Pill Hill – Chapter 4
Preview from Ron and Bruno: Against the Doctatorship
Diego pulled into the driveway of the Sortida Hotel. It was just outside of Seattle’s First Hill District, also known as Pill Hill for all its hospitals and clinics.
“I hope you won’t mind if I give Hank a call to let him know I got you here okay. You know, Hank, the cop you met at the airport. He’s the one who called me to pick you up in front. Drivers aren’t allowed to pick up there, but since we’re both believers, he helps me out once in a while.”
“Yeah, tell him you got us here.” I said. “Maybe we can all go to your secret church together. I’m thinking meeting you and Hank may turn out to be a heavenly coincidence.”
“Serendipitous, as the secularists would say.” Bruno quipped.
“Yeah, my cousin married a commie professor.” Diego said. “He loves using that word. I suppose it’s serendipitous that we ended up on the only planet in the universe where more than nuked cockroaches can survive. I had to look up the word, and once I knew what it meant, I decided to pray for whoever used it. I know you’re a man of faith.” Diego said to Bruno. “But I’ll pray for you anyway so as not to break the habit.”
“Good to know you’re praying for me, Diego, just so you don’t mistake me for a commie professor. If I recollect right, the last time someone prayed for me, I twisted my ankle. Couldn’t walk for a week. I just hope the result of your praying will be a bit more gentle than Ron’s. But thanks for the ride.”
“Yeah, Diego, thanks for the ride.” I said.
“You’re welcome. And thank you both. Stay free.”
Diego bid us goodbye, handing each of us his business card as we got out of his cab.
“Vaya con Dios.” Bruno said.
We waved as Diego drove off. Bruno’s favorite restaurants were Mexican, so he’d picked up a bit of Spanish over the years. To the staff, he was a welcome face, and not just for his friendly attitude and good tips. But because they could depend on him to subdue unruly customers. His bellowing voice and fists pounded on the table were usually all it took. If that didn’t work, Bruno was willing to take what he called corrective measures. He liked to say that he preferred iron fists to steel bullets. I’d never had the pleasure to witness Bruno dishing out corrective measures. But knowing his knack for words, I’m sure every punch came with a punchline.
The last time I’d been to the Sortida Hotel was to dine at the Sortida Back Room, a five-star restaurant on the top floor. It had a fabulous view of Puget Sound and Downtown Seattle. For $9.95 they served a full course meal that included Prime Rib. Let’s see, that was 44 years ago, when I was just 25. My date was Vilma, my Filipina girlfriend. She paid for our dinner. I didn’t find out till years later that in the Philippines, if the girl is rich, she thinks nothing of footing the bill for her less financially fit date. My contribution was my two-for-one dinner discount card. There must have been some marketing benefit for a five-star restaurant to include itself on a discount card. You’d think. But it sure was a benefit to us. After deducting one meal, adding coffee for me, and a drink for Vilma, plus a 20% tip on top of the total before discount, the cost was still less than twenty-five bucks. Maybe I should have paid for the meal myself, but my date had just gotten lucky on coffee futures. She’d put in five-thousand and gotten back twenty-five thousand. She netted twenty thousand in less than two months. She was the only smart gambler I ever met. It was her first and last bet. It tided her over for a few years on top of what she was getting from her well-connected father, or was it alimony? Being the 80’s, and my having no interest in a serious relationship, I didn’t ask where all her money came from.
But there was one thing about Vilma that she couldn’t hide. I arrived one night at her apartment to find a friendof ours coming out the door just as I was about to knock. I found her lyingin bed. And yes, I learned later, the dual meaning fit. There were cough medicine bottles strewn all over the bathroom and towels with blood. She was very pale. For someone who normally had a dark complexion this was a dire warning. I wrapped her up in a blanket and put her in my car, then drove to Harbor View Medical Center. I parked as close as I could to the emergency entrance, then picked her up and bolted through the double doors. There were two police officers standing next to a table between the first and second set of doors. One of them waived a nurse over who was standing next to the ER desk. She pointed to a stretcher. I laid Vilma on it and the nurse rolled her inside.
“You packin?” The officer asked.
I nodded.
“Leave it on the table. You can get it on the way out.”
There was another pistol in its holster already laying there.
“That belongs to the cab driver delivering blood” He said.
I did as I was told, then walked over to where the nurse had rolled Vilma.
“My girlfriend’s hemorrhaging and losing blood fast.” I said.
The nurse got Vilma’s insurance card and handed it to the person behind the ER desk.
“Have a seat here in the lobby.” She said. “Only relatives can go where I’m taking her.”
Except for cab drivers, she might have said. Because for the next hour, cab drivers kept going through the heavy double doors that divided the lobby from the patient rooms. They were delivering packages labeled blood. A few hours later and the doctor called me in to see Vilma. She was back to normal. The color had returned to her face. She was alert and seated in a wheelchair.
“She’s good to go.” The doctor said. Then looking at me with all seriousness, he stated. “Your baby didn’t make it.”
Vilma, my now ex-girlfriend looked at me. I remained silent to protect the guilty. I had a vasectomy. But I didn’t blame her for straying. Ours was an on again off again relationship. I took Vilma back to her apartment and sat in a chair to keep an eye on her. It was my day off. Staying up while she slept wasn’t anything heroic. I worked the night shift. I’d have been up till 6am whether at her place or mine. And when she woke up, I left.
I didn’t hear from Vilma for years after that. Then out of the blue she calls me up to help her move out on her fiancé, on the very day she’d moved in with him. I had a talk with her soon to be mother-in-law. She said her son was crazy about Vilma, and that she was too, and that she loved her like a daughter. I never found out what caused Vilma to call me that day. Maybe she had to be sure we really were over. But I hadn’t given it a second thought after her self-induced abortion.
I know it’s a lot to think about in the seven seconds between my getting out of the taxi and turning around to find Edwin, the bellhop. But the Sortida Hotel had lots of memories for me.
“Hi. Sir Ron?” The bellhop asked.
“Yes, I’m Ron.” I replied.
“We’ve been expecting you.” He said.
Still true to my new habit, I looked at his name tag. He had the same last name as the girl I’d just been reminiscing about, Santos. It’s one of the most common Filipino names, so it was unlikely he was related to her.
“Please excuse the workers.” He said. “They’re testing all the hotel security cameras today. I’m sure they’ll be finished by evening.”
“Walang suliranin.” I replied.
Which meant, no problem,in his language. With Santos for a surname, and his pronouncing f’s like p’s, it didn’t take a linguist to know he was Filipino.
“Oh, you speak my language!” He said.
“Yes, I happen to be one of the few old white guys who can speak Filipino, other than Mormon missionaries. But I’d bet you speak a few of your own languages, plus English.”
“Yes, I speak my mother’s and my father’s languages and the two national languages, Filipino and English. Plus, I’m learning Spanish from my fiancée.” He said.
“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten how English is one of your national languages. Kind of amazing how it’s yours but not ours.”
“Oh, really, Sir Ron. I didn’t know that.”
“By the way, Edwin. How’d you know my name?”
“The bellhops are the first ones to see the guest itinerary and your reservation profile included a picture, Sir Ron.”
“That’s good. I was just wondering because I ain’t wearing a name tag and I ain’t famous.”
“Yes, you are not famous.” He said.
There was an odd tone to his voice when he said it. But it was an hour past nap time for old Ron, and everything gets a bit odd when I’m late for my siesta.
Bruno didn’t have a bag except for the wrinkled grocery bag he was carrying. He’d be heading home after he got his form signed. It was just a ferry boat ride and a short trip by taxi to his place. I remembered the story my dad told me about a ferry ride with my nephew. They were standing on the top deck and all of a sudden, the horn blasts. My nephew about jumps out of his socks. Then he looks up at my dad and says: “Do it again, Grampa, do it again!”
As usual, my mind was everywhere but where I was. The bump of my bag on the cart brought me back to the present.
“By the way, Edwin, this is my friend Bruno.” I said. “We’ve got a form to get signed over at the hospital. He’s just hanging out till we get it taken care of, then we’ll celebrate.”
“Nice to meet you, Edwin.” Bruno said.
“Nice to meet you too, Sir Bruno.” He replied.
“Welp, I told you my family descended from the Knights of the Round Table, old Ron. See how he called me Sir Bruno?”
“Oh, sorry sir. It’s our custom. I just came back from a trip to my country, and all my old habits have returned. I’ll try to remember next time, Sir Bruno, I mean, Bruno.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, Edwin. I’m jousting a bit with my old friend Ron.” Bruno said.
“Oh, jousting.” Edwin said. “So maybe Ron’s a knight too.”
“This kid’s got rhythm, Ron. But I’m not surprised. He’s a workin as a doorman at one of the most exclusive hotels. I can imagine the kind of pull Sir Edwin must have.”
Bruno took a stride like a warrior king as we entered the Sortida Hotel, cradling his well-worn MAGA hat like a knight’s helmet.
As we proceeded through the doors of the elegant Sortida, I forgot for a moment that I was one of the detested class, an old, straight, white man. Funny how they’d substituted the word privileged for detested and felt that gave them permission to treat us like second class citizens. Well, I didn’t put up with it. I was vocal, and so were my friends, few of whom even belonged to the detested class. But now we were being treated like royalty, guests at the Sortida Hotel.
“So Bruno, the stairs or the elevator?” I said.
Bruno noticed Edwin’s nervous glances toward the front desk. It might have broken protocol if Edwin’s guests, who were to receive five-star service, bounded up the stairs of the hotel. But I must admit it was tempting.
“No, Ron. I think I’d rather enjoy the fine service this young man is providing. His service is every bit as elegant as the hotel.”
I could see the relief on Edwin’s face. His home country was one where authority was honored. Even if the desk clerk hadn’t minded, Edwin would never have felt comfortable with guests bounding up the stairs at the Sortida.
Edwin held the doors open as we stepped into the elevator. The mahogany panels oozed nostalgic reminders of the Sortida that once was, and the famous men who’d dined at the Back Room Bar on top. We were only going to the second floor, but I planned on going to the top later, to see what memories I might awaken. Memories have so many doors. Open one, it leads to more. Ha, I was already daydreaming in poetry. Now, I knew I’d find a tale to spin about this place, even if only for a children’s story.
Edwin followed us into the elevator with the luggage cart.
“I have your check-in information here.” He said. “You’re booked five nights in room 211, isn’t it?”
“Yes, five nights. And 211, it is.” I said.
It was déjà vu when Edwin said, “Isn’t it?” That’s exactly what Vilma, my ex-girlfriend, would say. I’d never heard it used prior to meeting her. It’s simply not American English. But for Filipinos it makes perfect sense. It’s a direct translation of their phrase that turns any statement into a question. It was Vilma’s non-standard English, contrasted with her high intelligence, that turned my once snobbish attitude about proper English, into one of accepting the way a person speaks, as long as they’re able to make their point.
When we arrived outside Room 211, Edwin looked up at the closed-circuit camera on the ceiling. There was a monitor connected to it so that anyone entering would know they were not anonymous. It was flickering like an old black and white TV and then went off.
“Ever since CHAZ.” Edwin said. “You know, the Capital Hill Autonomous Zone. Since CHAZ, we’ve implemented strict security protocols. Don’t worry, I’ll report that camera. We’re only eight blocks from where the takeover happened. You’ve heard about CHAZ, right?”
“Yes, yes, we’ve heard about CHAZ.” Bruno answered, with contempt in his voice.
“I don’t like them either.” Edwin said.
Edwin unlocked the door to my suite and handed me the key. The lights and heat were already on.
“This is your suite. And this door opens to your bedroom.” He said.
Edwin opened the door to my bedroom. It was reminiscent of pictures I’d seen of the bedrooms of kings. The bed included a headboard that rose five feet behind its satin pillows. Ornate carvings of flowers, leaves and branches were cut into its ebony stained hardwood. Heart shaped leather insets were nested within an embroidered braid of vines. See-through curtains created a dream-like effect as the chandelier reflected off its threads. Finely upholstered chairs were on each side of the bed. Matching armoires stood with doors open, robes hung on wooden hangers and slippers leaned against their base. Valet stands were placed like guards next to the armoires and a padded chest was at the foot of the bed.
I didn’t deserve this room. Nor did I reservethis room. But I was anxious to find out who did. It was a gift from an anonymous donor. Why I’d received such a gift, I was to find out. At least, according to the letter I’d been given along with the reservation.
Now this, was a room! I’d never imagined such a room, let alone been in one. I was tempted to take a nap just so I could wake up in that majestic bed.
Edwin’s voice brought me back from my, well, how would you describe it, from my immersion in the room.
“So, you like the room, isn’t it?” He said.
“Yes, it is, a fact, I lovethis room! Why would anybody give me such a gift? I really think it’s some kind of strange mistake, like somebody with tons of money put the room in the wrong name, and after they’d mistakenly given me the reservation, didn’t want to take it back for fear of bad publicity. If that’s the case, and you know who it is, just tell me, and I’ll get another room. I won’t tell anyone about it.”
“Oh no, Sir Ron. It’s not a mistake. It was wonderful seeing your reaction to it.”
Edwin handed me his business card which included his cell number and the extension for the concierge.
“Well, this is great.” I said. Then I handed him a tip.
“Thank you!” Edwin said. “And by the way, Diego wanted me to text him when I got you to your room. Yes, Sir Ron. I know Diego and Hank, both of them. I’ve attended Diego’s secret church too.”
“That’s good to know, Edwin. If it weren’t for that, I’d think you were all Feds by now.”
“Feds?” Edwin asked.
“No worry, it’s an inside joke, Edwin. I’m too worn out to explain it now. And yes, go ahead and give Diego a call. He’s a brother.”
“In more ways than one.” Edwin replied. “I’m engaged to Bella, his sister. She works at the hospital. Diego said you might need help to get in. She can get you in and make sure you see the right person to sign your form. Take that nap you’ve been looking forward to. I could see in your eyes how much you wanted to try that bed. Then after you’re rested, I’ll take you to the side door of the hospital where you’ll need to enter.”
“Wow, that’s, that’s a blessing. This is going to be a lot easier than either Bruno, or I thought. Right, Bruno?”
I looked to where I thought Bruno was standing but he was already sound asleep. He was lying on the couch in the main area of my suite. He must have conked out right after we walked in.
“He probably got up really early to meet you at the airport.” Edwin said.
“Yeah, well, it’s good he’s resting. It’s never easy to finalize paperwork for a loved one who’s passed away. It’s like saying goodbye to them all over again. I know. I’ve had to do it myself.”
“Yes, so have I, Sir Ron.”
“Edwin, I’d prefer it, if you don’t call me Sir Ron. We’re both believers. And, as of today we have a lot of friends in common. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?”
“Well, I figured out what you meant by your joke about the Feds, but that’s not what I wanted to tell you. It’s just that, I’ve got one more heavenly coincidence to tell you. You see, I am here because of you.”
“Okay, so what’s going on, Edwin?”
“Well, Mr. Miller. Sorry, I, I just don’t feel comfortable calling someone older than me by their first name.”
“That’s okay Edwin. My kids wouldn’t either, and I wouldn’t be happy with them if they did. So, what’s this you want to tell me?”
“Um, Mr. Miller. I have something to finalize too. It’s the last request of my mom. She passed away a year ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, Edwin. Grieving is a difficult thing to deal with.”
“Yes, but I was at her bedside when she died, and she was able to share so much with me. I never had a doubt as she left her body behind that she was cradled away in the Lord’s arms.”
“That’s wonderful, Edwin. So, what have you got to finalize? I’d be happy to help you with it.”
“Well, Mr. Miller. You’re actually the only one who canhelp me. You see, my mother knew you. And she told me she regretted not thanking you.”
“So, your mom was Vilma Santos?” I said.
Now Edwin’s seriousness vanished as he burst into laughter. “Yes!” He continued to laugh, but still managed to get out the words: “And my aunt was Nora Aunor.” Then he laughed till tears filled his eyes. When he regained his composure, he asked: “So, she never told you her real name?”
“Now that you mention it, I must have been pretty dense not to realize Vilma was her nickname. I’d even told her she looked like Nora Aunor, the Philippine actress who competed with Vilma Santos for roles. Chalk it up to my being a shallow young man.”
“Yes, I mean, no, No, you were, you were not shallow, Mr. Miller.” Edwin began to laugh again. “I’m sorry. I’m rude.” He said, barely able to contain himself. “This is not right.” He said, regaining his composure. “I should not be laughing when this is a serious matter.”
“Don’t worry about it, Edwin. You remind me of your mom. She loved to laugh and had cute expressions like, ‘What in the worldy pie!’”
“She said that when she was young?” He asked. “I thought she only talked like that because she was my mom, and we were kids. What else did she do?”
“Well, the first time I heard the Filipino nursery rhyme about a bald father falling into a well.”
“It was from my mom?” Edwin exclaimed.
He had the biggest grin, and I could see this was giving him a lot of joy, hearing what his mom was like when she was young.
“Yeah, and she sang it with such glee, as if she was five years old all over again, taunting the neighbor kids. She was adorable.”
“It’s wonderful to hear that you cared about her. Now I must tell you about her, after you knew her. And I must tell you one of her last requests, the one that included you.”
“Well, I’m honored, Edwin. Let’s take a seat over here at the table.”
We sat down and Edwin continued.
“She said one of the things she loved about you was your idealism, and from the way you remember her, I can understand what she meant. You have an idealism that most people lose after they’ve lost their innocence. But she said that even though you were a disco playboy, that you were the most romantic man she’d ever met. She kept the letter that you sent to her when she was working in the Alaskan cannery, the letter that caused her to drop that job and come back to Seattle to be with you. She confessed to me that every time she was angry with Dad that she’d waive that letter in his face.”
“Well, some things don’t go the way they’re planned, Edwin, at least not the way men and women want them to. What about your dad?” I asked.
“Dad was a new Christian when he married mom, and mom had done a good job of fooling about everyone when it came to her faith. My grandpa and the members of his church, everyone, thought she was a Christian. But she’d never really accepted the Lord, at least not in Dad’s lifetime, and Dad knew it, so he left her a letter. And I don’t mean any offense by this, Mr. Miller, but the letter that Dad left her made yours look like filthy rags, as the scripture goes.”
“Yes, I know the scripture, Edwin.
We are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteous acts are as filthy rags, and we all do fade as a leaf, and our sins, like the wind, have taken us away.
Nothing we do in this world, as you know, Edwin, can compare to Jesus’ work on the cross. Our works are as filthy rags and that includes all the love letters and love songs that have ever been written. No love story, Edwin, is more beautiful than the real-life love story of Jesus, sacrificing Himself for us on the cross.”
“Amen, Mr. Miller. And Dad told Mom everything about his faith, with the letter he left for her, and how Jesus loved mom more than he ever could. And how he would have gladly let her marry anyone in the world if he could only know on his dying bed that she had accepted Jesus. Mr. Miller, my mom got saved that day, the very day that my dad went to be with the Lord.”
“That’s a wonderful story of God’s grace, Edwin, for by grace we are saved through faith, and that not of ourselves: it is the gift of God.”
“Yes, and I’m so thankful. because when Mom died, she was more in love with Jesus than with Dad, or you, or all the money and jewelry she’d accumulated. And that was no small amount.”
“Yes, Vilma was blessed with an ability to accumulate wealth. I’m glad she finally put her trust in God’s treasure, His own Son.”
“Yes, Mr. Miller. But I better tell you Mom’s real name, so I don’t start laughing again when you call her Vilma. Her name was Victoria. She signed V. Santos, so it was only natural that Filipinos would kid, ‘Let me guess, Vilma?’ And she’d giggle and say, ‘Yes.’ When you admitted her to the hospital, that may have even happened. There are so many Filipinas that work as nurses in the U.S.”
“Which hospital?” I said, still covering for her indiscretion.
“Mr. Miller, all my family knows what happened and about the hospital. My mom told us about all of that in the days before she died.”
“She didn’t have to do that.” I said.
“That’s what she said you’d say.”
Now Edwin teared up from emotions, but he continued.
“You know, Mr. Miller, part of the reason Mom wanted me to contact you, was so to tell you that she’d come to know the Lord. And that she’d see you on the other side, as one of your Christian friends.”
“I’m so happy to hear that, Edwin. I look forward to seeing her and so many more of my friends and family when it’s my turn to die. It took a lot of life’s punches to get me on my knees before God. And it’s beautiful to know that the Lord has a mansion with many rooms where my Christian friends have already taken up residence, and that they’ll be there when I arrive.”
“Amen, Mr. Miller. So as you know, after my mom accepted Jesus, she was a new creature in Christ. And she kept a daily log of what she must do to serve God. Her final confessions, and last wishes, were in that daily log. Her death was quick. The Lord was gentle with her. My dad did his best to get his whole family saved but he wasn’t successful during his lifetime. Mom was Dad’s last convert, but as I’ve said, that didn’t happen till the day he died. But when she did accept Jesus, something happened to her, and to everyone in the family. God’s spirit worked through her, and then through each one of the family as they experienced God’s calling. So, when we read her log, as she requested that we do in her will, we were shocked to learn that she killed her first baby with cough medicine and that you saved her life.”
“Now, wait a minute, Edwin. I don’t think I saved her life. If that guy who was visiting her didn’t know I was coming, I’m sure he would have gotten her to the hospital. But he knew I packed a gun. He probably figured I’d be angry if I found out that he had something to do with her drinking that cough medicine.”
“Mr. Miller, I respect you. But I can only tell you what my mom wrote in her daily log. She said that man, I won’t name him, was cursing her, and telling her he wished she was dead, for no reason at all. She called you because she knew he was leaving. But when you got there, she was afraid to say anything to you, because she knew you were against abortion. That’s why you got a vasectomy, isn’t it?”
“Well, Edwin, that’s only half true. Sure, I didn’t want any woman to kill my kid. That was part of it. But I still thought it should be legal for others. Then a few months after I’d had my vasectomy, I was reading my favorite filthy magazine, they may still sell it today, it’s called Hustler. Well, in that particular issue, the publisher, Larry Flint, allowed both pro-abortion and pro-life arguments to be presented. The pro-life argument included pictures. After I saw those pictures of babies developing in the womb, and what they did to them at the abortion clinics, I could never say I was against abortion for me but not against it for others. That’s a condescending elitist view, and it’s wrong. Because if abortion is murder when it’s my kid, it’s murder when it’s your kid too, unless for some elitist reason, your kid’s inferior to mine. But the only favor I knew I’d done for your mom, was to keep quiet when the doctor thought the aborted baby was mine. Oh man, I didn’t mean to let that slip.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Miller. You haven’t revealed any secrets. She wrote in her log that she was nearly as thankful that you were the kind of man that would not shame a woman in public, as she was that you saved her life. And me, my brothers and my sisters, and my nieces and my nephews, not one of us would be here, if you hadn’t saved her life. That’s what I meant when I said, I’m here because of you.”
“You’re going to have to stop, Edwin. You don’t know all the sins I’ve committed in my life.” I said.
“Mr. Miller, we both know that when you were saved that every sin you committed was forgiven, past, present, and future. The Lord already knew everything about you.”
“I know, Edwin. But there’s no good deed that can make up for all the sins a man commits. Our Lord died for our sins. His blood is on our hands.”
“And praise God, our Savior Jesus, that loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood. He loved us so much that He gave His life for you and me while we were yet sinners.”
“Amen.” I said. “So, has this discussion of ours taken care of your mom’s last wishes?”
“No, Mr. Miller, it hasn’t. You see, my dad was onboard a fishing boat along with my uncle when it sank. The waters were so cold that even though they had life jackets, they’d gone to be with the Lord before anyone could pull them from the water. My uncle was my godfather. My uncle was godfather to all of us. And Mom’s last request was that you become our godfather and godfather to all the Santos family.”
“I don’t know what to say, Edwin. But of course, whatever she wanted is fine. I’d be honored.”
“I’m glad you’ve accepted. My sister gave birth this week to a baby boy. She’ll be so happy to hear that you can be there for his dedication, and to be his godfather. It’s this Sunday.”
“Where will the dedication take place, Edwin?”
“It will be here, at the hotel. In fact, that’s how you got your room. We reserved the banquet hall as if it were for a wedding. The wedding package included some rooms.”
“Well, thank you for the room, Edwin.”
“Oh, don’t thank me. I’m simply doing what my mom would have done. You know, she was always extravagant. This is what she would have wanted. But I’ll go for now, Mr. Miller. I’m sure you’d like to rest before going to the hospital to get Bruno’s form signed. It’s still early.”
“Thanks, Edwin. I will.”
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