Page 216 of The Holy Grail
The second call was to Evan, who had just started his shift at the bar, and when he heard the news, his response was, “Are you serious? I mean, okay, I know you’re serious, but … this makes me a total dick because all I can think about is your issue with him potentially remaining unresolved.”
“Me, too,” Malcom said. “Which means I’ll probably end up in one of the circles of Hell for this.”
“I don’t believe in Hell. However, if I’m wrong, then I’ll be there to keep you company. Speaking of company, do you want me to come to the hospital? I can probably get Evelyn or Everett to cover my shift.”
“I appreciate that, but no. There’s nothing you can do, and this isn’t the time—or the place—for you to meet my brother.”
The third call was to Jules, who immediately offered to come wait with him at the hospital when she got off work, which Malcom quickly declined, for the same reasons he’d given Evan.
Shortly after getting off the phone, a doctor came in and introduced himself as Dr. Marks, then proceeded to give Malcom and Martin an update, and even though he tried to sound like he wasn’t pessimistic, it was obviously a struggle to sound optimistic when explaining Monroe’s condition.
“As you know, your father had a stroke, but there are two main types—ischemic and hemorrhagic. After doing some blood tests and performing a CT scan, we’ve determinedhe had a hemorrhagic stroke, which is the more serious of the two. Ischemic strokes are caused by a blockage of blood to the brain, usually due to a blood clot, while hemorrhagic strokes are the result of bleeding in the brain, usually when a weakened blood vessel ruptures.”
“Like an aneurysm?” Martin asked.
“Yes. The most common cause of hemorrhagic strokes is high blood pressure, which unfortunately, your father had but didn’t appear to be getting treatment for.”
Martin frowned. “I’m pretty sure he was on blood pressure medication.”
“According to his records, he had prescriptions for several—Lisinopril, Lopressor, and Norvasc, to name a few, but I have serious doubts he was actually taking them, which brings us to his stroke. I’m going to be very honest, and tell you that our normal methods of controlling the bleeding in his brain have not been working, likely due to the severity of the stroke and the size of the bleed. As such, the accumulating blood is putting a great deal of pressure on the brain tissue surrounding the ruptured blood vessel.”
Martin took a deep breath. “Will he need to have surgery?”
Dr. Marks nodded. “In my opinion, yes. The intracranial pressure needs to be relieved, and the best way to accomplish that is to get in and remove the excess blood, and at the same time, closing off that vessel.” He looked from Martin to Malcom. “Are either one of you his health care proxy?”
Martin nodded. “I am.”
“Good,” Dr. Marks said. “I’ll need to go over some paperwork with you.”
Dr. Marks then led Martin and Malcom up to another floor, with Malcom being sent to a nicer waiting room while Martin was taken somewhere else.
Approximately forty-five minutes later, he returned, and went over all the complications and risks involved in the surgery with Malcom, who listened in silence, his optimism dwindling with every word.
Once that was done, and texted updates were sent to Beverly, Evan, and Jules, Malcom leaned back in his chair to wait some more, while Martin paced.
When Dr. Marks reappeared less than two hours later, Malcom immediately knew Monroe was dead, not just because of the doctor’s stoic expression, but also because the surgery couldn’t have been underway for very long.
Apparently, so did Martin, who sucked in a huge breath and released it with a choked, “No.”
Dr. Marks pulled a chair over and sat down in front of them. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Your father had another massive stroke right after we got him into the OR, and there was nothing we could do.”
The next few days were full of funeral preparations.
As the executor of the will, Martin was in charge, but wanted Malcom to go with him to see the lawyer and go to the funeral home.
While Malcom hadn’t expected to have been cut out of the will in the last month, it was still a little surreal to find out he was going to inherit a large amount of money, in the form of stocks, bonds, and retirement accounts, plus half of Monroe’s interest in the firm, which earned millions each year, making Malcom a twenty-five percent owner, and Martin now owning seventy-five percent.
For a few moments, Malcom felt a twinge of unease (or possibly guilt) at the windfall he was going to receive, given he’d been planning on telling Monroe to go fuck himself, but then Malcom decided it wasn’t worth dwelling on right at the moment and pushed it away.
He thought Lauren would be proud of him releasing negative emotions which weren’t going to serve him in a positive way.
At the funeral home, he and Martin were informed all of the funeral arrangements had already been made and paid for years ago, by Monroe, to include the headstone. The only thing that needed to be done was to plan the reception afterward.
They did, however, have to pick out the suit Monroe would be buried in, so Malcom went with Martin to pick it out. Having never actually been to Monroe’s penthouse, Malcom wasn’t surprised to see how sleek and modern everything in it was, nor how cold and sterile it felt.
“If you see anything you’d like to have, let me know,” Martin said.
Malcom pondered the offer as he looked at the artwork and expensive furnishings, but in the end, he decided the only thing he might want was a watch he’d given Monroe for Father’s Day many years ago. Everything else, though, Malcom would take a pass on, not only because he didn’t have a connection to anything there, but also because none of it was to his taste (and unfortunately made him think of Gwen). Evan’s crazy Buckingham Palace/brothel furnishings had more character than anything in the penthouse. Plus, it seemed unlikely either Jules or Evan would want any of it in their place, simply because of the negative association with its previous owner.
