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The Schuyler Fortune VI: A Throuple of Bums-15
"I have a friend who works at that Institute next door, the mysterious one, and we met at the Savoy in London at a party and liked each other all at once. He told me he heard about your husband and something about x-rays and wanted to know if I would come and see if there was anything I could do. I'd do anything for him because I love him, ma'am. I hope that doesn't offend you."
"Why would love offend anyone?" she replied. "I loved both my husbands. My second never knew my first husband but would have loved my boys. I think he have loved my first had he known him as I did."
"What did you say your name was again?"
"Jon Smith, ma'am"
"Isn't that a coincidence. My first husband's name was Smith. My second husband never met my boys. They were just children when my first husband died. I had no job and no prospects, and no money and the kids had to be fed and educated. I had to adopt them out." They would have had a very difficult life otherwise.
"Oh, my. That must have been hard."
"The hardest thing I ever did. I died inside for a while. It was nearly too much to bear for a very long time."
For some reason, Jon realized this conversation was making him very uncomfortable. His brain raced ahead, trying to move it along. "Wasn't it a coincidence..." As his brain tried to catch up and ask the obvious, a chill ran up and down his spine.
He took a deep breath and lightly asked how old her boys were. She told him and when tears appeared in his eyes she asked him, "Are you OK?"
He replied that he was indeed and thanked her for the tea.
"I believe there are two things I might do for a fellow Reds fan lost here in the wilderness of America," he said. "One is to offer to look at those x-rays for you and the other is to connect you to those boys, if you are interested in seeing them again."
He held his breath, forcing himself to be calm.
"To hell with the x-rays, I want to see my boys."
"That second task is actually easier than the x-rays, I believe. I used to believe in coincidence, mother."
"I don't understand...why are you calling me that? No... God... Jon? It can't be. How can that be? Where...how...are you OK? Have you been happy? Are your parents still alive? Do you know you have a brother?" The questions tumbled out.
"Yes, mum. Freddie and I were raised together. I'm fine and happy and glad to meet you too. Again. My childhood and adult life have been fine; I've always wondered if I would get to see you some day."
More laughter, more happy tears. "Where is Freddie? Is he OK too? Is he happy?"
"He was fine at breakfast this morning when I left him two hours ago."
"He's here too?" Fresh tears, another outpouring of affection from a mom long separated from her children.
"Sure, mother. Would you like to see him? I'd have brought him, but I didn't know you were you. He's a finance and bank guy in the City of London...will you still love him in spite of that?"
"Oh, stop...of course I will. She looked at him then, really looked. "You know, I should have known, I think. You resemble your father a good deal. Would you like to see his picture?"
Then Jon fought back tears. "Yes, I would, mum." She lovingly searched in her bedroom drawer and handed him a picture of a young man, a guy Jon thought he would have enjoyed knowing as an adult of the same age. The man looked a lot like the guy Jon saw in the mirror every morning. He had blonde hair, blue eyes and a winning smile, not movie- star handsome, but the man had striking good looks all the same.
"May I get a copy made for Freddie and me, mum? Let's go next door and find him. He'll want to meet you."
"I'll just be a moment, Jon." Olivia applied a cold cloth to her face and combed her hair.
They drove the short distance to the Campus, were passed through to the Residence and rode the elevator up to the top floor.
"I'll not vouch for his room, mum."
"I'll give him a free pass today, Jon."
When the door opened, Freddie saw his brother standing in the hall with a little lady. "Freddie, I would like to introduce you to Mrs. Olivia James, our biological mother. Mrs. James, meet your youngest son."
Freddie, feeling dizzy and puzzled, tears in his eyes, came out of a long dream lasting for years. He had for years imagined meeting his biological mom but never had expected to do so. He smiled at the lady and reached out to her and she gave him a hug. She wasn't at all like he had dreamed...she was better looking than any of those images.
She did look familiar though, the blonde hair with grey streaks, the blue eyes. He saw the facial features in the mirror every day and knew why she seemed familiar to him.
"Mum, I look like you, I think."
"I'm so sorry, Freddie. If I had known, I could have put my makeup on or something," she teased. He grinned. "Now we know where Jon gets his sense of humor."
Olivia handed Freddie the photograph.
"Would you care to see a photograph of your biological father? He died when you were a baby, Freddie. He named both of you and loved you both. He told me before he died that he hated leaving you boys. You were our life then."
The pieces of the puzzle fell into place for both men. A knock at the door and Connor stood in the hallway. Jon caught his hand, his face a picture of grief and happiness, tears and excitement mixed. As close as the two were by now, Connor was instantly alerted that something momentous was at hand. "Connor, there is someone I need you to meet."
"Connor, this is our neighbor, Mrs. Olivia James. She is a biological mother of two sons, Jon and Freddie Smith of Liverpool. Mum, this is my lover, Connor Ruhl." It took a while before the commotion settled down to a dull roar.
"Freddie, mother (he choked again) and I are headed over to her attorney's office about fifteen minutes away. The fellow is in and has the x-rays. Why don't you and Connor and I escort her over and I can look at those while you start to catch up a little more. She has to come in with me and tell her attorney that it's OK and might have to sign something. It won't take me more than 30 minutes to read them and dictate a report to the attorney." A campus SUV took them to the office.
Jon sat looking at the chest films. He noted the name on the films, the date, the technician's initials, the orientation, and matched that data to both hospital copies of the reports. He carefully checked the overall quality of the films, how under or over-exposed they were, looked at the body habitus (trim), looked at the external soft tissues, looked at each rib, looked at the clavicles, the spine and its shape and position, the visible portions of long bone, the shoulders, the heart size, and the mediastinum.
He scanned the esophagus and stomach, the bare outlines of the liver, the fecal pattern and amount visible on the film beneath the diaphragm, the area behind the heart, the lung fields and the diaphragm size, position, clarity, sharpness, checked for fluid above the diaphragm and noted the visible abdominal tissue for calcifications and air patterns. He inspected for air in the soft tissues, calcifications on the films, and any evidence of infectious disease (none).
Jon then reviewed the medical history given on the radiology order for the films. 65-year-old man, previously healthy except a 40-pack-year history of tobacco smoking, now presenting with 3-month history of dry persistent cough, some sputum with red blood occasionally, and thirty-pound weight loss.
As he completed his systematic review of the films, both the lateral and the front to back views, his eyes avoided, on purpose, the visible 2-3 cm. sized solid tumor glowing white in the right lower lobe of the lung with no sign of caseation, no internal cavity and the final blow, fingers of tumor-like tentacles beginning to spread into the dark air-filled spaces of lung on the x-ray.
This was the tumor that killed his step-father. Filled with cold rage, directed toward the careless doctor that might not have even read the films in view of his findings, he vowed to re-read the film to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He hadn't.
He read the original radiology report, 'Normal chest films, AP and lateral'. He noted the date and the name of the radiologist who dictated the report. He read the receiving physician's copy of that report, matched the patient's name, date of birth, date of the study and the radiologist's name. They matched word for word, number for number.
Jon reviewed the next set of films taken three months later. The history was now positive for a 60-pound weight loss, lack of appetite, shortness of breath, red blood with coughing, worse at night, chest pain, yellow jaundice...both in the skin and a yellow tinge in the previously white sclerae.
Those films showed tumor masses in the liver and behind the heart, tumor in both lungs, multiple large solid tumor masses, with fluid blunting the diaphragms on both sides. There was ascites, fluid often associated with abdominal metastasis in the abdominal cavity now. These were the films of a walking dead man.
He again reviewed the name, the dates, the orientation of those films, their exposure, the technician's initials, the original report by another radiologist and the date of that report. Every detail matched the patient and the previous x-ray and x-ray report.
He walked down the hall to the attorney's office and told him it was better if his dictated consultant report to the attorney was notarized and dated. The attorney agreed.
After careful dictation and re-review to make certain he hadn't missed anything, and after the report was signed, witnessed, dated and notarized he had another thought. His next observation and request and offer made the attorney smile.
"This woman turned out to be my birth mother. This patient was my step-father whom I never met. I found this out this morning. I think this relationship should be our fact to know. The jury might think I was biased. We wouldn't want that. When you read the report, you'll see the facts only. This is a 'res ipsa loquitur' case in Britain. I don't know how you will argue it here, but the facts are clear as crystal."
"This radiologist killed this man as certain as God made little green apples. This is a clear case of premature, preventable death, an undeniable case of gross negligence, not to mention malpractice. I will return to testify any day of the year to that fact."
"I am a graduate of Imperial College (London) and am a consultant in Radiology starting a private practice on Harley Street in London soon, legally capable of serving as an expert witness in my field anywhere in the world."
"Please summon any troops necessary to right this wrong. Our resources are adequate for the task and your reward will be more than adequate. Please keep me informed. I'm sorry to meet you under the circumstances but must tell you I have confidence that you will win this case and send this doctor back from whence he crawled."
"My local contact is Connor Ruhl at the Institute down the road, the mysterious one, and his phone number is on this card. Here is my card with my contact in Britain, my cell phone and fax and email."
He then rejoined his family in the car. "Mum, the case is open and shut. The settlement, or award if it comes to that, should pay any bills you have and if you manage it well, for your lifetime. I couldn't speak to the amount, but whatever it is will be coming soon."
"Speaking of that, Connor, did you ever ask Mrs. James about that outer, middle and inner marker your runway needs for your airplane's safe navigation? I'm going to be flying in from time to time, and so will Freddie, and we'd like to know that it's safe to land there. You need to get her permission and pay her a handsome sum for any trouble that might put her to."
"My future husband has a question for you, mum. Two questions if the parent is still asked permission to court their son in this country. Mum, just to make it easier for you, the answers are 'yes' and 'yes'.
Twelve months later, after the $7 million-dollar settlement from the defendants including the hospital, the physician's insurance and the physician himself prior to trial, Mrs. James looked back at her tumultuous year.
Her son Jon was married to Connor Ruhl. 'Jon Smith-Ruhl' had a nice sound, she thought. Freddie and his girl were still an item and happy in Britain. Jon thought he was pretty sneaky, but she knew she would have given her neighbors permission for those markers without him.
Olivia had met Freddie's lady and liked her. She'd been unsure, but when Milly had admired her chrysanthemums, she'd been sure. Milly had asked her if she planted hers in the spring like they did in Britain and whether she cut or pinched the early shoots to get a better plant shape later on. Milly knew a thing or two about chrysanthemums, she did.
Jon had been at work in London for six months in a thriving practice, flying over often to visit Connor and his mum, when he read a forwarded advert for an associate professor of radiology at Georgetown University School of Medicine in Washington D.C.
On impulse, he called the number and spoke with the secretary that answered at the Dean's office. He soon was speaking with the Dean who invited him to apply online, backing up his application with a faxed resume to which the school would apply their due diligence. Within two months, after two interviews and references that went well, a contract was signed. He had mentioned nothing to Connor.
He hugged Freddie, swore him to silence and left for Dulles on a first-class commercial flight. He had sent his personal and professional library and belongings ahead to storage near Alexandria. He checked into a hotel near GWU and oriented to his new work there, then drove his elderly Rolls-Royce to a florist, bought a two dozen red roses, drove to his mother's house, surprised her, gave her a dozen of the roses, delighted her with his news and swore her to silence.
His next stop was the Campus.
The guards, a little bored, knew him and passed him through to the administration building where he presented himself to Connor's secretary who smiled and smelled an 'occasion' and agreed to the 'interruption'. She opened the door to the inner office and flung it open. At his desk, Connor looked up in surprise to see his fiancé, stood up and rushed around the corner of the desk to be handed a dozen red roses and a kiss. The secretary grinned and went back to her work after closing the door.
"I didn't know you were coming." Connor began...
"Shhhhhh. I'm home, dear." It didn't hit Connor right away, then he cocked his head and smiled and frowned a little, quizzically. "I'm home now, you see. You know, don't you...home for me is anywhere you are, Connor. I'm home, stud."
"You're my light. I feel alive and awake when we're in the same room...well, except when we're sleeping, I guess. I want to wake up with you every morning. We'll adopt children if you want. I want to live here with you. I've an academic position at GWU. We can plan our home now."
"He drew Connor to him and brought his lips to his, "God, you taste good. Do you, sweet man, by any chance have unchangeable plans for the next hour or two? I want to show you just how much I love you."
He saw the joy in Connor's face and knew he was home indeed.
Connor and Jon shared opened their relationship twice. They both took a surrogate mother to their bed once within minutes of each other, content to let nature choose the father; two years later after Jon's biological son was born, they took the same surrogate to bed the same night while watching each other fuck and while enjoying oral play together with each other at the same time. Forty weeks later, Connor's natural daughter was born.
The two happy fathers, over the moon, raised two wonderful children. Neither Connor nor Jon ever took a third man into their bed. They didn't expect it, hadn't the urge to love another outside their bond and no one approached them for the play. Both felt when they came to orgasm in each other that each was giving a piece of himself to the other, a vital piece to which none other was entitled, none other particularly deserved, for none other needed the energy, the love, that very private, particular gift.
They both considered the fact that although their mingled gifts did not result in pregnancy, they still injected potentially living matter into each other's body and both felt it was the best gift they had for the other given the circumstances.
Neither judged others for their decisions. The throuple of bums, Liam, John, and Mason adopted children some years later and enjoyed them immensely. Their work for the Institute was satisfying life work for them and although others approached them to play also, their relationship remained closed.
They valued Teresa's friendship until she passed at age 79. They lived to see Mateo's passing at age 67 from complications of HIV. The throuple continued their close work with Joseph at the Schuyler trust, the museum and for the Institute he founded.
Paulo married a beautiful Colombian woman and sired three children before his retirement. Brent and Selene lived to age 96 before their passing. Daniel retired at 66 from medicine having had 2 separate male partners over the years, the last relationship lasting some 28 years. He had no children, biological or adopted.
Ten of thousands of orphans in Zimbabwe lived, surviving HIV, eventually cured of HIV, because of two women, Carol Schuyler and Blossom Jones, who cared about people enough to put money where their mouth was.