Clowning Around

The prompt for this little bit was - I really shouldn't have been wearing my clown outfit...

Full swing at the party, I was just making rude balloon shapes for the birthday boy who was turning 45, when my cell phone buzzed, tickling me in my green and purple clown skirt. I fumbled around in my pocket passing over limp balloons, fake flowers and a seven foot multicolored handkerchief, finding the offending phone. Peeking at the text message, I found a disturbing 911 with a number I did not recognize.

I excused myself to loud hooting at the bare-chested balloon lady I plunked down in the birthday boy’s lap and headed out back to find a quiet corner. Dialing the number, I tugged on my too tight orange, pink, purple and silver glittered shirt, wondering why I had taken this adult party on. True, I enjoyed the challenge of getting adults to laugh at my clown antics, but sometimes, the outfits and guests were a little hard to handle.

A Sergeant McNally answered my call, and after introductions, calmly said that my husband Josh had been injured in an accident and was at the hospital. He said he would wait for my arrival to give me more details. Assuring him I would be right there, I spoke to the hostess of the party explaining my plight. Jumping into my old VW van, painted a myriad of colors by the neighborhood kids, I sped the few blocks to the hospital.

Parking as close to the emergency room as I could, I ran into the ER lobby, finding a too long line waiting for registration, and information. As I waited for my turn with the receptionist, I garnered snickers, and looks of wonderment at my outfit. The wait gave me much needed time to calm myself down to a not quite so frantic panic. I also thought of the things I could, and should say as I walked into my husband’s room. Knowing Josh, I needed to keep it light and optimistic which is one reason he said, he married a clown.

My turn at last. I was told Sergeant McNally and Josh were in room 4, just down the hall to my left. Donning my squeaky nose, and a dumb smile, I sauntered into room 4. In a clear, take charge voice, I said I heard the patient needed a real cut-up for a doctor, as he’d broken his funny bone. Squeezing my nose and pulling out my handkerchief pretending to make it into a sling, I started toward his bed.

Stalled halfway there by the serious look on the Sergeant’s face and gasps from others in the room, I suddenly felt awkward and very much out of sync with the rest of the hospital.

As I lovingly looked at my dear Josh’s face, I noticed the faint tint of blue to his lips, and noted the lack of blips and hums from the machines attached to his body. McNally rushed over as I fell into a colorful blob onto the hospital floor, starting to cry. Easing me into a chair, he explained it all, and that Josh had passed away saying my name, with a big smile.