Chapter Eight - Gravity

Carol stood staring through the window at the ambulance pulling away from the home. Although its siren was hushed, the lights flickered through the night sky. It was a scene she’d witnessed many times, more than would be bearable for most people. She’d accustomed herself to saying goodbye to so many of the residents through the years.

She was also familiar with the revolving team of paramedics, many of whom she befriended. At first, she found their lack of hustle in collecting the lifeless residents amusing. Of the ones who passed, they took time to chitchat, drink coffee, even check the scores on a ballgame. “They’re not going anywhere,” one told her.
In other times, when every minute counted, they stepped it up, even when there seemed to be little hope for resuscitation. The pulse, however weak, made the difference between small talk and speed.

This was one of those nights. A resident had somehow managed to open the doors to the second floor balcony and plunge close to fifteen feet to the hard ground below. Carol considered the pain he must have endured, not to mention the accompanying broken bones and possible internal bleeding. His condition was anyone’s guess, but she couldn’t help being pessimistic.

Even as she considered that pain, she also distracted herself with an extreme sense of uneasiness. Did one of her staff forget to lock the balcony deadbolt? When the investigator arrived, what would she tell them? Worse yet, if he had still had living relatives, how would she explain to them that she’d lost track of a client they’d entrusted to her care? The unthinkable had just become reality.

Was she losing control? Had her mother’s arrival turned her professional world upside down as well as her personal life? The move in had heightened nerves, if for nothing but tip-toeing between her visibly-frustrated brother-in-law and her mother. It was a feeling as being the last one to arrive at the courthouse after a divorce is final and still trying to make nice.

Several times during the move, Johnny would roll his eyes at something Eunice said, and Carol noticed. She understood the tension but had a much softer spot for her mother than she did for him. Eunice was a blood relative and they’d been through so much together. For all his faults, Johnny was a pretty good man and Eunice had worn on every nerve he had, but Carol still didn’t like seeing him reduced to juvenile responses.

“How are you holding up?”

The voice startled Carol out of mental limbo. It was Louise, who rushed to the home after getting a call from another staff. More than being second in command, she was one of Carol’s biggest supports. Her hair a slight mess from a deep sleep, she patted Carol on the back.

“I just don’t know how it happened,” Carol responded. “The elevator didn’t move, so for him to walk up a flight of stairs and down a hallway, I just figured someone would have heard him.”

Louise nodded her head.

“Have you ever tried getting that door open?” Carol asked. “It’s tough. How would someone do that?”
Louise stared, hesitating to verbalize the first thought that popped into her head. But she’d say it anyway.

“What if he had help?”

Carol sat down, offering a puzzled look. Not that she hadn’t already considered it.

“Louise, do you think someone here pushed that old man off? Do you realize we are in an assisted living home? If most of these residents tried to kill someone, they’d need our help to do it.”

Louise smiled and replied, “And I would offer my help some days.”

They both broke out laughing, a much needed respite from the worry captivating Carol’s mind.

“I think you’ve been reading too many of those mystery novels,” Carol continued.

“Well, think about it. He didn’t have any friends, especially that new roommate of his. He probably smarted off to him once too much and wham! ‘Out the door with you!’”

Carol smiled but did not laugh. The situation was once again settling on her shoulders. She considered another trip to the balcony to look things over but quickly dismissed it. She didn’t want to seem panicked. It was her job to remain cool, be professional and take responsibility.

“Where’s your picture?” Louise questioned, referring to her famous childhood snapshot with the superhero.

“You know, that’s the least of my concerns but it seems someone has taken it,” Carol responded. “My door was open all day and I was in and out, helping Mom get adjusted. You admire it so much I’d ask you where you took it, but you weren’t here. I figure one of these kids took it and it’ll be eBay next week or something. I don’t have the time or the energy to look into it.”

“Have you talked to his roommate?”

“Well, he knows, but I haven’t spoken with him,” Carol said. “It’s late but maybe I’ll go see if he’s still up.”

“Well, I’m here if you need me,” Louise said. “I’ll stay here and see if corporate calls back. I’m not sure what they do in a situation like this but I think they might send an attorney or something.”

Carol walked down the hall toward Neville and Duncan’s room. As she got approached, she heard the sound of a radio, giving her the impression someone was awake. It also occurred to her that this conversation she was getting ready to have had already occurred recently, but with a different deceased roommate. A tiny thought in the back of her mind began to grow, creating a suspicion around the grumpy old man. He had, in fact, demanded a private room.

And what was he doing on the floor the night of Mr. Johnson’s death? Never in a million years would she have suspected the weak man of being able to muster up the energy to hurt anyone. He struggled to get out of bed. After the incident at the mall, he was more helpless than ever, moving around with an aluminum cane.

She began to feel silly for entertaining the notion. Had Neville climbed those stairs, she thought, he would have needed oxygen at the top. And how would he have persuaded Mr. Cleary to follow him? Yes, it was a silly thought. It was easy to blame the mean old man nobody liked. How she wished it were that simple.

But the thought still nagged at her. With Mr. Cleary battling dementia, he would have been ripe for Neville to convince he was a paratrooper or a high diver.

She knocked gently and opened the door. Neville laid on his side, slightly curled with only his sheets covering him. He eyed her as soon as she walked in, waiting for her to speak first.

“You okay in here, Mr. Ramsey?” she asked.

“Yes, Ms. Leonard, I’m fine,” he responded. “I hear my roommate wasn’t so lucky. Was he testing the law of gravity, you think?”

He shifted to his back and sat up a little, fluffing a pillow behind his head. She wasn’t laughing.

“I imagine he’s hurt pretty badly,” she said. “When did you last see him? Were you awake when he left the room?”

Neville smirked a little and questioned, “Are you solving the mystery now? Are you going to dust for fingerprints and pull out your magnifying glass?”

He could tell she wasn’t amused. Against his nature, he changed his tone.

“Sometime during the night, Mr. Cleary walked out of this room. I was fast asleep so I didn’t see him leave.”

“Do you think anything was wrong with him?” Carol asked.

Neville started giggling, then coughing as he erupted into full laughter.

“Ms. Leonard, did you ever meet my roommate?” he replied. “His mind went in a million different directions. He had no idea who he was.” He continued to laugh. “And you ask, ’Is there anything wrong with him?’”

“You know what I mean,” she shot back. “Was he down or depressed?”

Neville rolled over to his other side, facing the wall.

“I’m not a psychiatrist, but if I were, I’d start charging you by the minute,” Neville said. “Perhaps even then, I’d have to tell you I’m not at liberty to discuss my patients. I’m going to tell you again – I never saw him leave, he was as crazy leaving this room as he was coming in and as far as I know, he’d just had enough. Give me another week with him and it might have been me prancing off that balcony.”

In her quest for answers, Carol had regretted even hoping Neville would be of any assistance. She knew he was not-so-secretly delighted to have his privacy back, but she couldn’t put her finger on how he could have persuaded Duncan to jump. In her gut, however, she knew something wasn’t right. Was this possibly a sick rebellion for her suggestion that he look after him? In hindsight, she should have shuffled rooms and placed him with a more cooperative client. When he returned, if he returned, that’s probably what she should do.

As she walked out of the room, she glanced at Duncan’s belongings and a tear escaped her eye. The big man was what the average person would consider the perfect grandfather if his mind had not slipped. Still, he made for an interesting and sometimes entertaining experience around the home, trying on histories like some tried on hats.

Before she left, she spotted a small reflection of Neville’s bedside alarm clock peeking from behind the dresser. It was the edge of a photo frame, obviously meant to be hidden but somehow still exposed. She saw the black and white background and realized it was her stolen picture. She quickly decided she’d wait until the next mealtime and have a staffer retrieve it. She didn’t want to raise his suspicion.

Maybe she’d underestimated him. Maybe his frailty was a grand act. If he was nimble enough to swipe her picture without being seen, perhaps he was quick enough to lead Duncan off the balcony. Her mind spinning with possibilities, she was finally on track to uncovering the truth about her mysterious resident.

Chapter Seven - Building Bridges

As her car door opened to reveal her new home at the Whispering Willow retirement home, Carol’s mother, Eunice, tightened her mouth and took a long look. Her son-in-law, Johnny, stood on the other side of the door, patiently waiting for her feet to hit the pavement. The trip had capped off what had been a turbulent past few months in his household and Eunice’s open car door, in a sense, signaled his own freedom. He was already envisioning the return of his home office.

The elderly black woman finally emerged, holding her shopping bag of a purse and standing upright to a full 5 ft. 3. She walked and stood slightly hunched, but managed to stay mobile, without the aid of a cane or walker. Her glasses sat still perched on the end of her nose from working a crossword puzzle. By now, Deborah had walked around to her side and grabbed her arm.

 “Here we are, Momma,” Deborah said, walking toward the door and motioning for Johnny to close the car door behind them.

Once inside the doors, the three were greeted with warm hugs from Carol, some members of her staff and one resident who assumed they were there to see her. They soon made their way to the employee lounge and sat down while Carol brought out water bottles and soft drinks.

Deborah was quick to notice a sweeter side of her mother that had now blossomed. Eunice sat wide-eyed, listening to Carol’s stories about her dog, the home and the residents, frequently nodding and commenting. The sour demeanor that had characterized her past few months had been replaced with emotional sunshine. Deborah didn’t know where it came from, but she was pleasantly surprised to see her mother re-discover it. Still, she knew the test of wills between Carol and her mother, would come soon enough.

“Well, you really made good time,” Carol said.

“Liked to have killed me, too,” Eunice replied. “Johnny drove like he was in a race. You’d think he was trying to get rid of me or something.”

Johnny, who did everything in his power to freeze his face, said, “No, now that’s true, Mom-in-love. We’re going to miss you.” He resisted the urge to check the time on his cell phone.

“Well, Carol can come bring me back to visit. She needs to see those beautiful kids anyway. I sure am going to miss those little fellas.”

“Well, now that yall are here, do you want to go out and get something to eat or eat here at the cafeteria?” Carol asked. She’d already informed her staff of the possibility of a long lunch hour. “We have all the usual places.”

Johnny responded, “We might want to just eat here so Mom can get her first taste of the food.” He also quietly thought a trip outside would impede the progress of the trip back home.

Eunice rolled her eyes and puckered her lips. Well, that figures, she thought to herself. Ever the penny-pincher!

Soon, the four of them were gathered one of the tables in the home’s cafeteria, munching on meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Underwhelmed by the food, Eunice glared at Johnny several times, but he stared off into space, never letting her catch his eyes. He had gotten very good at that.

During lunch, several residents approached the table, satisfying their curiosities concerning the visitors and in turn, meeting their newest resident. In keeping with her new attitude, Eunice was cordial and pleasant, exchanging pleasantries and even standing to hug some of the older women. Johnny caught eyes with Deborah and they both rolled their eyes.

Eunice even seemed pleased with the new room she’d be calling home. Carol and Deborah thought the reaction could be either way, much like some of the other residents who had arrived in the past. Instead, the family matriarch stared over the walls, supposing where her pictures would hang and pointing spots where Johnny could set her things once removed from the car. Much to Deborah’s irritation, she seemed overly surprised at how clean the bathroom seemed to be, saying “this is exactly how a clean bathroom should look like” and motioning for her daughters to come see.

“This is going to be so nice,” she said, placing her arms around the two sisters who smiled at each other over their mother’s shoulders. “I’m so happy.”

Truthfully, the joyful Eunice wasn’t really acting or even putting on a brave face. She was truly pleased in her small reunion with Carol and Deborah, the girls she’d raised all on her own. Even though she constantly sparred with Johnny, who’d become the human target of all of her elderly discomforts, her frustration with him never tainted the feelings she had for either of her daughters.

The three of them had a special bond that transcended the normal mother-daughter relationship. They had all experienced the devastating loss of the father and husband, Samuel, and they helped each other through the journey back to normal. Though the girls would face their most crucial years without his influence, Eunice was always determined to keep his memory alive, their home safe and their lives as normal as possible.

In the days following Samuel’s funeral, when news of the incident was at a fever pitch in the media, Eunice carried her young daughters off to stay with her sister. Paula’s tiny apartment lacked the legroom of the family’s three-bedroom house but it provided access to a pool, something the girls made good use of. Sitting beside the pool in a lounge chair, observing her girls at play, she began to see the life coming back into their eyes. Tears would mostly return before bedtime , when the aquatic placebo was out of sight. But, as the preacher might say, joy came in the morning.

As heart-wrenching as it was to manage, when word came that verified the intentional destruction of the bridge, caused by a still-unknown offender, Eunice agonized over the new hurdle the new revelation would cause.  

“Why would anyone do this?” Carol questioned, her eyes filling with tears. “Who did it?”

She held on to Debbie, who hid her face on her shoulder.

“They don’t know, honey,” Eunice responded, trying her hardest to maintain composure. “They’ll find out.”

Carol alternated sorrow and anger, sobbing almost uncontrollably.

“I know this is tough, babies. Our car, we, were at the wrong place at the wrong time. Whoever did this, they’ll be caught. They’ll go to jail. It won’t bring Dad back, nothing will. But if it’s one thing I’m sure of, they’ll be caught.”

“He’ll get him,” Carol muttered, wiping away her tears. The thought of the murderer facing his comeuppance gave her a temporary distraction.

“You’re right – he will,” her mother responded. Deep inside, however, she feared that even with whatever long-rumored abilities Captain Horizon had, he simply couldn’t be in all places. Even so, the promise of their rescuer also being their avenger gave them all a momentary break from their anger. Tears would, nonetheless, return at bedtime.

The weight of the loss was sometimes too much for a young Carol to bear, but she was left with no choice. With no word from law enforcement, it seemed as if no progress was being made to find the person or persons responsible for the bridge catastrophe. Captain Horizon, for all the extraordinary abilities he reportedly possessed, had also failed to deliver. The single most brutal, life-altering offense had gone unpunished. The murderer or murderers were out there, possibly creating more orphans and widows out of otherwise happy families.

Most of the time, she’d shuffle that nagging question to the back of her brain and carry on with life as usual. Through her early teen years, she had pockets of despair but most of the time she resolved to keep herself strong, for the sake of her mother and sister.  

As she grew into a young woman, Carol’s resolve became stronger. In moments when she found she couldn’t keep her composure, she’d retreat to a place quiet and alone.

On her eighteenth birthday, long after the song had been sung and candles had been extinguished, her heart became heavy, thinking about the most notable absence in the celebration. At bedtime, she took a night drive and arrived at the rebuilt bridge, the site of the tragedy. She parked, got out and along the edge of it, staring into the darkness below. She reflected on her father, the song, the car, all of the events of that day.

 “I’m sorry,” said a voice that startled her, taking her breath away.

In a surreal moment, she looked up to see a figure floating past the edge of the bridge. It was him, the hero in the picture, the one who’d dove into the cold waters after their car. His mostly-black costume made him hard to spot at first but her eyes focused on the flesh peeking from behind his mask. His cape was waving in the night air like a flag.

“Did you follow me here?” was the question that escaped her lips before she realized it. She regretted it as soon as it left her lips.

“No, I sometimes check the bridge for jumpers,” he said. “You’re not jumping, are you?”

“No,” she said, still reeling from the awkwardness of the encounter.  “I’m….uh, I’m glad you saved my life. You know I don’t remember hardly any of it.”

“I wish I’d been five minutes earlier,” he said.

“Me, too,” she said. “But…what if you were five minutes later?”

“I saw you on television,” he said, changing the subject. “That was quite a note you wrote. Thanks.”  

“I’m glad you heard it. I wasn’t sure where to send it. You do have a home, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Questions that had lingered in her mind suddenly came back. She began to filter which ones were really relevant.

“You’re not an alien, are you?” she questioned.

“No.”

“But no one seems to know too much about you, other than you save lives and fight bad guys.”

“That’s what’s most important anyway. The rest of it is just boring.”

Carol was silent. Like a child questioning Santa, she had held her most pressing question inside until it would not be caged any longer.

“Who planted those explosions? Who was responsible?”

The costumed hero paused for a moment, considering how best to approach the answer without igniting further pain or stoking the flames of bitterness. Hovering in the night air, with his arms folded, he wished he had a brighter answer to give.    

“The man who did that is a man kind of like me,” he said. “He keeps his identity secret. I’ve traced several incidents to him. The authorities call him ‘Roach’.”

Carol looked strangely at him.

“I think they call him that because just when they think they’ve cornered him, he finds a way out,” he said. “He’s a hard man to get.”

“I can’t wrap my mind around why he’d do something like this,” she said.

“That’s a good thing. This man operates on a warped set of principles that include money, power, anger, hate against the things the rest of us regard as true and bright. We can’t understand why any sane, rational person would do these sorts of things, but we’re not dealing with a sane, rational person.”

“What is he like?”

“I’ve only seen him a few times and every time, his face is hidden and he’s escaped somehow. He’s not a big fan of mine, since I’m the one doing damage control. So I’m definitely on his hate radar.”

“Is he like you? Is he powerful?”

“I don’t think he has any special abilities.”

“So you’re not worried. He can’t hurt you.”

“He can hurt me,” he responded. “To tell you why I am how I am is a really long story, but behind everything I can do, I’m a human, plain and simple. I’m a lot harder to hurt but this guy is pretty set on finding out to make that happen. If you ask me if I’m worried, I still say not so much. I have to believe, and you have to believe, that good will come out on top, justice will prevail.”

Carol turned silent, pondering the many years she’d already waited. The man called Captain Horizon again changed the subject.

“What are your school plans? College?”

“I’ve been thinking of helping people somehow. Sometimes I think I want to be a nurse or a doctor, maybe a veterinarian. Who knows. You are…kinda, my inspiration. Even though you have whatever abilities you do, no one forced you to get into that water or to do all that stuff. I’m sure you’d be just as happy sitting back with your wife, if you have one. I’m just me but I think I want to do my part, too, you know.”

His eyes widened and he smiled. The words the young girl had scribbled on that note were more than just hastily made promises from a traumatized child, she was indeed inspired to build a life that would make him proud.

“Do you have friends?”

“Yes, when I’m not wearing this costume, I have friends who have no clue about all of this.”

“I’ll be your friend, Captain….,” she said, as he began slowly backing away from the bridge.

He stared at her, knowing she’d offered a very precious part of herself in the kind-hearted, childlike gesture. This girl who’d grown up without a father figure had still been able to keep her trust in a man staring at her from behind a mask. He wanted to return the favor.

“Charles,” he said, smiling. “Don’t tell anyone, but you can call me Charles. I enjoyed the conversation. Will you please tell your mother I said hello?”

“Sure,” she said, increasing her volume as he gradually became farther away. As he disappeared into the night sky, she issued a final goodbye.

“Be careful out there, Charles.”