Helen leaned against the porch railing. Wobbly. The deck seemed wobbly. The house, too. Not exactly in full-on disrepair, but untended. Warped boards, nails sticking up. The railing ready to give way. The buckled deck was in dire need of maintenance. Then a power wash and a stain. Who could keep up with all the repairs? Even under normal circumstances, a home was a constant drain. And here, these last years, ridiculous—Reuben living in another house. Anna more of the time sick than well. Stop. Just stop it. She hadn’t come outside to discover more problems. Get a full breath. Catch your breath.
Helen let go of the top rail, swiped the chipping paint off her palms. She should bundle Anna up, bring her outdoors. Anna will say no. Or she’ll just narrow an eye at Helen, give that imperious shake of her head. Insisting it’s all impossible. Impossible to manage the outdoors anymore. But it was possible. Helen would make it possible. She’d wrap Anna in wool blankets and carry her outside. Settle her in the Adirondack chair. Once out here, Anna would like breathing in the rough thaw. She’d notice the slight sweetness in the air. Helen needed to believe Anna could still like that. Though she wasn’t sure how much liking Anna had left in her.
Something flashed near. A wing, blue. A jay? But she couldn’t spot a bird in the bare trees. She waited for it to fly out. Maybe she hadn’t seen anything. She looked back into the house. It looked normal to see them inside talking and eating. Hanging around as they’ve always done. Ming threw back her head in response to something. Molly had moved over to the couch, taken over massaging Anna’s legs. Her friends were inside laughing. They were themselves. Caroline nervously flicking her ringed fingers as she spoke. Ming’s head tossing every which way as she laughed. All the tiny, specific, defining gestures of a self that Helen recognized in each of them. Except Anna. It wasn’t that Anna was unrecognizable. That she wasn’t herself. Actually, Anna looked better than the last time Helen had seen her. Her face was full. Color in her cheeks.
Yet nothing inside the house was normal. Each day Anna drifted in and out of being Anna. The hospice nurse reported “a matter of weeks.” Or less. Just like that. What Helen watched inside was a sad theater of normal.
Why was she the only one who felt betrayed?
Helen looked at a smattering of age spots, ginger splotches that have appeared on her hands. She was used to the scaly dryness and paint caked under her nails, but when did these hands become old-lady hands? It was all so off kilter. Anna was dying, and she, Helen, had fallen in love. And now, marrying. Inside the house her best friend was dying, and she was a middle-age woman undertaking a new life. Old or not, there was giddiness in her, happiness, an uncontrollable flitter just thinking about Asa. Alive and eager, that was what her body was. Jesus, the body in love was ridiculous and hopeful. Anna will be dead, and Helen will be saying I do.
She wanted to call him. Touch base with Asa. But she wasn’t sure her phone had reception in these dense woods.
Talk about betrayal. Was she just guilty about her own happiness? What about any of this was right?
Helen wished Anna’s brothers were here. She still thought of them as Mikey and Bobby, Anna’s baby brothers, even if they were men in their forties. She’d heard they came up last weekend to plead with her to try again. Supposedly it had all gone wonky. But together, like the last time, they could turn Anna around. Michael was an internist and Robert an ENT guy; they believed in medicine. Forget Ming and Molly and Caroline—they were proving useless. Deferring to Anna as if they didn’t remember how much over the years she’d needed them to resist any negative thinking. Already four times, each unpredictable. Not unpredictable—rare—weird cells, a tumor massed in the heart. Wasn’t that Anna’s punch line? Why bother beating normal when I could beat special? And now, just like that, Anna could decide to give up?
A jeering squawk and a flash of cobalt between the dull boughs of a pine. There was the bird. And then a second. It lifted her to see them. An inexplicable hopefulness to hear their chatter. Not metaphorical hopefulness. Just dumb happiness that the air had a cool tang of dirt and leaf. That the season was changing. That if Bobby and Mikey would back her, stand their ground, Anna could be swayed. That she and Asa will have their life together.
I miss you. It is beyond sad here, she texted Asa. Pressed SEND and watched the line stall. It might not complete. She was desperate for it to go through. She’d walk up the driveway. Drive to town to find a signal.
She hasn’t told her friends yet. She wanted first to tell Anna. That Asa, out of nowhere, had asked her to marry him. Asa who claimed he’d never marry again. Anna said from the start, “Helen, Asa is obviously the one. He’s the light out of that moldy cave you’ve been in.” She thought of an afternoon at her apartment. Third remission. Anna had finally taken off that stupid wig. She looked like a French model, gamine with her short hair. Only Anna could look gorgeous with a practically shaved head. Asa downright silly with Anna and Anna teasing him right back. That afternoon, watching her best friend and this man she’d fallen for, teasing and joking with each other, Helen had felt so proud of Anna, who’d jumped back into life with such abandon. All that infinite hope. She looked at Asa and promised herself, I’m going to let myself have all of whatever this is.
But there it was. Delivered. And bubbles showed Asa writing back. Don’t waste time missing me. More important be funny fun it up for her. She read Asa’s text. Read it again. Wished it gave her a clue to how she might find the funny. Or that there were more bubbles. How many times could she read it to stall going inside?
“Helen.” Molly slid open the door.
Molly regarded her with such kindness, such tenderness, that Helen needed to look away.
“Anna’s asking for you,” Molly beckoned. “She doesn’t know where you are.”
Anna’s looking for her? That was almost funny. It’s Anna who was leaving her. Helen didn’t want to go into the house. Not in this state, this nasty, breathless confusion. She wanted at least to see the bird’s royal plumage again.
“I’m all messed up,” Helen said. “I’m useless.”
Molly laughed. “Come on, honey. There’s no useful left.”
2009, Whir
Asa was Anna’s fault.
Helen said, “Who comes to a hospital and falls in love?”
Anna took a careful pull on the plastic straw. Swallowing was a struggle. “I had a relapse to save your pitiful life. And all I got from you was this vanilla milk shake.”
Helen went along with Anna’s matchmaking because she was ready to go along with anything while Anna was stuck in treatment. Anyway, talking about boys had been a pastime of theirs since they first both loved Timmy Cannon in the fourth grade.
“I’ve told him that you’re the smartest person I know,” Anna said. “But, Heli, get ready, he’s a lot smarter than you.” Anna hadn’t enjoyed this much leverage over Helen in a long time. “Once you meet him, I’ll have proved, hands down, I’m the way better best friend.” She clearly had every intention of getting a lot of play out of her dominance.
Helen climbed in next to Anna on the hospital bed. She’d found that was easier than facing the bank of beeping monitors. All the dips, the sudden jagged chartings, freaked her out. A lot of afternoons, they napped like that together.
Helen reminded Anna that she’d already tried matchmaking. Spring of tenth grade, Anna and Molly stood on the front porch of Colin O’Reilly’s house. He was a senior in Helen’s art class, a swimmer who only senior year had figured out he could draw like nobody’s business. “Do you think you would date Helen?” Anna beamed up at Colin, certain he just needed to be told. “Helen’s incredible,” Anna said. “But she’s a little shy.” The only saving grace of this humiliation was that Anna and Molly waited a full year before they told Helen. “He was really nice,” Anna said. “He said you were great. He just wasn’t looking for anything serious before college.”
Anna set the unfinishe
d milk shake down on the crowded bedside tray. “Face it, Helen, you’ve never done very well picking on your own.”
Helen closed her eyes while Anna told her why this man, Asa, was the right one. It wasn’t just the wisecracking with his sick mom in the room across the hall from Anna or his refusal to capitulate to doling out deathbed pity or the way he’d begun stopping by Anna’s bed, handing off a banana and peanut-butter smoothie. “Screw the killer chemo. Girl, it’s calories you need.” And it wasn’t his sneaky smile and the serious crazy pale color of his eyes. Or it was all this, Anna said to Helen. And that Asa was solid. Funny, smart. And solid. And best of all, unpredictable.
“A grown-up.” Anna untangled a wire that crimped under Helen’s leg. “And he just might be weird enough to keep you interested.”
“What kind of weird name is Asa?” Helen said.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
—
The first time Helen met Asa, she heard him before she saw him. He was yelling in the corridor.
“For what return precisely, Doctor? What do you pretend to be promising my mother in those fabulous extra months, except for nausea and an excruciating recovery from surgery?”
Anna mouthed, That’s him.
From where she sat on Anna’s side of the curtain, Helen saw a man’s hands karate-chopping the air. She couldn’t see his face. Helen thought he could be a radio announcer with that confident and smooth voice.
He actually seemed a little scary.
The doctor couldn’t get a word in. Asa was high-speed-drilling the doctor a couple of new orifices. Helen nervously rooted for the doctor to shut this guy down with absolute facts and proof.
The doctor phumphered. Tried a couple of tacks that Asa blew apart, smoothly eviscerating the doctor’s reasoning each time by asking, “How will this help the quality of her life?”
Anna looked delighted. Like with each undoing, she proved to Helen how inevitable a match she’d made.
“Asa,” Anna called when the doctor limpingly excused himself. “Now that you’ve killed off your own mom, you bastard, get in here.”
Before he walked in, Helen decided that she actually hated Asa, who encouraged gallows humor in Anna. But the Asa who sat down by Anna’s bed was soft-spoken and kind. He asked about Anna’s daughter’s swim meet. He knew all her kids’ names.
Then he nodded to Helen. “I know too much about you to pretend I’m not really curious to finally meet you.”
“Just be aware, she’s a complete liar,” Helen said, busy thinking Anna was right about his eyes. Then Asa smiled, and Helen thought Anna was right about the sneaky-smile thing, too.
Inside
Molly stayed outside on the back porch. There’s no useful left. That’s what she’d said to Helen. But last night Serena told Molly she’d spoken to colleagues and done her own bit of research. There was reason to have a good feeling about this new drug. Anna’s doctor was making remarkable discoveries about the immune system. Serena suggested she come along to help clarify the protocol, since Anna always claimed that Serena made medical mumbo jumbo less inscrutable. “Forget remission,” Serena instructed Molly. The new model was chronicity. Think relapse. “By Anna’s next flare, they’ll be miles past this novel drug.” But Molly argued it was fair to say no to more medicine. Wasn’t it fair to say enough is enough? “Fair? I’m really surprised at your response.” Serena had been curt; she didn’t have to spell out what she meant. In the late eighties, Molly’s first clinical therapy job was at Fenway Community Health Center. So many young men sick. So many nights Molly practically limped in from work and crawled right into bed. It was all she could do. So many dying that terrible new death. And no medicine for AIDS. No real research. Every week for two years, it seemed there was another funeral she and Serena attended. Or they stood buttoned up against the Boston cold, shouting, “Silence equals death!” It wasn’t until ’94 that the real drug trials for HIV were initiated. At Fenway Community Health Center, Molly witnessed how medicine had changed everything.
Molly refused Serena’s offer to come with her on the visit.
“But she has to understand this is a new frontier. It’s all moving fast. Supersonic,” Serena said.
“New medicine isn’t always the answer.”
“That’s stunning, Molly. Of everyone, you really saw what medicine could do.”
Was Serena insinuating that Molly owed it to all those men she’d worked with who had HIV? That it was a betrayal of all their dear dead friends not to fight with Anna? That it was a betrayal of Anna?
Did she, Molly, hearing her friends laughing inside, truly believe there was no useful left?
February 2012, Medicine
Helen buzzed in Robert and Michael. They bounded up the stairwell, two stairs at a time, neither slowing his gait on the four flights, popped Helen a kiss, and moved purposefully into the apartment. It was always astonishing how much they looked like their sister. Like Anna before years of treatment.
“She’s not feeling well.” Ming nodded toward Anna, who was curled, burrowed down into the white pillows on Helen’s couch. “She can’t speak.” Ming gestured to her own throat.
Helen rummaged at pillows till she found a bit of Anna’s face to kiss. “Hey, sweetheart,” Helen said, “Bobby and Mikey are here.”
“Anna.” Robert pushed past Helen and sat down practically on top of her. “I need you to sit up.” He pulled off the pillows. Like he might force her to sit up.
“She feels terrible,” Helen said, and looked at Ming. Maybe it had been a mistake when Anna’s brothers insisted they come over. Anna had asked Helen to relay her decision. “She doesn’t want this much pain anymore,” Helen said when she’d reached Michael. “The medicine’s killing her, Mikey. She’s made a choice.” Helen tried to convey neutrally Anna’s position. “This is her body.” Rushed, Michael scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous. Stopping’s not an option.”
Robert worked Anna upright. He enveloped her in a big, protective bear hug.
“They’ll adjust your medicine, Anna,” Robert explained. “There’s also pain medicine.”
Anna kept her eyes shut. Slowly shook her head. No. No.
Michael dropped down on her other side. “You’re scheduled to see Dr. Lee. I’ve spoken with him. There’s a plan.”
No. No. No. To each thing her brothers said.
Anna pursed her lips for Ming and Helen to intervene, but her brothers silenced any effort. They were fierce, relentless in their argument. Plus, it started making sense. Anna could control the blistering she might have this time if she’d start the rinses as soon as she felt the slightest tingle. Anna admitted she’d been so defeated from the mouth pain that she hadn’t bothered to use the other medicine.
“I’m not saying you don’t have a choice. Of course this is your body.” Michael’s voice softened slightly without losing any purposefulness. Then he went mushy, full-on baby talk. “But come on, my big sister, I need you. Pretty please. Even one more month.”
Helen carried in spoons and bowls of yogurt. Anna worked to swallow. In solidarity they all ate slowly.
Anna agreed. A month. A month and then reevaluate. It was easier to agree.
“But it’s my choice,” she whispered, struggling to enunciate. “You each need to hear. From now on. It’s my choice.”
The Percent
When Kate left the room, Anna said, “She’s perfect for Reuben.”
It was funny, except Anna wasn’t trying to be funny.
“I’m serious. I thought it the first time she came to the house to discuss my care. She’s rambling on about hospice, and I’m thinking, ‘You can marry Reuben.’ She’s pretty. Really pretty and kind. And doesn’t she look a little like me?”
“She’s cute,” Ming agreed. “And she’s got green eyes like you.” Ming was ready to go along with anything, delig
hted to see that Anna wasn’t done being her quick, outrageous self.
“I told Reuben that he has my ninety-nine-percent approval.”
“Is he ready to be married off to your nurse?” Ming just wanted to keep joking around with her.
“Oh, poor Reuben. He tries so hard not to do what I say. But kicking and fighting, Reuben winds up seeing I’m right.”
Twitch
Anna moved her head, scanning the room to find Helen. Everything took effort. She was looking for Helen. There she was. With Reuben. The two of them seated at the table. Helen’s head tilted, her cheek smashed against Reuben’s shoulder. Reuben talking and Helen crying.
Come back to me, Anna thought, surprised to find the muscle of possessiveness still twitching.
But whom did she want back more? Anna wasn’t sure.
A Catch
Reuben had tried a little to date in the years after he and Anna separated. But it always went the same way. Maybe there would be a good first date. And then, on the second date, perhaps after a dusk cross-country ski, at a promisingly low-lit restaurant, he’d hear the dull tenor of his own voice as he explained his circumstance. It was his medical insurance for starters. Who could blame a woman for hurrying through the meal, for saying that she admired him, his loyalty, but that it couldn’t work for her? Check, please. He wouldn’t date himself.
Lifeline
Caroline recognized the exhaustion carved on Reuben’s face as Helen hunched close to him. She should go help. Give him the we’re-both-long-suffering-caregivers clandestine handshake. But staying clear of Reuben was the nicest thing Caroline could do. Less talk. She knew he couldn’t afford to lower his guard. So let him tuck down and polish the kitchen like some kind of neat-freak psycho. He couldn’t admit he might actually even be glad this was going to come to an end. Sure, “chronic” might sound hopeful to Helen. But Caroline knew what “chronic” really meant. She knew, firsthand, what it took. What it had taken from Reuben. However scared she’d been anytime Elise had an episode or went missing, didn’t she half wish for that worst call? Shit, she had to admit this at least to herself: she admired Anna’s determination to have an end. And to call the shots.
Before Everything Page 4