Installment #43 Anton

     Anton Fuhrman hung up the phone and turned to his wife, Stacy.  “He’s lying to me.  I know he is.  He says he is fine, but he doesn’t sound fine.  How am I going to find out what is going on with him?  Damn it, Stacy!”  He put his head in his hands.  He needed to think, but think what?  Who could he call?  He didn’t know who Tucker’s doctor was, and he knew few of his friends.  None of them close enough to call and what would they tell him?

     Stacy studied the top of Anton’s head.  She hated to see him upset.  Anton did not handle rejection well at all.  Ah, she had a thought.

     “Anton!  Who was that woman he was seeing a while back?  Is he still seeing her?  You know, that widow woman?”

     “Oh, Cynthia?  Yeah.  She was over there when I talked to him.  Probably still there.  Cynthia Browder.  She would know.  But how do we find her?”

     “Why don’t we look in the phone book?”  She laughed.  “No one thinks to do that anymore!”  She picked up the phone and dialed 411 for information and soon was handing the number to Anton.  “There, now you can call her!” She turned toward the kitchen wondering what she could make for lunch that would be comfort food for Anton, but not raise his blood sugar.  He followed her into the kitchen like the kid he was.

     “I can’t call her now!  She is at his house.  I will call her tonight.  What is for lunch.  I am hungry.”

     “Of course you are!  You always are.  I think you have a tape worm!  Call her later then.”  And with that she began to tear lettuce into a bowl.  Anton scowled.  Salad again. Damn!

     And later that evening Anton dialed the number on the paper.  He had only one thought in his mind as he listened to the phone ring somewhere far away, “Please, not an answering machine.  I have to know.  Please answer.”  And his silent prayer was answered when a raspy voice answered the phone.

     “Hello?”  Anton tried to conjure a face to go with the voice, but nothing came to mind.

     “Is this Cynthia Browder?”

     “Who wants to know?”  Well, that was strange, but of course she would want to know who he was.

     “This is Anton Fuhrman from St. Louis, Missouri.  My brother is Tucker Fuhrman and I am hoping you are his friend in Pueblo.  Are you?”

     “Yes!  I am!  Tucker has spoken of you.  How are you Anton?”

     “I am good, Cynthia, but I am worried about Tucker.  I got off the phone with him later this afternoon and I want to know how he is.  He sounds pretty down to me.  Do you know why?”

     Cynthia cringed inwardly.  This guy was pretty demanding.  “Well, what did Tucker tell you?”

     “Nothing!  I asked him how he was and he said he was fine.  He doesn’t sound fine.  Is he sick?”

     Cynthia’s mind raced.  This brother knew something was wrong, but not what.  Tucker must be protecting him from the truth.  That would be so like Tucker.  Always the big brother.  “When was the last time you saw Tucker?”

     “A couple years ago, but we talk on the phone real regular.  He just sounds kind of evasive when I ask when he is coming home and when I tell him we might come visit he has an excuse why this is not a good time.  I know something is going on and I hoped you would tell me.”

     Cynthia inhaled deeply.  How could she say what needed to be said  without selling Tucker down the river?  “Anton, why don’t you plan on a visit out here.  I would love to meet you and Stacy.”

     Anton sighed.  He was not going to get anywhere with this woman.  He knew that.  “Ok.  I will talk to Stacy and maybe we can plan on coming out this fall sometime.”

     “No, Anton!  I think you should come sooner than that.  I think you should come right away.”

     “Well, Tucker does not want me to come now.  He said that!  What is going on here?  Is he sick?  Is his cancer back?  I need to know.”

     “Well, Anton, if you need to know then ask Tucker.  I will not discuss him behind his back.  You should know that.  Do this, call him tomorrow evening and let me talk to him tomorrow morning.  That way he will have time to think it over.  Just when you call him, tell him you want to come now.  OK?”

     “Got you!  I will call him tomorrow night.  It is going to be a long day tomorrow.  And thanks, Cynthia, for what ever you are doing.”

     And with that they broke the connection and both went back to their own little worlds, praying that tomorrow would bring some sort of peace of mind.