Henry Small’s Secret: the Aneurysm

Henry Small’s Secret
((Summer of 1984)(part II, to ‘Cassandra’s Delicatessen))


Henry Small ceased dancing, looked at his wife Linda Macaulay, they had been married two year now, said,
“I’m really too old for this, I’m thirty, and so are you.”
She watched him, then responded,
“Yes,” she said, “yes—but what?”
“I drove by the old delicatessen yesterday, got thinking about Cassandra, we should visit her up in Wisconsin. Tell her we got married. Or perhaps I should, and say that for you,” said Henry.
“I know she used to be your girlfriend, I suppose I have to say that for you (her hand buttoning the top button of her blouse, they had stopped dancing moved off the dance floor to their table almost unknowingly) but if you need, I can take the strain off of you, if you go, don’t come back.”
He drew out his wallet, leather, and a picture of her, it was roughly creased and soiled, from what it looked like, much usage, or so it would seem, handed it to her, clumsily
“No allowances I suppose?”
“I was there a week ago, nothing looks the same since the new owner last year bought the place, the Pitmen’s, they have a cut son, he’s only fourteen but going to be a honey when he grows up, they are from Minnesota, someplace by the Canadian Boarder,” said Linda.
“You like to show your control over me by getting me jealous, don’t you?”
“Funny you say that, because it works too.”
“I assure you my dear; it never looks the same after you have it.”
“My dear husband, it all depends what side you’re looking at.”
“Oh,” Henry said, “you have allowances. Yes, yes, I suppose you would.”
Out of his walled he pulled a whitish piece of paper, he was going to say something, she looked, then he put it back, he already knew what it read, he had not told Linda about it though, not yet, and wasn’t sure if he was going to, it read “Prominent Fayetteville, woman, Cassandra Hightower dies from aneurysm… she was 29-years old.”
“I want to see that paper,” said Linda, after having torn up Cassandra’s picture.
Henry pulled it out again, showed it to her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, “what is an aneurysm?”
“I’m not all that sure of the term, but I think it means, she had some kind of blood-filled enlarged blood vessel, they often times get weak, the walls of the vessel, and dilate, and push, and this is what happened to her I guess. I did call the doctors, and they said they found a three-mm cerebral aneurysm, something undetected, had the doctors known about it, they could have saved her life…so they say. My school teacher had one, undetected, she died in two-weeks, after headaches, and so forth, to my understanding, one needs to detect these things early on before eh rupture occurred, or at least this is the best of the best results for saving the person, other than that, the doctors have treatments for such cases, but you are now in a crisis mode. You need to reduce interracial pressure, restore deteriorating respiration, they have their ways of ding this, like clipping the ruptured aneurysm to stop bleeding or reduce it, and so for and on.”
“I went to the ‘Pitman’s Delicatessen,’ a year ago or so, and heard from the boy, Allen Pitman, a girl died at the table closest to the window, that she was looking out the window, and just died, an aneurysm they say, and much like the one I just discribed. Allen said she had an ugly side to her face, and looked depressed, and just stared out the window, and asked for you by name.”
“How did she get out of the hospital, I thought she was mentally ill?” asked Linda.
“How does a bull get out of the fence gates at the bullring, she charged out, head first I heard, and now the question comes up, why they let here out too soon. Although she didn’t die from suicide or anything because of her so called maladaptive behavior, and they say she was mentally competent to take care of herself and that she was no risk to anyone. And they warned her of a potential aneurysm; all in vain of course”
“I bet,” said Linda, “you don’t know the other side of that innocent looking girl; she was a lion in disguise with a lot of hate and revenge in her.”
“Revenge for what?” asked Henry.
“Don’t be so silly, you know; I took you away from her, that’s what.”
He was watching her face, while he thought, “Yes, I might have married her if she had not done what she done and you might have not talked me into marrying you.”
“Henry Small, are you trying to provoke me!” yelled Linda, to the point several folks at nearby tables turned to see who was yelling.
“She never knew we got married you know,” said Henry.
“I suppose not, but how would you know?” asked Linda.
“I’m just presupposing,” answered Henry, adding, “when I was a boy, on my paperroute I took subscriptions, sold them for the paper, and I got a premium; that is how I met her, her father bought a year’s subscription of the paper from me, and she told her papa to do it, she always loved me, she just didn’t date me until I got older, and her mother Betty and father Jason got comfortable with me hanging around the house after awhile.”
“Here, take the picture, all the little pieces, put them back into your wallet, and keep your memories to yourself,” said Linda.
“Oh yes, I see, you wanted her father’s money, that is why you went after him. And now you take second best, her old boyfriend, the paper route guy, who now went onto college and is a reporter for the local newspaper. You’ve come down in your pickings,” said Henry.
“Oh shut up, you were available, I never loved you, I just got used to you,” said Linda, “…like Betty and Jason did!”
“I guess folks tell what believe when they are really angry, or fed up with living a lie,” said Henry.
Linda got up from the table, walked out, and shouted on her way, “you’ll be getting a letter from my lawyer, for inhuman cruelty—that’s called a divorce, in simple terms.”
It didn’t take long, but the term ‘inhuman crudity,’ was changed to ‘irresolvable differences,’ and the divorce was granted. And Linda visited that delicatessen almost daily, even worked part time there, and started up a side affair with Allen. And that was all for her.
And for Henry Small, he vanish after a few months, leaving no trace, in case Linda would follow him, after he inherited 2.75 million dollars, his inheritance left from Cassandra, with the stipulation, he needed to be legally single at the time he accepted the money, and he was. Last time I heard, he was living high off the hog, in Jamaica, and had his own delicatessen, several of them along the beach.