The Adults in the Room Read online

  “OK, the first kiss is free, but you are going to have to work for a second one. Okay, Tim?” she said with a grin. “So, when are you going to ask me out on a date?”

  The bell attached to the door suddenly jingled indicating that somebody had come into the bar. Mary Ann quickly moved from Tim to her place behind the bar. The regular payed no attention to Tim as he ordered a boiler maker.

  “And what about you Timmy? Ready for another?”

  Tim shook his head indicating that yes, he did desire another round but was just beginning to finally catch his breath. He watched Mary Ann speak with her customer but wondered. Women do not naturally fight like Mary Ann just did unless they are trained to. Even bad ass biker chicks do not fight that well. No Mary Ann Layback was no biker chick but then what was she or more importantly, who was she?

  Chapter 3

  Tim’s big date with Mary Ann was set for two weeks from Sunday because she needed to find someone to run the Blue Goose in her absence. Meanwhile, Tim’s coffee table in the living room of his condominium was becoming covered with glossy brochures, the results of his inquiries into stem cell treatments. Take a Medical Vacation in Beautiful Santo Domingo and Return Home a Changed Person. This particular brochure featured beautiful 40-something men and women who were trim and fit. The women in that picture wore a two-piece bathing suit. Some of the advertisements were rather simple, as in “Bring Us Your Double Chin and Leave it Here!” Others were more mysterious, such as “We aren’t the fountain of youth, but we are the next best thing!”

  Yet, every glossy brochure was somewhat vague on what was actually done, and price lists were nowhere to be found. One thing that was apparent was the fact that no one accepted any kind of insurance, period. Not in the Dominican Republic, not in Thailand, and certainly not in the United States, where only certain procedures involving stem cells had been approved by the FDA. Even in those cases sanctioned by the FDA, most insurance would not cover stem cell treatments. Yet, the internet contained lists of diseases and conditions that had been successfully treated by stem cells—everything from cancer to mental illness. And there were lots of testimonials from actual patients, but Tim had seen this kind of advertising before and was generally suspicious of it. “It seems that you can get people to say anything these days on the internet, but how do you know if anyone is telling the truth?” Tim thought to himself. “There is just no accountability.”

  After ten days of searching online, Tim was beginning to feel like an expert in stem cell treatments. He had joined two internet chat rooms where he posted questions that were met with quite a number of different responses. Many replies were actually warnings not to fall into the trap of “endless hope met with constant disappointment,” as one chat room member put it. “Your new life will be one of new bankruptcies” was another negative response. There were a number of stories of someone who had a chronic or fatal condition and a stem cell clinic would offer hope for just a little more money, but the money never seemed to be enough and the cure never came. On the other hand, there were almost an equal number of stories where a patient with no hope was given a new life thanks to treatments using stem cells. The clinics were another story. Some appeared to be very legitimate, while others were just money-grubbers.

  But there was one clinic that caught Tim’s attention: the Clinton-Bush Stem Cell Research Centre.

  The Clinton-Bush Stem Cell Research Centre (or the CBSCRC) was typical in the sense that they used the name of former occupants of the White House. The name by itself always seemed to lend a certain air of legitimacy, which was something every center desperately looked to establish, and the CBSCRC had two names! But what really struck Tim the most was the absence of any mention of money, be it called treatment fees or accommodation expenses. Instead, they simply said, “We would like to meet you to see what we can accomplish together.”

  There was nothing else. Tim clicked on the new patient form, which appeared to be seeking certain types of people instead of medical conditions. Tim’s curiosity got the better of him, and he filled out the form and pressed the “Submit” button. An automatic response showed up in Tim’s email inbox that simply said, “Thank you for your interest, we will be in touch.”

  Later that evening, Tim posted about this in the stem cell chat and asked if anyone else had ever had contact with the CBSCRC. Tim received one reply: “The CBSCRC rejected me out of hand. Within 5 minutes of submitting my application, I got an answer that said, ‘We are very sorry, but CBSCRC is not accepting applicants with your particular qualifications. This in no way reflects poorly on you. You simply do not fit our profile. Best Regards, Nurse Jennifer, Director, CBSCRC.’”

  Tim replied to the post with the hope that the poster would expound a little more, but that didn’t happen. This made him wonder what separated the CBSCRC from everybody else. Perhaps it was important for the CBSCRC to maintain standards; maybe this was proof that they were not in this business just for the money. At least, that was what Tim was hoping. In any event, Tim needed to find out what was going on in his brain.

  Before the accident, Tim had always prided himself on being clear-headed. For instance, he always knew what to do. He never overreacted, and most of all, he never panicked. Now, he seemed to do all three on a regular basis. This in itself was annoying, but when Tim read that these were also symptoms of dementia, he became afraid.

  What would happen to him, if he had a mental illness? What could he do? He was a widower with no children. He had no siblings or any family or friends to speak of. Tim was hoping that he would make a connection with Mary Ann, but certainly not for the purpose of a caregiver. Would he take all of his money and just hand it over to some nursing home with the hope that he would be taken care of for the remainder of his life?

  Tim sat down and took a deep breath. He needed to get control of his emotions. After all, there could be a hundred different things wrong with him. Had he even taken his medication for the day? Tim took at least fifteen different pills every day, most prescribed by his neurologist Dr. Gray. Fifteen pills a day was a lot of pills. God, did he need that many? All of these fears only convinced Tim that he should consider at least looking at the CBSCRC. Maybe they really could help him.

  One of the pills Dr. Gray had prescribed for Tim was a blue one named Xanax. This one did have a calming effect on Tim, and he soon began to feel a little better after he took another. Tim thought about his teeth and how his dentist had told him that he may soon be a candidate for dentures. That was just fucking wonderful. I’m old and will soon be toothless, but I’m going on a date with a woman in her late 30s, he thought to himself. Maybe even younger. Maybe he should just call it off—but Mary Ann had basically asked him out, so what did he have to lose? Maybe she was just into older guys. Tim hoped so, because that’s what she was getting.

  He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  Chapter 4

  The night of Tim’s big date with Mary Ann had arrived, and he waited anxiously at the corner by his condo.

  “Over here, handsome!” Mary Ann yelled as she walked from the opposite direction.

  Mary Ann was wearing her usual tight jeans and black t-shirt, but with a white linen jacket over it and no motorcycle chain belt. Her hair was down instead of tied back in the usual ponytail, and it looked like she had applied a little more mascara for the occasion.

  Taking Tim’s arm, Mary Ann walked him to the street and hailed a cab. Talk about taking charge, Tim thought to himself. At least it relieved him of some of the evening’s stress.

  Mary Ann gave the cabbie an address and immediately moved closer to Tim until their shoulders touched. “I thought we would go down to Fell’s Point for dinner. I know a great little Italian place. Did you know that I’m half Italian?”

  Tim had never heard Mary Ann say so much at one time and was a little taken aback by it. However, it was making the date much easier. Tim had been on lots of dates where he’d had a difficult time getting the woman to say two word
s, so Mary Ann’s newfound verbosity was a welcome change.

  “Italian? With a last name like Layback?” Tim challenged playfully.

  “Well, I’m Italian on my mother’s side. I have no clue where Layback came from, but I sure got a lot of shit about it as a kid. But I took care of that.” Mary Ann seemed to go a little dark as she said the last sentence.

  How did she take care of it? Tim wondered.

  He decided that he needed to change the subject. “Well, I love Italian food. Who doesn’t?” he responded cheerfully, hoping that Mary Ann would continue the conversation instead of shutting up.

  His wish was granted. “I’m also a great Italian cook,” she murmured. “Maybe I could cook for you sometime.”

  The food at the Blue Goose was awful. Tim could only hope that this was not the food she was considering cooking for him.

  As they approached Fells Point, Mary Ann changed subjects. “I just love this neighborhood. It reminds me so much of Amsterdam. Have you ever been to Amsterdam?”

  Mary Ann’s question gave Tim a very strange feeling. No, he had never been to Amsterdam—but he knew exactly what Mary Ann was talking about. Row houses by water. How the hell did he know that?

  “No, I’ve never been there...or, at least, I don’t think I have,” Tim replied, which made Mary Ann laugh.

  “You either have or you haven’t, Tim. You’re a funny guy.”

  Tim was not sure if Mary Ann thought he was a funny guy in the “ha-ha” sense or the strange sense, but they had arrived at their destination, so he didn’t bother to ask.

  “Pay the man, Tim, and don’t forget to tip him,” she said as she exited the cab.

  The ‘maître d’ appeared to know Mary Ann and welcomed her with a hug. She did not bother to introduce Tim. The maître d led Tim and Mary Ann to a corner table, where Mary Ann ordered a vodka martini. Tim ordered the same.

  “So, how is the stem cell research going?” Mary Ann asked.

  Tim was a little taken aback by the question. He recalled that Mary Ann was with him when he’d decided to Google stem cells, but he hadn’t spoken about it to her or anyone since then.

  Still, he knew Mary Ann was perceptive. “Well, I was really just looking into dental implants at first. I got kind of sidetracked into stem cells, but I don’t think stem cells can grow new teeth.”

  Mary Ann reached across the table and placed her hand on Tim’s lower jaw. “Let’s see them, then. Yep, you have extensive bridge work on both your uppers and lowers. I’d give them about a year.”

  “A year for what?” Since Mary Ann still had her hand on Tim’s lower jaw, his response sounded a bit like Duffy Duck.

  “A year before you lose them. Not all at once—just a few at a time.” Mary Ann removed her hand from Tim’s jaw and started reading the menu.

  Tim’s dentist had told him the same thing, but how the hell had Mary Ann known that? “So, are you a dentist as well as a restaurateur?” Tim asked, trying to sound sophisticated.

  “I used to own a dental lab, and I’ve seen lots of bridges. Do you like calamari?”

  “Love it. But you think my teeth will start falling out?” Tim was beginning to panic.

  “Well, they will start hurting first, and you will go to the dentist, and she or he will tell you that there is nothing more to do and will start pulling the few real teeth you have left.” Mary Ann was still reading the menu, and her response sounded almost absentminded.

  She closed the menu and looked at Tim. “But that’s not going to happen tonight, so relax. I am going to have the eggplant parmesan. Have you decided on anything?”

  Tim ended up ordering a steak. May as well while he could still eat one, he figured. Mary Ann laughed at his choice and joked about finding an Outback Steakhouse the next time they went out for dinner, although the steak at the Italian place was delicious and Tim thought it was one of the best he had ever tasted. Italians do excellent steaks, Mary Ann informed him, then started talking about gangsters in Chicago during Prohibition and steakhouses.

  Tim was beginning to think that this was the best date he had ever been on. Mary Ann was different here from when she was behind her bar, tossing one-liners back and forth with the regulars. Here, she spoke freely and expounded on all kinds of subjects, although Tim also found that she was a good listener. She surprised him by how well she recalled all of the little comments he’d made about life while sitting at her bar. Tim figured that she, like most people, really did not care what he thought about anything—but Mary Ann certainly impressed him.

  They had consumed two martinis each as well as one bottle of red wine, and any inhibitions Tim may have had at the beginning of the evening had gone out the window.

  “So where is Mrs. Hall?” Mary Ann asked playfully.

  “Dead and gone, I’m afraid,” Tim responded, not really meaning to sound so cold.

  Tim’s response created a kind of pregnant pause at the table where neither of them could think of what to say next. Finally, it was Mary Ann who broke the silence. “Tim, I am so sorry. I had no idea at all. I just thought you were divorced like everyone else—”

  Tim cut Mary Ann off by taking her hand in his. “It was an accident, and I wish I could tell you more about Pam—that was my wife’s name—but after the accident, I just don’t remember much about anything. I mean, we had a good marriage, we both worked, too busy to have kids, the usual story...but, the thing is, I mean, the thing is that I don’t remember if I loved her or not.”

  This statement almost bought Tim to tears, which was the last thing he wanted, but what he said was true. He just didn’t know if he’d loved Pam or not.

  Somewhere in all of this, Mary Ann had paid the check, and they were both now walking down Thames Street arm in arm.

  “Mary Ann, I am so sorry. I feel like I have sabotaged our entire evening. I just was not expecting that question, and—”

  Mary Ann placed her hand on Tim’s cheek.

  “Tim, you can shut up now,” she said, and they started to kiss.

  Their kissing continued during the cab ride back to Washington Hill. Both Tim and Mary Ann’s hands were all over one another. Tim was surprised by how assertive Mary Ann was, but should he be? He’d never been on a date with anyone like Mary Ann before.

  As they headed upstairs to Tim’s condo, Tim’s mind began to race with questions like, did he make his bed that morning? And did he have coffee? But the kissing suddenly stopped when they reached Tim’s door.

  Mary Ann turned and faced Tim. “This is as far as I go on a first date, but...” Mary Ann stopped speaking and gave Tim a long kiss, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth. “...I wanted you to know that I had a simply fabulous time.”

  Mary Ann kissed him again and started for the elevator. Tim called after her, “Can I at least walk you home?”

  “No, I have an Uber coming,” Mary Ann responded. The elevator door opened, and Mary Ann stepped in.

  “Well, can I walk you to the...”

  The elevator door closed, and Mary Ann was gone. Tim opened the door to his condo, entered, and headed to the window. He saw a black car pull up to the front of his building, perhaps a Mercedes, and Mary Ann got into the front seat. Tim thought that riding in the front seat of an Uber was a little strange, but this was Mary Ann, after all, so he decided to let it go.

  Tim sat on his couch and considered the evening. The date had certainly gone much better than he’d expected. He was sorry that he didn’t get to close the deal but getting a woman into bed was no longer the big thing that it used to be for him.

  Tim’s iPhone sounded the text message alert. Tim picked it up and saw that he’d received two texts from Mary Ann. The first read, “I had a wonderful, wonderful evening. Let’s do it again” followed by two red hearts. The second message said, “And if you mention anything about our date to anyone at the Goose, I will kill you.”

  Chapter 5

  Tim was slightly surprised that post-date Mary Ann was actually a lit
tle colder to him when she was bartending at the Goose. A few times, she was even downright mean.

  “I think he looks like a porcupine,” she’d said, referring to Tim’s new haircut.

  “At least you are not a weirdo like Tim,” was another comment Mary Ann made while she was attempting to help the young busboy ask a girl out. Sure, it was sweet for Mary Ann to help the kid, but why do it at Tim’s expense?

  On the other hand, Mary Ann would purposely pinch him or grab a piece of Tim’s anatomy when she felt that no one was looking. So, Tim figured he could tolerate Mary Ann’s put-downs for the time being.

  Tim was also close to giving up on stem cell treatments. After all, he wasn’t suffering from any of the major conditions stem cells could treat, and all he really wanted in the first place was dental implants to replace his failing teeth. This probably would have ended it, if not for the persistent emails from the CBSCRC. Tim had been sent a questionnaire, the type one might fill out when applying for a job at a large corporation. Tim was familiar with these types of tests and knew it was a process of asking the same question several different ways. The purpose was to determine the applicant’s characteristics, like if the applicant was a team player who got along with others. But why would the CBSCRC even care about anything like that?

  Soon afterwards, Tim began to get emails from the CBSCRC. “Please contact us at the following number” one email read in the subject line. Another said, “We can help you live longer,” and still another read, “We will save your life!”

  This was the one that got Tim’s attention. “What do these guys know about my life?” Tim thought to himself.

  Each email included a phone number that Tim should call. Tim finally decided to do this, if only to find out what the CBSCRC really wanted.

  The person who answered the phone sounded like a receptionist. After Tim identified himself, he was put on hold for what seemed like an eternity. He was close to hanging up when a man with a southern accent picked up. “Mr. Hall? This is Dr. Richard Justice speaking. How are you today, sir?”