Page 22 of A Rose of Steel
No, his mother had said his trigger was changes in weather. I clicked open another tab and looked up the weather report for the last couple of days to check the humidity. I knew it was doing a job on my hair, but a quick look showed me it hadn’t been higher than any other day.
So that couldn’t be it...
I clicked back to Facebook and scrolled down, studying his Timeline. A smiling picture of Jorianne in a bikini holding a drink on a beach was the first one I saw.I can’t wait to make this one my wife,the post read. The next one he’d written his wedding date and the words,a dream come trueunderneath. The next picture was him, Boone, LaJay and a few other guys I didn’t recognize. Wasn’t even sure I’d seen them at the wedding. He posted they were at the Golden Nugget.Countdown,it read,Until I’m Officially OFF the Market!
Must have been his bachelor’s party.
I clicked onPhotos.More than two thirds were of Jorianne or them together.
“This looks less like a shotgun wedding, and more like a happily ever after kind of thing,” I muttered. “Why would he be so nervous about something he was evidently looking forward to?”
I clicked through other pictures in his album. Pictures of his football days at Roble High, navy, gold and white uniforms and then shots of him playing at USC—his new colors cardinal and gold looking just as fit and happy as ever.
I drummed my fingers on the desk. Why was he having an asthma attack?
And why did it kill him?
I typed “asthma” into my browser and read what I already knew. Statistically, the web entries relayed, the number of people that die from an asthma attack is low. And something else I didn’t need anyone to tell me, most times rescue inhalers more often than not do the trick. It relieves the symptoms. No need for further intervention. Bride Jorianne had said he’d “been sucking” on it for two days. So why hadn’t it worked? Mrs. Hackett thought perhaps they were old and expired.
Old.
Old, she assumed must have meant they were no good. But not always. Medicines can lose their potency after a while, true, and that’s why expiration dates are stamped on them. But old didn’t necessarily mean ineffective. And so, maybe the one he had wasn’t helping, but so many people had a “back-up” one for him that one of them should’ve done the trick. If he felt one wasn’t working, why not get another one from someone else?
I glanced down at the phone. It lay silent.
How was I going to concentrate and figure out what was bothering me about Bumper’s death if I couldn’t keep my mind off of why Alex had left?
He had to feel better, I reasoned, no need to worry about that or else he wouldn’t have left. Right? Thinking that made me feel better about only thinking of what Alex was doing to me.
Which was what?
Driving me crazy!
That’s what. I slapped my hands down on the desk and hopped up. J.R. opened one eye and glanced my way.
Geesh! If Alex was feeling better, why hadn’t he waited for me to get back? Taken me to that dinner he promised. Explained better whathisdivorce meant forus.
I sat back down and slumped in my seat. Maybe he hadn’t gotten any better. Auntie Zanne was always trying to disillusion me, get me to see things her way because my way, so she said, wasn’t the right way.
But I was the doctor and I just couldn’t see anyone getting better that quickly. Although I didn’t know what was wrong with him...
My racing mind came to a screeching halt. Whatwaswrong with him?
That concern was fleeting, I went right back to how this entire situation was affecting me.
Maybe, I thought, it was me. Maybe I didn’t look how he thought I should when he jumped from the back of that ambulance and got a good look at me. My clothes. My hair. My make-up. He didn’t even seem to approve of my tan. I ran my hand over my hair, it had already started to frizz up even though I had worked hours to get it straight for our date.
Straight for him.
“It’s not my fault the humidity is so bad around here,” I said loudly. My second outburst gave J.R. a rise. He popped up and barked.
“It’s alright, boy. It’s just my life falling apart. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
I folded my arms on the desk and rested my chin atop of them. Doesn’t that man know anything about the south? Everyone knows it’s humid down here. If you didn’t know, it’s easy to look up. It’s not my fault I look so different down here.
I typed in “most humid cities” in my internet search box. The first link I saw was an article in theBeaumont Enterprise, a newspaper from the town I was born in. I knew they’d have the answer to prove my point. And sure enough, half of the cities listed were in Texas, one in Louisiana—Lake Charles which we were practically kissing borders with. And, the exact place Alex was staying. He was right there in the thick of it.
I just wanted to yell at him, “It’s the humidity, stupid.”
