CHAPTER 143

The introduction was short. The dedication was even shorter.

"This is the story about disability and the effects it has on the individual and the people in victim’s life. Many may argue about my use of the word ‘victim’, but it is not a permanent assignment. It does, however, illustrate a type of challenge. People who are injured often feel victimized until they come to grips with the long term or permanent effects of their injury. Most do get past that description, but others do not.

This is the account of one woman and how blind chance changed her life. It is also about the changes she was forced to make and the choices she has yet to make. Fate changes the lives of thousands every day. The changes can be physical, emotional, financial, social and spiritual. Sometimes they’re a combination of all of these elements. Sometimes, the concerns become political.

This book is just a small slice of one person’s life. My purpose in writing it was mostly therapeutic. My hope is that everyone who reads it will come to understand the power they have to affect others as well as the strength they have to affect themselves.

I wish to dedicate this small effort to two people who have played a significant role in my life. To ‘H’, who slapped me around a bit when I needed it but defended my need to remain unjudged and to ‘K’ who taught me that love is a precious but fragile gift that may have to be put on a shelf in order to protect it from breakage."

Rory Kendall

Kevin stared at the print until the words became unfocused. Of course… Rory Kendall…. Kendall O’Rourke….Constance Kendall O’Rourke…. Holy Jesus… Connie wrote this. Hannah knew it but couldn’t tell him directly. She’d taken a big gamble by counting on Nick to do the work for her and, miracle of miracles, the little pecker had unwittingly come through. Kevin leaned his head against the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the hammering in his chest. It was a sign. It had to be…

He flew through Connie’s book at record speed, hoping to find clues to her whereabouts but there were none. He did discover a few things. Kevin knew that Connie had had an interest in music but he didn’t know that she had been blessed with perfect pitch, a gift that was destroyed along with her hearing. He didn’t know that she occasionally taught signing classes to family members of the deaf. He hadn’t understood the degree of prejudice she had suffered at the hands of ignorant employers in her youth or the hurt and humiliation she had felt when childhood friends, unable to cope with her the aftermath of her accident, had abandoned her. He also didn’t know that she had been offered the opportunity to partake in a new experimental surgery – one that might enable her to hear again. The booked delved into the ramifications that a successful surgery would bring. She also discussed the additional pitfalls of a failed result, but she never told the reader what her decision would be.

A hundred questions came to Kevin’s mind. Where is she? Did she have the surgery? Was it successful? Does she hate me? Does she have any feelings about me at all? Was there any hope for them? Had she put that precious and fragile love on a shelf so high that it was permanently out of reach? He felt giddy with happiness. At last, he had a clue. But he was also scared to death. From what he’d read in her book, it sounded like Connie had made a real effort to move on with her life – a life that didn’t include him. Maybe he should let things lie, but no… he couldn’t do that. He had to find out if they had a chance. Sometimes ignorance was not blissful. In Kevin’s case, it was painful.

At least now he had a new starting point instead of a lap full of dead ends. The first thing he did was call Hannah. He wasn’t going to pressure her but he wanted her to know that her convoluted plan had worked. She answered after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hannah, it’s Kevin…Richardson…”

There was a moment of silence before she responded.

“I still don’t know where she is, Kevin.”

“I believe you,” Kevin said seriously. “I just wanted to tell you two things.”

“What?” Hannah asked with a degree of suspicion. “That you’ve given up and you’re not going to bug the shit outta me anymore?”

“Now, you know I haven’t been buggin’ you Hannah,” Kevin smiled into the phone.

“Yeah, and the fact that you haven’t been bugging me has – well, it’s bugged me a little… I figured you’d decided to let things go.”

“And you don’t think I should?”

Another pause hung itself between them. “I didn’t say that!” she snorted. “It’s not my business. Besides, you know what kind of position I’m in here. I promised to stay out of it.”

“I know and I’m not asking you to get into it. As far as I’m concerned, we haven’t even discussed Connie.”

“That’s because we haven’t!” Hannah snapped. “Now what did you want to tell me?”

“Goddamn! Do you always have to be such a hard-ass? I wanted to tell you that I read an interesting book tonight – one that you sent to Nick and told him that I would like it.” Once again, silence. “Hannah, you there?”

“Yes, I’m here. Did you like it?”

Kevin sensed a note of relief in her reply. “More than I can say…”

“Good. What else?”

“ I just wanted to tell you that I love you…”

“I don’t swing that way, Kevin… Now, I have a couple of comments before this conversation – the one we never had – ends. First of all, I can’t believe that Nick managed to get that book to you. It was a pretty long shot. The boy did okay. I’m shocked.”

“No shit…”

“Second, I don’t know how aware you are of how the book business works, and not that you’re asking, but it’s a lot like the music business. The publisher is like a label. They expect a certain amount of….promotion?”

“Promotion?” Kevin closed his eyes as misty hopes began to take on a solid form.

“Yes, promotion. You know, radio and all that crap..,”

“I understand..”

“Good. And third, I love you too, you anal retentive sack of shit.”

Click.

*****

Kevin spent the next hour on the internet, bypassing a search for Connie O’ Rourke and typing ‘Rory Kendall’ into a search engine, instead. He skimmed over several reviews and finally found what he was looking for on a website for National Public Radio. Among the schedule listings, Kevin discovered this small blurb:

Author Rory Kendall will be a live guest on ‘Book Talk’, Thursday at 7 pm. Audience members may call in with questions and comments.

Thursday? Shit, that was tomorrow… NPR broadcast out of New York. The show was live. Kevin finally had a location. Connie would be in NewYork tomorrow. Kevin glanced at his watch. Make that tonight… She might even be there now.

He had to get a flight.

Chapter 144

Kevin was hauling ass. He’d managed to get a reasonably early flight from LAX to LaGuardia but the flight would take several hours and the time change could present a problem. He didn’t know how long a show “Book Talk’ was and prayed it aired for more than a fifteen minutes. Sleep hadn’t found him last night but he was far from weary. His body was on automatic pilot, which was probably a good thing because his brain was all but useless. Not only would he be fighting the clock to reach Connie but he had no idea what he would say to her if he found her. He brain was jumbled, his body was weak, he was as nervous and giddy as a schoolboy, he was scared to death. The ‘Richardson Cool’ seemed to have taken a different flight. He wanted a drink but opted for apple juice. Kevin felt witless enough already. There was no need to risk the good fortune fate had handed him.

He was returning from his third trip to the toilet when the pilot announced that they would be landing in fifteen minutes. Kevin glanced at his watch. It would be close to six pm when they arrived. This was cutting it close. Too close.

*****

Connie felt a little queasy. She had been interviewed a few times about her book but this was her first live broadcast – a national broadcast at that. She was also still getting used to her ‘ears’. She had only recently begun to sleep through the night, subconsciously able to ignore the normal and nonthreatening sounds that permeated the darkness. Her life had suddenly become a symphony yet the instruments she still longed to hear, Kevin’s whispers and moans, were absent.

She purchased the last two Backstreet CDs and listened to them all the time. Although she had never heard their individual voices before, she had watched the group perform many times and she could remember who sang what parts. Kevin’s voice was not always easy to detect except during his brief solo parts and she had yet to hear him speak. She knew there were plenty of video tapes available which contained dialogue but she couldn’t bring herself to buy one. What difference would it make now? Maybe someday, when she was strong enough to think about what might have been, but not yet. She hadn’t found that strength yet. She and Kevin had had some rough times but most of her memories wrapped around the sweeter moments – the tender times that they shared alone. After the surgery, she often imagined running back to him, Look, Kevin! I can hear! I can hear you now! I can hear your music! I can hear a baby cry!… but so much time had passed. They had gone on with their lives. The old saying was probably true: You can’t go home again…. She only prayed that if he thought of her, it was with affection and not frustration and that somehow he understood that she left because she loved him.

Connie waved to the Plaza doorman and asked him to hail her a cab. It was six pm. Almost showtime…

*****

Kevin pulled a scrap of paper out of one pocket, his cell out of the other and began dialing as he screamed to the cabbie.

“How much farther?”

“Just a couple of blocks,”, the cab driver answered anxiously, glancing at his crazy passenger in the rear view mirror.

It was 7:10. Kevin didn’t know what to do other than try to call into the broadcast. When an operator answered, he began to speak rapidly and loudly.

“I wanted to call into that book show,” he yelled into the receiver. “How much longer is it on?”

“It ends at 7:20, sir. We can’t guarantee that your call will be answered but we can transfer you to the studio phone bank. You’ll just have to wait…”

“I have to get through,” he protested. “You don’t understand…”

The operator didn’t miss a beat. In fact she sounded bored.

“I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to stay on the line and wait like everybody else. Thank you for calling NPR.”

The next thing Kevin heard was the opening of the William Tell Overture.

“FUCK!”

The cab driver’s eyes grew large as he continued to stare, hoping that the man in his cab wasn’t some lunatic. Thankfully, the NPR building was just ahead. The passenger still had the phone to his ear but he looked like he could bite it in half.

“Here we are, man. That’ll be..”

“You wait right here,” Kevin ordered.

“How long are you gonna..”

“What the hell difference do you care?”, Kevin spat. I’m leavin’ my bag in here. You wait for as long as it takes, okay?”

“Man, it’ll cost you. I have to leave the meter running. And how do I know you’ll come back? I’ve gotten stiffed plenty and..”

“HERE!” Five fifty-dollar bills flew across the seat and floated down to the cushions. “How long will that hold you here?”

“Long enough, man…”

Kevin bolted from the cab and ran into the gray office building, still holding the phone up to his ear. He didn’t even know what he would say if his call was answered. He froze in the lobby. He didn’t have any idea where he was going and he didn’t see anyone to ask.

“FUUUUUCK!”

A middle aged black woman, poked her head out of a nearby door. Kevin, almost ecstatic to see another human being took a step towards her, hoping for directions, but she backed up.

“I-I don’t want no trouble,” she said nervously. “Don’t make me call security.”

Kevin stopped, puzzled by her response to him. “I don’t want any trouble, either, Miss…”

“Then why you hurling curses all over the lobby?” She grabbed a dust pan and held it in front of her as if for protection. “There ain’t even nobody out there..”

Kevin spotted a large clock on the wall above the cleaning lady’s head. It was 7:18. He let out a frustrated sigh, still holding the phone up to his ear.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare anybody. I’m lost and I didn’t think anybody was here. I need some help…”

“The drug clinic is one block over, Mister. You just go out the door, turn left and..”

“No, no, no.” Kevin sighed impatiently. “I’m trying to get to the studio where they do the broadcasts.”

“What for?” the woman asked suspiciously. “You ain’t got no weapons or nothin’, do you?”

“No!” Kevin was not winning his war with patience. “I’m…uh…supposed to meet somebody and I can’t remember the floor.” When she didn’t answer, he added, “You can frisk me if you want!”

The idea seemed to offend her. “ You wish! But I don’t think so….” She looked him up and down for the umpteenth time and finally relented. “Eleven..” she snarled, pointing towards the elevator. “And take that damn phone off the side of your face. You look like a fool!”

The show was just wrapping up when Kevin stepped from the elevator onto the eleventh floor. On the wall in front of him was a directory. Under the words ‘NPR Broadcast Studios” was a white arrow that pointed to the left. Soon he saw glassed walls in the distance. That’s when a human voice finally answered his call, asking him to hold for ‘Book Talk’. That’s also when he stopped in front of a glass wall and stared. Two people sat in the studio with their backs to him – an older man who was speaking into a mike and a woman with long red curls.

Kevin’s mouth went dry. It was Connie….

*****

“I’m afraid this will be our last caller Miss Kendall. We may have to fade out while you’re speaking to him so let me say now what a delight it’s been to have you on our show…”

“It’s been my pleasure, Ron…”

Dear God, she can hear… She had the operation… When Connie turned her head towards the host and smiled, he almost lost it. It had been so long since he had seen her and even this small glimpse of her profile made him feel weak. She seemed smaller somehow and all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms, squeeze her body into his and make himself whole again. Kevin was just beginning to realize how much of himself he had shut down and turned off. He wasn’t very good in the prayer department but he found himself mentally asking for the right words. He felt, in his heart, that the next few minutes would permanently affect his life in a profound way – good or bad. Make that ‘wonderful’ or ‘devastating’… Kevin didn’t realized that he was pressing his right palm against the glass. The pair had no idea he was standing right behind them.

He heard Ron’s voice in his ear as he watched his mouth move.

“You’re on the air. Can we have your name and where you’re calling from, please?”

Kevin hesitated but only for a beat. He had to keep the connection.

“Uh…. My name is Scott and I’m calling from New York.”

“We only have a few seconds, Scott. I’m sorry ‘bout that. I know you’ve been holding. We may wrap on you but I’m sure miss Kendall will continue to answer your questions or listen to your comments.” Ron glanced towards Connie. “Right, Rory?”

“Of course,” Connie smiled. “Go ahead, please…”

Kevin swallowed hard. “I-I read your book last night…”

“Yes?”

“And…. And I just wanted to tell you that I learned a lot from it.” He watched Connie smile.

“What did you learn, Scott?”

“I learned that we all screw up. I mean, mess up. I mean… well, you know…. Sometimes we say things to people when we’re upset. Mean things. We’re selfish…”

“We all need to be selfish sometimes…”

“But when we blame…when we hurt…. Well, that’s terrible but if the person has some kind of disability and we blame them because of that… Do you think that’s unforgivable?”

When Connie hesitated, Ron broke in.

“We’re off the air now…”

“Please don’t hang up!” Kevin choked.

“I won’t,” Connie assured him. She paused for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts, and continued. “I don’t think anything is unforgivable. It’s letting go of the guilt that’s so hard for both people - the person who accuses as well as the person who is accused. The one who blames probably does so out of some unresolved fear and the need for a rational explanation and the one who is blamed does feel a measure of responsibility. Whether they had the ability to help or stop whatever happened doesn’t seem to matter. Both people end up feeling victimized by circumstances.”

“Can they get past that?” Kevin rattled.

“Sometimes. I think it’s harder for the disabled person, especially if they’re fairly certain that their condition won’t change. They’ve already learned to fear resentment and they’ve seen how it hurts people…..how it hurts themselves. You’ve heard the saying ‘If you love somebody, let them go’?”

“Yes… but what if they don’t want to be let go – or what if the disability is no longer part of the problem?”

“You mean like if a blind person is able to see again?”

“Yes…”

“I guess that depends on the individuals and if they can get past ….well, if they can get past the ‘past’.”

“So you think there’s always hope?”

Kevin watched Connie smile.

“We’d be dead without hope. This whole issue is difficult and has raised some debate among the disabled community. I like to think that’s good, but it was not my intention to be provocative…”

Kevin closed his eyes. There it was. His bridge.

“I – I think it was good that you were able….able to…..provocatate…”

Connie’s whole being went numb. Provocatate? No. No, it couldn’t be…. She had never heard his voice. Was this possible? Was it some sort of karmic coincidence? The hairs of the back of her neck began to tingle as her feet pressed into the floor, giving her the leverage to turn her chair. She wasn’t even sure why she was turning but she suddenly felt him near – like a sixth sense that told you someone was in your house, even if you couldn’t see or hear them.

She closed her eyes and removed the headset as she completed her turn, overcome by the emotions she had tried desperately to suppress for so long. She had to force herself to open her eyes and when she did, every fear, every longing, every regret and every desire bubbled up into her heart. She thought she had conquered love – or at least learned to control it. She was so wrong.

Kevin faced her on the other side of the glass. As she watched, his cell slipped from his hand and he placed both palms against the glass in a silent plea. All she could do was stare through tear-filled eyes until she saw his mouth form one simple word.

“Please….”

She was afraid, but felt her body move towards the glass wall as if of its own volition. Common sense told her to run but her heart was on a different course. She had been miserable without him. She had never expected to see him again but fate had other ideas. She had spent the last several years trying to be practical and the last several months trying to convince herself that a new life would be better for both of them. But her ‘new life’ had been cold and empty and her attempts to be practical had left no room for heart-felt emotion. Protecting yourself from hurt meant protecting yourself from life.

Connie stood in front of him now and slowly raised her hands, pressing her palms against his through the glass barrier. When she did, Kevin’s head fell against the glass causing his tears to smear on the cold transparency.

His question echoed through her mind and her answer to him would ultimately determine their fate.

”So, you think there’s hope?”

“Without hope, we’d be dead….”

They had both been close to death. Maybe it was time to give life one more chance.