The Curse of Flight

Chapter 3

Chapter 3Josh signed the register at the front desk and wrote 4 P.M. He walked down the musty corridor to his uncle’s room. On the way, he said hello to a resident in a wheelchair along the wall. Her chin nodded and hand lifted. Same as last week and the times before, a smile graced her wrinkled face. “Alfonso’s nephew,” she said. The florescent lights flickered.

At his uncle’s door, he knocked and turned the knob. “Are you awake?” It didn’t matter. Alfonso would want to be woken.

“Who is it?” His uncle asked.

Josh cracked the door. “Me.”

“Come in. Come in.” The old man stared at the ceiling.

Josh sat in the hard chair by the bed. “How are you?”

“Old, very old.” Eyes looked away.

“You say that every time.” Josh had heard it too often.

“And every time, I still am, and you still ask.” Alfonso’s face was blank.

“I won’t ask then, next time.” What was Josh supposed to say?

Alfonso lifted his head ever so slightly from the pillow and stared him right in the eye. “That’s very inconsiderate.”

“Okay, I’ll ask.” At least he’d gotten the old man’s attention.

Alfonso’s head dropped back on the pillow. “The truth is this: nothing works anymore, and everything hurts, except the mind, where I still fly on the trapeze.”

From the place where old worlds dwell, an image flashed in Josh’s imagination. His uncle flew. “You were the best, a real artist.”

“I know. I still am.” Alfonso closed his eyes.

No doubt, he was flying. Josh sat with him quietly for a minute. Then the old man snored.

An attendant walked in the room. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t know you were here. It’s time for his pill.”

“It’s okay. He’s sleeping.”

The attendant, a young woman, put a little paper cup on the counter next to the bed and looked in a file on the wall. “Are you his proxy? It says here he doesn’t have a form on file. We should have gotten one.”

“What’s that?” He’d helped his uncle with the paperwork at check-in. There was so much. He couldn’t imagine having missed anything.

“Someone to make medical decisions for him if he can’t, it gives permission.” She handed him a form from the file.

He looked it over. “I guess I am.” He was paying part of the bill if that made a difference. “I’ll ask him.”

She filled his uncle’s sippy cup with water from a bottle. “Mr. Dalenzo, wake up.” She hovered over him and nudged his bony shoulder until he opened his eyes. “It’s time for your pill.”

“Are you an angel?”

“No, Mr. Dalenzo, it’s me, Christina.”

“I thought you were an angel. Why are you here?”

“It’s time for your pill. Now sit up, so you can swallow.”

She pushed a button on the bed, and the head rose. The pill dropped from the little cup to his lips, now always slightly agape, and Christina helped him lift the tumbler of water to his mouth, where he took a sip and swallowed.

“Very good, Mr. Dalenzo. Now I’ll leave you with your company.” She left the room.

“It was an angel.” His uncle gestured toward the door.

“She gave me this form.” Josh took a pen from the table and wrote in his name. “Sign it and give it back to her.”

His uncle took it from him and glanced at it. “I don’t trust them.”

“Then, sign it or don’t.” Josh hated paperwork and wasn’t about to argue about it. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” He had to be sure.

“Ask then.” The old man set aside the form.

“Is the curse real?” Josh rubbed his scalp, fingers through thick hair.

“Yes, of course it is. Why do you ask?” His uncle scowled.

“Sometimes, someday, I think I would like to get married. What can one say about the curse to explain it? How would anyone understand?”

His uncle reached with his good arm and patted Josh’s knee. “One tells it as it is. I told your Aunt Beatrice; God rest her soul. Before we married, she understood.”

“She didn’t mind?”

“Hmm, perhaps at first, when we were young, now that you mention it.”

“And you never called the curse on you?” Josh’s fingers pulled at his hair.

“I still live, so I suppose not. Your brother did. He fell, you know. That’s why you never knew him. When it happened, your mother was too old to have another child, but you surprised her. Did you know that?”

“Yes, they told me. Uncle, were you ever intimate with Aunt Beatrice on a day you flew?”

“I think not, but perhaps. There are many things I don’t remember. Your cousin fell too you know. My only son, the curse killed him.”

“I wish I’d talked to my father about these things.” Josh looked down. “I miss him.”

The old man sighed. “I miss him too. From Palermo to Marrakech, Cairo and Istanbul to Marseille, we came to Quebec and then to this desert. You’re the last, Josué, the last of the Great Dalenzos, except for me. I’m still here, in a manner of speaking, but you are the last. Think of us sometimes when you’re up there. Will you? But not too much, you know we must keep our focus.”

“I know. I will.”

“You’re wise to want to marry. It’s good you can. Don’t worry about the curse. In the end, all that matters in one’s life is love. Next time you come, bring the old ring.”