SM P2.1 12-12-23 Gwen (15,219)

SM C10.4 12-12-23 (1890) NYC Mike calls Ed about Gwen ICU D2 7a – Mike

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket. “Contacts. Dawes… Dawes… Ed Dawes. Gotcha.”

This moment, this very moment, was pivotal. I wanted to connect to a higher power that could help me find the right words to communicate with my friend. I thought of a song I learned in Sunday school, and I bore my soul to God.

“Lord, I find myself in trouble. Lord, I come to you. I listen to your words of wisdom, Lord how I need you!”

It was comforting but now I need the right words. The song was a good start. More importantly, I need divine intervention, something for me and my daughter to make it through devastating circumstances. I was dealing with a lack of sleep and my heart was broken. I couldn’t help but also think that Gwen was in God’s hands and that I should have some fun and distract my mind. Then guilt hit me!  Or maybe it was just thinking that other people would think I am a terrible father.

“OK, God! This is the time for you to step up to the plate.”

I laid my phone down and took a sip of coffee. I stared at the phone, but I was reluctant to take the next step and call.

“God is my provision and my portion.”

Why did I say that?  What the hell does that even mean? Probably something I learned in Sunday school. I’m not even sure if God takes care of me. Is God everything I need? I needed someone in charge who could take care of things so that everything was back to normal. Like nothing happened. I thought that my life could not get worse. I was wrong. I had no idea how strange the next few days would be.

I looked out the window to check the weather outside. As I bent a Venetian blind, I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light or it could have been my crying. It was a typical summer morning. Well, it was almost Fall. It would warm up soon. I really love New York. Gwen loves New York. Soon the leaves will be changing colors. Gwen loves the change in seasons. Should I say love? or loved?

“God, please take care of my girl.”

I have a great home here in Jamaica, NYC. It doubles as my business office.  I have a condo in Maryland. I spend most of my time at the condo with my girlfriend, Cresha. I needed to get out of the house and clear my head. I did not sleep last night and when that happens, I can’t shut my head off. I walked to the closet and pulled my light jacket off the hanger. I decided to call outside.

I grabbed my brand-new sunglasses off the table.

Cresha would be waiting for me at the hospital, the same hospital where she worked it seems a lifetime ago and where our daughter was born. Cresh and I received a call last night. Our daughter, Gwen, was admitted to the hospital in Jamaica, Queens, New York. We drove for six hours last night. I am walking to the hospital and will meet Cresha in about an hour. I need to get some air. I called out to her to let her know I was leaving, but she was probably in the shower. I put my jacket on and turned off the lights.

It is a short 45-minute walk to the hospital. I was starting at 134th Street which runs in front of our home. I checked my phone to start my walk and to check the time. As I shut the door behind me and checked that it was locked, I put my sunglasses on. I remembered that Ed gave me these glasses. The bright morning light was now managed. The day was a bit chilly but the sun gave a gentle warmth. I zipped up my sweat jacket and flipped up my hoodie as I prepared to call Ed about Gwen.

I pressed the call button for Ed.

I often refer to Gwen as my little girl, but she is a very independent adult woman. Ed is Gwen’s godfather and they have been close for as long as I can remember.

No answer yet. Cresh tried calling him last night without success.

My mind was elsewhere and everywhere. I wish yesterday never happened. I am not tired, just sad. I can’t cry like Cresh. I cry privately. It is embarrassing for me; crying is feminine. I’m not a pussy. If I must cry, no one will see. I treat my tears as something to be kept secret. I tried to focus on the call by counting the ringtones. What the hell is Ed doing? I imagined Ed walking in a park; I could hear two dogs barking. Ed loves to take early morning walks. I have not seen the son-of-a-bitch for years; he is out walking.  We speak at least several times every week, but I did not want to speak to him now.

Still ringing.

We both had busy photography businesses. I imagined Ed with a potbelly, greying hair, and maybe glasses. Of course, Ed was jacked with perfect eyesight; no one would believe Ed would ever get a potbelly like me. But for this moment, in my mind, I made him overweight with glasses. I was trying to keep my mind off Gwen and slow down my mind. No such luck. Ed once told me he was content with his life. He had helped my little girl work through depression and sexual addiction. I loved and appreciated Ed for being there for me and my family.

Still no answer.

I saw a nice couple kissing goodbye across the street. My mind drifted off again. This time, I imagined Ed in the park. I gave him back his six-pack abs. Maybe, nearby, a young couple was walking together along a path. More dogs were barking, perhaps explaining why Ed was not hearing the phone ring.

Ed and I had served in the military together. We both served in West Berlin, West Germany in the 80s. Ed liked to recall when we became friends on the military train called the Berlin Express; that train was hardly an express. It slowly traveled to and from Berlin and Frankfurt. We were both stationed with the U.S. Army, Berlin Brigade. We were in separate units and had taken leave to enjoy the nightlife. The train took the entire night to travel a very short distance, just 110 miles through East Berlin. Ed told this ridiculous story we ended up falling asleep in each other’s arms. It still makes me laugh. It was such a weird thing to say but it is a story that I have retold countless times. That was the start of our friendship.

Still no answer. I will keep letting it ring.

My mind was off to the races again. I remember when we arrived in Frankfurt the next morning, we got off the train to go our own way but Ed caught up to me and we agreed to meet for drinks that night. That evening, Ed brought some girls he knew who lived in Rodenberg. That evening, we drank much too much; I have no idea what we did with the girls. The girls were gone the next day with a cryptic note left for me by a girl named Monika. Evidently, she had a great time. She left her number, but I never called. I still have the note in my desk drawer. When we took the Express back to Berlin, we were too tired to eat or anything and we didn’t even talk for months. Ed and I ran into each other during Oktoberfest. After that, we would meet at a local bar and play darts with some of the Brit soldiers getting fucked up on Jagermeister, Pils, and Sternberg. Not a great combination and a good reason I barfed so much.

The ringing stopped. Ed answered.

I could hear my friend talking but my mind drifted again. I imagined Ed walking two dogs. Dogs? Why was I thinking about dogs? “No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.” Whoa, quoting Dracula! I am impressed! This morning, I just wish I could turn back time.

“Mike, are you there?” My friend’s voice firmly registered in my brain. I looked up and saw a portly barefoot man behind me with his hairy chest and manboobs exposed. This guy was without a shirt walking two poodles that were up on their hind legs barking crazily at me. The man smiled and waved.

I spoke into the phone, “Give me a minute, Ed.” I half-heartedly returned the wave and started walking fast so I could get out of earshot.

“Oh, Hi Ed. I’m glad I finally got you.”

Ed laughed. “Hi! I’m glad you got me! What’s up?”

“Ed, bad news… “I have heard that it is better to tell bad news just straight and to the point. “Gwen is in the Queen’s ICU in Jamaica. She’s in a coma. Don’t worry, the docs are optimistic… There’s more to tell you but Cresh and I will be at the hospital all day…” I couldn’t hear Ed on the phone.

“Are you there?” I waited for a response. “Ed … Gwen is in the Queen’s ICU.”

“Yes, I’m here. Gwen is here in New York? She‘s in a coma?” Ed’s voice was breaking.

“Don’t worry Ed, the docs are optimistic…. There’s more to tell you. Cresh and I will be here in the ICU when you get here. I will text you the address.”

I was expecting sobbing to follow; Ed is sensitive. However, a short sob was followed by an explosion of, “Oh God! It’s my fault! I-I’ll be there soon.”

“Oh, God! It’s my fault! It’s my fault!!!” There was a long pause. “I’ll be there soon.”

“What are you talking about, Ed?” Ed was losing his mind. “This has nothing to do with you. Let’s talk when you get here. Talk to you soon.” I lingered on the phone before dropping the call.

Gwen was Ed Dawes’ great love. I was not completely aware of the depth of that love. All I knew was that Ed adored my little girl and Gwen adored Ed. They spoke on the phone a lot. Gwen was always telling me, “Ed this” and “Ed that”. I love my daughter, but she would sometimes talk and talk and talk. I often tuned her out. But I would do anything to hear her voice right now.

It was 9 am when Ed entered the hospital room. The room was quiet except for the sounds of apparatus beeping and humming. As odd as it seems, I was at peace. The quietness and whiteness of the dimly lit room were pronounced even amongst the colorful flowers and cards, trapped dark corners with drawn curtains, captured noises, and the muffled sounds from the TV. Within the white room lay my little girl under a white sheet. Lights of green and red brought beauty and serenity transporting this antiseptic room into a chapel for dignitaries. The patient was lying in state, awaiting release from their home or their maker. On my way to New York, I begged God to heal my daughter. I felt the presence of angels and an answer to my prayers. Gwen will be restored.