PARTY PLANS

 

By: Kenda

 

 

 

*Party Plans is fictionalized around missing scenes from the aired episode Virus. This story first appeared on Johnny’s Green Pen.  Please visit the Green Pen site to read more stories written for the site’s first birthday celebration held on November 24, 2001.  A direct link for Johnny’s Green Pen can be found on my Links page.

 

 

 

 

 

Later I would realize it had been a mistake to get the kids excited about Johnny’s birthday. Or perhaps mistake is too strong of a term.  After all, there’s nothing wrong with children wanting to plan a party for someone they love. I was proud of my little ones.  Jennifer was four years old, and Chris two months from turning seven.  Children that young aren’t always known for their generosity.  They love birthday parties, and cake, and presents, as long as they’re the guests of honor.  But it was the kids who suggested we have a birthday party for Uncle Johnny when they overheard Roy ask me to bring a cake to the station on August 28^th in honor of Johnny’s special day.

 

Jennifer ran in from the living room upon hearing her daddy’s request.

 

“Can we have a party for Uncle Johnny?”

 

“A party?” 

 

“A birthday party, Mommy!  With balloons, and pointy hats, and noise makers, and a big sign that says, ‘Happy Birthday, Uncle Johnny,’ and pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, and drop-the-clothespins-in-the-bottle, and musical chairs, and chocolate cake with chocolate frosting ‘cause that’s Uncle Johnny’s favorite.”

 

Actually, chocolate cake with chocolate frosting was Jennifer’s favorite.  She had turned four in April.  I had a children’s party for her that included five kids from the neighborhood as well as Chris.  Then we had an adult gathering on a Sunday afternoon that included the only two relatives Roy and I have who live locally, my sister, and Roy’s mother.  At Jennifer’s request, Johnny was included as well. He and Roy had been partners for almost a year by then, and Johnny was slowly but surely becoming a fixture around our house.  When the kids started calling him ‘Uncle’ Johnny, I’m not certain.  Overnight it seemed like they’d progressed from being too shy to say a word to him, to the house suddenly being filled with “Uncle Johnny, this” and “Uncle Johnny, that” whenever Johnny was present. And sometimes even when he wasn’t.

 

Before I could give Jennifer an answer, Chris abandoned his Saturday morning cartoons.  He flew into the room, sliding across the vinyl flooring on his socks. 

 

“Yeah a party!  We gotta have a party for, Uncle Johnny.  ‘Cept he likes banana cake with white frosting best, not chocolate cake.”

 

“Huh uh,” Jennifer argued.  “He likes chocolate.  He told me so.”

 

“Did not.”

 

“Did, too!”

 

“Did not!”

 

“Did, too!“

 

“Did—“

 

Roy stepped in at this point.

 

“If you two keep fighting, all talk of a party will end right now.”

 

Jennifer turned her baby blue eyes on her father.  Johnny could never resist any request she made of him when she gazed up at him like she was gazing up at Roy right then.  Roy was a far tougher nut for Jennifer to crack, but then, he was her father and more concerned with proper behavior than Johnny could ever hope to be when it comes to my kids.

 

“We won’t fight, Daddy.  Promise. Now can we have a party?”

 

Roy chuckled.  “Uncle Johnny’s birthday is three weeks off yet, princess.  Are you sure you and Chris can stop fighting until then?”

 

Jennifer cocked her head in thought.  After a lengthy pause, she asked, “How long is three weeks?”

 

Roy laughed, but then conceded. “I guess we can have a party if it’s okay with Mommy.”

 

Jennifer turned to me.  “Can we, Mommy?  Pleeeease.”

 

“Please, Mom,” Chris joined in on his sister’s behalf.  “Please can we have a party for Uncle Johnny?  Jen and me won’t fight for a whole month if you say yes.”

 

“For a whole month, huh?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Promise, Mommy.”

 

“Well. . .”  I pretended to be giving it heavy thought.  If the truth were known, however, I had already decided a birthday party for Johnny was a good idea.  He had no family in California other than an aunt who lived several hours away, and turning twenty-five was a bit of a milestone, so why not celebrate? 

 

I smiled at my children.  “Yes, we can have a party.”

 

Jennifer’s ponytail bobbed as she jumped up and down clapping.  “Yay!  Yay!  We get to have a party for Uncle Johnny!”

 

“Yay!”  Chris yelled, thrusting a fist in the air.  “Yay, a party!”

 

Jennifer grabbed her brother’s hand.  “Come on, Chris!  Let’s get some big paper and crayons.  You can write ‘Happy Birthday, Uncle Johnny’ on it, and I’ll color it.”

 

The kids dashed down the hall to Jennifer’s room.  Chris would be entering second grade right after Labor Day.  I didn’t have great confidence many of the words on his sign would be spelled correctly, but I knew Johnny would treasure it regardless of the mistakes it contained.

 

After the children were out of the room Roy looked at me.

 

“You don’t mind?”

 

“Not at all,” I said as I went back to preparing lunch for my family.  “Look at the calendar and see what weekend closest to Johnny’s birthday you guys are off.”

 

Roy crossed to the calendar hanging on the wall beneath the phone.  He studied it a moment.

 

 “Johnny’s birthday is on a Friday.  We work that day, but go off duty at eight on Saturday morning.”

 

“How about if we plan for a cookout on Saturday evening then?  We can invite the guys from the station and anyone else you can think of who might like to come.”

 

Roy mulled it over a minute.  He then mentioned the names of three paramedics from other stations – two from Station 8 and one from Station 65, who were friends of Johnny’s, plus Dixie McCall. 

 

I nodded my agreement.  Including spouses or significant others, plus various children, that would mean our gathering might grow to include as many as twenty-five people if everyone was able to come, but that was all right with me.  Roy and I hadn’t hosted a picnic of any kind that summer.  It would be nice to get together with some of our friends before the school year started, and shortly after that, the busy holiday season would kick off.

 

I spoke out loud as I mentally planned the menu.

 

“We can grill hamburgers and hot dogs.  I’ll make potato salad, taco salad, a couple Jello-salads, that macaroni salad Johnny likes so much, buy some bags of chips and a couple containers of dip, put out a platter of pickles and olives, make a watermelon boat—“

 

Roy interrupted me as he began setting the table.  “I don’t want you going to that much work.”

 

I raised an eyebrow at my husband.  “I’m not doing all the work, mister.  You’ll be home by eight-thirty that morning.  I’ll allow you a short nap, but then you’re going to be given a few jobs to do yourself.”

 

“And just whose idea was this birthday party anyway?”  Roy teased.

 

“Your children’s. And I’m proud of them.  It was sweet of Chris and Jennifer to suggest a party for Johnny.”

 

“It was,” Roy agreed.  “But they might be in for a shock when no one wants to wear pointy hats or play musical chairs.”

 

“I bet Johnny would wear a pointy hat and play musical chairs if Jennifer asked him to.”

 

Roy smiled.  “I bet he would, too.”

 

That evening after supper, Roy and I took a walk with the kids to the ice cream parlor a few blocks from our home.  When we returned, I sat at the kitchen table writing out a grocery list for Johnny’s party.  Chris sat at my right elbow and used a red crayon to create his own list.

 

Balons.  Pinty Hats. Nose makers. Streemers.  Kandy. 

 

Which translated meant we needed balloons, pointy hats, noise makers, streamers, and last but not least, candy.

 

Jennifer sat on my left, drawing pictures of the items Chris was laboriously printing out. 

 

“See, Mommy.” 

 

“I see,” I acknowledged.  “Those are nice pictures, sweetheart.”

 

“So you don’t forget anything.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I’m drawing these pictures so you don’t forget anything for Uncle Johnny’s party.  In case you lose Chris’s list.”

 

“I don’t think I’ll lose Chris’s list, but the pictures will be a help, too.”

 

“Can Chris and me draw in’tations for Uncle Johnny’s party?”

 

“It’s ‘May Chris and I,’ Jenny, not ‘Can Chris and me.’ ”

 

My little girl sighed at my grammar correction, but asked her question again. 

 

“May Chris and I draw in’tations?”

 

“You certainly may.”

 

“I’ll draw a chocolate cake on the in’tations.”  Jennifer reached for the Crayola box and plucked a brown crayon from it.  “Chocolate is Uncle Johnny’s favorite.”

 

“Is not,” Chris was quick to negate. “Banana cake is Uncle Johnny’s favorite!  Draw a banana cake.”

 

“I’m not gonna draw no stupid banana cake. Chocolate.  Chocolate is Uncle Johnny’s favorite.”

 

Roy turned sideways in his recliner.  He was sitting in the living room reading a book.

 

“Hey, you two. What did I say about Uncle Johnny’s party if I hear any fighting going on?”

 

The kids exchanged glances.  Jennifer’s eyes dropped to the table as she mumbled, “It’s not fair to punish Uncle Johnny just ‘cause me and Chris are fighting.  He should still get a party, Daddy.”

 

“Well, that wasn’t the deal,” Roy said, while trying hard not to smile.  “The deal was there would be no fighting.”

 

“But what is Uncle Johnny’s favorite cake?”

 

“Yeah, Dad.  What’s Uncle Johnny like best?  Banana or chocolate?”

 

“When it comes to food, I have yet to see your Uncle Johnny refuse any.  Or say he doesn’t like something.  So I think you’ve been fighting for nothing, because I’m sure Uncle Johnny will eat either kind of cake.  Banana or chocolate.”

 

“But that doesn’t help,” Chris said.  “Me and Jen have to decide about the cake and we’re never gonna agree.”

 

“I’ll decide for you,” I said from my position between my children.  “We’re having enough people over for Uncle Johnny’s party that we’ll need two cakes. So, we’ll have one banana and one chocolate.”

 

It’s funny how such simple solutions seem so complex to children, and how happy those simple solutions make them.

 

“Great idea, Mom!”

 

“Yeah, Mommy.  Great idea.  Chocolate and banana cake both.  Uncle Johnny will love you forever and ever.”

 

Roy looked up from his book.  “Now Daddy definitely might have something to say about that.”    

 

Chris and Jennifer giggled at their father’s teasing.

 

“Not that kinda love, Daddy.  Not mushy Mommy and Daddy love.  It would be more like. . . ”

 

Jenny let her sentence trail off as she thought hard, trying to express what she meant.

 

“Like the kind of love two friends share,” I supplied for her. 

 

Jennifer smiled and nodded her head.

 

Chris looked up at me with his head slightly cocked.

 

“But Uncle Johnny’s a boy, Mom.  How can you love him when you already love Dad?”

 

“Just like I said, Chris. Uncle Johnny’s my friend, so the love I feel for him is based on the friendship we share.  It’s not any different from the love you and Jennifer feel for him.”

 

“Oh.  But still, I didn’t think a grownup man and a grownup woman could love each other without being married.”

 

“Well, they can.  You love Uncle Johnny, but not in the same way you love Daddy and me, right?”

 

Chris thought a long moment, then gave a slow nod of his head.  “Right.”

 

“Well, that’s how I feel, too.  I love Uncle Johnny, but not in the same way I love your dad.”

 

 I’m not sure how much of that the kids understood.  At their ages a love that is born and nurtured from friendship is not easy to comprehend. 

 

“Daddy, do you love Uncle Johnny, too?”  Jennifer asked.

 

Roy skillfully evaded that question.  “Uncle Johnny’s my friend, princess.”

 

“Yeah, I know.  And he’s Mommy’s friend and she loves him, so do you love him, too?”

 

“He’s Daddy’s good friend, Jenny,” Roy reiterated.

 

“I know.  But does that mean you love him?”

 

Roy shot me a look that said, Thanks a lot for bringing up the ‘love and friendship’ thing, Joanne, then answered our daughter once again.

 

“It means Uncle Johnny is an important friend to Daddy.”

 

“But is being an ‘portant friend the same as you love Uncle Johnny like Mommmy--”

 

I took pity on my poor husband then.

 

“Jennifer, men don’t always express their feelings in the same way women do, so leave Daddy alone now.”

 

“I know, but—“

 

“Jennifer.”

 

“But does that mean Daddy doesn’t love Uncle Johnny?  If so, it doesn’t seem right ‘cause the rest of us all love Uncle Johnny.  Even Callie, and she doesn’t love many people, you know.”

 

Callie was Jennifer’s Calico cat. Our finicky feline didn’t give away her affection easily, but she did love Johnny. She’d curl up in his lap and purr for hours if he allowed her to stay there that long.  Granted, this affection on Callie’s part usually came after a round of hissing and scratching, but we kept assuring Johnny the cat was crazy about him because she normally hid beneath Jennifer’s bed when any visitors came over.  Johnny often said he’d prefer Callie would hide when he came over, too. This claim usually being made between muffled curse words while Roy was putting iodine on the wounds Callie had left on Johnny’s arms.

 

“Mommy?” Jennifer demanded my attention again. “Does it?  Does that mean Daddy doesn’t love Uncle Johnny?”

 

“What it means is that Uncle Johnny is a good friend to Daddy.  His best friend.”

 

“His very best friend in the whole wide world?”

 

I laughed. “Yes, his very best friend in the whole wide world.  And that’s likely all you’ll get Daddy to admit to.”

 

“I didn’t even admit to that much,” Roy said from the living room. “You said it.”

 

“Oh you,” I waved a hand of dismissal at my husband.  “You know it’s true.”

 

Jennifer hopped off her chair and ran from the room. She climbed in Roy’s lap, forcing him to set his book aside.

 

“Daddy, me and Mommy and Chris will just go on loving Uncle Johnny, and you can just go on being his very best friend in the whole wide world, okay?”

 

Roy chuckled as he kissed Jennifer’s forehead. He responded with an, “Okay,” before setting our little girl back on her feet.

 

“Now go on with you.  Let Daddy read his book.  You go back to helping Mommy and Chris plan that birthday party for Uncle Johnny.”

 

Jennifer did as Roy instructed.  She skipped back into the dining area and climbed on her chair.  Roy returned to his book while the kids and I returned to making our party plans.  If I’d only known then that the party would be canceled because the guest of honor would be too ill to attend, I would have never allowed my children to get so excited over it.

 

_________________________________

   

 

Two weeks before Johnny’s party I sent most of the invitations the kids had drawn and colored to work with Roy.  He would deliver them to the men of the A-shift and give Dixie hers when he saw her at Rampart.  I folded the three remaining invitations, put them in envelopes, and mailed them to the men who didn’t work out of Station 51.

 

Because the children had made the invitations, each one was unique to say the least.  Jennifer had fashioned two with crooked chocolate cakes and enough burning candles to indicate Johnny was going to turn fifty-five, rather than twenty-five.  Not to be outdone by his sister, two of Chris’s invitations had banana cakes drawn on the front.  The other invitations were a mixture of drawings that contained balloons, giant birthday candles, party hats, the words Happy Birthday printed in Chris’s young hand, and then a final invitation the kids had worked on together.  It showed a dark headed, thin man standing outside Squad 51 with blue, green, and yellow balloons tied to the squad’s mirror.  On the side of the hand-drawn squad Chris had printed, Happy Birthday Uncle Johnny!  The children were so proud of that invitation because it was made especially for Johnny, and no others had been drawn like it.  Jennifer made certain to remind Roy of that fact before he headed to work that morning.

 

“And don’t forget to give Uncle Johnny his invitation, Daddy.  The special one I showed you with Uncle Johnny standing outside the squad.”

 

I handed Roy the manila envelope containing the invitations.  Though the kids’ art work was on the outside of the invitations, it was my precise handwriting on the inside that revealed the party details such as time, place, date, and the fact that the get-together was to celebrate John Gage’s twenty-fifth birthday.

 

“I won’t forget, princess,” Roy promised as he kissed the top of Jennifer’s head.  She and Chris were still seated at the table in their pajamas as they each ate a bowl of Cheerios.

 

“You’re sure you know which one it is?”

 

“I’m sure,” Roy confirmed to his daughter while smiling at me.

 

“It’s not for Chet.  Don’t give it to Chet by accident, Daddy.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“ ‘Cause sometimes Chet is mean to Uncle Johnny and I don’t want him to have Uncle Johnny’s special card.”

 

“Jennifer,” I scolded.  “That wasn’t a nice thing to say.”

 

Chris shrugged as he stuffed a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.  “It was the truth.”

 

Roy simply shook his head at our children. Our little Jennifer, the ardent defender of her beloved Uncle Johnny against that prankster, Chet Kelly.  And then Chris, our matter-of-fact child who always saw a situation for what it was and didn’t hesitate to point that out if need be.

 

I tried not to laugh at our kids as I walked Roy to the door. 

 

“They really shouldn’t say things like that,” I told my husband once we reached the living room. “One of these days they’ll say something in front of Chet.”

 

“And if they do, he’ll probably deserve it.”

 

“I suppose you’re right. Just do me a favor and tell Chet to leave the Phantom at home for this particular party.”

 

“I will, but I can’t guarantee he’ll listen.”

 

I knew Roy was right on that account.  Chet was the ultimate practical joker, but he sometimes got carried away where Johnny was concerned.

 

“Be careful,” I said as I kissed my husband good-bye.  “Stay safe.”

 

“I will.”

 

I said those words to him each and every time he walked out of the door for work, and each and every time he responded with that same firm, “I will,” as though by making that promise it would always come to pass and he would, in fact, stay safe.  I’d been a firefighter’s wife too long not to be fully aware that a kiss and a promise doesn’t bring with it any guarantees, but it was our ritual, and one we had yet to break since Roy had joined the department three months after Chris was born.

 

Roy did return home safely after that twenty-four hour shift.  The kids ran out of the house and threw their arms around him as he climbed from his car.  I joined my family in the front yard. After the kids had been kissed by their father, and then I had been kissed by their father, Jennifer took Roy by the hand and led him toward the house.  She knew I had pancakes waiting for him, and she and Chris would each snack on one, though they’d eaten their usual bowl of cereal just an hour and a half earlier.

 

“Did you give out the in’tations, Daddy?”

 

“I sure did.”

 

“Is everyone coming?”

 

“Everyone said they are.”

 

Jennifer jumped up and down while still clinging to her father’s hand.

 

“Yippee! It’ll be the bestest party ever!”  When she calmed down, Jen asked, “And did you give Uncle Johnny his special in’tation?”

 

“You bet.”

 

“Did he like it?”

 

Before Roy could answer, a roar came from behind Jennifer and she was scooped off her feet.

 

“He loved it!”

 

Jenny shrieked as she was tossed in the air, then caught in two strong arms. “Uncle Johnny!”

 

Neither the kids nor I had heard Johnny’s vehicle pull up to the curb.  It wasn’t unusual for Roy to ask Johnny to stop by our house for breakfast every couple of weeks or so. I didn’t mind because I always made too much pancake batter anyway, and Johnny was always good company.

 

Johnny kissed Jennifer’s cheek as he gently set her back on her feet.  He tousled Chris’s blond hair as he winked at my son.

 

“Hey, sport.”

 

“Hi, Uncle Johnny.”

 

Each of my children claimed one of Johnny’s hands as we walked to the house as a group. 

 

“You really liked your in’tation, Uncle Johnny?”

 

Johnny smiled down at Jennifer.  “You bet I did, Jenny Bean.”

 

Johnny had saddled the kids with their nicknames of Sport and Jenny Bean shortly after he started working with Roy. He’d originally called then three-year old Jennifer ‘Jelly Bean,’ but she’d put her hands on her hips and stomped her foot while insisting, “It’s Jenny.  My name’s Jenny, not Jelly.”

 

Johnny had laughed at my daughter’s indignation and then apologized. Later that same day he slipped and started to call her ‘Jelly Bean’ only to quickly change it to ‘Jenny Bean.’  That evidently passed Jennifer’s muster because she allowed him to do so, and one year later, has allowed the tradition to continue.  For some reason, I have a feeling that even when Jennifer’s forty years old, she’ll be ‘Jenny Bean’ to John Gage.

 

Chris looked up at Johnny.  “So are you coming to the party?”

 

“Of course I’m coming to the party. You know I never miss a party, Christopher Roy.”

 

“Especially when he’s the guest of honor,” Roy added dryly.

 

“Hey, it’s not every day a guy gets a homemade invitation to his own birthday party.”

 

“No, it’s not,” I agreed. “The kids are really looking forward to it.”

 

“Just don’t go to a lot of work,” Johnny told me as we stepped into the living room.  “I mean, you don’t have to do that for me.”

 

“I know, but I want to, so don’t worry about it.”

 

Johnny didn’t make a verbal reply, but he did blush a little, so I know the thought of a party being thrown in his honor really meant a lot to him.  It has to be difficult to be single and live so far from your family.  Johnny has a large number of friends, but still, friends aren’t the same as family when it comes to birthdays and holidays.  I suppose that’s why, in just the one year’s time Johnny and Roy had been partners, I had come to be the big sister to Johnny who made sure he had a home to go to on those holidays when he and Roy weren’t working.  Whether it was a Fourth of July picnic or a formal sit down meal on Christmas Day, Johnny was a fixture at our house during those celebrations.

 

     Johnny stayed two hours that morning.  After he and Roy had eaten, Johnny played with the kids in the backyard for a while. He made sure to come in the house and thank me again for breakfast before he headed to his apartment. 

 

     “If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you the Saturday of the party,” I told him.

 

     “Want me to bring anything?”

 

     “Nope. You’re the guest of honor.  Just come ready to eat and have a good time.”

 

     Johnny tossed me that infamous crooked grin. “When don’t I?”

 

     “Never,” I laughed. Johnny’s appetite was enough to flatter any woman who liked to cook, and goodness knows fun seemed to follow John Gage wherever he went.

 

     “Exactly.”

 

     Johnny walked out the patio doors then. He called a final goodbye to Roy and the kids before walking around the house.  I heard the door on the Land Rover slam, then heard the engine start.

 

And that was the last time I saw Johnny until Saturday, August 29^th, when I visited a quarantined room at Rampart General Hospital.

 

_________________________________

   

There are a lot of things being a fireman’s wife prepares you for.  Or at least you have a number of possibilities in your mind in regards to ways your husband might be injured. . . or even killed, on the job.  But of all the scenarios I had resigned myself to, and there were many, I certainly never thought an obscure virus from Asia might bring the possibility of death to my doorstep.

 

Nine days had passed since Johnny had breakfast with us.  It was Tuesday evening, and the birthday party was scheduled for that upcoming Saturday.  Johnny’s birthday was Friday. I was in the kitchen making sure I had the necessary ingredients for the cupcakes the kids and I were going to take to Station 51 on Friday for a little pre-party celebration, when the phone rang.  I glanced at the clock to see it was seven.  It was a bit early for Roy to call on a summer evening.  Usually he waited to phone until eight-thirty when he knew both of the kids would be inside after a long day of play outdoors.

 

I glanced through the glass of the patio doors as I picked up the phone.  Jennifer was on the swing set with a little girl from across the street, while Chris and two boys from down the block were playing ‘construction workers’ in the sandbox with Tonka trucks.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, Jo.”

 

“Hi, honey,” I smiled in greeting.  “You’re calling early tonight. The kids are still outside playing.  Let me call them in so they can—“

 

“No, no.  That’s okay. I need to talk to you for a minute first.”

 

Something in Roy’s tone gave me reason for concern.

 

“What’s the matter?  Are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine,” my husband assured, and it was then that I could hear Station 51’s TV in the background.

 

“You sound a little. . .upset.”

 

“I’m not upset. Just tired I guess.  Listen, Jo, I won’t be coming home tomorrow morning.”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“To Johnny’s.”

 

“Oh. All right.” 

 

Just like it wasn’t unusual for Johnny to pop in at our house for breakfast every couple of weeks, it wasn’t unusual for Roy to go out to breakfast with Johnny after a shift every so often, or to go to his apartment for coffee and doughnuts before coming home.

 

“You’ll be home in time for lunch though?”

 

“Uh. . .no. Actually, I’m going to bunk at Johnny’s for the next couple of days.”

 

“What? Roy, what’s going on?”

 

I suppose if I wasn’t confident Roy and I have a solid marriage, I would have been worried this was his way of telling me he was leaving me, but that thought never crossed my mind.  I was, however, confused as to why my husband suddenly felt the need to have a sleep-over at Johnny’s house.

 

Within a minute I knew the answer to my questions.  That morning Roy and Johnny had treated a young woman who was very ill with a virus the doctors at Rampart were unable to identify.  Just two hours before Roy phoned me, another fireman who had responded to the call, Tim Duntley, had also taken ill.

 

“Brackett had Johnny and me come in for blood tests but so far we don’t know anything. Until they can figure out how this virus is spread, or how to treat it, I think it’s best if I’m not around you and the kids. Johnny said I can stay at his place until we have some answers.”

 

“How soon will that be?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“But—“

 

“Joanne, I just don’t know.  But no matter how long it is, I can’t take the risk of you or the kids picking this up from me.  It could be dead. . .dangerous.”

 

I knew Roy almost said ‘deadly’ before changing his choice of words.

 

“Do you mind packing a bag for me and taking it over to Johnny’s apartment this evening, or early in the morning?  Just so it’s there, and you’re gone, before Johnny and I arrive.”

 

“No, I don’t mind.  I’ll put in a few changes of clothes, your razor, toothbrush, things like that.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

We had a key to Johnny’s apartment. We’d collected his mail for him a couple of times when he’d gone on week-long camping trips. The last time we’d done so, in early June, Johnny had told Roy to hang onto the key.

 

“I’ll get the kids up early tomorrow and we’ll take the bag to Johnny’s.  I can treat them to breakfast out on the way home.”

 

“Sounds like a nice idea. Wish I could join you.”

 

“I wish you could, too.”  I looked out the patio doors again.  The children were still as I had seen them a few minutes earlier, on the swing set and in the sandbox with their friends.  “What do you want me to tell the kids?”

 

“The truth, I guess.  I don’t know what else you can tell them.  But don’t say anything about how serious this could be, just—“

 

“I won’t,” I promised.  “I’ll do my best to make it sound like a. . .a bad cold.”

 

Roy didn’t even laugh at how stupid my remark was. But then maybe he didn’t think it was stupid to begin with. After all, how do you explain a deadly virus to a four- year old and a six and a half year old? 

 

“Roy?”

 

“Yeah?”

“This virus. . .it’s very serious, isn’t it?”

 

There was a hesitation on the other end of the phone, then I heard Roy’s quiet, “Yes, Jo. It’s very serious.”

 

“Serious enough that Tim and the woman who’s sick could die?”

 

“Yes, serious enough that they could die.  But Doctor Brackett’s doing all he can to prevent that from happening. There are two labs here in LA working on trying to pinpoint just what causes it and how to treat it, and information has been sent to the Center For Disease Control in Atlanta as well.  They’ll find something out soon, I’m sure.  Maybe I won’t even have to stay at Johnny’s all day tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll be home in time for supper.”

 

“I hope so, because we both know Johnny can’t cook worth a damn.”

 

My husband laughed at my words.  We needed the levity right then.  We were a young married couple with young children.  The thought of something happening to Roy that would make me both mother and father to Chris and Jenny, in addition to being the sole breadwinner of the family, was terrifying at that moment.

 

Roy must have sensed my thoughts.

 

“It’ll be okay, Joanne. I’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

 

“I know you will. And Johnny?  Is he okay with all this?”

 

“He’s fine.  Doesn’t appear to be too concerned. You know Johnny. Not much worries him when it comes to his own well-being.   Right now he and Chet are fighting over what TV show to watch next.”

 

I chuckled at that remark.

 

“Well, tell them to stop fighting and tell Johnny I said to take care of himself.  After all, he can’t be sick for his birthday party.”

 

“I’ll tell him. Tell the kids I said hi.”

 

“I will.  I love you, Roy.”

 

“I love you too, hon. I’ll call you tomorrow from Johnny’s.”

 

“Okay.  Talk to you then. Goodbye.”

 

“Bye.” 

    

     When our connection was broken I slowly returned the telephone receiver to its cradle. I was grateful that I had children to round up and get in the house for baths, a snack, and a bedtime story. If nothing else those mundane events kept my mind off my worries for my husband until I went to bed at ten o’clock. I tossed and turned most of the night.  Since I was already awake, I had no trouble rising with the sun in order to pack Roy’s bag and get the kids up to make the trip to Johnny’s apartment. We were in the car by seven, so we’d be gone from Johnny’s before he and Roy went off duty at eight.  The children had no idea what was going on until they realized we weren’t waiting at Uncle Johnny’s for their dad to arrive.  It was over breakfast at a Howard Johnson’s restaurant that I told them Daddy had been exposed to a very bad cold virus while taking care of an ill woman, and he couldn’t come home for a few days.

 

     “Is he sick?” Chris asked as I wiped egg yolk from his chin with a napkin.

 

     “No, not all.  Daddy’s fine.”

 

     “Then why can’t he come home?”

 

     “Because if Daddy does get sick from this virus, he doesn’t want us to get sick, too.”

 

     “But I could take care of Daddy,” Jennifer said as she sat her glass of apple juice back on the table.  “I could make him chicken noodle soup if he gets sick.”

 

     “Daddy probably won’t get sick,” I assured the kids in what I hope sounded like a confident voice. “And even if he does, Uncle Johnny will take him to Rampart right away and Doctor Brackett will make Daddy well again.”

 

     “Who’s gonna take Uncle Johnny to Doctor Brackett if he gets sick?” Jenny asked.

 

     “Daddy. That’s why Daddy’s staying at Uncle Johnny’s apartment.  They’ll look after each other.”

 

     Chris picked up a piece of bacon but held it suspended in mid-air.