Woman of Substance

by Bower, Annette

  “Yes, you can come, Tuesday afternoon. I’ll email you directions and time.” Robbie’s watched beeped. “That’s it for this meeting. Thank you all so much.”

  Margaret, Mavis, and Sharon called “Group hug.”

  “You got it. Now I need to go home and practice, practice, practice.”

  On Monday in the late afternoon, Jake waited for Robin to arrive. He’d missed her for the last couple of days. Her routine seemed to vary around his schedule.

  “Go,” Frank said.

  Jake wore a sweatshirt and running pants so that he’d be comfortable while he kept his vigil in the recliner.

  “She’ll come.” Frank was confident.

  Jake turned and felt a sense of relief when Robin appeared in the doorway looking flushed and bright-eyed. He reached for her hand. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Oh.” She looked at him through her ever-present gemstone-framed glasses with those brown eyes.

  She swallowed awkwardly. “I’m sorry, did I promise to be here at a specific time? I didn’t see your car.”

  “No, you didn’t promise. We hoped. I just don’t want him to be alone today,” Jake whispered.

  She straightened her shoulders. “I’m here now.” She walked over to the bedside. “Hi, Frank.”

  “I told you.” Frank’s breathing was shallow. He pointed toward Jake. “He needs some fresh air.”

  “The nurse just gave him his medication so he’ll be asleep soon. I’ll take a quick run in the park and be back before he wakes up.” Jake didn’t want to leave.

  Robin gazed up at him and nodded her understanding.

  “Take the time you need,” she said. “I’m here for Frank, and for you.”

  Jake slumped against the wall, feeling a burden lift from his shoulders. He had a friend sharing this time with them. They’d been strangers just weeks ago. He wasn’t alone.

  Robin bit her lower lip before she said, “Go. We’ll be fine.”

  Jake stepped toward her and raised her hand to his lips. He liked her. She reminded him in so many ways of his grandmother. Her outer size reflected her inner strength and generosity.

  He snagged his jacket from the hook, looked back once to see that Robin had seated herself next to the bed and held Frank’s hand. “I’m here, Frank.”

  After the door closed, Frank turned toward her.

  Robbie leaned closer to his lips. “Hang in there, Robbie. He’ll come around. He’s smart.”

  “Pardon?” she asked, not wanting to believe she’d heard him correctly.

  Frank’s eyelids flickered, then closed.

  Robbie. He called her Robbie. He knew.

  Surprise and hope clogged her throat and she felt a smile form even during this sad time when Frank was close to leaving. She blinked away the tears pooling and sliding down her face. He always told her that he was dying, not dead. She remembered the time she sat beside him in the park without her disguise and had come up with a lame excuse about her friend telling her about him.

  He had told her to visit with him as Robbie as well. She wondered how many other times small details had slipped while they talked. She released the bed rail and maneuvered her body up onto the bed with Frank. She told him about her research while he slept.

  When Jake reached halfway point around the lake in a slow jog through the cold, crisp air, he thought of Frank’s feet. They looked like marble. He turned back and jogged faster. He slammed through the care home doors and skidded down the hall. Outside Frank’s door, he hauled in a deep breath of antiseptic air into his lungs. No intercoms blared. The nurses’ deliberate long, silent strides, provided a type of serenity in the midst of his crisis.

  He listened to Robin’s calming voice and when his breathing settled, he swung the door open to find Robin lying on the bed beside Frank holding his hand against her cheek.

  Jake laced his fingers with hers while she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and gained her balance. He didn’t look into her eyes or he’d beg her to stay by his side. He didn’t know what to say so he said, “Thank you. We’ll be fine now.”

  “I know,” she said.

  He leaned his head against her head. She stood still. They breathed the same air, their hands gripped tightly to each other. Her energy seemed to flow into him.

  When she stepped away, he watched her pull a hat over her curls and stuff her arms into her coat sleeves.

  “I’ll drop in tomorrow, if that’s okay.” She was uncertain again.

  “Of course.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her that they probably wouldn’t be here.

  Robbie swallowed and snuffled until the automatic doors slid closed behind her, then fumbled in her pockets for a tissue and covered her face. Sobs rumbled out of her chest. Her nose dripped; her eyes ran. When her eyes cleared, she saw a parking patrol officer writing her a ticket.

  “Wait a minute,” she called. “I’m right here.” She hurried across the road.

  “Too late, lady. If you’d been here two minutes ago, before I put pen to paper, I could have given you a warning.”

  “I wasn’t in there that long. Besides, what are you doing ticketing cars outside a seniors’ home? Do you know what goes on in there?” Her voice got louder and louder. “People die, you know.” She fought the urge to run at him and slam him against her car.

  “Not my problem. I’m just doing my job. You put money in the meter, you come out in time, you don’t see me.” He handed her the ticket.

  She stuffed the insult into her pocket. “Sorry. I was sure I put enough money in the meter.”

  “Just don’t forget to pay it. The fine isn’t that much if you get to it right away.” He shrugged. “If I could, I’d cancel it but I have rules to follow.”

  “Don’t we all.” She opened the door and pressed her body into the seat. She started the car and leaned her forehead against the cold window. The poor parking guy didn’t deserve her anger but it felt good to yell at someone.

  She needed to be well rested tonight. Tomorrow was her big day. By four o’clock, she would know if it had all been worth it. She’d rehearsed her opening remarks while Frank slept. Tomorrow evening, she’d come back and tell him all about it again when he was awake and then she’d ask his advice about how to tell Jake.

  Jake’s evening passed with a curious feeling of calm resignation. In a few days, he would prepare a funeral. His grandfather’s obituary would be published in the local paper. He’d known that these things would happen almost from the moment he arrived in Regina, but he had not thought about them directly. He’d been preoccupied with his temporary position at the university, his research, the missing funds, his apartment search, reacquainting with old friends, and learning to be in the moment when he was with Frank. The celebration of Frank’s life—the culmination of a well-lived life—had been in the future.

  It was no longer in the future. It was now. As it did every evening at this time, the intercom announced the end of visiting hours. Family and friends of the other residents gathered in the hallways prepared to resume their lives in their homes away from their loved ones, but not Jake. The staff had made it clear that he could stay with Frank. Soon his last night with the most important man in his life would begin.

  All through the night, the semi-darkness was broken when Nurse Sheila turned Granddad from side to back to side, administered his pain medication, and checked his vital signs. Jake lowered the side rail and cradled Frank’s body close to his chest. “Granddad, I’m sorry I should’ve come home sooner.” Jake felt a slight change in Frank’s posture. The knot in Jake’s chest unraveled and he breathed easier. Somewhere in the night Frank’s breaths were shallow and rattled with congestion.

  Near morning, his breathing slowed and deepened. Jake held Granddad’s hand when he took his last breath a
t four a.m. Jake stared at Granddad’s body. Frank had been exactly that. A grand dad to Jake, not an old man who was separated by a generation but the best dad a boy and man could have. What the hell was he going to do without him?

  Nurse Sheila put her arms around Jake’s shoulders, handed him a tissue to blow his nose and then led him from the room. In a daze, he signed the papers to release the body to the funeral home. It didn’t look like a new day but the clock said it was. There were still hours before sunrise on the first day when he was alone in this world.

  Jake parked close to the hotel’s main entrance. He was numb when the water from the shower rushed over his head; he was numb when he crawled under the blankets.

  He slept and when the alarm woke him and sunlight trickled through the seams in the curtains, he knew something was different on this Tuesday in December. He was free of the deathwatch. He could follow Frank’s wishes for a memorial service, but he’d be driving around the city, running in the park instead of spending time at the Manor with Frank. His eyes blurred. He couldn’t get his butt moving, let alone run. He shook his head. Running. Robbie. Robin. He reached for the phone book in the bedside table drawer, but which one? His fingers and thumbs refused to work together fast enough to page through the phone book. How could he not know her number? Wait a minute. He was sure that Robin had given him a cell phone number when she first took on the job of visiting Frank. Or had Robbie given him the number? He tossed the blankets aside and padded barefoot to the desk drawer where he rummaged through his scraps of paper put for safekeeping.

  He needed to tell her about Frank’s death. He didn’t want her going to visit and . . . and see the room empty.

  He sat in the chair and thought about what to say. Perhaps he could meet her in the park and tell her in person. He dialed the number and waited until an automated system repeated back the number he’d dialed and asked him to leave a message. He hung up the phone. What was wrong with him? What would he have said anyway? He couldn’t have told a voice recording that his grandfather had died early this morning. Why didn’t he know where she lived? As the lump formed in his throat, he was glad he didn’t have to say out loud that Frank Proctor was dead. That he’d died peacefully this December, Tuesday morning, days before Christmas and before his grandson could present him with a great-grandchild. His grandfather was gone. He hadn’t learned the Canadian etiquette for survivors, but he knew it wasn’t like some of the cultures where they wailed and beat their chests. No, he suspected that he had to be quiet in his grief.

  After coffee, Jake drove back to the manor and walked into Room 214. It was just another room now, the bed stripped and smelling of antiseptic wash. The pictures had been removed from the wall and placed in a box. Frank’s clothes were neatly piled on the shelves in the closet and his books lay beside them. Jake’s hands trembled as he picked up the suitcase and packed the remainder of a life into it.

  At the desk, the clerk said, “We’re going to miss him. He was a real gentleman.”

  The manager of housekeeping said, “We’re sorry for your loss.” She handed Jake a metal suitcase, which had been kept in storage at Frank’s request. Jake remembered seeing it in the back of his grandparents’ closet all the years he was growing up. His fingers moved along the scars around the lock, which Jake had created one day in his youth when he had attempted to pick the lock open with the aid of a fingernail file and a flashlight.

  He put the suitcases and box into the trunk of the Mustang. Jake looked around the parking spaces on the street for Robin’s sedan. It was past the time that she usually visited Frank. She hadn’t missed visiting in the late morning or early afternoon since they met. With one last glance down the street, he drove to the university, hoping she was okay. He couldn’t take losing another special person in his life.

  Chapter 14

  On Monday evening, Robbie’s decision was final. She would not appear in her disguise when she defended her thesis and her relief was immediate because she knew when to step out of someone else’s oxfords and back into her own loafers.

  But she woke up Tuesday morning, with her defense only a few hours away, and knew she had to change her plan. Robbie disguised as Robin needed to be seen when she shared her passionate social commentary and self-revelation. She would honor all of the women and men who had answered her questions and shared their fears and joys. She would also honor Frank and Mabel one last time.

  Robbie knew from the thesis defense routine that a ten-minute break was scheduled before the second round of questions. It was not enough time to become Robin but it was enough time to remove the glasses, the contacts, the wig, and the foam body suit. She packed a suitcase that could hold the body suit after she changed from it back into a matching gray business suit and white blouse that she wore during the first half of the defense, a brush for her hair, and some deodorant. Who knew how much she’d perspire during the first round? She was confident in her material but the committee would now be in control of her future.

  Robbie buttoned her coat, slung her briefcase over her shoulder, and wheeled the suitcase into the garage. After she got into the car, she moved the seat back to make room for her belly. This must be like what women who are in the latter stages of pregnancy have to do. No time for those thoughts. Stay focused. This time she splurged and filled a parking meter close to the Humanities building. She needed to look fresh and in control.

  Just before one o’clock, the examining room was filled with bright blue, winter light. Despite the butterflies in her stomach, she practiced her opening remarks to the empty chairs behind the committee members’ table, then sat on one of the chairs placed along the wall for observers and friends. She raised her hand to welcome Brad and Sam, then quickly dropped it before they noticed her. She was pleased that they came together to support her. Sharon, Mavis, and Margaret sat near the exit. Mavis’s bracelets jingled when she gave a thumbs-up before poking Sharon and Margaret. Each opened their eyes wide, signaling their obvious approval of Robbie’s choice. Another Women’s Studies student arrived and claimed the middle seat. No one else recognized her.

  The committee took their places. Dr. Parker, the chair, sat in the center of the board table. Dr. Leddy, the external examiner, Dr. Grainger, Dr. Ross, and finally Dr. Clifton arranged their copies of Robbie’s manuscript with pages flagged in various colors. They each glanced expectantly at the door and their watches while they chatted. The chair reserved for the student remained empty.

  Dr. Parker looked over his glasses at Dr. Clifton. “Ms. Smith is attending, is she not?”

  “Yes.” Dr. Clifton continued texting a message on her cell phone.

  When the second hand on the clock passed the twelve, Robbie stood up. “Good afternoon, Dr. Parker and examination committee members. Although I appear different, I assure you that under this costume, I am Robin Mary Smith, ready to defend my research and conclusions. I have taken the liberty of appearing before this committee in the disguise that I have worn in public for the last few weeks to gain a new perspective for my thesis research. I feel that I have learned in the shape of this body what I could not learn through research alone.”

  Dr. Parker leaned over the desk and squinted through his glasses. “This is highly unusual. Please take your seat.” He turned to Clifton. “Dr. Clifton, you are this student’s advisor.”

  Clifton tucked her cell phone under her papers. “Dr. Parker, I advised this student not to include this subjective research.”

  “But can you assure us that this is her?”

  “Not by appearance.” Clifton’s lips pursed.

  Robbie turned and straightened her shoulders. “I must inform the panel that even though my advisor suggested that my project would be tainted by subjective information, Dr. Clifton continued to assist me with her thorough knowledge of all issues related to women in our society. I continued this experiment without her knowledge. I
must beg her pardon.”

  “What would you suggest?” Dr. Parker looked down the table at the rest of the panel.

  Robbie raised her hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would cause an identity question. I see so many similarities when I look in the mirror. May I tell you that at the break I intend to remove the costume and you will recognize me from my university ID card. I can show you my student card now. If that is not sufficient, I would ask permission to break now and change.”

  “How do we know that the real Robin Smith won’t be hiding in the restroom and return to finish the questioning?” Dr. Grainger asked.

  “We could have a security guard accompany her to the area and search the bathroom and escort her back,” one of the members said.

  “Good idea, Dr. Leddy. Let us proceed. We have a very tight schedule,” Dr. Parker said.

  “Thank you.” Robbie let out the breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  Dr. Parker invited Robbie to present her opening remarks.

  “As you have read in my manuscript, there are reports that state that body size does not make a difference in hiring qualified people for positions, or wait lists for surgery, or even life insurance premiums. However, in my research group of women-of-size, I found that these situations do occur.”

  Robbie felt the air change and heard the door close. She wondered if Brad and Sam had left. Jean straightened her jacket and smiled at the back of the room over Robbie’s head.

  “What has been your most important discovery, Ms. Smith?”

  Robbie stood. “Dr. Leddy, a woman who is not obese has advantages in our world that are not extended to other women if they are viewed as fat. My control group and research indicate that fat women are considered less intelligent upon first impression because it appears as if they can’t control their food intake and their energy expenditure. That belief extends to their competency in the rest of their lives. How could they be the accountant, the doctor, the nutritionist, a fitness trainer, and a mother? I tested the employment statistic where I used my identical credentials for an interview in a human resource department with a food company named in my endnotes. When I appeared dressed as I am now”—she gestured to her business suit— “I was given a keyboard proficiency test, a psychological test, and had an interview where my ability to sample only one small brownie was challenged. I was told that I’d be contacted at a future date. I was not. When I appeared the following day without the body suit, I was escorted directly into the human resources manager’s office and the first questions were the same. However, I was also commended on my physique and exercise program. I was told that I was a definite candidate and could be trusted to represent their line of sweet treats with probable promotion opportunities.”