‘I know, huh? And just because they’re Arab.’
‘They’re Egyptian.’
‘Oh. Middle Eastern. Middle Eastern, I guess I meant.’
‘I better get back to Ben. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be leaving him alone. I don’t know if my mom left him by himself. I don’t know …’
‘Good luck finding that manual.’
And he laughed. Even though we both knew it wasn’t funny.
I think we also both knew I’d end up writing my own from scratch.
Driving by the bakery, I couldn’t help looking into the glow of the kitchen. I saw a figure cross by the window. It was not Nazir. It was Anat.
My foot hit the brake as if of its own accord, and the tires skidded slightly.
By the time I’d managed to pull up to the curb, my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst free. And not in a good way. I couldn’t breathe, which didn’t help. And I thought, Why doesn’t love feel good? Why does it make you feel like you’re about to die? Why doesn’t it make you feel like you’re about to live?
My thighs felt trembly, and barely got me to the door.
It was open, so I stuck my head in.
‘Have I got my days mixed up?’ I asked, wondering if I sounded as breathless as I felt.
She looked up, and her face lit up to see me. And that made it all worse, though in a wonderful way. But the heart rate, the breathing, the standing up straight or lack of same. Worse.
‘I don’t know, Ben’s brother. I give up. What day do you think it is?’
I stepped inside, feeling like I was walking in a dream again. Or still. Had I ever wakened up in-between? I wasn’t sure.
‘I think it’s Tuesday. And I think your father told me you’re off on Tuesday.’
‘Normally, yes. Normally I would be off. But he wasn’t feeling well last night and this morning. What would you like? He says your money is no good here, so whatever you like. He specifically said that, just as I was leaving. Whatever you eat here, there’s no change. He told me what you did to help him. So what will you have?’
I dream-stepped up to the dream counter.
‘What’s still warm?’
‘I just finished the chocolate glazed.’
‘Sold.’
I leaned on the counter and watched her choose one for me. I tried to look casual, as if leaning was the thing to do. Not as if I might topple otherwise.
‘So, is he OK, your father?’
‘Oh, I think so. I think he just takes everything too hard. Too seriously. Like he can’t let things roll off his back. You know what I mean? And so the stress takes a toll on him. I don’t mean to make light of the situation, because he really is worried about money. But he’s just so … I can’t quite get the word, but he’s more of it than he needs to be.’
‘Intense?’
‘Yes. There you go. He’s too intense.’
She brought me the donut, careful not to look into my eyes. Or, anyway, that was my observation. And though I was definitely the sort to doubt myself, some inner knowing-place observed this with unshakable confidence. It felt strange to know anything for sure again.
And something else came clear to me in that moment: why I’d been a little afraid to see Nazir. It wasn’t his protectiveness toward his daughter, or even his extreme candor on that subject. It was even simpler. He was unable to deal with his stress. And I’d been taking on that stress when I was with him.
I took a deep breath and sat down with my donut, grateful for the clarity.
‘Lot of that going around,’ I said. ‘Ben thinks he’s sick today, too. Last night he seemed to have a sort of breakthrough. Figuring out that our mom isn’t coming back. So today he has a stomach ache. But I suspect stress.’ I lifted the still-hot donut to my mouth. And then it hit me. ‘Oh, crap. I can’t sit here and have a donut. I left him alone. I’m not even sure if it’s OK to leave him alone.’
‘No problem,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll wrap it up to go. Get some coffee, and I’ll bring you a lid for the cup, and give me the donut back, and I’ll wrap it all up to go.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, wondering if I was successfully disguising my disappointment. Here I was about to sit down, unexpectedly, and enjoy a stolen morning with Anat. And now I could feel the expectation of that pleasure pulling out of me, leaving an empty, deflated space in my chest.
I felt like saying, This is so not fair. But that would made me sound more childlike than Ben.
I gave her back the donut.
‘I’m wrapping a jelly-filled for Ben. You tell him it’s from Anat. Will you? Tell him I hope he feels better soon.’
‘I will,’ I said, making myself a coffee to go and feeling sulky.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ she said. ‘Will you look at that? We have a customer. And it isn’t even you!’
I looked up to see McCaskill come through the front door.
‘You open?’ he asked.
Then he noticed me, and nodded at me, and I nodded back. It was a good moment.
‘Open enough,’ she said.
‘Sorry I never come in,’ he said, ‘but I’m allergic.’
‘Gluten?’
‘Yeah. Gluten.’
‘I used to make gluten-free bread, but I stopped, because not enough people were buying it.’
‘I’d buy it.’
‘Good. I’ll make some any day, if you say you’ll be by to get it.’
‘OK. Maybe I will. Thanks. For now, how bout you pick me out a dozen donuts. Just a nice assortment – you pick. Thought I’d put some in the employee break room this morning. Everybody’s been feeling down lately, you know. Been a tough time. It’ll be a treat for them.’
‘What a nice idea,’ I said.
And I made my way to the counter to pick up my to-go bag.
‘Here, for you and Ben,’ she said, as she handed it over. ‘Don’t forget to tell him Anat says get well soon.’
As I took it from her, my hand touched hers. And, in that split second, we looked into each other’s eyes. And I knew. I knew she felt the same.
But I couldn’t hang around and express what I knew. I had to put the whole incredible moment on hold until that ‘next lifetime’ of tomorrow morning.
So much was out of my control. Had so much of my life always been out of my control? I couldn’t recall. I could no longer connect with what my life had used to be. That was so long ago. It was … I did the math in my head. The tenth of September was ‘before’, and that had been … eight days ago.
It was all so impossible that I couldn’t think about it any more. I had to file it away under Things That Might Make Sense Later. At that moment, it sure as hell made no sense.
I still wasn’t breathing normally when I got back. Oh, I’m sure it looked and sounded normal. But it was conscious. Not reflexive. The slightest distraction, and I’d just stop breathing. Or, anyway, that’s how it felt.
Ben was in bed, right where I’d left him. Thank God.
‘How’s your stomach?’
‘Bad.’
‘Oh. Too bad. Anat sent you a jelly donut.’
Ben sat straight up in bed.
‘I could eat a jelly donut.’
‘You sure it won’t hurt your stomach?’
‘I don’t think it was my stomach. I think it was more my head.’
‘But not like a concussion.’
‘No. Not like that.’
‘Well, you better come to the table for this,’ I said, unwrapping the donuts.
‘Why can’t I eat it in bed?’
‘Because it has jelly that squishes out when you bite it, and it’s all covered in powdered sugar.’
‘I’m getting up,’ he said.
He dragged his long, only partially responsive legs to the table, still in his flannel pajamas. I put our donuts on plates and set them on the table. Ben bit his donut hard, and directly, squirting jelly out on to his plate. And the table.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Never mind. I’ll wipe it up later. So. Listen. Tell me something, Buddy. Do you know which days are your days off from work?’
‘You mean when I don’t go in?’
‘Right.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Which ones?’
‘The ones when I have to make my own cereal because Mom’s getting ready to drive me to work are the days I go in. The ones when she makes me pancakes and goes back to bed are the days I don’t.’
I sighed, and took a bite of my chocolate donut. It was still slightly warm, and made me think of Anat. Then again, what didn’t?
‘Got it. So I need to keep your schedule. That’s another page for my manual.’
‘What is that? What you just said?’
‘A manual? It’s like a book you use to figure out how something is done.’
‘I could use that,’ he said.
‘We all could. Oh, and I forgot. When she gave you that donut, Anat said to tell you to get well soon.’
He looked up at me. Right into my eyes. For the first time since I’d been back. It startled me. I thought he never looked into anybody’s eyes.
‘You like her!’ he said. Loudly. Strongly. A sort of proud accusation.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because you do!’
‘But why did you say it?’
‘Because it’s true!’
‘Let’s try this another way, Buddy. How do you know?’
‘It’s right there,’ he said.
And he pointed, with two fingers of his right hand. Two powdered sugar-covered fingers, pointing right at my two eyes.
If I’d had any doubt at all that Ben’s health problems stemmed from missing our mom, his temper tantrum at dinner would have cleared things up.
I’d thawed and heated up a lasagna I found in the freezer, and I was just cutting it when I looked up to see him standing in the kitchen doorway.
‘I want that macaroni and cheese you make from a box,’ he said.
‘Well, we’re having this,’ I said.
‘But I want that.’
‘I’ll make it tomorrow, then.’
‘Mom always makes me macaroni and cheese when I ask for it.’
So, there you have it. That’s simple enough.
‘Maybe because you told her in time, and she hadn’t already gone to the trouble to make something else.’
‘No. Always. If I ask.’
I doubted that. Having known my mom. But I didn’t say so.
‘Well, I’m not Mom.’
I more or less knew that would set him off. But it needed to be said.
He said nothing, but his face twisted, and he launched into his box-pacing, his hands clenched into fists and pounding at his hips, angry tears leaking.
I tried an experiment.
I sat down on the kitchen floor and acted out my frustration in a very big way. Highly visible. And audible. I put my head in my hands. I made a strangled sound in my throat. It had worked once. Maybe it was a key.
No response from Ben.
So I cried.
Not literally. I hate to have to say I faked it. But it was something like that. I made a show of crying.
A second or two later Ben plunked on to the kitchen linoleum beside me and draped an arm over my shoulder.
‘What’s wrong, Buddy?’
‘I went to a lot of trouble to make you a nice dinner, and it hurts my feelings that you don’t want it.’
‘I want it,’ he said.
‘You said you wanted macaroni and cheese.’
‘No. I don’t. I want what you made. Really.’
‘Good. I’m glad. That makes me feel better.’
He helped me to my feet and we ate in peace and silence.
Note for my manual: Ben prioritizes my sorrow over his own.
I didn’t sleep well that night. I lost most of the night thinking about it.
What does it mean when someone loses the use of most of his brain, and it makes him more kind?
I couldn’t wait till morning, so I could talk it over with Anat, and get her opinion. But I knew what she would say. She’d say it must have returned Ben to his original nature.
But she didn’t know Ben like I did. She hadn’t known him before. This was nothing like Ben’s original nature.
Part Three
Sinking
23 August 1981
WHEN I WAS four, my brother Ben told me there was a monster lurking in the drain of our bathroom sink, drinking the water we provided him and living only on toothpaste and hand soap. So far.
‘Listen,’ he said, tilting his head over the sink. He turned on the tap for the count of three, then shut it off again. ‘Hear that? You can hear him swallowing.’
And he was right. I could.
I backed all the way up into the hall, and slammed right into my mom’s legs.
‘Brush. Your. Teeth,’ she said. As if I’d better not make her say it again. Then she walked on.
I took one step closer to the bathroom sink. Just one.
Ben shot me one of those maniacal smiles.
‘How can he just eat toothpaste?’ I asked, hating that my voice was shaking, and that I knew Ben could hear it. ‘And soap?’
‘He can’t,’ Ben said. ‘And that’s just the problem. Sooner or later he’s going to have to reach out and try to grab something better. So be extra careful when you first lean over. And right when you turn the water off. Because sooner or later he’ll get hungry. Now brush your teeth, Wussy Boy.’
And he laughed and went off to his room.
Usually I fought back hard at the Wussy Boy insult. But that night I was too scared to open my mouth again.
I sidled up to the sink and stood up on my tiptoes. I didn’t pull the step bench around, the one I was supposed to use at the sink. I figured it would be better if my feet were firmly planted on the bathroom tiles. In case I had to run like hell.
I grabbed my toothbrush, bruising the underneath of my arm on the edge of the porcelain. And pulling my hand back fast. Nothing. But I didn’t dare reach for the toothpaste. This time he’d be tipped off. He’d know to expect me.
I stood in the middle of the bathroom, brushing my teeth with a dry brush.
Then it hit me that I could use the water from the tub.
I ran some tub water on the brush, then stood leaning over the tub, brushing my teeth and hoping neither one of my parents would come in and tell me to cut the crap and do it right.
Just as I was rinsing my mouth and my toothbrush, Ben stuck his head in the bathroom again.
‘Well, I hope you don’t think that’s going to save you,’ he said.
‘It’s not?’
‘It’s all one pipe. Under the house.’
‘How can it be all one?’
Ben sighed, like he just couldn’t tolerate my stupidity. But I was used to that.
‘It all goes into the sewer as one pipe. Right?’
‘I dunno. I guess.’
‘So then it splits off and goes to all the different sinks and tubs. So he came up from the sewer. Right? All monsters come up from the sewer. So he can be in any pipe he wants.’
‘Even in Mom and Dad’s bathroom?’
‘Yup. And don’t forget the kitchen sink. I think the reason he mostly hangs out in here is because you do.’
I said nothing, knowing I couldn’t hide my terror if I did.
‘Because you’re the smallest. You know. The easiest to pull back down the pipe.’
I dropped my toothbrush on the floor and ran to bed, where I waited for my mom to come tuck me in.
Ben walked by my bedroom doorway and stopped suddenly.
‘What was that?’ he asked, sounding startled.
‘What?’
My heart pounded so hard I could hear it and feel it in my ears.
‘Thought I saw something go by the window. Well. Maybe it was nothing. Night, Wussy Boy.’
I pulled the covers over my head and cal
led for my mom. A split second later, Ben appeared in the doorway again.
‘Do not tell Mom there was something outside the window,’ he said.
‘Why not?’
‘Because she has a weak heart. Didn’t you know that? You could scare her to death. You don’t want to scare her to death, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Then keep your mouth shut.’
And he disappeared again.
About a minute later my mom stuck her head in my door.
‘Why is your toothbrush on the floor?’
‘I dunno. I guess it fell. Could you come here a minute?’
She came to my bed. Sat on the edge of it. Smoothed my hair back off my forehead. ‘What are you all in a tizzy about? You’re shaking. Are you sick?’ She held a warm palm to my forehead. I wished it, and she, would never go away.
‘No.’
‘What’s up, then?’
‘Nothing. Can you send Dad in?’
She sighed deeply. ‘Now, what can your father do that I can’t?’
‘I dunno. Could you just get Dad?’
‘OK. Fine.’
And she left me alone with the monsters again.
My dad appeared in the doorway about a minute later.
‘What? I’m right in the middle of my show.’
‘This is big.’
He sighed, and came and sat on the edge of my bed.
‘Will you go look outside? See if anything’s out there?’
‘Like what?’
‘Like a robber. Or a monster.’
‘No such thing as monsters.’
‘Robber, then.’
‘Why would you think there’s a robber out there?’
‘Ben saw something go by the window.’
‘Ben,’ he said. Like he was saying, ‘The source of all evils in the world.’ ‘If Ben saw somebody out there, why didn’t he come tell me? Or your mom?’
‘He said we can’t tell Mom. That she has a bad heart and it might scare her to death. How come you never told me that?’
He straightened his legs and rose to his feet, towering high over my bed.
‘I’ll be right back. I have to go have a little talk with your brother.’
When You Were Older (retail) Page 10