I heard unfamiliar voices talking.
“He’s starting to open his eyes,” someone said.
“That’s a great sign,” commented another.
I detected a pain in my side, just below my rib
cage. I tried to open my eyes, but they seemed to be glued shut. The voices
resumed—talking about me as if I wasn’t there. Finally, I blinked my eyes,
trying to focus, and soon realized I was in a hospital bed. Standing by
me, with concerned looks etched on their faces, was an odd collection of people
from my life.
Through my bleary eyes, I saw my ex-wife Brenda;
John Greer, my photographer pal from San Francisco; and Darlene Harvey, the
reporter from the Los Angeles Times, I’d been admiring from afar since I
had arrived in Southern California.
Brenda moved forward and tenderly gripped my hand
in a way that she had not done for a long time.
“How are you, Alex?” she asked softly.
I gave a weak shake of my head. “I dunno. What
happened?”
“Don’t you remember, mate?” John jumped in.
“Remember what?” I mumbled blankly, as my weak
voice tailed off into nothing.
“He’s still coming out of the drugs. Give him a
minute,” Brenda pleaded. “They’ve been keeping him kind of doped up since the
surgery. This is the first time I’ve been able to talk to him.”
“Surgery?” I asked.
Brenda shushed me and gently ran her long, slender
fingers through my hair. “Take it easy. Don't try to talk right now. Take your
time. Then we’ll help you understand what happened.”
I groggily attempted to get my bearings. “We were
at the hotel. Everyone was celebrating Bobby’s victory. I was following him out
of the ballroom, and there was like a riot. I was suddenly on the floor and
couldn’t get up. It was strange. All of these people kept stepping on me—on my
arm and on my legs.”
I glanced at my
right hand which was heavily bandaged. “I got knocked down. I’m sorry.
Everything is a little hazy. I’m having trouble getting my brain to work.”
The three people hovering over me could not have
been more different—two beautiful women and John, with his long black hair
pulled back in a ponytail and a scruffy beard covering his face. The trio
exchanged concerned glances, whispered, and nodded at one another. I started to
shift in my bed and was met with a jolts of pain in my side and my leg.
Brenda attempted to lighten the mood. “I was afraid
you’d wake up in your hospital bed, see your ex-wife standing over you, and
think you’d died and gone to hell.”
I gave her a weak smile, while the others chuckled
to break the tension.
Brenda was trying to make sure my re-entry was a
slow descent, but that strategy was quickly dashed when John started blurting
out all the details of the last 14 hours. “Take it easy, Alexander. You’ve had
surgery. You were shot, man. They removed the bullet. The doc says you’re going
to be fine. Some people from San Francisco are on their
way down here, including our boss. Everyone’s been worried about you after they
saw the news.”
“The news? I was shot?”
Brenda glared at John. “Way to go slow, John.
Senator Kennedy was shot. You and some other people were also wounded by the
assassin.”
“No, no, no!” I yelled. “Bobby was shot? No, not
this time! This wasn’t supposed to happen! Assassin? Is Senator Kennedy going
to be all right?”
John moved closer. “Bobby’s just down the hall.
He’s still alive, but he’s not doing very well.”
“Not doing very well?” I snapped with rapidly
accelerating alarm.
John blundered ahead. “This place is like a
fortress. It was hard to get in here especially onto this floor. Cops are
everywhere.”
“Maybe we should go,” Darlene said shooting a glance
at John. “We’ll come back later, Alex. We just had to see you. We were so
worried.”
“No, no, don’t leave right now,” I pleaded. I
repeated what I had been told to try to take in the enormity of the news.
“Senator Kennedy was shot. How could… how did it happen?”
Brenda nodded to John and Darlene. “I’ll stay with
him. I know you must be very busy.”
Darlene leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. She
was dabbing tears from her eyes. “It’s been a long night. We’re all living in a
nightmare. I’m so sorry, Alexander. It’s good to see you awake.”
Darlene grabbed John by the elbow and pushed him
towards the door. John flashed a peace sign. “Peace, my brother. I’ll see you a
little later. Take it easy and get better. I’ve got to call San Francisco. Everyone’s anxious
to hear about you.”
After they departed, I tried to shift to get a
better look at Brenda. She looked great. Her long black hair cascaded onto her
shoulders. It was longer than I had ever seen her wear it. She wore a lime
green mini dress with white trim and white boots.
“Where am I, and what time is it?” I quizzed
Brenda. “Actually… what day is it?”
“It’s Wednesday,” she checked her wrist watch.
“It’s about a quarter to
two.”
“At night? What happened to Tuesday?!”
“You had surgery earlier today, and I just got to
town. I came straight to the hospital. I flew down as soon as I heard about the
assassination attempt. Your name was on the television as one of those wounded
with Bobby. I caught the next plane to LA to see you.”
“Uh… wow… that’s… I mean, I’m overwhelmed. That’s a
lot of money. Is that all right with Tom?”
“I was very upset, and Tom immediately offered to
fly me down here to see you.”
“That’s very nice… of you… and your husband.”
“Alex, I don’t think you’ve grasped what’s going on
outside this room. It’s a national crisis. I wish you could look out the window
at the street below. There are barriers up, and hundreds, if not thousands, of
people are lining the street in the front of this hospital. News about the
shooting is on TV constantly.”
“Where’s Senator Kennedy now?” I groggily asked.
“Here. Eric Sevareid and Walter Cronkite have been
on CBS saying something has happened to the fabric of our nation. There are
signs everywhere that say ‘Pray for Bobby.’ The raw footage of the shooting has
been shown over and over again on NBC. You’re right. After the shots were
fired, it was like a riot. When I turned on my television, not only did I see
Bobby bleeding on the floor in the pantry, but I saw you on the ground with a
pool of blood under you. You were wearing a blue blazer, lying on the floor on
your side against the wall.”