To everyone at holy family Hospital:
All I can say is my sincerest thanks to everyone at Holy Family Hospital. When I was wheeled in there seven months ago I was about three quarters dead. In fact I had come here to die. I was so tired of fighting just to stay alive. But because of your generous care, and kindness, I was not just healed, but I was given another reason to live.
As you age you are supposed to gain a certain amount of wisdom and to pass it on to the next generation. Here’s the best I can do:
To care for others is the most noble professions there is. But there is a danger here, because to really care for someone else is to share their pain and fear and give them some hope… The belief that things will get better. But you may care too much and give too much of yourself away. That’s true for both your professional lives and your private lives. You must be wise and take care of that little part deep inside of you where love lives and hope grows. Never give yourself away to the wrong person or to an addiction, they can bleed you dry and stop you from taking care of the people you care for.
God bless and thank you, each and every one of you,
Big Dan
Category: Prose
The Wash Tub, the Granny, and the Troll.
The Wash Tub, the Granny, and the Troll.
A friend was over a while ago, and we were working on the floor in my grandpa and grandmothers “Cozy Cabin”. We Needed some more light so we turned the ceiling light on for a while. The two bare bulbs filled the room with an obnoxious kind of light, and my friend asked me why I didn’t get a lamp shade for it. I told him it hadn’t had a lamp shade on it since I could remember, and I just liked it this way. I didn’t tell him why.
It was the summer of 1965, and mother was going to have back surgery that would keep her in bed for a month or more. My dad decided that the last thing mother needed was to have two energetic boys, ages five and six, pestering her so he decided that it would be best if we spent a month with my Grandparents. My brother Tom and I didn’t know our Grandparents very well at the time, they had come over to our house in the city last Christmas, but we hadn’t visited their farmhouse since we’d been babies. Now Grandpa and Grandma were both in their late sixties, and looking back, I’m not sure they really wanted to have two little hellions dropped in their laps, but Grandma welcomed us with open arms, fresh bread and our favorite meatloaf for dinner, so we thought she was neat-o. But Grandpa scared us, he was tall, very loud, he smoked like a chimney, and had to put his teeth in to eat dinner.
We found out two things about their little farmhouse: they didn’t have either a TV or running water. The first was a disappointment… no Lone Ranger and Tonto, the second was a positive shock. The bathroom was a little shed just up the hill and to the left, next to the shop. And water? That came from a spring about two miles up hill, and hauled around in five gallon metal milk cans. My brother and I thought that we were in one of the TV shows that mother liked… the Twilight Zone.
It was still light outside, and a couple hours until bedtime for two fidgety young men, so Grandma told us to go out and explore around the farm, just stay in sight of the house and we’d be fine. Oh, and BE CAREFUL. The shop had a lot of neat tools but it was the outhouse that fascinated us, for a while, then we went out into the little orchard. It had been a fairly dry spring, but the El Dorado of our exploration was to find the only mud puddle in miles. We were young, we were boys, and we were tired and cranky, so the only thing for our tiny minds to think of for further entertainment, was to have a wrestling match, in the middle of the mud puddle. Not even stopping to consider what other animals might have been in that mud puddle, or what they had done their.
It was getting dark when we were done, and since it dawned on us that we might be in a wee bit of trouble, we knocked on the back door instead of barging in. Grandma stood at the threshold looking down at two small mud pies on her back porch. She began shaking her head and with a small grin called out, “Grandpa, you’d better come see your Grandsons got into.”
When Grandpa came up to the door, with his gray hair standing almost straight up and without his teeth in… he looked just like a kid-eating-troll, I began to shake all over. He looked down at us and asked Grandma, ‘Anna, are you sure they’re ours?”
I asked “Are we in trouble?”
Grandma laugh, “No… your not in trouble, but you are in hot water, or a tub of hot water.”
Grandpa walked away chuckling, ‘I’ll get the wash tub, you get’em ready.’
Grandma told us sternly, “Peel. Go on and get your cloths off. No, no, right here. Don’t worry, no one can see you.”
We hesitated, mom would never have us undress outside in the city. But here? We started slowly, and then got into the spirit of the thing. It may have been the first time we ‘peeled’ on that back porch, but it wasn’t going to be the last.
It was a warm summer evening and by the time we were marched in, we had even more mud on us than before we peeled, we had been scraping it off our pants and playing catch with it.
We marched through the kitchen on newspaper laid down on the floor. In the middle of the living room, under those two bare bulbs, was a huge galvanized washtub half filled with water. Grandpa pointed and said, “BUTTS IN.“ Grandma handed us a bar of soap and an old fashioned sponge and said to start scrubbing. (Years later, I saw her still using the same sponge, and I just had to ask, ‘How long have you had that thing?’ She said, “Oh, since before the war“, “Which war Granny… 1812?”). We sat down in the tub, and Grandpa started pouring. Grandma kept encouraging us to ‘scrub harder’, which soon led to some splashing and giggling. Grandma’s quiet rebuke to ‘Stop Playing’, didn’t even slow us down. But the Trolls rumbling voice. “Now stop that, do you want to get water all over the floor!” After a while, it was pronounced that we had played enough, now stand up.
A gentle cascade of water came falling over my head, into the… muddy water in the tub… I mean it was dark. Two towels came out of nowhere and were quickly wrapped around us. The Troll asked “Anna you got that one? I’ll take this one.” With that the troll lifted me out of the tub and carried me over to his chair. He sat me in his lap and started drying me off. His gruff voice said, ‘Well, we got most of the mud off… although there’s still some in your ears boy.” I must have looked scared because in a gentle voice he said, ‘Don’t worry, your dad got mud in his ears when he was your age… hell I did too, a long, long time ago.”
The last thing I remember that night, is Grandpa wrapping the towel around me, and pulling me close. ‘Go on to sleep now boy. You gotta get some rest. There’s plenty of mud left out there for tomorrow.” I nodded off with a big fluffy towel around me, in the lap of the most frightening Troll I ever knew.
It’s been fifty years now, and in the age of the internet I could find a nice lamp shade to put over those two stupid bare bulbs… but every time I turn them on I can see this big old wash tub in the middle of the floor, and I remember Grandma and the Troll, and I fell a little bit better.
Daniel Harshman November 5, 2012
Brainstorms
Brainstorms: A small Boat on a Violent Ocean
It was 1980, and mother had Asthma. She also had pneumonia, not a good combination. She had just finished the nebulizer treatment and had laid back down. The nurse had given her the treatment after mixing the Abuteral with distilled water using a syringe. It was already dark outside so I didn’t bother to close the drapes. I turned most of the lights off and leaving one on low. I closed the door, not slamming it, so that the sounds from the hall wouldn’t come in: even at night, hospitals were nosy places. I made sure that towels were handy and a couple of wash clothes. I sat and waited, hoping she would be able to get some sleep before the storm hit. It wasn’t just the Abuteral she had inhaled, it was the Theodure and Prednisone they had given her earlier. They were very powerful, and very necessary drugs, that would help her keep breathing long enough for the anti-biotics to kill the pneumonia spreading in her lungs.
Her eyes were closed but she was awake. I could see the first signs. Her hands had that tremor, she was breathing shallow, and she was licking her lips. I moistened a washcloth, warm now, and put over her eyes. She was crying, she reached for the bedrails and held on to them. I said: ‘Easy now, Easy now, this storm will pass.’
The nurse came banging in, she had too, nurses hate closed doors. I let the nurse watch mother for a moment and then ushered her out. I closed the door behind us. The nurse said: ‘I didn’t realized that it was going to be this bad.’
I didn’t bother to remind her that I had tried to tell her. It was her first night caring for my mother and this nurse wasn’t ready for it. When I had tried to tell her earlier, she had painted a condensing smile on and nodded in sympathy and then not listened to a word I had said. We argued about the Pain med, the pain had to be documented, and the diaper, well, it’s best that patient get up and move around as often as they could, and well, sometimes they would get lazy.
I lost my temper. I was tired. I was a full time student, I had a part time job and I should have been home with my brand new wife. ‘I know you didn’t know this was going to happen. There’s something else I don’t think you know, she’s a Manic Depressive, and we’ve just given her some very powerful stimulants. if you’ve never seen a manic episode before, just wait, you’re going to get the full picture. Now, get her some Goddamned pain med, because her neck is going to be killing her in a few minutes… if you don’t know why, there’s an X-ray in her chart.’
The nurse’s professional masked dropped for a moment. ‘I’ll talk to the doctor and see what we can do.’
There was a noise from inside, a cry of a child, frightened and alone. I left the nurse in the hall and went back in closing the door… gently. Mother’s knuckles were white. She was sobbing. I used the cool damp cloth to wipe away the sweat, the tears. I kept whispering to her that it was going to be alright, that we’d been here before and we would get though this again.
The nurse crept in this time with a syringe. She came over and as she injected it slowly into the IV tubing, she stared at my mother’s hands clinched on the bedrail. When the nurse was finished I walked out into the hall with her.
The nurse looked tired and worried. ‘The doctor order pain medication and a mild muscle relaxant, he said it was all we could do for her. I made sure it was charted, so next time there won’t be any problems. He said that you knew her as well as anyone. Can I ask you, why she’s has her hands on…’
I told her: ’Why does she hold on so hard? She’s afraid… sometimes that she’ll fly off the bed and hit ceiling, then sometimes she’s scared she’ll fall though the bed… and then she’ll just keep falling forever. It can be like that… it’s been like that since I was a kid. And yes, she’s seen dozen’s of doctors, she’s even been institutionalized, but there is only so much medicine can do, and all that’ left is love and faith.’ I check my watch. It was past midnight. ’This will soon pass, at least for now. And the shot will help a lot.” Before I headed back in I told the nurse, ’in a little while, send in a aide with some fresh bedding and another gown. She’s already wet the bed. We’ll get her cleaned up and then she’ll sleep for a while, I hope.’
It was about one that morning that mother let go of the rails and curled up on her side. The aide and I quickly got her washed up. Mother kept saying ’Danny’, the only time called me that since I was six… because she was embarrassed that her son was helping clean her bottom, although I had been doing it for years.
As I walked out, I stopped by the nurses station. ’She’ll sleep now, and Dad will be in this morning, before she has to go though it again. I call them Brainstorms, not in the modern sense but in the original meaning. Because it’s like she’s a very small boat and a very large ocean… sometimes the water is quiet, but sometimes you must ride out the storm, and pray that morning will come.’
Thirty years Later:
Some things had changed, the Abuteral had come in a little plastic tube and the Nebulizer treatment had been given by a Repertory therapist. When I had finished the treatment, the RT placed his stethoscope to my back and said, ’Another Deep Breath Please.’ I think he said ’Still quite a bit of dimished sounds in the lower quadrants, but you’re moving air, so the Asthma is better.’ I THINK he said that, I was to busy coughing by some nice yellow phlegm. He said something about Asthma and Pnu to be a bad combination. He had noticed the tremor in my left hand, and the twitch in my right food. I told him it was alright, that it happens this way. He lingered for a moment, he seemed like a nice kid, so I explained, ‘About three hours ago I took 450mg of Theodure and 60mg of Prednisone and now the Abuterual, it‘s just going to be like this for a while. I didn’t tell him that I was luckier than my mother, I wasn’t bipolar. I had been diagnosed with PTSD, probably because of growing up with a mother that was bipolar.
The RT had to ask, ‘Isn’t there something they could do?”
I shrugged, ‘Sometimes the cure is worse than the cold.’
I waited til he left, my God I was already starting to sweat. I was free for a while, there was no IV tying me to the bed.
I still had the Oxygen tubing, but I was use to that. I got up out of the bed, and closed the drapes. It was a beautiful day outside, but it was far too bright. The Price is Right was on. I turned the TV off, it was too loud. I made sure that there were several towels on the hospital table, two wash clothes, one cool, one warmer. They asked me why, the caregivers, but even if I told them, they wouldn’t understand. I was shaking all over now. I had to concentrate. A urinal. I made sure there was a urinal. I made it to the bathroom… I had too sit down… I had too…
I finally made it to back to the bed, it look so soft and inviting. I took a towel… they always wanted to know what I did with all the towels… I put it between my legs, up high… you sweat a lot there… you hope it’s sweat. I rolled onto my side and grabbed the bedrails.
I said the same thing to myself that I had said to my mother all those years ago. Easy Now. This is just a storm and you’re but a small boat on a angry ocean. The wind and the waves were batter you and frighten you. But you have to try and keep an even keel. And remember, always remember, this brainstorm will pass.
The world became small, and very dark for me. I closed my eyes, and the bed felt like it was almost moving. I tried to keep an even keel, and hold on. I was losing control, I was losing myself.
Some stupid little girlie bustles in, asked me in a shrill voice if I was ready for my lunch tray? Are you ready for your Tray? Can I take the lids off? Can I move these towels out of your way?
Someone screams, ‘GET OUT’… ‘GET OUT!’, the voice is mine, and I can not stop it. I would have thrown the crap at her if I could just get a hold of it. OUT OF HERE BITCH. Can’t she see the shaking, the fear, the monster I‘ve become. She runs of the room, crying, scared.
I grip the rails with all my strength, as if I was drowning.
Someone else has come in quietly. I hear April’s voice whisper, ‘It’s alright.’ She takes the stupid tray away. She comes back, hands me a cool washcloth, I rub the sweat off my face. She goes away, closing the door quietly behind her.
I’ll never understand: where does the love of God go, when the pain and the panic turn the minutes to hours, and the days to forever?
God help me. Please.
I realize I’m breathing easier now. I’ve let go of the bedrails and the shaking has slowed. I feel tired, wasted, my muscles are sore. I mange to roll over to the side of the bed, and sit up on the edge. The clock on the wall has travel two hours, almost three. I heard the door open, April came in, whispered if I was going better. I nodded. She took a cool wash cloth, undid the hospital gown, and gently washed my back. She came around, put some blanket’s in the chair next to the bed, and asked if I wanted to sit up now. I said yes and she helped me in the chair.
She disappeared, came back a moment later with the little girl I had shouted at. They changed the sheets on the bed quickly, neatly. April chatted the way she does, about her husband, and her kids. When they were done the little girl turned to me, I looked in her eyes for… revoltion, fear? I saw none, a little sympathy. She asked if I was hungery. I was, but I was shaking to much to hold a spoon. I said some juice would be very nice. The little girl smiled, April told her that they would put some apple juice, he like’s apple juice, in a ‘big’ glass, with a straw… April never made me ask. Before they left, they opened the drapes slowly.
It was sunny outside, Spring was here and a Wren sat outside my window. In the distance was the mountains, with just a hint of snow way up. The world was still there.
My friends and family would soon be in. They would ask me how my day was. What could I tell them?
I’ve been on both places now: I’ve sat in the caregivers chair, watching my loved one hurt; and I’ve laid in the hospital bed, trying to hide the pain. When I was in the Chair I thought it was the hardest place, and it was. There is nothing like wishing that you could do something for your loved one. You swear that you would trade places with them in a heart beat, and at the time I meant it. Now that I’m in the bed, it’s different. I see the pain their eye’s and I wish they would leave. It’s hard enough trying to hang on with them there, and then you want them there, anything to keep fighting this feeling of being alone.
But there is one difference between there and here. When the storm is over, the caregivers can smile and go home to the peace and quiet, and you want them too. But it will never be over for me. The truth is that the next storm will come, and there is nothing in this world that can stop it. It might not be today, or tommowow but it will come. And I might survive the next one and the one after, but sooner or later, I would lose my mind, or my life. It’s hard to explain to people who haven’t live long, or fought hard: but cowardice creeps into ones heart, a little at a time.
I hear a knock at the door, and make sure I’m decent. I ask them to come in. And I remind my self of one more thing I use to tell mother, you either get busy living, or you roll over and just give up. And she was far too old then, and I am now, to learn something new, like quitting.
Three Times a Lady
Three Times a Lady
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Dave if you’ve gotten this far, thank you. This thing will not be easy to read, I still haven’t figured out how to format the word processor here, or even to change fonts… “A font, a font, my kingdom for a font.” I don’t think Shakespeare has anything to worry about.
This story also jumps around a little near the end, it could use quite a bit more explanation, but you know it well.
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David had become one of the best friends which I’ve ever had because we been through some tough times together. I’d been with him during his divorce, and then he had been with me during mine. We were totally opposites: he was easy-going and I was intense, he was eloquent and I was concise. He was more brilliant having a quick mind, I was more analytical. In baseball terms he was finesse pitcher taking his time and getting to understand better. I was a power pitcher, daring the batter to get wood on the ball.
Dave and I were sharing a house just off campus, and we nicknamed it the Clubhouse. It was Dave’s fault, the first time we saw it, he said that it would look perfect, with a couple of Harley’s out front and empty beer cans strewn all over the lawn.
The Clubhouse had not come furnished, but that wasn’t a problem for a couple of enterprising bachelors and a pickup truck. It’s amazing what you can find at a Goodwill store, and we particularly liked shopping in the big green bargain bin just behind the Goodwill store. So the lazy boy chairs didn’t really work, and thankfully the drapes for the Windows were extra-large, because we had to staple quite a few of the pleats together to hide all of the rips, tears, and cigarette burns. David did add one interesting piece of furniture, a Lava Lamp. I’ve never seen one before, and thankfully have not seen one since.
About a month after we moved in together, Dave became scarce at nights. That didn’t surprise me, Dave had a way with people, particularly women. But there was another change in him, for the first time since his divorce he seemed happy. Needless to say, I was very worried.
There was more to it than that, as whenever he talked about his new Lady his voice would become soft and he had a faraway look in his. I had expected the normal locker room bravado about her physical attributes, but all he wanted to talk about was how caring she was and how being with her took the stress away.
He came in one night with his Cheshire cat grin on, and I knew something was up. He wanted something from me, it wasn’t money because I was broke. I honestly doubted it he wanted my body, so it had to be my mind. “Hey my friend, my good buddy, how long have we known each other, three years or so, and we been through a lot together.”
Me: “You might as well get on with it. I’ve heard your sales pitches before.”
Dave: “Well I know a young lady, very nice young lady that needs help with economics. So naturally I thought of you.”
Me: “A young lady, so not the older lady with the Corvette you were zipping around with a couple months ago? Or the other young lady that was a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, she seems very nice but when she laughs she sounded like a seal.”
Dave shook his head: “No not them. This one is a real lady. A very nice lady who could really use some help.”
I didn’t think much of it at first, I was always very careful about using the phrase Lady… It was the days of the Commodore song once, twice, three times lady. And I wasn’t all that thrilled to take on extra work, particularly since he hadn’t said anything about money.
Dave smile even got broader: “By the way you might not know her but she knows you. Apparently you subbed for a professor some time ago, and she thought you were had done very well.”
I remembered the class. I was in professor Groves’ office trying to get him to write a letter recommendation for grad school. He got a phone call that his little girl had a hot appendix… it seem like an even trade. But Econometrics was a bear to take, and harder to tutor.
Dave seemed to sense what I was thinking: “You don’t have to, you could just sit around here and mope.”
I looked up: “Touché”
Dave: “By the way you’re normally free about noon, right? Good she’ll meet you in the student union in those booths off the second floor.”
Me: “How will I know her, there were 30 people in the class and half of them were females?”
Dave: “I wouldn’t worry about it, she knows you. And just how many young ladies do you have coming up to you on any given day and asking for your help in this economics and mathematics? But just in case her name is Julie.”
I’d made it to the student union, grabbed a cup of coffee, and I just sat down in a small booth on the second floor. That’s when she came up and she was wearing a white sweatshirt/pant combo that had the logo “Elan” on it. It was the latest thing and she also had one of the latest backpacks the bookstore was selling. She came up and said: “Hi I’m Julie and your Dan aren’t you?”
Me: “That’s what my mother always called me. Have a seat.”
She sat down and started talking quite quickly. As she chatted about the problems, and how confusing they were, I nodded and told her that Grove’s Econometrics class was where Econ majors went to die. So we started from the beginning, with the basic concepts, and it quickly dawned on me that she was intelligent but she thought eclectically, fine for English classes but not so useful mathematic ones. So I concentrated on having her think in straight lines and she started picking up on it surprisingly fast.
It wasn’t until after noon, when Julie had to leave, and although I had told her several times that she had gone through everything that would be on the test she still wasn’t hopeful.
As we were walking out, she mentions that she also had another midterm next week. I asked her what, and she said, “American history. It’s all about the Civil War, and we’re at the very beginning with old what’s-his-name. They had a song about him.”
Me: “Old John Brown. His raid on Harpers Ferry. And his speech on the gallows, about the country being purified in blood.”
Julie stopped and stared at me. “You mean you know about that stuff to?”
I shrugged: “A little bit you could say. If you want we can go over some of the stuff.”
Julie: “That would be nice too…”
I tutored her fairly regularly for the next couple of weeks. She worked very hard to understand the concepts involved. And the only trouble we ever had was when Dave stopped by. Discussing things like coefficient correlations was absolutely pointless. When I finally objected to his presence Dave would tell Julie: “He’s right you should get to work.” And she would reply: “I guess so, he can be such a grouch.”
On her first midterm she had gotten a C. I promised her she’d do better. The next time I saw her she was walking on air, or dancing on air, she had gotten an A, I was very proud of her, that wasn’t an easy thing to do.
She began thanking me and asking if there was anything she could do in return. I kept telling her no, and I meant it. Just seen her face light up was more than enough.
That night when I came back to the clubhouse to car was parked in the driveway. I had a feeling, I just file with my ex that I didn’t really want to be around anyone.
When I walked in I found that things were really cooking. There was a frying pan on the stove with something sizzling in it, and there were two overgrown primates in the middle of the kitchen, also sizzling.
I waited, I had to admire their stamina. “That’s quite some oral examination, since you don’t have braces, were your tongues tied in a knot?”
They stopped kissing and looked my way, still holding each other. Dave mumbled, “Crude, isn’t he.”
Julie laid her head on his chest, “Disgusting.”
Me: “You’re just noticing that?”
They began to sway, as if they were dancing, but I couldn’t hear the music. Dave: “Babe wanted to thank you for the tutoring session; she actually got a B on the Midterm. So we’re here to cook you a decent meal, like it or not.”
It was a nice gesture, I didn’t know why it bothers me so much. “About the grade, well I’m proud of you. But this really isn’t necessary.” When I saw it was going on deaf ears I added, “And I already had a bite, but thank you for the thought.”
Dave sighed. “See, I told you he’d say that, and I told you he’d be lying. The boy is an independent, stubborn sort.”
Julie broke loose, a little, and turned to me, folding her arms under her breasts. “Mr. Dan came here because I want to do this for you, for both of you, a nice home cooked meal. Now, is that such a crime?”
I waved my hands in mock surrender. “Alright I yield. I would like very much for you to cook us, er, me dinner.”
Julie grew about six inches taller, “I finally beat the old boar! And I actually thought you’d put up a real fight. Ha! Now, what would like for dinner?”
I may lose, but I’m never beaten. “A Blond.”
Julie’s face froze. Dave caught loudly and asked, “You don’t happen to have a blond wig, do you Babe?”
Julie had these red hot eyes. “Sorry, you’ll have to go down to one of the local street corners for that.”
I apologized. “I couldn’t help myself.”
She sighed. “We brought some hamburger and lasagna noodles, but I can’t find a lasagna pan. Babe said this was all you have, the frying pan and this big pot.”
Dave said it a little too loud; I knew he was trying to tell me to play along: “I’ve tried to tell her that we don’t have any pots and pans except the pot Maria threw at me, and the frying pan Anna threw at you.”
The thing is that I don’t mind lying, when it will get someone else in trouble. “Non-sense, we’ve got all of those other pots and pans we picked up, remember? Here, over in this cupboard.”
Dave was standing behind Julie shaking his head, until she suddenly turn and looked at him, and went into his innocent smile.
I opened up the corner cupboard. “We got a ton of stuff, it’s not brand new, but they’ll work, I think.”
Julie came over and actually picked up one of the dented, dust covered, grease coated pans. She went pale. “Where did you get these things?”
I answered before Dave could ruin it. “At a second hand store, well, not in the store. They were in the bargain bin around back.”
She’d gone a little pale. “You mean their dumpster? Of course you did, you couldn’t buy them this way, even from a fourth hand store.”
Dave still had hopes of getting laid. So she was still looking in the cupboard Dave glared at me. I had never known David to be angry, but I was sure he wasn’t happy.”
Julie dropped the pot with a clang. She looked at us with bewilderment. “What do you guys eat? Just hot dogs?”
While Dave was busy thinking up a good lie, I decided that I would tell the truth, after all, I had no hope of getting laid. “Naw, we eat real good.” I opened up a top cupboard, filled with cans. “Some nights we just eat chili. Good stuff. Plastic spoons, No dishes.”
Julie “You eat it raw? Straight from the can?”
Me. “Sometimes for dinner, sometimes for breakfast. There is nothing like a cold can of spicy chili to get you moving in the morning.” I went over to the oven, ignoring the menacing face Dave was giving me. “Sometimes we splurge, and have some of the frozen chicken. It takes a little longer but it’s nice for a change. And again, no dishes.”
I opened up the oven and watched Julie’s face melt. There was a baking pan on the center rack. It had four inch sides, of which there was about an inch of freeboard before the grease was going to pour out. “We started looking for another pan like this though, in a month or two it’s going to be full, and then we’ll just ditch it.”
She mumbled something about ‘health inspectors’ and turned on Dave. I guess she had higher expectations of him.
Dave began to do some of the smoothest dancing I had ever seen. He REALLY wanted to get laid. “Babe, he’s joking. That’s his, I never used it.”
I helped. “Sorry old buddy didn’t mean to rat on you.”
Dave: “Alright Babe, a couple of times. But not since I met you. Since that day I’m a changed man. Honest to God.”
She sighed, let him take her in his arms. “I think I met you in the nick of time. I’d hate to think that you could end up like the wild boar over there.”
She said “Opps, can’t let this hamburger burn.”
Me: “Poor thing, I bet all she’s known is hamburger. Old hamburger. Well, if you ever want to try prime rib, just call.”
Even from the back I could tell she was blushing.
Dave mouthed the word ‘asshole’ at me. I blew him a kiss.
Julie finished and turned to Dave. “You’re right Babe, will just have to have Spaghetti.
You’re going to have to go to the store again.”
Me: ‘Sounds great, I think they have big cans of Chef-Boy-r-Dee.”
I’m not sure that a spatula covered with hot grease is considered a deadly weapon, but it should be. “Sorry.”
Dave grabbed his coat and Julie ran down the things that she needed. “All we have here is hamburger, and the salad makings. I think all we need is the noodles, oh and Mushrooms.”
Me: “You eat fungus? A distant relative of Jock Rot?”
She put her head on Dave’s chest. “This is going to be so hard Babe.”
“I know, remember, just relax and think of peaceful things.”
I asked Dave: “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No, I can do this by myself, you can help out around here.”
“Aren’t you afraid that I’m going to ravish her while you’re gone?”
“No, I’m afraid that she’s going to kill you before I get back.”
Julie was busy at the stove, yet she looked up at me and smile. “Oh, we got some beer, Babe said it was the kind you like.”
I thanked her, I needed it. It was the kind I like, and it wasn’t all that cheap.
She asked, “I don’t mean to pry, but why don’t you guys have any pots and stuff?”
The cold beer tasted so good. “We both were just happy to get out. When you get married, you promise to take care of your wife. And then things change, resentment and distrust build, and it eats away at both of you like a cancer. One morning you just have to get out, but the guilt is still there. Dave likes to say that I bought my way out by giving her everything we had. I won’t deny it, but he did the same.”
She was just moving the hamburger around now, it was already brown. “Can I ask, I mean I shouldn’t pry, but Babe…? I mean Dave won’t talk about it, well I haven’t asked, it doesn’t seem right, but…”
“You want to know exactly why they broke up, Dave and Maria. He figures you’re going to ask, that’s why he left us alone. They broke up for the same reason I did. It comes down to feeling of betrayal. In our case it wasn’t infidelity, it was worse. In both of our case though I stopped taking the pill I didn’t tell us. The idea of bringing children in to marriage that’s rocky… Well that to both of them seemed like a good idea. They wanted to wait till he was out of school, and frankly before we got married my ex and I agreed not to have children. At least not yet. To be honest I’m not sure I want children at all.”
She looked up at me.
“My families is known for two things, one is that were fairly intelligent but there’s a lot of mental illness. Part of me is just worried about that.”
After a moment, she asked if I was enjoying the beer.
“Very much, thank you. Can I get you one?”
She smiled. “NO, I can’t stand those dark beers, they’re all for you. Babe and I have some wine.”
I asked, “Is there anything I can do? I know the male image is to sit, drink beer, have flatulence and watch the women folk work, but I’d really rather be doing something.”
She thought about it a moment, I think she was trying to decide whether she could trust me around her food. “Oh, I know. Babe and I bough some salad makings: Lettuce and some nice looking tomatoes, I don’t know where they get them at this time of year. Err, you do know what salad is, don’t you?”
Me: “Of course I do, I watch skinny people eat those things all the time.”
“They’re good for you.”
“How can they be? Have you ever seen a rabbit bench press his own weight?”
That made her stop, she was developing this odd twitch in her mouth, like it wanted to smile, but she wouldn’t let it. I asked nicely, “alright I’ll be nice just what would you like me to do?’
“Tear that head of lettuce up and put it in that big bowl, it’s actually clean. And then chop up the tomatoes and add them too.”
I told her alright and went over, found a knife, made sure she saw me wipe it on my shirt, and grabbed the head of lettuce.
“Don’t do THAT! You tear the lettuce, don’t cut it!”
Since she was far enough away, I lifted the knife, and as it came down I yelled ‘Banzi’, splitting the head in two.
“Dan, DAN, DAN… you’re not suppose to cut lettuce, it does something to it… you have to tear it.”
I bent over and put my ear next to the lettuce. “I don’t think it really cares.”
I started chopping like some kind of mad chef, and Julie took a step back. I don’t think it was from fear, I think she was just dodging the flying lettuce.
Dave came back in carrying a small sack of groceries.
Julie pointing, “He’s mad, completely mad.”
Me, in an awful French accent, “I just cannot work with this woman… she is too constraining, I can not create my master piece.”
Dave: “And I hurried to get home.”
He walked past me and gave her a kiss. I complained. “She gets a kiss, and I didn’t get anything.”
Dave: “Well if you insist.”
Julie: “Don’t you dare… I’ll walk out right now.”
Dave: “Sorry, son, I didn’t really want to anyway.”
They kissed for a while and then he showed her what he’d bought. She praised him for everything. A bit of a shock for me, that wasn’t Anna’s style.
I felt left out. I had finished with the lettuce and picked up a tomato. Any attention is better than no attention at all… the famous bad boy syndrome.
A moment later, Julie’s, voice went up several octaves. “WHAT is he doing?”
Dave glanced over, “What did you tell him to do?”
Julie: “All I said was to tear up the lettuce and chop the tomatos.”
Dave: “So of course he chopped the lettuce now he’s trying to tear the tomatoes.”
Julie: “He’s sick.”
Dave: “Yes, but useful. He’s something of an idiot savant… And right now he’s more the idiot part.”
You can’t tear tomatoes. You make an awful mess. I threw the mess in with the lettuce. “I hope it tastes better than it looks. Not that I care, I hadn’t planned on eating it anyway. Who wants to graze?”
Julie defiantly took a step towards me. “Babe, get him OUT of my kitchen?”
ME: “YOUR kitchen?”
She was tapping her foot, it reminded me of a bull pawing the grown. “Do you want me to stop cooking? Do you really want that canned stuff?”
I grabbed another beer. “Game, Set, and Match. I’ll go in the living room and pout, either that or brood. Maybe pout first, brood later.”
I went into the living room and sat down. I enjoyed their company so much, but it was tiring, as if I was trying to keep up an act.
Dave came in, sat down on the arm of his chair. “You like her don’t you?”
I nodded. “Yes, yes I do. There’s kindness and compassion, and the joy of a child.”
Dave: “Thank you. Oh and did you see your note at the office?”
Me: “Yes, she wants money. Did you see your note?”
Dave nodded: “Yes she needs money to. She just won’t believe I’m flat broke, hell Julie was one of paid for the spread.”
Julie came in and said it was almost ready, then she asked what we’d been talking about.
Me: “Ex’s wanting money, and refusing to move on. Why? Want to join in?”
Julie looked down at the floor, and then back up. “At least mine doesn’t want money. He says he just wants me back.”
Dave stood up and went next to her. In a soft voice he said, “We can’t blame him for that.”
When they went to kiss, I added, “I can understand him wanting your back, but wouldn’t he want your front too?”
It worked, I stopped them. I really wasn’t being mean, but the smell of the food made me hungry.
We sat down at the table and I was impressed. She had done everything she could to set the table in a civilized manner. The table cloth was yesterday’s school paper, the napkins were paper towels, but there were real plates, no two had the same design, but they were real. And the crowning touch was the silver ware (Dave was right; we must have had them somewhere). There was an open bottle of wine and two glasses (coffee mugs), and an open bottle of beer for me. The real surprise was the French bread, it was hot and covered with butter. She must have used the oven.
I motioned over, “What happen to the pan that was in there? You didn’t use it did you?”
Julie shuddered. “We won’t discuss that pan, but since Babe said you guys stopped using, I got rid of it.”
The spaghetti was good, actually very very good. Dave took some of the salad, but then he was trying to make nice. She stared in the salad bowl, gave me a look that could shrink any man’s… pride.
I should have known. I was enjoying myself to much. And then it happened.
I had that awful feeling. The phone rang.
When I came back. “I’m sorry. I’m going to have to take off. And I do mean I’m sorry, I was enjoying this very much. The food and the company.”
Julie genuinely looked sad, but she smiled and said that there would be plenty of the leftover spaghetti and it would be good even cold. And then next time maybe she could cook lasagna.
I grabbed my jacket and went out into the cold November night.
Seven hours later, at 3:30 in the morning, Julie sat in the hospital waiting room, her head down quietly crying. For a second I couldn’t help thinking how our place she looked. And then I realized, anyone would look out of place in a hospital waiting room, except me.
I picked up a box of Kleenex and went over and knelt next to her. She tried to say thank you for the Kleenex, and I broke one of my cardinal rules. I put my hands on hers and looked in her eyes. I told her: “It’s late, you need to go home. Everything that can be done is being done.”
Julie’s voice broke: “Is she going to be all right?”
I tried to reassure her: “I think so. But it’s been a rough night… Long Nights Journey into Day.” Before there was any more commotion, I helped her up and walked her out to her car. I promised her several times that I would call her and let her know how things were going. I held the car door opened while she climbed in.
ME: “All I can tell you is to keep the faith, the promise of tomorrow. And before you say it, don’t worry I’ll keep an eye on Dave.”
I watched her drive away and went back into the hospital. Dave was standing there with his eyes leaking.
Dave: “did she head home?”
Me: “Yes, but only after I promised her I’d keep an eye on you. And I understand now she’d be very easy Lady to fall in love with.”
I grabbed a couple of Kleenex and gave it to him. “Dry your eyes get your act together. We ain’t done yet.”