Chapter 15 - Dinner at the Apartment
Winter in Wisconsin continues unabated, unrelenting, covering the visible universe in ice. Daylight is dim and short-lived. Night comes early and does not give up its turn in power easily.
The apartment doorbell rings and Katrina goes to answer it. Charlie is behind her. Their dinner guests stand in the hallway outside the apartment door, holding heavy winter coats in front of them in folded arms.
"This is Nina," Shelley introduces her friend to Katrina and Charlie as they enter. "She's visiting her family in Madison. She grew up here. Her parents both work for the state government."
"Here, let me take your coats," Katrina offers. The two hand her their coats and their handbags, which she carries the few steps into the open bedroom. She hangs the coats on the backs of chairs near a heating vent so any melting snow will dry out during dinner, and sets the bags nearby.
Charlie shows the two to the dining area, where Katrina immediately joins them. The table is already set. Charlie brings out a hot casserole dish from the kitchen and sets it on a trivet in the center. When all four are seated comfortably around the square table, he says grace, praying for blessing on the meal and on everyone present.
"Amen," Katrina chimes in.
He looks at her. "I've never heard you say that before," he observes. "All the times we have prayers at the meetings and rallies, you never really seem to join in."
"Well, maybe that should change," his girlfriend answers, arranging a linen napkin neatly on her lap and leaning forward to take a dinner roll onto her plate. "Anyway, I have a feeling this is going to be a really good night for us, together here. Nina, I'm so glad you could make it. Shelley, thank you for coming." She looks at the two women each in turn as she speaks, feeling more at ease than she has all winter.
Charlie takes Nina's plate and loads it with a serving of the mixture in the casserole dish. "Hope you don't mind pot luck," he says, handing her back the plate and accepting the next one held out.
"Charlie made this casserole himself," Katrina points out, "but don't worry, it's safe to eat."
The guests laugh.
"Oh, I brought some wine," Nina says, as if just remembering. "It's in my bag, in the other room. I'll go get it, if that's all right."
Katrina smiles and nods, and the other woman disappears into the bedroom for a minute. "That was very thoughtful of her," Katrina says, looking at Charlie for agreement. "I know you're not used to drinking alcohol," she adds, "but let's be polite, okay?"
"Of course," he agrees. "I'll try a small glass. Oh, let me get the wine glasses down." He goes to a high cupboard in the kitchen and finds some rarely used wine glasses, which he brings back to the table.
"Anybody want a glass of water or fruit juice?" he asks, and without waiting fills the water glasses on the table from a water pitcher with floating lemon slices. "It's good to alternate drinking water with anything alcoholic, so you don't get dehydrated," he adds, just as Nina returns with the bottle of wine.
"That's true," Nina agrees, setting the bottle on the table. "Now, note that this is Organic Vegan wine," she points out. "It's a Cabernet, which sort of goes with anything. I've had it before, it's a nice wine. Best of all," she ends, "it has a screw top rather than a cork." She unscrews the top of the wine to emphasize the ending.
The other two women hold out their wine glasses, and Charlie reluctantly follows their lead. Nina fills each of the small glasses about three quarters full. "Here's to tonight," she gives a toast. The glasses clink together and all sip the wine. Katrina looks at Charlie and smiles.
"This casserole is good," Shelley offers a compliment to the host. "Oh, say, do you have any salt and pepper? I don't see any on the table."
Charlie looks at Katrina.
"I don't know, maybe there's some in the kitchen," she says. "You used salt on that popcorn the other day, remember? Maybe it's up there with the popcorn. I don't know about pepper. Maybe on the spice shelf? You might have seen it when you were making the casserole?"
"I'll go have a look around," he sighs, and departs to the kitchen. The popcorn is kept in a high cabinet that Katrina can't reach easily, because he's the only one who ever makes popcorn. He doesn't believe he put the salt up there, but maybe he did. He doesn't remember ever seeing pepper in the apartment at all, but he figures there's no harm in having a look around.
"Quick, now," Shelley whispers to Nina as soon as the kitchen door swings shut.
"I'm right there with you," Nina answers, opening a small vial she's just taken from her pocket.
She empties half the contents of the vial into Charlie's wine glass and the other half into his water glass. "In case he doesn't drink the wine," she explains.
"Won't it make the water taste funny?" Katrina wonders.
"It already tastes funny from the lemon," Nina answers, closing the vial and putting it back in her pocket.
Katrina bobs her head in a sideways nod, evaluating the degree of funniness in the taste of the water. True they didn't usually have lemon in their water every day, so maybe her boyfriend would in fact attribute any unusual flavor to the added lemon. She realizes that on balance it's still their best shot. Charlie has to drink a little bit of wine, so he'll later believe he passed out from the alcohol; but he might not drink very much, because he just doesn't like alcohol.
Nina quickly stirs Charlie's water with a butter knife, then stirs the wine. She wipes the butter knife dry on her napkin and returns it to the table beside her plate. "Anyway, it's supposed to be tasteless and odorless," she adds.
"What about dosage? Doesn't the dosage matter?" Katrina inquires further.
"Yes, but it's not that precise. Individuals vary a lot in their tolerance. You have to be sure you don't give him enough to do any damage, and take into account the fact that any alcohol he takes in is going to add to the effect. So whenever there's a question we have to lean toward the lower dose. If he isn't feeling it in half an hour, we'll just have to give him some more. There's always a slight chance this won't work, you know. And I doubt I'll be invited to dinner a second time. Certainly I won't get him to drink wine again." Nina has to be honest about the limitations of what they can do with knock out drops.
"We'll think of something else if this doesn't work," Shelley adds to her friend's speculation about possible alternate plans. "We're going to get the blood sample Kat needs, whatever it takes."
They fall silent as the kitchen door swings open. Charlie returns and sets a salt shaker in front of Nina, near the center of the table, as he sits down. He straightens his chair and takes a drink of water. "I really don't remember putting the salt up there in the popcorn cabinet," he says, shaking his head.
"Oh, well, we've got salt now," Katrina replies, looking at Nina.
Nina realizes she'll have to use the salt now that it's here, so she adds a little salt to her casserole and takes a bite. "Perfect," she says, smiling at Charlie. He smiles back, and forgets the annoyance of having had to go fetch the misplaced salt shaker. Looking at her in that moment, he thinks he remembers seeing her before.
"Weren't you at the hospital when Angela died?" he asks her, staring intently at her face, trying to remember. "You were the nurse," he finally figures it out. "You were the nurse that steered that doctor to Della when he was trying to figure out who the next of kin was."
"I work at University Hospital in Cincinnati," she nods at him, smiling. "I don't remember the case you're talking about, but I am a nurse, and if your friend died at Cincinnati University Hospital then I might have been there, sure." She nods again. "Sorry to hear about your friend, though," she adds.
Well, his memory's not failing, anyway, Katrina comforts herself about Charlie's mental state.
"Here's to Angela, wherever she is now," Shelley proposes another toast.
"May she rest in peace," Katrina adds, raising her glass. Nina's glass comes up to join the other two above the
center of the table.
Charlie reluctantly joins in, adding another "rest in peace." The glasses clink together.
The three women drain their glasses. Charlie only sips, and Katrina gives him a look. He drinks down the rest of the wine from his glass.
"So, this casserole is fantastic, Charlie," Katrina says to him, smiling and meeting his eyes with hers. "Anybody want bread?" She adds, passing around the basket of dinner rolls.
"You're home visiting your parents?" Charlie asks Nina. "How do you know Shelley, again? I've forgotten."
"Oh, we probably didn't say," Nina answers him sweetly. "Shelley grew up here in Madison. We went to undergrad college together here. We've been good friends for a long time. I see her whenever I'm in town."
"See, this is why we should have people over more often," Katrina interjects. "I go to your rallies, Charlie, but you never get to meet my friends. So now you're meeting them."
"My rallies? I thought they were our rallies," he responds with an edge in his voice.
Oops, she's triggered one of the missing teeth in his mental gears. "Of course, our rallies. I just meant it was you who had introduced me to them. Your mother, remember?" She really hopes he doesn't go off on one of his insane rants.
"Yeah. okay," he says, partially calmed, and shifts in his chair. His face takes on an introverted appearance. He seems to stare into nothingness, as if there were a black hole at the center of the table absorbing all his mental energy, from which his attention will never escape.
Katrina and Nina exchange a glance, but Nina only shrugs.
"Too soon?" Katrina asks, and Nina nods. So it isn't the knock out drops.
Nina holds up five fingers on one hand and flashes them three times.
"Fifteen minutes?" Katrina forms the words soundlessly, and Nina nods.
"Anybody want corn?" Katrina asks, picking up a previously undistributed serving bowl. "This is our favorite vegetable, frozen sweet corn."
The other two women accept the offered corn.
"Mine too," Shelley says. "That and spinach. Well, red yams too, if you count that as a vegetable."
"Corn, Charlie?" Nina offers the bowl to her host. He takes it from her hand and sets it down on the table without answering. Though his eyes meet hers, he seems withdrawn, unresponsive. He turns his attention back to the invisible attraction at the center of the table.
"Sometimes it's a wall," Katrina says quietly, with a head gesture towards him. He glances up at her, as if he has heard something but not quite understood it. She says nothing, forces a little smile. He goes back to staring.
Nina notices now that his eyes seem slightly red. Staring unblinkingly can do that, she thinks, mentally explaining it away.
Katrina's eyes also seem to go slightly red, but from a different cause. She feels tears trying to start.
"Snap out of it, girl," Shelley advises Katrina, snapping two fingers in front of her face. Katrina turns to look at her. "We're going to fix this," Shelley reassures her friend. She claps her hands twice quickly in front of her, to make noise. "Come on. Buck up. It's going to be okay."
Katrina nods, drinks some water. The tearful moment passes.
By this time the women are all but ignoring Charlie, waiting for the fifteen minutes to pass, and hoping he doesn't shift from withdrawn into ranting insanity.
"Does it happen after meals more?" Nina wants to know. "Anything like that? Any pattern?"
"Not really. There are triggers, like if I say the wrong thing. Sometimes it happens without any trigger though. If there's a pattern I'm not seeing it."
"A pattern to what?" Charlie asks, suddenly waking from his blank state as if nothing had happened.
"Oh, the, uh, the weather," Shelley grabs for a quick answer. "We were just saying how unpredictable the snow has been this year."
"It's always unpredictable," he says, "except that there's always plenty of it on the ground."
Nina laughs. "I guess you're right," she says, drawing his attention away from Katrina. "That settles it, then. There's no pattern to the snow." Then she adds, laughing again, "It falls straight down, there's that."
"Sometimes sideways, if there's a lot of wind," Shelley picks up the thread.
"Forty-five degree angle maybe," Nina offers a compromise.
"Anybody want some corn?" Charlie asks, and picks up the serving bowl with the corn. He puts some on his plate and hands the bowl to Nina.
"Thanks," Nina says, accepting it. She puts a little more corn on her plate and hands the bowl on to Shelley.
"It's our favorite vegetable," he says. "Frozen sweet corn. Great with a little butter and salt."
Nina hands him the salt.
"Thanks," he says. He puts salt on the corn and turns to eating his dinner.
"More wine, anybody?" Nina asks, and without waiting begins refilling the wine glasses, starting with Charlie's, before he can object.
Shelley finishes the food on her plate and takes a sip of the wine. "What about dessert? Did you make a dessert?" she asks Katrina, looking at her watch and glancing at Nina.
"There's a lemon mousse cake in the kitchen," Katrina responds, as if just remembering it. "Are we ready for dessert?" she asks, looking around the table, her eyes settling on Charlie.
"I'll go fetch the cake," he offers, setting down his fork. He stands up halfway and collapses back into the chair, looking at the woman across from him with a slightly surprised but otherwise blank expression. He looks down at his plate and pushes it away as he slumps forward, laying the side of his head flat on the table, arms hanging gorilla-like straight to the floor. Delicately balanced but not falling off the chair, he passes into unconsciousness.
"He's out," Nina announces the obvious, as she reaches two fingers to his temple gently to feel his pulse.
"And I was looking forward to that cake," Shelley cynically feigns regret.
"You're sure he's out?" Katrina asks.
"He's out, honey," the nurse assures her hostess. "Do we want to try to get him into the bedroom, or just leave him sleep here?"
"That I had not thought about," Katrina answers. "Can you take the blood sample without, you know, knocking him over?"
"Yeah, probably. Maybe not. But he'll have a painfully stiff neck in the morning if he sleeps for long the way he is now. The floor would be better for him. It's just a matter of time until he falls anyway," the nurse outlines the situation. "If you want my professional opinion," she adds, "the best thing is probably if we ease him gently onto the floor. Maybe you want to put a blanket down for him first."
Katrina nods and goes to the bedroom to get the down comforter.
"Bring my handbag too," Nina calls after her. As soon as she disappears, Nina and Shelley look at each other and simultaneously burst out laughing.
"This is actually working," Shelley manages to say through the laughter.
"You didn't think it would? Oh, ye of little faith," her friend answers her. "Trust in the magic hands," she announces theatrically, waving her hands in front of her over Charlie as if she were a magician doing passes over a closed and covered gimmick box.
"Watch out, don't levitate him awake," Shelley responds, and immediately cracks up again in the light mood flooding through them, releasing the tension generated during the awkward dinner.
"If your laughing doesn't wake him, nothing will," Nina answers, joining in her friend's spontaneous merriment. "I'm afraid the neighbors are going to complain about the noise of it."
"Then we'll have to tell them that our miserable host has passed out drunk. Oh, the shame of it. Poor Katrina having to put up with his drunken rages," Shelley envisages the situation.
"It would go toward explaining his recent behavior," Nina laughs.
Katrina returns to the table with the blanket and the two try to put on serious faces, but they're still clearly smiling and considerably relaxed. It only takes one ques
tioning glance from Katrina to send them both into a short laughing fit again.
"You sure you didn't bring some laughing gas in that bag, and maybe it leaked?" Katrina says, picking up the mood. She's gotten so used to being apprehensive that she'd forgotten how good it feels to laugh.
"That must have been Charlie passing gas," Shelley answers with crude humor.
"Nothing funny about Charlie's gas," Katrina picks up the cue. "Trust me, that much I know. The party wants to turn it over to the army for use in chemical warfare." All laugh together at that.
"Come on, we have to get these samples," Nina finally says, trying to shift into serious mode but still smiling broadly and shaking her head. She stands up and takes her bag from the hostess with one hand, and with the other points to a spot on the floor next to Charlie's chair. "Put that blanket down there. We'll slide him onto it gently." She sets the handbag down on her chair and opens it like a doctor's bag.
"What if he wakes up?" Katrina wonders.
"He won't," Nina assures her. After a pause she adds, "and if he does, it's the magic hands." So saying she waves her hands as if magically over the sleeping man, who responds with an isolated snore. At that they all break into laughter again.
"Come on, Shelley, help me get him onto the floor," the nurse asks her friend a minute later when they've stopped laughing.
All three women together manage to get the man onto the blanket on the floor fairly gently, or at least without dropping him suddenly. He makes a few movements, like a child trying to roll over in its sleep but lacking sufficient energy. Then he lies still, activated only by slow gentle rhythmic breathing.
"Well, he's alive," Shelley observes.
"For the time being," Katrina points out.
Nina smiles, shaking her head, and pulls one of Charlie's arms out straight to prepare for taking the blood sample. She brings out a big syringe and three smaller vials with stoppers. She also takes out cotton and alcohol, to clean the skin.
"Wait a second," Katrina interrupts. "Would it be possible to take it from someplace where he won't see the puncture tomorrow? His butt or something?"
"There aren't a lot of veins in his butt," Nina observes, "but we could probably do the back of the knee or thigh. That would work. We'll have to get his trousers off, and I don't know how you'll explain that in the morning."
"It'll be easier than explaining a puncture on his arm. Oh, I've got it, I can let him think he wet himself and I took off the pants so he wouldn't be laying in it."
Again they all laugh briefly at the image of the man wetting himself.
"Dangerous stuff, alcohol," Shelley says shaking her head, mimicking Charlie's apparent dislike of one of her favorite beverages.
"That's what he's going to think after this," Nina answers, and again they laugh.
Katrina starts taking off Charlie's pants, and when she gets far enough along with the project the other two women help her to pull them off.
"Better put these in the laundry," Shelley says, holding her nose with one hand as the trousers come off. "If you're going to stick with that story about the bedwetting."
"Good idea," Katrina answers, "but since I'm lazy, I think I'll just tell him we got it on before he passed out, and act hurt when he doesn't remember it."
Shelley smiles broadly, shaking her head. "That'll work," she says.
"Here okay?" Nina asks, pointing to a visible vein shortly above the back of Charlie's left knee.
Katrina nods. He isn't going to be able to see the back of his thigh. Feel, yes. See, no. Maybe he'll think he sat on something sharp.
Nina proceeds to take the blood sample, cleaning the area with alcohol on a cotton ball, then inserting the needle gently at an acute angle. As she draws back the plunger of the syringe slowly it fills gradually with the dark red fluid. It's done. She places a cotton ball over the puncture and deftly tapes it into place with a snippet of surgical tape. She transfers red the fluid carefully from the syringe into the small vials one by one and stoppers them shut. She tapes the stoppers onto the vials with preprinted labels she's brought along for the purpose, and wraps another preprinted label around the side of each vial. She places the vials into a container Katrina has never seen before, apparently designed to transport such samples.
"Voila," she finally says, closing the box and presenting it to Katrina. "You can take that bandage off after about an hour," she also advises. "Anything else we can do for you tonight? Hair sample? Biopsy? I'm not equipped for brain tissue sampling unfortunately."
"More's the pity," Shelley laughs.
"I think I already have the other samples I need," Katrina answers Nina's question seriously, "unless you have some other ideas for getting soft tissue samples he won't miss that won't injure him."
"Oh, now we have to avoid injuring him too," Shelley feigns annoyance.
Katrina looks at her and smiles. "His brain's already sort of injured," she answers, "so we have to be careful with what's left of it."
"What little's left of it," Shelley pretends to edit Katrina's remark. With that she returns to seriousness, perhaps reminded of the stark reality of Katrina's situation with Charlie. "I'm so sorry this had to happen to you, Kat," she continues. "If there's anything else I can do for you, you have to let me know."
Katrina nods.
"There is one thing," she says, looking at the other woman's eyes with a serious expression.
"Tell me."
"You can have some lemon mousse cake with me now!" Katrina says with a whoop, leaping into a cheery and triumphant childlike jumping jack, almost giggling.
"Put that sample box in a safe place first," Shelley says with a grin. "Let's eat in the kitchen," she adds.
"Conveniently my best hiding place is in the kitchen, so let's go," Katrina answers happily.
Nina leans down and covers her patient with the loose part of the comforter where he lies, sleeping bag style. Then Nina picks up her handbag, Katrina carries the sample container, and the three women retire to the kitchen, where a freshly made lemon mousse cake waits for them to sample its delights.
. . .
After another hour or two Katrina's friends are ready to leave. She hands them their coats reluctantly, and the three hug like dear sisters. "Thank you both so much," Katrina says warmly, "for the help, and for the wonderful evening. I haven't had so much fun in months."
Shelley resists the urge to make another joke and restart the laughfest. It's getting late and the weather is still waiting for them outside. "Anything, Kat. Just let me know," she answers, eyes locked on Katrina's.
After a few seconds of soul piercing eye contact, Katrina turns her gaze to the nurse. "Nina, thank you so much for your help. Just, thank you."
Nina nods and resists the urge to deflect into humor again. "If there's anything else you need that I can do, you or Shelley just call me and I'll help if I can," she answers, looking at Katrina's eyes. On that note they open the door to the hall.
"Bye now," Katrina says behind the two women as they leave. She stands in the cracked doorway for a minute looking out at them as they walk down the hall, turning back at the end to wave. She returns the wave, smiles, and then they're gone.
The room feels empty and alone, but it also feels warm with the ghosts of the evening's spirit. She looks at Charlie lying on the floor wrapped in the comforter like a sleeping bag, as if camping out. It doesn't seem so hopeless anymore now.
She sits next to him on the floor. He seems so peaceful. She strokes his hair gently, and he sighs in his sleep. She goes into the bedroom for another big blanket, and lays it out on the floor next to her sleeping darling, then goes to the light switch on the wall and turns off the lights. Lying down on the second blanket, she undresses herself and wraps the blanket around her. Snuggling up close to her unconscious lover, she falls asleep.
Let Them Eat Tea Page 17