Chapter 40 Jack

Something unusual happened during Jack's last work shift for the week—Laurie Milano went home. She was one of their long-haul patients, in for two months with incurable cancer. But, as miracles are sometimes wont to do, one occurred for Laurie. After taking a new, experimental cocktail of drugs and therapies, her cancer slid into remission.

This had happened only three times in Jack's career.

When Laurie had first arrived, so frail no one thought she'd last to the end of the week, she'd vowed she would die at home surrounded by her family and her dogs and cat. "I just need to get well enough to go home," she'd said to Jack. "Will you help me?"

Jack would help all he could, but death had a mind of its own. And when it let go of its grip, it was cause for celebration. Even with all the science that surrounded them, death remained unpredictable as hell.

Jack, Sandra, and the rest of the staff pitched in for a cake that Laurie couldn't eat but her family could. They put up streamers and poured punch into paper cups and laughed with glee. The staff waved as her family wheeled her out. The heads of two slobbery dogs craned their necks out the window of the waiting SUV, excited to see her. When Laurie and her family drove away, Jack and the rest of the staff closed the doors and went back inside to administer a round of meds to those who wouldn't be so lucky as to go home again.

Jack left work in fine spirits, thanks to the wellspring of hope Laurie had released into the universe. As he packed his things into his backpack, he said to Sandra, "You're coming, right?"

"To see you dance? Pauline and I wouldn't miss it."

"Tickets are at the box office. But there might not be anyone manning the box office. If there's no one there, the envelope will be on the counter with your name on it."

Sandra frowned. "That doesn't seem very secure."

"Security is not an issue, trust me. We'll be lucky to fill ten seats."

"I still can't believe you're a dancer." She laughed, shaking her head.

"All will be painfully revealed," he said on his way out. "But hey, I did help build the set. Look at that while I'm dancing."

When Sunday rolled around, Jack was surprised by how nervous he felt. He marveled at how he'd gotten completely wrapped up in this geriatric cast and was part of them now. Catherine was right—he really did need more joy in his life.

On opening night—or rather, afternoon—the cast was gathered in Catherine's apartment to dress and apply makeup. Catherine was really in her element—she swanned around in a dressing gown in her star turn as Blanche DuBois. All that was missing was the cigarette holder and the turban. "I'm not a dramatic actress," she said. "It's not really on brand for me. However, I've discovered that I am very good at dramatic acting." She walked past Jack and gave him a friendly slap on the back of his head. "Wouldn't you agree, young man?"

Jack was mindful of Meredith, who still had not gotten over the fact that she wasn't in the starring role. "You're all a showcase of talent."

Catherine clucked her tongue at him. Then suddenly: "I forgot to tell you that I found a lawyer to help us."

From what Jack understood, the only "help" that would make any difference was to pay the back taxes and outrageous interest.

"How'd you manage to hire a lawyer?" he asked as Mary tilted his head up so she could dab eye makeup on him.

"She volunteered. I think she feels guilty for killing Walter's flytraps. She's Plot Nine."

Something slowed way down inside Jack. What the hell? That made no sense. "Plot Nine?I thought Plot Nine was someone's grandma."

Catherine clucked her tongue. "Why would you think that? She's young and pretty and happens to be a lawyer."

"Young and pretty?" he repeated dumbly. He tried to reconcile that with the notes and the references to a garden adviser and dahlia tubers. "We're talking Plot Nine, right? With the enormous cucumbers and dead tomato plants?"

"Yes, Jack, overwatered Plot Nine," Catherine said. "But don't get too excited—she has her heart set on finding a man she met during a corner store robbery."

Now everything turned watery around him. It took a moment before he could move his mouth. "Wh-what?"

"Haven't you seen the story, love?" Jerry asked. "It's everywhere on social media. Except on the Tik. Or maybe it's on the Tik, but I don't go there. No, sir, it's too much work. Give me the 'gram and a good photo—"

"Are you going to tell the story or give us a rundown of your thoughts on Twitter too?" Catherine asked.

"You really haven't seen it?" Jerry asked Jack.

Jack shook his head.

"Don't move!' Mary shouted. "Well, that's just great. Now I have to redo your eyeliner."

"There was a robbery in a corner store," Jerry said. "She was there with another customer, a strapping young man who tried to stop the robbery but couldn't because the robber had a gun. And she wants to find him and thank him. They would have been killed had it not been for him."

That was not what had happened to him and Nora. Jack was confused—could there have been another hostage robbery of a corner store? Austin, man—keeping it weird.

"You've got it wrong, Jerry," Annabeth said. "They got stuck or something."

Jack's pulse began to pound all over again. Was it possible? "When was this robbery?"

"I don't know, two or three years ago?"

"Maybe not," Martin said. "Mary and I were talking about it. It couldn't have been too long ago, because why would she wait so long to find him? It must have happened recently."

"Taylor Swift tweeted about it," Mr.Carlton said casually. "Now everyone is looking for this guy."

Ignoring the fact that Mr.Carlton knew who Taylor Swift was and, more astonishing, what a tweet was, Jack said, "Here? In Austin?"

"Please, everyone," Walter interrupted. "The curtain goes up in thirty minutes."

But a bolt of lightning had slipped down Jack's spine and was sizzling in him. It can't be Nora. Except that he wasthe man from the corner store. Wait, wait,wait... she's Plot Nine?

His face flushed. He'd thought of that surreal experience so often. He'd felt in tune with Nora, had been excitedto have met her even with nearly being killed in the process. He'd really wanted to see her again and had been so confident she'd felt the same way about him, had felt it in his marrow. But he'd lost that slip of paper with her number. And she'd never called him.

"There you go," Mary said and stood back to admire her handiwork.

"Hey... about that robbery." Jack was about to tell them all that he thought he was that guy, but Karen came barreling through the door before he could get the words out.

"You're not going to believe it," she said breathlessly. "We're sold out!"

"We're sold out?" Catherine shrieked. "Are you sure?"

"Someone bought the last block of tickets. The whole thing!"

The room was so still for a moment that Jack could hear Mr.Carlton's labored breathing. And then suddenly all of them burst into chatter and dance. It was almost as if their taxes had been fully paid, which, of course, wouldn't happen even if they sold out ten shows.

In all the excitement, Jack lost the conversation about the robbery.