The Thursday Night Club (4 page)

On Friday afternoon, Mrs. Sullivan caught Ava in the Rolling Hills Retirement Home courtyard. “How’s it going?” she asked.

“Great!” Ava said, smiling. “I love it.”

Mrs. Sullivan nodded. “Wonderful!” She then pointed to an old lady sitting alone. “Have you spent any time with our elder stateswoman, Mrs. LeComte, yet?”

Ava shook her head.

“When you get a chance, check in on her,” Mrs. Sullivan suggested. “She can’t remember to take her medication and couldn’t tell you what she had for breakfast, but just ask her anything about her life…” she grinned, “…and see what happens.”

Ava smiled. “I will.”

Mrs. Sullivan winked at her. “Just make sure you have some time to spend with her before you ask, because she can talk.”

Moments later, Ava walked over to check in on Mrs. LeComte and introduce herself. The ancient woman was sitting in a wheelchair—wrapped in a thick blanket—in a quiet corner of the yard. As Ava approached her, she extended her hand. “Hello, Mrs. LeComte. I’m Ava. Is it okay if I sit with you for a bit?”

Mrs. LeComte smiled and gestured with her hand that Ava take a seat on the bench beside her. “Oh, that would be lovely, sweetheart,” she said in a soft, raspy voice. She looked up at the sky. “The good Lord’s seen fit to give us another beautiful day, hasn’t he?”

Ava nodded. “He sure has.”

They sat quietly for a few moments; Mrs. LeComte seemingly at ease with the company, Ava feeling awkward with the extended silence.

“So I’m told that you’ve lived quite a life?” Ava said, fighting against the silence.

Mrs. LeComte grinned. “Almost two of them by now,” she joked.

Ava smiled and, without thinking, shuffled down the bench to get even closer to the pleasant woman.

“I was born in Fall River, Massachusetts on the twelfth of May.” She squinted, peering into Ava’s attentive eyes. “And Fall River was the place to be when the textile industry was in its heyday.”

“Fall River?” Ava repeated, smirking. “Isn’t that where Lizzie Borden took an axe—”

“—and gave her father forty whacks,” the old woman added, finishing the rhyme. “When she saw what she had done, she gave her mother forty one.”

Ava laughed. “So do you think the axe was hers?”

Mrs. LeComte half-shrugged. “Could have been,” she said and then grinned. “Women worked just as hard as men in those days.”

Ava laughed harder.

Mrs. LeComte smiled, her old eyes filled with mischief. “You know, I’ve lived long enough to meet five generations of my family and I have forty grandchildren,” she said.

“Wow, that’s amazing!”

The old woman nodded, proudly. “I was thirty years old when I got married, which was an old spinster in those days. We met at the North End Laundry which was right on the banks of the Taunton River.” Her eyes grew distant in memory and she chuckled. “In the winter, I had to strap on my skates and commute to work across the river.” She nodded. “We had five children—four boys and one girl. Then, my Robert passed on from a bad ticker, leaving me to raise all five kids during the Great Depression.” She looked into Ava’s eyes again and smirked playfully. “Not very considerate of him, if you ask me.”

“That must have been a lot of work?” Ava said, ignoring the witty comment.

“We worked hard back then and we went to church every Sunday,” Mrs. LeComte continued. “It was a simpler time, I think. That is, until the hurricane of 1938 wiped out the old laundry. From then on, I traveled the trolleys and took on whatever odd jobs I could find.”

Ava was hypnotized by the elder’s vivid tales.

“When World War II hit, two of my boys joined the Coast Guard, while the other two chose the Army Air Corps. For years, I had four stars hanging in my front window, one for each of ‘em.” She shook her head. “While they were off fighting, though I didn’t have much I volunteered my time.” She patted Ava’s knee. “Just like you.” She stared off for a moment, trying to picture something in her mind. “Sometimes, I even made up food baskets for the needy.”

Ava’s eyes lit up as she considered the new idea.

“Thankfully, all my boys made it back,” the old woman reported. “It wasn’t long after that I got involved in the American Legion and wouldn’t you know it, I became the first woman president of the local AMVETS.”

“Wow!” Ava said again.

“Through the years,” she continued with distant eyes, “life went on and I got a second chance at love.” She nodded. “Yup, I married William Benoit and after three happy years, a heart attack took him too. I’ve sometimes wondered whether I killed them both.” She winked at Ava again. “I must have been too much to handle back then.”

Ava laughed hard—from her belly.
It’s the first time I’ve laughed since Jesse died
, she realized.

“Right after Bill died, I bought my first car, a used Hudson Terraplane. And if I wasn’t out driving, then I was sitting in the backyard, watching the steamboats paddle down river. I always loved that.”

“You really have lived an amazing life, Mrs. LeComte,” Ava sighed.

The old lady nodded. “I’ve seen more American presidents than I care to count, come and go…all this country’s wars, Prohibition, the Great Depression, and the Civil Rights Movement, which was nothing compared to the day-to-day troubles that we had to overcome.” She searched Ava’s eyes. “If life is a test of endurance, then I think I’ve passed the test.” She paused and then whispered, “But it’s not, you know.”

“Not what?” Ava asked.

“A test of endurance. Nope, life is just a never-ending series of choices.” She nodded. “So make sure you choose to be happy every chance you get, okay?”

“I will,” Ava promised and then sat for a few more moments in silence. This time, it felt comfortable. As she got up to leave, she told the wise old soul, “It was wonderful meeting you, Mrs. LeComte.”

“You too, dear.”

“Be sure to take your pills, okay?” Ava reminded her.

“What day is it?” Mrs. LeComte asked, confused.

“It’s Tuesday.”

“And I need to take my pills on Tuesday?”

“You do,” Ava said with a smile. “You need to take them every day, Mrs. LeComte.”

Exactly one week from the day she’d completed the bone marrow donation application, Izzy was sitting on a bench in the middle of the campus quad, studying alone. Her cell phone rang and she picked it up. “Hello,” she said, listening. “Are you kidding me? Already? That’s great!” She cringed. “Well, I don’t mean that it’s
great
, but…” She listened more. “Of course I’m still interested in donating. When do you need me to come in?” She nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Izzy hung up the phone and sat on the bench for a while, thinking,
I hope you’re with me on this, Jesse, ‘cause I’m scared to do it alone.

Across town on the campus quad, Kevin and Randy were also sitting on a bench. They were studying together when two college kids—Rachel and Jonathan—approached.

“So what’s up with this bike-a-thon to the Cape?” Jonathan asked. “It’s getting a little late in the season for a ride, isn’t it?”

Kevin put his book down and grinned. “Not really,” he said. “Besides, it’s only a four day trek, a hundred sixty miles round-trip. I’ll camp out at night and ride hard during the day. I’ll be heading out in two weeks…” he smiled again, “…as long as we don’t get an early snow.”

Everyone laughed.

“What’s the scholarship called that you’re raising money for?” Rachel asked.

“It’s called,
A Hand Up,
” Kevin replied.

“Very cool,” Jonathan said. “Where do we sign up?”

Kevin quickly reached into his book bag for his pledge sheets.

Rachel and Jonathan saw this and laughed. “No,” Rachel said, “we want to ride with you.”

“You what?” Kevin asked, confused.

“Where do we sign up to ride with you?” Jonathan asked, jumping in.

Kevin thought about this for a few moments and smiled to himself.
I hadn’t even considered getting other people to ride with me,
he thought and stood. “Consider yourself signed up.” He paused. “It might be cold on the road though.”

“Not for real riders,” Rachel said smirking.

“But you’ll need to raise money in order to ride,” Kevin added.

“Of course,” Jonathan said. “How much?”

“Two hundred fifty dollars each,” he said hesitantly.

Rachel sighed. “Great,” she said, “I thought it would be more. Do you have pledge forms we can use?”

Kevin handed them a blank pledge sheet. “I only have this one. Do you mind making copies?”

Jonathan shook his head. “Not at all.” As he and Rachel began walking away, Jonathan stopped and turned around. “Oh Kevin, the guys from the lacrosse team are interested in riding too. They said they can incorporate it into their training, while helping some poor schmuck get into school.” He chuckled, joking, “But you might want to catch them before they sober up and change their minds.”

Kevin nodded and took a seat, dumbfounded.

Watching this, Randy started to laugh and patted his back. “Looks like the train has left the station and there’s no turning back now,” he said nodding. “Good for you, Kev.”

Kevin smiled wide, quickly throwing all of his stuff into his backpack and standing up again. “I’ve got to go and make some new fliers…” he nodded, “…and pledge forms. Looks like I’ve got some recruiting to do.”

Overwhelmed with excitement, Kevin filled Marybeth in on every detail of his charitable plan. While he rambled on, she sat in silence—her right eyebrow raised in skepticism. “What?” he finally asked, surprised by her frigid reaction. “You don’t think it’s a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “The whole thing seems really time consuming to me.” She shook her head. “Besides, I think people should pay their own way and not expect a hand-out.”

The air left Kevin’s lungs and he suddenly felt lightheaded. “But it’s not a hand out,” he muttered, “it’s…” He halted the explanation. The initial sting he’d felt was veering away from hurt and heading down the road toward anger. “How have you paid for school, Marybeth?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“My parents,” she answered nonchalantly.

Kevin felt his heart sink.
Marybeth’s not who I thought she was
, he realized and stood to leave.

“Where are you going?” she asked, oblivious to their relationship-ending exchange.

He sighed sadly. “I need to go waste my time helping people,” he said and walked away.

Rhonda met Izzy in the hospital waiting room. They shook hands. “That didn’t take long,” Izzy teased.

“Which tells me that there are no other matches,” Rhonda said, “or very few.” She smiled. “If I had to guess, somebody’s been waiting
just for you
…and needs you right now.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t sign up sooner,” Izzy said.

Rhonda shook her head. “Not at all. You signed up exactly when you should have.” She handed Izzy some paperwork. “Today, you’ll be participating in an information session, where we’ll give you detailed information about the donation and recovery process, including all the risks and side effects. If you still agree to donate, we’ll need you to sign a consent form.”

“No problem,” Izzy said.

“Next, we’ll give you a thorough physical exam to make sure your donation is safe for both you and the patient.”

Izzy nodded. “Let’s do it,” she said with determination.

“Okay then,” Rhonda said and led her down the long, sanitized hall.

On Thursday night, the four friends gathered for their weekly get-together.

“You’re never going to bring Marybeth by here to meet us, are you?” Izzy said to Kevin.

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m not.” His eyes were filled with anger and sorrow.

Looks were exchanged around the table but nobody questioned it further.

Quickly changing the subject, Ava turned to Randy. “Still nothing, slacker?” she asked.

Randy smiled and shook his head. “Look, I have a pretty good idea about Kevin’s plan…”

Kevin placed his pointer finger to his lips, halting any further details from his big-mouthed friend.

Randy nodded. “And God only knows what you girls have cooked up, but when I find my moment,” he said, grinning, “I promise it’ll be amazing!”

“Do you think that moment might come before Christmas night?” Izzy teased.

“Does it matter?” Randy asked seriously.

They all considered this and shook their heads.

“In the bigger picture, I guess it really doesn’t matter,” Ava said.

A few short days had passed when Rhonda approached Izzy in the hospital waiting room. “Okay, I called you to come in because the tests are already back from the lab,” she said.

Izzy nodded. “You guys are quick, aren’t you?”

Rhonda’s face turned serious. “In this case, we have no choice.” She put her hand on Izzy’ shoulder. “Izzy, you’re the most suitable donor and you’re being asked to donate right away.”

“When?” Izzy asked nervously.

“Today.” Rhonda searched her eyes, hopefully. “Is that possible?”

Izzy nodded. “I can’t think of one thing that’s more important.”

Rhonda sighed, relieved. “I think you’re right,” she said and then led her away again—her pace now urgent.

On the campus quad, a local newspaper reporter interviewed Kevin about his fundraising efforts for
A Hand Up
scholarship. “What’s your goal?” the reporter asked.

“Eleven thousand five hundred dollars or enough to cover a full year’s tuition,” Kevin said.

“Great. Do you think you’ll make it?”

“It’ll be close,” Kevin admitted. “So far, we’ve had lots of pledges, but most are from students who attend this school—people who don’t have a lot of money to spare.”

“And the faculty?” the reporter asked, “have they been supportive?”

“They have, but we still need all the help we can get.” He paused. “That’s why I’m so grateful you agreed to run our story in the paper.”

The reporter nodded. “Hopefully, you’ll get some local business support once the piece runs next week.”

Kevin was surprised. “Wow, I hadn’t even thought about that.”

The news reporter nodded. “Oh yeah, that’s where the real money is, especially if this is going to be an annual scholarship.”

Kevin was taken aback again and the reporter caught it. He took a break from writing. “It is going to be an annual scholarship, isn’t it?”

Kevin half-shrugged. “I guess it could be.”

“You have a much better chance of corporate funding or local business support if this isn’t a one-shot deal.”

Kevin nodded. “It’ll be annual,” he said.

The reporter smiled and wrote furiously into his notebook. Upon closing the pad, he extended his hand to Kevin. “Good luck with all of this. It’s a great cause. And I have to imagine that there’ll be a lot more folks stepping up to offer their support.” He tapped on his notepad and grinned. “At least if I have my say.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Kevin said.

“No,” the newsman said, “thank you, Kevin.”

Dressed in a hospital gown, Izzy lay on a gurney—a doctor preparing her for the outpatient procedure. “Donating marrow is a life-saving gift,” the medicine man said, “so thank you for volunteering.”

Izzy nodded.

“In a few minutes, you’ll receive anesthesia, so obviously you’ll feel no pain,” the doctor said. “Once you’re asleep, I’ll use a needle to withdraw liquid marrow from the back of your pelvic bone. The marrow will completely replace itself within four to six weeks. Recovery times vary depending on the individual and most donors are able to return to work, school, and other activities within one to seven days after the donation procedure.” He paused. “You can expect to feel some soreness in your lower back for a few days and possibly longer. Most marrow donors report that they feel completely recovered within three weeks, but we’ll follow up with you until you’re able to resume normal activity. Okay?”

“Okay,” Izzy said.

“No need to be nervous,” he said with a gentle smile.

“I’m not,” Izzy said honestly. “I have a friend looking over me.”

The doctor nodded—as if he understood—and gestured that the orderlies wheel her into surgery.

It was dusk. After being driven home by the same car service that had transported her to the hospital, Izzy was sitting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket. When Ava came home, she saw that Izzy looked quite ill and began to question her. “Where the heck have you been all day?”

“I went to the doctor’s,” Izzy said. “I haven’t been feeling well. I must have spent three hours in the waiting room.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Ava asked, concerned. “I could have…

“Wasted your whole day too?” Izzy interrupted. “No, I don’t think so.”

“So what did the doctor say?” Ava asked.

Izzy avoided her friend’s eyes. “They’re not sure yet. They think it might be mono. The blood tests will take a day or two.” It was only a white lie, but it still bothered her to tell it.

“Oh, Iz. Is there anything I can do?”

Izzy smiled. “No thanks. I’m just achy, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll be okay in a few days.”

Ava stood and headed for the house: “I’ll go make you a cup of tea.” She stopped at the door. “And I’ll do whatever you need for the book drive you’re putting together. It’s the least I can do.” She winked. “It won’t even count toward the contest.”

“Thanks, Ava.”

“I’ll call the boys later to let them know there’s no get-together this week. You need to rest.”

“Perfect,” Izzy said, relieved. “Thanks.”

The following day, after tending to Izzy, Ava reported to Rolling Hills to spend time with one of the residents, Mrs. Oliveira.

“I try to be nice to everyone,” Ava said. “Everyone’s fighting some battle.”

Mrs. Oliveira grinned. “My grandfather used to say the same exact thing.” For a moment, her eyes grew distant. “He was a quiet old fisherman—always out to sea from sun up ‘til sun down—fishing.” She shook her head slightly. “One day, he arrived home much earlier than usual. He took a shower and clipped his fingernails, which was unusual for him. He dressed in the same suit he’d gotten married in and walked out to the backyard where he sat alone under his grape vines.” She looked at Ava. “My grandmother thought the old salt had finally lost his marbles…but twenty minutes later she found him dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ava blurted, surprised by the story’s ending.

Mrs. Oliveira shook her head again. “Oh don’t be, sweetheart. It’s the natural course of things.” She half-shrugged. “He got cleaned up to go home and that’s all there was to it.” Her smile reappeared. “I’m looking forward to seeing him again,” she whispered.

After a moment, Ava felt the need to break the awkward silence. “I really love spending time here,” she told Mrs. Oliveira.

The old woman’s eyes returned to the present and she placed her full attention on Ava once again. “It shows,” the old woman said.

“I can’t explain it,” Ava said, “but all my worries seem to melt away when I walk through the front door.”

“That’s what happens when you’re thinking about other people,” Mrs. Oliveira said. “There’s no time to dwell on your own troubles.” She smiled. “I guess that’s the gift you give yourself when you’re helping others?”

“Must be,” Ava said. “All I know is that I really love being here.”

“Rolling Hills isn’t the perfect place, but most of us are lucky to be here. At least we have each other…” she grabbed Ava’s hand, “…and kind souls like you who come to visit.”

“It could always be worse, right?” Ava said.

“There were never truer words spoken, sweetheart. Many folks my age are shut-ins, living alone with little to eat and no one to care for them.”

“Do you know of any I could look in after?” Ava asked.

The woman smiled wide. “You’re on a real mission, Ava, aren’t you?” Mrs. Oliveira asked.

Ava returned the smile. “Yeah, you could say that.”

It was dusk at a local café. Kevin was meeting with Mr. Sweeney, a local businessman, who wanted to discuss the possibility of offering support to
A Hand Up
scholarship.

“Thanks so much for taking the time to meet with me,” Kevin said. “I really appreciate it.”

“My pleasure, Kevin. I’m excited for the opportunity to get involved,” the man said with a grin. “To be honest, without scholarship money I would have spent my entire life working in the same factory my father slaved in for forty years. But thanks to that college education, I now own the building.”

“That’s great,” Kevin said and then felt nervous. “So tell me, how can I get you behind this annual scholarship?”

“I only have one question,” Mrs. Sweeney said. “What are the requirements to receive the scholarship?”

“There will be three criteria,” Kevin said, counting on his fingers. “Good grades, which proves a real value of education.” He paused. “An essay, answering one question: Tell us what you’ve done for someone other than yourself.”

“But that’s only two,” Mr. Sweeney said.

“Oh, and you must be able to ride a bike,” Kevin added, smiling, “and be willing to pay it forward.”

“Say no more, Kevin. Put my company down for five thousand dollars a year.”

Kevin sat in shock.

Mr. Sweeney smiled, picked up a menu and asked, “So how are the burgers here?”

It was just past twilight on the campus. Randy was walking through the quad when he spotted a suspicious-looking silhouette of a man standing in one of the building’s shadows. Randy slowed down and watched the guy—who was trying to be inconspicuous—clearly eyeing a girl who was sitting alone. Randy stepped into the shadows of a building across from them and after ensuring that he could not be seen, took out his cell phone and continued watching.

The girl was oblivious to the creepy shadow watching her. Randy looked around and discovered that the campus was now completely desolate of other people. The girl eventually got up, put her backpack over her shoulder and started walking toward the parking lot. As she passed the predator, he remained in the shadows. She got another twenty feet when the man emerged and began to slowly follow her.

“Oh boy,” Randy said under his breath and stepped out of the shadows to discreetly follow the girl and her stalker. As Randy walked, he called the campus police station. “You need to dispatch a car to the east parking lot,” he whispered. “It looks like some girl’s in trouble.” He listened. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Just get someone over there right now.”

As the girl reached the darkened parking lot, the stalker picked up his pace. Randy dropped his backpack onto the ground and started jogging. “Here we go,” he muttered under his breath, steeling himself for the inevitable confrontation.

The stalker grabbed the girl by the arm and violently pulled her down. The girl screamed out. A few seconds later, Randy was upon them both and tackled the potential sex offender. While the man struggled, Randy pinned the animal’s arms behind his back and made him scream out in pain. Randy then sat atop the assailant, completely immobilizing him. “I’ve fought guys tougher than you and most were tougher than me,” he panted and then leaned into the squirming man’s ear. “Keep struggling and I’ll break your arm, I swear it.”

The man immediately lay still in the prone position.

Randy looked over at the girl, who was clearly in shock. “Call nine-one-one,” he told her. “By the time the campus police get here…”

Just then, the campus police car’s siren called out in the distance. The girl looked at Randy.

“Make the call,” he barked at her, trying to pull her from her shock.

The girl finished the 911 call just as the campus police responded to the scene of the attempted rape. The officer jumped out of his cruiser and approached.

“Get some cuffs on this scum bag!” Randy told him. “He just attacked this girl.”

The campus cop turned to the girl. “Is that true?” he asked.

By now, she was crying and trembling. “Yes,” she whimpered, “he pulled me down and…and was trying to get my pants off when this man tackled him.” She began crying harder. “Oh…thank…God,” she stuttered, her body convulsing.

The campus cop quickly retrieved his handcuffs. Randy helped him apply the restraints before climbing off the sex offender.

“This is crap!” the sex offender complained. “I didn’t do anything.”

The campus policeman shined a flashlight in the sex offender’s face.

“Save it,” he barked. “Your photo’s been hanging in our station for the past two years.”

Another siren screamed in the distance. A local police car was responding to the scene. Randy winked at the girl and turned to leave.

“Hey, you’re not going anywhere,” the campus cop told Randy. “We need you to…”

Ignoring the man, Randy started walking away. “Can’t chief,” he told the man, “it’s past my bedtime. Besides, it was all you.”

“Hey, stop,” the campus policeman called out again.

Randy ran off into the darkness and grabbed his backpack before being swallowed by the night.