The Gracious Gift

Chapter 1

It was gloomier than most days in September. The Boston weather remained as unpredictable as the last, only today was different. The crisp winds and the leaves merging from the summer slumber were matched by the darkness of the clouds that afternoon. As the clouds shed tears among the Earth, others would grab their umbrella and complain about the New England weather while John Remington would sit and wait for a miracle while in the ICU at Mass General. The cold, dark, wet, depressed skies were enough to fit John’s mood. John always enjoyed the September weather with the transformation from the hot summers to the coolness of autumn. The weather was just like the days before and the days yet to come, but today was no ordinary day for John.

The room was as gloomy and cold as the weather. Sounds of prayers, tears, and farewells filled in the emptiness. The television was on the midday news, but it was not enough to keep the sound of sadness from entering the room. Although the nurses and doctors tried their best to bring joy into the room, they could not contend with the despair. Death ran down the back of John’s neck, a familiar feeling from his line of work. The heart monitor continued to beep at a crawling pace while John waited for it to flat-line.

As the rain pounded the window, waiting to enter the cold room, John fought his usual urge.

Today would be a good day for a drink, he mumbled under his breath.

What was that Mr. Remington? the nurse said softly as she entered the cold room to check vitals.

Oh, nothing at all, he said as he tried his best to smile. John knew it had been years since his last bottle, but the itch continued to gnaw at him ever since, and this time the itch proved unbearable to withstand. John would fight these demons till the end, just as he promised.

As people came in and out of the rooms in the ICU, mostly with tears, John was always hopeful to see a familiar face. Friends came by bringing flowers, stuffed animals, pictures, and other memorial things to give some comfort, but it never worked. They would talk about past stories, prayers, and offer their sympathies, but John wanted none of that. Just someone there was enough. He could always tell they did not have the words and he could not blame them. What could one say to comfort John in this time? John always wondered how someone could accept this end as the fifth stage of grief and loss explained in the little pamphlet he was given following the news of the impending doom. He really wished Nancy were here to give him some comfort and maybe some answers. Nancy was a retired teacher who knew John since he moved into her neighborhood a little over thirty years ago. Nancy never had children, but always treated John as one. She would come over daily and preach at him about not eating enough or the mess in his house. Nancy would always have answers and stories to pass the time. She was one of John’s good friends and he was always thankful for her support. Nancy died three years ago of natural causes, resting along with John’s loved ones. John wished this was the case because she passed quiet and peaceful. What John had been looking at the past two years were multiple visits to Mass General, X-rays, CT scans, and hopes that doctors shot down quicker than the sound of thunder on this gloomy day.

John did not sleep during the night against the advice of the doctor. As his eyes were growing heavy, he was awoken by the incoming bereavement cart that was brought in the by the orderlies.

The bereavement cart laid untouched. No one was there to enjoy the treats that sat there waiting to be consumed. John did not feel the sense of acceptance that he was told he would feel in these last moments. Instead, John felt loneliness in this time of death.

All John has left are his memories, and it had been seventeen years since the moment that changed John’s life forever....

Chapter 2

On a cold winter’s night, a young woman was limping frantically through the streets of Boston. The rain felt like shards of glass striking the young woman. This woman was on a mission that even the painful raindrops could not stop. She was desperate and alone. Three days since her last score, this woman needed a fix, and nothing would stop her. The infant she was carrying in the rain could not even stop her from making a living.

This little shit is holding me back from scoring, she angrily said. I need money and this ugly thing isn’t gonna help!

Three days ago, at Carney Hospital, she gave birth to a baby girl, whom she hated the moment her eyes laid upon her. The infant did not look like any ordinary newborn. Her tongue was larger than normal, eyes were smaller than usual, and her cheeks were abnormally larger as if she had something stuffed in them.

That is one ugly baby, the woman said to herself. She did not remember the father of the child, but he must have been just as ugly as this child. She never cared to get the names of her clients, just if they paid cash for her services.

Congratulations, the doctor began. You have a beautiful baby girl, she said trying to be positive. She could tell by the look of the young woman that she was not excited and filled with joy as was common with typical new mothers.

When can I get out of here? the young woman impatiently asked.

Well, we found some complications with your baby. Her chromosomes are greater than a usual child’s and we would like to run some more test, the doctor said. This was not the doctor’s first encounter with impatient people trying to get out of a hospital.

Yeah well, I need to be somewhere, so hurry it up! the young woman agreed to stay.

After three days of testing, the young woman was given the news that her infant had Down syndrome. The doctor gave her special instructions for her infant’s health, which the young woman ignored. She signed the papers with her false name she used when in labor and provided them with a false address to send the bill. She then waddled out of the hospital dreaming of her next big fix.

She needed the fix. The pain medications were no help at the hospital and the cravings were starting to become unbearable. She went to Bubby’s Bar a few blocks away from the hospital. She was well known among the local drunks, and someone would know what to do with a crying infant. The infant was cold and wet along with her mother. The drunks brushed her off. She was no good to them while the infant was crying and bringing them out of their moods. She desperately needed to get rid of her.

About five blocks from Bubby’s, the young woman came across another dive bar called Pop’s. She never went to this bar because the paying clients always went to Bubby’s if they wanted a night without their wives. Pop’s was for people who had just enough money to drink. A girl in her line of work knew to avoid bars like this one.

Behind Pop’s, the dumpster was calling her name. The dumpster was a sight that would make a blind man sick. Excretions painted the dumpster, and the smell caused the young woman to cover her nose. She looked at the infant one last time, becoming more enraged that she gave birth to something so ugly. She felt the infant needed to go where it belonged and at that moment, the young woman laid the infant in the dumpster and limped away, fighting the pain from the delivery. Every step she took, the infant’s cry faded away.

While the young woman walked away, a man was being thrown out of the bar. As the man tripped on his own drunken feet, the woman dodged out of the way and the man hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Watch where you are going, asshole! the woman yelled.

Bitch, the drunken man called her as he tried to struggle back into the bar.

DETECTIVE JOHN REMINGTON just finished a case he was working on involving the murder of a forty-two-year-old woman. Her husband, who to John’s surprise came quietly, stabbed the victim five times. John did not know why this man would murder someone he vowed to protect till death did them part, but John knew that it was time for a drink.

Over the years of heavily drinking, John felt that he was a pro at hiding his intoxication, including at work. John was always sharp, especially when he was drunk. At thirty-seven years old, John was a veteran detective that has served in the Boston Police Department since he was twenty-two years old, six years walking his beat and ten years in homicide. Since his partner, Mark Briggs, left the force after passing his bar exam, John always declined any partners offered to him. John enjoyed his alone time, which allowed him to drink without any questions.

John quickly and carelessly finished his report. He then got into his 1980 Dodge Charger, which smelled of stale tobacco from years of smoking. Already seven snaps deep in Grey Goose, John was feeling the effects walking to his car. He looked at his watch and saw that it was 11pm. This case caused him to miss going to the store. John scuffled through his car, desperate to find a sip. He needed a drink, and luckily there was a bar down the street where he could get his fill.

As John pulled into the parking lot, he could see that Pop’s looked like a low-key place to get some drinking done. It was only a couple of miles from his house, which was another bonus. John felt this would be the perfect place.

At last call, John was enjoying his Vodka while the Jukebox played Kenny Chesney when another drunk asked him for some money to pay for his next drink. John was not in any mood for dealing with people, but this man was not letting up.

Some change for an old man? the old man asked.

Nope and you can leave me alone now, John said.

Come on! Just a dollar! the old man was being persistent.

Look, I don’t want any trouble, but you’ll get some if you don’t back off! John exclaimed.

How ‘bout I take it from you, prick! the old man impatiently said.

John then got up from his stool and threw a straight right punch to the old man’s jaw. Immediately the bouncers grabbed John by his jacket and led him to the door. John knew he was not in the wrong and tried hard to fight the bouncers. It took three of them to take him out of the bar and John’s swearing and screaming was sounded out by the Jukebox. As soon as John hit the ground of the parking lot, he could feel the effect of his drinking and tripped over his own feet while getting up. A woman walking by moved out of the way and John hit the ground again. He remembered the woman looking like she had potential to look good if she cleaned up herself, but John knew better than to say anything like that to a woman.

Watch where you are going, asshole! the woman yelled.

Bitch, is all John could say before trying to beg the bouncer to let him back in the bar.