He strained to read the clerk’s badge—Delores or Delia or something. He remembered to properly introduce himself and asked, “Do you know how I could find her? Wait, I have her card.” He took it from his wallet as he spoke. “No, the only number on this is for here.”
He tried to keep the edge of panic from his voice. Delilah—it was Delilah—appraised him. “Is anything wrong? Does your wife need something?”
Had she put the slightest stress on the word wife? Yes, he thought. My wife needs everything.
“Kate’s fine. I just left her.”
He knew he should mention his insurance claims and the facility’s botched billings, but he didn’t. He just stood there trying to look less crazy than he felt. The desk phone rang. She let it ring for just the amount of time it took her to take the business card from his fingers and write seven numbers on the back.
CHAPTER SIX
David waited in the lobby of Jane’s office building until he saw her approach the entrance. She pushed instead of pulling the outer door and then rolled her eyes and smiled to herself. He wondered what had preoccupied her, though in her line of work, there would always be plenty. He met her just as she came through the second door.
“I wanted to return these books to you.”
Jane didn’t say anything.
“You lent them to me a while back,” he said.
“I didn’t forget. Is that why you’re here?”
“You know that’s not why.”
“I don’t know what I know.”
How like Kate. Six quiet words to let him know he was acting like a jerk.
“You’re right,” he said. “I guess I was thinking you’d consider me merely as an insurance problem.”
She almost smiled as she said, “Very romantic.”
“I’m playing hooky today,” he said. “Can you come with me? I promise I’ll act like an adult and talk about my situation.”
She shook her head. “I absolutely cannot miss the first hour of the meeting. Maybe I can get away after that and meet you here.” She looked surprised, as if she had just said the opposite of what she had planned. She turned and walked to the elevator.
“Jane, you forgot your books.”
“You’ll need something to read while you wait.”
“I’ve read every one of them.”
The elevator door closed. He took out his phone, prepared to look at email, but instead spent the time just waiting, with an almost forgotten feeling of expectancy, as if he was fifteen again and the world of love and sex was about to begin.
Jane walked out of the elevator right on schedule, signed out at the desk, and sat next to him.
“So you really read these books?” she said, drumming her fingers on her portfolio.
“I read the two by spouses of people who became ill early on. The other one I had to stop. I kept thinking he was seventy-eight when he got sick—not bad enough for me to really care, comparatively. Crass, huh?”
“Yes, crass is the word.” Her hands were still now and she gave him a complete smile.
“You’re very flattering, Jane. Of course, you hardly know me.” He needed to close this deal. “Anyway, I was thinking we could walk on that land the university owns. Have you been out there to see whose side you agree with? Developers versus preservationists?”
She glanced down at her shoes.
“Or maybe not,” he said.
“I read all the letters in the paper, but I don’t trust either side,” she said. “I’d actually like to see what’s in dispute. We just have to stop by my house first—I can change in ninety seconds—if you don’t mind waiting in the car.”
“I can manage ninety seconds.”
They took his car. He put on the radio and they chuckled at an interview with an irreverent comedian. “I hardly ever get to hear NPR during the day,” he said, “and I haven’t mastered podcasts yet.”
“Can’t your boys show you?”
“Oh, they have. I guess I need to ask again. There’s a humiliation factor.”
“I could probably show you,” she said.
They were in one of the older neighborhoods, similar to his but with smaller houses on smaller lots. She directed him to park in front of an impressively maintained bungalow, painted shades of green and dark orange that should have been too bold but weren’t, with vintage furniture on a roomy front porch. He drew a breath in sharply.
“Kate loved bungalows. She subscribed to that magazine, Cottages and Bungalows. There are back issues still around the house.” He thought he must be going on too much about Kate, and yet he had the impression Jane found it reassuring.
She gathered her belongings and got out of the car. “I’ll be quick.”
And she was. As they drove to the contested land, she described the morning’s debate over whether to move the social work practice to a bigger office. She hated disruption, she explained, and would probably vote no until they had to use the bathrooms for counseling sessions. There were only two cars in the lot next to the hiking trails, which surprised him until he remembered it was a weekday. They headed out, beginning at the section that would remain parkland. He started to explain the controversy between the university and the preservationists, but the issue seemed so unimportant he let his voice drift. The day was now warmer, the sky a more convincing blue.
They hiked mostly in silence, each pointing out hawks and pheasants until they reached the road that led to the other parcel. They returned to his car and he retrieved the water bottle he kept there. He wished he’d thought to stop for fresher water.
“Let’s sit for a while,” Jane said. “It’s such a gift to be outside on a day like this.”
It was good to have her take the lead in any small way. Pursuit had its limits, he thought. They found a substantial log under a large tree and sat.
“I apologize for only one water bottle.”
“It’s fine. Anyway, I finally mastered how you’re supposed to squirt this type into your mouth from above.” She did this, soaking a wide strip of her shirt. “Well, maybe not mastered.” He made himself not look at her breasts. Someone in the distance called to a dog.
“Do you have any pets?”
“We agreed that taking care of our two Labs was more trouble than raising the boys. We loved the dogs and they were wonderful, but they always wanted something.”
She laughed. “I know enough people with large dogs that I believe you.”
“Now cats? They’re easier, but we never replaced them when they died either. I think our every need to take care of something was satisfied by the kids.”
They sat quietly until David said, “There must be some questions you have for me about everything.”
Jane said, “Yes,” and nothing more.
He guessed she could let the silence lengthen to thirty minutes without stepping in. He sat up a little straighter and made eye contact. “I think you would want to know if I still consider myself married.”
“Thank you. I know that was hard to put out there.”
“I consider myself a widower.” His voice caught on the last word. “Going to see Kate is like going to a grave site. Except weirder.” He put his face in his hands for a moment. “I’ve never put that into words before.”
“I’m sorry,” Jane said. Her voice had a quiver. “It must be hard for you to see the older spouses visiting, some of them content that their partner is simply alive. But you’re young, and it’s not at all the same.”
“I get way too much credit for being loyal to Kate. Wouldn’t anyone do that?”
“Just be glad you’re not a wife. In the Alzheimer’s world, somebody started calling them ‘sheroes’ and it caught on.”
He looked at her in mock horror. “I do appreciate you for restricting yourself to words that are in the dictionary.” He needed to figure out what to say next since she wasn’t going to lead him. And she shouldn’t. “I’m guessing you’d also like to know more about my ties to Kate’s family,” he said
. “Like are we close and do they think of me as a widower.”
“I had wondered if they were horrible. You don’t talk about them except when it comes to the insurance.”
“They’re not horrible at all. My parents were like self-centered roommates, but Bill and Eve are great—happy and busy and always collecting new people. Smart, very smart. Her mom is fun to be around—as long as no one is sick or in danger. We saw them pretty often for being six hours away.”
“So what was it like when Kate got sick?”
“Okay at first. It was good to have help with all the appointments and lab tests. For all her worrying, Eve thought they’d find some way to fix her. But Bill never did. He’d seen it before with his uncle and his dad, though not so young. When Kate got bad, the boys and I wondered if they would want her to move in with them, and they did bring it up once. They felt guilty but didn’t think they could keep her as safe as we could. They didn’t want to give up everything. Who could blame them?”
“What’s it like now? I mean, since the families were so close.”
“Eve’s an aging, still beautiful version of Kate. The same inflections—they gesture the same. They make some of the same pronouncements, like ‘When you start to measure things, you realize how complicated life is.’ Bill used to call them Old Twin and Young Twin.” David spat out the next words: “I can’t stand to be around her. She still does fucking Sudoku puzzles.”
“Does it hurt her that you avoid her?”
“She can’t stand to be around me either.”
She sighed so quietly he barely heard it.
“I keep thinking they’ll call me and say, ‘David, we love you too and we wouldn’t criticize you for…’ ” He waved a fly away. “Needless to say, no one has said that. And I’m not ready to talk to the boys yet. Kate was very clear on what parents decide and what kids decide. Once, in middle school, Dylan tried to make a case for flossing as a personal choice, and she worked him through his arguments until he surrendered with ‘Okay, I will floss my goddamned teeth until I am one hundred percent self-supporting.’ ”
“She didn’t mind the swearing?”
“Not as much as bad gums. It was hypocrisy and illogic that she couldn’t take. She probably taught them what a false syllogism was when they were in sixth grade.” He felt he’d gotten off the topic and worked his thoughts back to what he was trying to say. “I’ve decided to talk to our lawyer about what’s involved with divorcing Kate and whether a divorce is good or bad for her. I don’t even know if he’ll talk to me—maybe he’s half Kate’s lawyer, and I’ll have to get my own.”
“Big decision.”
“In some ways, it doesn’t seem big. There’ve been no arguments, and there hasn’t been any infidelity. It’s just that one of us is missing in action. Maybe I’ll change my mind, but it feels more like getting a death certificate.”
He thought he was done but then heard himself say, “I would never have divorced Kate.” He watched Jane nervously, wondering if he’d said too much.
“Don’t look so alarmed,” she said. “I know we wouldn’t be sitting here if she was well, and that’s why I’m okay with being here. People who are capable of fidelity are very appealing. That’s why women prefer widowers to divorced guys.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Widowers are presumed blameless. And faithful.”
The sun was less direct now. She shivered once and then stood and said, “Let’s go get my car.”
They drove in near silence, the radio murmuring softly, until they arrived at the lot near her office. David walked her to her car and said, “I just want you to know that if I weren’t picking up a guest lecturer at the airport and showing him the town and then dinner, and calming his nerves before his performance tomorrow, I would definitely try to disrupt your schedule even more than I have.”
“I have two evening appointments and a dinner thing. That’s nice to know, though.”
“Can I call you tonight and schedule something—but at your convenience this time? I’ll send my visitor off to bed before ten.”
She started her car, which was snazzy and European and not what he expected. He said, “You need a new muffler.”
She answered, “Ten is fine,” followed by, “I know.” They both spoke loudly over the rumble.
David had just enough time to do dishes and sort newspapers before leaving for the airport. As he pulled up, he saw Martha on her way to get the mail. Stocky but fit, she always moved purposefully. Based on how much Kate told him about Don, he’d always worried Martha knew too much about him too. He understood that men were criticized for not talking with each other about personal things, but secretly he believed that women confided too much, and it irritated him that this was the presumed gold standard for friendship
He’d always been puzzled by Kate’s close friendship with Martha. It’s natural to be more lenient with friendships among neighbors and co-workers, but still, it seemed a big gulf. Once, he’d asked Kate about it and she said, “Martha never preaches at me. Have you noticed she never invites us to church things? And she doesn’t mind my sarcastic comments about religion. After 9/11, when she admitted that her faith in a useful God was really tested and I said, ‘You mean the Holocaust didn’t do that for you?’ she laughed a real laugh and said she would definitely make that point at bible study because they all just agree with each other and that’s why she likes to hang out with me. How can you beat that?”
“And what do you learn from her,” he had asked, and she said, “I learn to be nicer.”
He walked past the few houses that separated them and called out to Martha. Her eyes widened in surprise and then she smiled. They had lately avoided each other beyond a wave or a hello.
“I feel terrible that I don’t thank you enough for visiting Kate,” he said. “I see your name in the log and I always mean to call or come over.”
“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to thank me. She was such a close friend.” She took a half step towards him and said, “It’s probably not right to say was. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, I understand. You’re just being realistic. You still love her, but she’s not the same friend anymore.”
“I know, but why? David, I’ve prayed for her so much. My bible group prays for her. How can there be no way to help?”
Somehow, the failure of her religion to restore Kate made him feel guilty, as if he and Kate had let her down. He decided a hug was in order, and though hugging was another thing he thought women overdid, he experienced a surprising comfort as they embraced and then parted.
The home phone rang a little before ten. The caller ID showed “Bob,” an occasional family nickname for Dylan. He was tempted not to answer because any conversation would take him past ten o’clock, but Dylan didn’t call often.
“Hey, Dad, I’m glad you’re home. I know you usually call on Thursdays, but I’ll be tied up all day and evening in the lab, and the reception is terrible there. It’s like a fallout shelter.”
David smiled. Fallout shelter? He always forgot how much vintage culture Dylan had learned watching old movies. And The Simpsons.
“Anyway, I thought I’d call tonight to say hello.”
“I’m glad you did,” David said, lying and not lying. “How are you? Is this the start of the big depression research grant?”
“Yes, I’ll be living and breathing rats for the foreseeable future.”
“To try to figure out why medications work with too few people.”
“Pretty much.”
“Your mom would be proud.”
A familiar silence settled in—they were used to paying brief respect to Kate.
“So what’s going on, Dad?”
David eyed the clock. “No news,” he said, now certainly lying, “though I should probably get myself organized for tomorrow.”
“Christ! I had no idea it was so late. I’ll let you go. And I haven’t forgotten about coming home—we just need to figure out how
to rotate the weekend shifts. I’ll let you know, and maybe I can grab Jack on the way.”
“I would love to see you both,” David said, honest again, and then they said their goodbyes.
He pulled out Jane’s business card, on which she had added her home number—a landline. He reached her voice mail, described the timing of Dylan’s call, and said he would try the next day. He went to bed with the idea that he’d sleep well, though that had become unusual.
Today, Dr. Ratha was going on longer than usual. It was quarterly-review time, required by licensing and insurance, which meant that David stopped first at the consulting room of the doctor on contract with the L. Kate used to attend these meetings, but it was just him and the doctor this time. Ratha, with his impeccable, slightly British speech and beautiful suits that made David think he should go shopping, always took the time to be kind and would ask, heartfelt, “How are you, David?” and David would want to respond, You need to tell me how long do I do this, but of course he would only answer, “It’s hard. We miss her.”
Once the doctor had said, “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” and David, taken by surprise, cried. After that, they stuck to the script. As usual, David let his mind wander since Kate’s good blood pressure and cholesterol numbers didn’t really seem like good news anymore. He reined in his attention in time to hear something about a clinical drug trial for which, if nothing changed in her condition, Kate would be eligible.
“I know that you’re cynical about these trials.” Ratha went silent. He moved his glasses first higher and then lower on his nose.
David didn’t think of himself as cynical exactly. Kate had been considered for seven trials and had participated in three. If she had furthered the cause of science, he’d not been told of it, and there had been no benefit to her, only an ugly rash that took six weeks to clear. In sunlight, he could still faintly see it.
“I understand your lack of enthusiasm, but this is how we learn. Are you willing to sign the consent?”
The Half-Life of Everything Page 4