Bright Lights, Big Christmas(64)

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Kerry looked around the apartment. It was neat, with clothes hung on pegs, shoes tucked under the chair Heinz had just vacated, but otherwise totally devoid of personal effects. Her closet at home was bigger. There was a kitchenette, with a tiny two-burner electric stove, an under-counter refrigerator, a sink, and a cupboard. She found a canister of tea, and a mug, and set a kettle to boil on the stove.

In the bathroom, she found a bottle of aspirin. She dampened a towel with cold water and placed it on Heinz’s head and bullied him into swallowing the aspirin with some water. When the water was ready, she made tea in the single mug she found in the cupboard, stirring it with one of two spoons.

“Sip this, please,” she told him. He sighed and turned his head away, but Kerry was undeterred. She reached for his wrist and examined his hand. The skin was pale and unusually shriveled. Her father’s skin had looked the same, last winter, after a bout of flu, when she and Birdie had carted him off to his doctor, much to his displeasure.

“You’re dehydrated,” she said bluntly. “Drink the tea. Or would you prefer to be hooked up to a machine to get IV fluids?”

“You should mind your own business,” he said, in between coughs. “I take care of myself. Nobody asked you to interfere.”

“Why is it so cold in here?”

“Why are you so bossy?”

She spied a blanket folded on the back of the chair and tucked it around him. “Don’t you have heat?”

“Not much insulation in these old walls. And I don’t care to be hot.”

Kerry dragged the chair over to the bed and sat down. “Keep drinking the tea. Do you have any crackers or anything like food in this place?”

“I eat out. Food brings bugs, and I despise bugs.”

She circled the room, looking for a thermostat, and shivered when she found it was set at sixty-two degrees, even though the temperature in the apartment was probably hovering in the low forties.

Finally, she heard the clanking of the freight elevator, and a moment later, Patrick and a young woman dressed casually in yoga pants and a hoodie burst into the room. Kerry recognized her as someone she’d frequently noticed around the neighborhood.

Heinz, struggling to sit up, regarded the newcomer with undisguised disdain. “Who is this girl?”

“I’m Dr. Oliver,” the woman said. She pulled a stethoscope from her jacket pocket, rubbed the stem in the palm of her hand to warm it up, and bent over the old man. “I’m a board-certified doctor, and I’m going to listen to your chest now.” She pushed aside the fabric of his robe.

“Deep breaths,” she said gently. “In and out.”

Heinz complied, but his breath ended in a rattling cough.

“Again.”

She sat him up and placed the scope on his back. “Breathe again, please.”

That done, she took a digital thermometer from another pocket and placed the tip in Heinz’s ear canal. When it beeped a second later, she frowned.

“One hundred two,” she said, her voice stern. “Mr. Heinz, how long have you had this cough and fever?”

“I hear fine, no need to shout,” he said fussily. “A little cold, that’s all.”

“No, sir. From the sound of your lungs, I’d say you have double pneumonia.” Dr. Oliver shivered and pulled her jacket closer. “Why is it so cold in here?”

“He says he likes it like this,” Kerry said.

“We need to get him somewhere warm, immediately. He’s dehydrated too. He needs to be admitted to a hospital.”

“No hospital,” Heinz shot back, glaring at her. “You’re not my doctor.”

“True. I’m only here as a favor to Patrick. And Austin.” She turned to Kerry. “If you’re not his family, and he doesn’t want to seek further treatment, there’s not much I can do here.” She turned back to the patient. “Do you have family, Mr. Heinz?”

“No. They are all gone.”

Silence fell over the small, frigid room.

“What if we moved him someplace warmer? And got him some antibiotics?” Kerry asked, desperate to find a solution. “I could stay and see that he’s taking care of himself. See that he’s eating and drinking and taking his meds.”

“You’re going to keep him in that camper in the park?” the doctor asked, not unkindly.

“Of course not.” Kerry locked eyes with the old man. “Heinz, the superintendent tells us he thinks you have an apartment on the top floor of this building. Is that true?”

Heinz looked away. “I don’t … I don’t stay there.” He abruptly rolled over and turned his back to these unwanted visitors who’d invaded his space.

“Heinz?” Kerry said.

His voice was muffled. “I live here now.”

“Please don’t do this. If something should happen to you, Austin would be heartbroken. And so would I.”

“He wants to finish your story,” Patrick put in. “And he says you’re the only one who can do that.”

Slowly, the old man turned to face them. “Go away and leave me in peace.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Kerry declared. “You can ignore me, or dog cuss me or whatever, but I’m staying right here.”