Chapter 8: Gentlemen's Agreement
Carlos hated being at his own house more often than not. It was empty. The cleaning woman had done her job. The multiple rooms were clean, the hallway looked ready to host, his living room had some gaudy, near-ninety inch television that he rarely watched, and his kitchen was the definition of organized.
Walking from the front door to the kitchen, he saw his study that was adjacent to the back porch, with its books, desk, and laptop. He smiled. When he bought the house from his grandparents, he recalled how he used to sleep there.
Smiling, he missed those times. He had overpaid for the house in that market. It had only been worth about two hundred, seventy-five thousand at the time, but he had given them nearly four hundred for it. He wanted them to enjoy their retirement, and when he had bought the home, he had promised to fill it with many grandkids. There were many rooms on the second floor for that specific purpose in mind.
Shaking his head, he just could not deal with that memory. Marriage, kids, and all of that was what he had once wanted. He could only shake his head, at the moment, at the idea of marriage. It was a joke. How many married people were really happy? Almost none in his dealing.
No one stayed in love. No one kept their word. In the end, everyone was out for themselves. They wanted what they wanted, and they would excuse their behavior however they could.
He paused and opened a drawer in the kitchen before walking out onto his back porch. He looked up one of the few contacts in there and dialed. The extension he gave sent him right to the Neurology department.
"Hello, this is Doctor Kaufman," said the voice on the other end of the line.
"This is Mister Santiago. I was told to call Doctor Goldstein. He's the head of the department, no?"
"Ah! Yes. He told me you'd be calling, Mr. Santiago," Kaufman said. "We have been discussing moving Mrs. Bhullar to—"
Carlos was usually very good about keeping his temper in check, but on that day, in that moment, he snapped.
"That will
not
be happening," he declared simply.
"I know you feel strongly about this. Elliot told me that you felt strongly about this, but with the hospital making cuts we need the room for patients more in need."
"You will
not
be moving her!" Carlos replied, raising his voice. "She stays where she is. Doctor Goldstein promised she would be there so long as I paid for the room."
"Generous contributions aside, it might be more cost effective for us to keep the room."
"Cost effective for me or for
you
?" Carlos asked, accusation mixing with his loathing anger.
"Well for both, but probably for you as well. I know this has to be out of pocket."
Carlos almost lashed out, but he knew this would do no good. He told the doctor on the other line he would need a moment. He inhaled deeply before exhaling. Making sure that he was not making a fool of himself was paramount to Carlos, but more important was keeping Priya cared for.
"Is this what Doctor Goldstein is advising, Kaufman?" Carlos wondered, removing the honorific title from the physician.
"He is keeping it under advisement."
"Then before a decision is made, tell him I will be in the hospital. Do not make a decision until then."
"Sir, this conversation is more of a courtesy," Doctor Kauffman said back. "The decision is made."
"
You
tell
him
," Carlos said, calming himself. "I will see him this weekend."
When he had his words out, Carlos hung up and called the number with another extension.
"Go for Nancy."
"Nance, this is Carlos."
"Carlos!" she said with a melody in her words. "You coming to see Priya this weekend?"
"Yeah."
"Bringing the usual?"
"
Arabian Nights
and Brontë," Carlos said, trying to get past it.
"Something up, beautiful?" Nancy asked.
"Doctor Goldstein is looking to move Priya."
"You still making those monthly payments?" Nancy inquired, irritation inching into her voice. Not because of Carlos, but for him.
"You know I am." Carlos paused, exhaling deeply. "Could you talk to—"
"Don't you worry about it, babe. I will be talking to Elliot about this. You just get your ass over here on Saturday. I will make
sure
you have that room."
"Thank you, Nancy. I will."
"See you, then."
Trusting Nancy, Carlos showed her the courtesy of letting Nancy hang up on him. Breathing deeply, he let out another breath for the events.
He could not handle another call like that. Thinking of his day, he knew he would need to talk to Jonathan. The more thought he put on it, he knew he would have to do more with Tiffany.
---
Morning came pretty easily. The talk with Juan went well. He actually seemed mildly possessive that he would come to protect his wife from Carlos' intentions.
While Tiffany was not one to say she liked possessive men, because of bad experiences with
over
protective men in her youth, she enjoyed her husband putting in some effort for her.
That made her smile as she was walking into Carlos' office.
"Morning, Tiff," Carlos said with a smile on his face. When he saw she had something to say that was far more serious, he offered her a seat.
Tiffany sat down in her formal suit top with a boring brown skirt.
"He agreed to meet with you and to talk about the terms of what you can see or touch," she started.
"See and touch?" Carlos asked. He raised an eyebrow with curiosity.
