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Candies

Alain Marciano

    I put the hands in the pocket of my coat, an Armani leather sport jacket I recently bought at a charity sale organized by my friend Donald T. It had costed me $ 1550, quite a sum if you think about it and even for me. But I have no regret nor remorse. It was a good decision. The coat is wonderful, comfortable and beautiful. I feel like a teenager wearing it. At 52, this is a pleasure one cannot ignore. No, I do not regret the $1550. But I am less sure about the candies I brought with me. It is for my brother.
    Doctor J. says, do you want to see him?
    We are just in front of the elevators. He met me there because he is so shocked by the accident and he knows how terrible all this is to me and to the family. He would show me the way and answer all the questions I wish to ask and give me all the details. It is his job. Helping is part of his job. He is willing to help. It is a small man with a ridiculous crown of dark hair around his head. He speaks with a gentle voice. Almost a whisper.
    I say, is it safe?
    He says, safe? what do you mean safe?
    I slightly unfold my hands, and the tip of my fingers touches the candies in the bottom of my pocket. Through the plastic bag which envelop them, I feel their shape. I can almost recognize the shape of the pieces I bought at Candies for love, 2450 Dennison avenue. I have to drive almost 30 minutes to go there but I like their shop. They have all the sorts of candies you might want. The smell is so cool. The colors too, soft and gentle, spring-like. It was not my first time there. I buy there for christmas, for birthday parties.
    I say, safe, I don’t know.
    He says, you don’t have anything to be afraid of. The situation is stabilized.
    I hesitate. There was this time when I brought candies for a friend of my wife. It was awful. How could have I guessed that she was on allergic? To candies? I suddenly remember that my brother has always had bad teeth. It strikes me that indeed our mother forbade us eating candies when we were kids because he had bad teeth and he did not take sufficiently care of them. He was so fragile. I could not eat candies either although I had no problems with my teeth and was strong as ten men. It makes me shivering. I feel bad about the candies.
    Doctor J. says, So... do you want to see him?
    I say, yes, sure but do we still have time? And I check the hour on my Bell&Ross chronograph.
    Doctor J. says, nice watch.
    I say, yes, thank you, my wife offered it to me for Christmas, last year, I think she got it in New York. Expensive, but it worth it.
    He says, I guess.
    I say, yes, I guess.
    He says, well, it’s up to you. Take your time. I know it’s not easy. If you need some help, I shall be in my office, at the other end of the hall. What I can tell you is that you have nothing to fear. The situation is under control and perfectly stable. It is unfortunate I know because you might expect more from us after four months of coma.
    He leaves. I look at him walking away to his office down the corridor . He goes past the vending machines, the nurses office and turns on the left. The soles of his shoes ridiculously squeaks at each of his step.
    I think, 4 months of coma, yes. I take the bag of candies out of my pocket and put it in the trash-can close to the elevator and press the button and leaves. As the cabin moves down, one level after the other, ding-ding-ding, I think I could have kept the candies for myself.

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