I give you such grief.” “No, Dad. In fact, she’s one of the reasons I called you. Dixie has been after me for ages to get me to end this conflict. She’s a persistent woman.” “Sounds like your mother,” Brent joked. The two men laughed. For the first time all evening, they felt genuinely relaxed. “How about meeting me in my office for coffee tomorrow morning?” Kel asked. “I can give you a tour of my department.” With a tinge of a little boy’s expectation in his voice he added, “Hopefully you’ll be proud of what your son has become.” ********************************** From : "Cory Anda" <andacory@hotmail.com> Subject : Mad Dash... Date : Thu, 28 Nov 2002 08:20:24 +0000 Offstory: Acknowledgements to Tom Stafford MD Firefighter Captain On Foam Truck Hazmat Procedures via email. Acknowledgements to P. Keiper NREMT, for first aid advice treating anhydrous NH3 exposures for characters instory and finding related image jpegs for me. Back In Story: Roy sped the squad down the boulevard as Johnny doubled checked the exact location of access to the scene in his head. "The best exit to use for that ramp is the PCH itself, Roy. That part of the freeway wraps around a bend in a canyon. Let's hope whatever the gas is coming from this spill doesn't float too high. There are about sixty homes in the area on the bluffs." Johnny finally said. "Let's hope for the best." DeSoto replied. The communications channel patched between all responding units was in a flurry of activity. They could hear Highway Patrol chattering urgently as they continued their evacuation of the cars in the area, and one merchant's business. Then, came the reassuring voice of Battalion 14, already on scene. ##Battalion 14 to Station 51. Approach from the Southbound direction, downwind of the wreck, two cars and one semitruck are involved. Wear full SCBA turnout and stay out of the area until Hazmat moves in. The truck involved is a NH3 nurse truck with confirmed top tank valve leakage.## John and Roy heard Cap pick up the mike, "Batallion 14, Station 51. Acknowledged. Southbound entry in full respiratory apparatus, understood." "Oh, great.." John moaned. "Anhydrous ammonia. All our turnout jackets might as well be paper suits for all the protection they'll give us once we're in there." Roy glanced at his partner. "Yeah, well, let's just hope the Santa Anas keep the cloud blowing away from us.. Shouldn't be a problem today..." "I wouldn't bet on it. Look." Johnny said. In the sky, rare, heavy rainclouds were blowing in off the ocean to their left as they sped ahead of the Ward LaFrance. "If that rain gets here. That spill's gonna go. You know how reactive anhydrous is to free water.." Soon, the thickening stalled traffic made Roy slow, and two CHP motorcycles joined up with them to show them the twisting curving route to the accident scene in between the stopped, now emptied cars on the roadway. "Wow, they acted fast. There's no bystander victims on the curbs." Johnny said. "Amazing.. That gas cloud's huge.." Through the windshield of the squad, a tenuous white steam-like misting of gas fumes,were pooling against the cliffs around the truck in a long plume, carrying downwind. |
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