Distant Lover

by Gloria Mallette

  A timid shrug was as much of an answer that Mrs. Hughes was willingly offering.

  “Well, be forewarned. Mr. Belson has a terrible temper. Please do not let him bully you. And please, do not take any verbal abuse from him whatsoever. If he gives you a hard time, let me know right away. I will take care of him. Okay?”

  A simple little nod.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  Mrs. Hughes shook her head.

  Already Tandi could see the woman running for the door. “Okay, then, let me show you back to your patient’s room. It’s this way.”

  Buzzzz!

  “Just a minute.” Tandi turned back to the door.

  “Mrs. Crawford,” Mrs. Hughes said, “I’ll find the room myself.”

  “If you’ll wait, I’ll go with you.” But Mrs. Hughes had already started off down the hall.”

  “Okay, you go right ahead.” Tandi opened the door. It was Daina.

  “I feel like I’m reporting to work.”

  “For the last day, hopefully. The new health aide is here.”

  “Thank God.” Daina came inside. “I was thinking about telling Glynn he had to pay me.”

  “You and me both.” Tandi glanced down the hall toward Sporty’s bedroom. Mrs. Hughes was nowhere in sight. “As timid as this new woman is, Glynn will be paying a nursing home by Monday morning.”

  “Oh, damn, that bad?”

  “Girl, please, I think the woman was trembling.”

  “Oh no.”

  “If she makes it through the next hour, I’d be very surprised. Although it is strange that my father hasn’t said anything about Mrs. Hughes entering his room.”

  Daina pulled the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows. “You need to let me tie that old man to his bed and strap a bedpan to his ass. We could tape his mouth shut with a straw sticking out and feed him that way. I promise you, he won’t be a problem ever again.”

  “It won’t work. He could still breathe and burn off any restraints,” Tandi said, tiptoeing down the hall. She was really curious. It had been quiet, too quiet.

  Sporty’s mouth was closed but his eyes were ablaze with anger so intense that Tandi was surprised Mrs. Hughes hadn’t run from the room.

  “Boy,” Daina whispered, “he certainly is afraid of that nursing home, isn’t he?”

  “Thank God he’s afraid of something,” Tandi whispered back.

  Mrs. Hughes, with her hands still in her pockets, stood at the foot of the bed looking down at Sporty. Her face was unreadable.

  “Did he say anything to you?” Tandi asked.

  “No, but I told him I was his new health aide.”

  “And he said nothing?”

  “No.”

  Daina whispered, “Could this be love at first sight?”

  “Oh, please,” Tandi said. “More like a lion sizing up his prey.”

  Mrs. Hughes unbuttoned her light jacket.

  “Mrs. Hughes, this is my friend, Daina Harding.”

  “You can call me Carline,” Mrs. Hughes said, slipping out of her jacket.

  Tandi noticed that Sporty’s eyes never left the spot where Carline had stood. A gully of creases lined his forehead.

  “I’ll take your jacket,” Tandi said.

  Carline handed her jacket and her large tote to Tandi. She then began picking up the balled-up tissues that Sporty had dropped onto the floor.

  Sporty’s eyes suddenly began to follow Carline around the room. He still had not said a word.

  Daina and Tandi looked at each other. “I think your dad is smitten,” Daina said.

  “Shhh.” Whatever it was, Tandi didn’t care. As long as Sporty didn’t open his mouth.

  “Carline, if you need my help,” Daina said, tugging on Tandi’s arm, “just give a yell.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Carline said, getting down on her knees to reach tissues that had rolled under the bed.

  Tandi liked that Carline wasted no time getting to work. “Carline, the bathroom is across the hall and the kitchen is on the other side of the house to the right. I’ll put your things in the closet out in the hallway. If you need me, I’ll be in the living room. Thank you for coming.” Tandi let Daina pull her out of the room.

  Carline seemed to not notice Tandi’s and Daina’s exit. She was busy stretching to reach farther under the bed for a wadded-up tissue.

  46

  Sporty’s silence was eerie, but most welcomed. Tandi could not believe it took a woman as timid as Carline to tame the mighty beast. Then again, maybe tame wasn’t altogether right. Sporty’s silence had to have something to do with his fear of being put away in a nursing home. But, hey, if that was what it took to shut his mouth, then so be it. Carline reaped the benefits of that threat. Sporty didn’t bother Carline as she went about cleaning up his room. Within days Carline had even, miraculously, cleaned him up. Sporty was no longer unkempt, unshaven, or glued to his bed. Somehow, Carline got him to get out of bed and sit in his wheelchair.

  How Carline accomplished that miraculous feat Tandi didn’t know, but it was clear by the scowl on Sporty’s face the first time she saw him out of bed he wasn’t a happy camper. Not that anyone cared. What Tandi did care about was the fact that they had gone three weeks without a major temper tantrum. Only once had he bitched, and that was over not being able to find the remote control. Small matter. His real anger was at her. That was quite evident in the way he glared unceasingly at her. But that was all right, too. She didn’t care about that either. On the occasional sojourn she made into his room, Sporty kept his mouth shut. He’d clench his jaw and stare intently at the television the whole time she was in his room. It had to be killing him to not speak his mind, but that was too bad. It was about time he learned to keep his mouth shut, especially since he never had anything pleasant to say anyway.

  What was unusual was Sporty’s tolerance of Carline sitting in his room when she wasn’t actually doing something for him. Normally, he would have been spitting nails. He never let any of the other health aides sit idle in his room. He made them go out into the kitchen. If he wanted them, he bellowed for them. Maybe it was like Daina said. Maybe Sporty was smitten with Carline. She wasn’t bad to look at. In fact, she was better looking than Iona Lewis and all the other women Sporty had bedded. Her gray-streaked hair was always pulled up on top of her head in an array of soft curls at the crown. It was quite becoming. In fact, Carline had a figure. Surely, Sporty noticed that although he went through great pains to not pay attention to Carline sitting in the corner of the room near the window, her head down, her fingers nimbly working her crochet needle like a well-oiled machine.

  Tandi admired the intricately designed turquoise square fanned out over Carline’s lap. “That’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I always wanted to learn to crochet.”

  Carline’s fingers quickly twiddled the needle rhythmically as if a fast, upbeat tune played in her head.

  “What are you making?” Tandi asked.

  Carline didn’t look up. “A bedspread.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  Tandi was used to Carline not looking at her or having very much to say. She liked it that way. She looked around the clean room. She was satisfied. What magic this woman had worked on Sporty needed to be bottled. Sporty was even working with the physical therapist without argument and most days used the urinal bottle without fuss. Strangest of all, he was eating Carline’s cooking. When he first came home, unless Tandi cooked for him, he would eat only crackers.

  Right from the start, Carline insisted on cooking.

  At the time, Tandi was sprinkling black pepper on chicken cutlets. “Carline, I would love to let you cook, but he won’t eat anyone else’s cooking.”

  “I assure you, he’ll eat my cooking.”

  Tandi was taken with Carline’s self-assuredness. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  “You give in to his demands too much.”

>   “Oh, really? Not hardly.”

  “You must tell your father what you expect of him and if he does not like it, he gets nothing.”

  “That’s how I handle my son. My father acts worse than any child I know.”

  “Your father is misunderstood,” Carline said casually.

  “Oh, so that’s what it is? I just don’t understand him.”

  “I’m not saying you in particular,” Carline said. “I think your father has probably been misunderstood by most people, as a whole, all of his life. That can make a man appear angry at the world when he’s not.”

  “Well, maybe he should explain himself so people don’t get the wrong impression. And it would help if he wasn’t so damn mean.”

  If Carline had more to say in defense of Sporty, she didn’t venture to, but that’s when Tandi gladly handed the chicken cutlets over to Carline to finish preparing.

  An hour and a half later, from the hallway, Tandi had watched Sporty eat his dinner. He didn’t question who had cooked it. From that moment on, she let Carline plan and cook his meals. That was one more step toward her being able to leave. The apartment Tandi had originally applied for was gone, but she reapplied for an apartment in the same building. Hopefully, one would come available soon. A huge weight was slowly being lifted off her shoulders by Carline’s presence, and that feeling of dread that Sporty would have another stroke was no longer her constant, uneasy companion.

  Tandi watched Carline crocheting a few minutes more. The awkwardness of nothing being said by either of them was Tandi’s cue that it was time for her to leave.

  “I think I’ll go and fix myself a salad.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Carline said, laying her work down. “I have to fix his dinner.”

  Together they left the room, neither acknowledging Sporty. What they didn’t see was Sporty watching them leave. They didn’t see him drop his head to his chest as tears rolled down his cheeks.

  In the kitchen, Carline sat at the table and began peeling potatoes.

  Tandi went to the refrigerator. “He seems to be coming along.”

  “He’s making progress.”

  “I just hope he’s able to walk again,” Tandi said, looking into the refrigerator. She saw what she wanted.

  “Your father’s illness is not fair to you.”

  Kicking the door closed with her foot, Tandi carried her armload of lettuce, tomato, cucumber, French dressing, and square of cheddar to the table.

  “Let’s just say his illness has put a serious hold on my life.”

  “That shouldn’t be anymore,” Carline said, letting the skin of the potatoes drop into a plastic bag on the table. “That’s why the other health aide and I are here.”

  “Which I am very grateful for. Hopefully, I’ll be able to move out soon.”

  “That should make your son happy.”

  Tandi had taken a knife and was about to cut into the cucumber. “You know about my son?”

  Carline began peeling a third potato. “I saw the picture you have of him up in your room.”

  Tandi slowly cut her eyes at Carline. “Why were you in my room?”

  “I was doing laundry.”

  She hadn’t even noticed that her laundry had been done. “Not my laundry.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought I’d help you out since you were working and getting in late some evenings.”

  Tandi didn’t know if she should thank Carline or be upset. Her room was off limits.

  Carline never stopped peeling potatoes. “I hope you don’t mind that I went into your room to get your clothes.”

  “Carline, you shouldn’t be doing my laundry. It’s my father you’re here to take care of. I’d rather you save your energy for him.”

  “I was just trying to keep busy.”

  “That’s fine, but I’ll do my own laundry. Thank you anyway.”

  “It was no trouble.”

  Tandi began cutting the cucumber into thin slices. “You mentioned my son. Did I tell you about him?” She knew she hadn’t.

  “Actually, your son called here a few times. He called yesterday. I gave you the message. Remember?”

  “Sure, I remember.”

  Dropping the last peeled potato into the pot, Carline carried it over to the sink. She ran cold water over the potatoes to rinse them.

  “Are you making mashed potatoes?”

  “Yes.” Carline began cutting the white potatoes into bite-size cubes. “Is your husband a good father?”

  That was an odd question but Tandi answered, “He is now, now that I’m not around to do everything.”

  “Men are like that. When they are alone, they are not as helpless around the house as they want us to think when they are with us.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Jared was darn near domesticated according to Daina. Now he perked his own coffee and made his own breakfast. When she was home, he wouldn’t lift a finger to toast a slice of bread.

  “Mrs. Crawford, may I cook enough chicken for you?”

  “No, thank you, Carline. I’m fine, but let me help you. I’ll get the vegetables.”

  Tandi took an inventory of the bags of frozen vegetables. There were string beans, broccoli, and carrots. The day before, she had made carrots for MJ, which she knew he would eat because it was his favorite vegetable. She had also made enough chicken and rice for Jared if he wanted some, but she didn’t leave a hint she had done that.

  From the freezer, Tandi took a bag of string beans. She fingered the hard, lumpy, frozen cut beans through the cold plastic. Her fingers were chilled but she wasn’t bothered by that. She was bothered by thoughts of Jared, which were starting to sneak into her head, just as thoughts of Brent had for all those years. For the first time she felt like she might be ready to see Jared again.

  Carline took the bag of string beans from Tandi. “The potatoes are on. Why don’t you sit and let me make you a cup of hot chocolate.”

  “Carline, please call me Tandi. That Mrs. thing makes me feel so old.”

  Carline acknowledged with a slight nod.

  “And, I only like hot chocolate in the winter,” she said, although she did sit.

  “Not me,” Carline said. “I drink hot chocolate like most people drink coffee. Hot chocolate goes a long way in helping to solve one’s problems.”

  “I don’t know about that. In my lifetime, I’ve drank hot chocolate aplenty and I have a lifetime of unsolved problems.”

  “I guess nothing works for everyone.” Carline took two small pots from the cabinet alongside the stove. “Would you drink a little hot chocolate with me anyway?”

  Tandi watched Carline move around the kitchen with ease. “Sure, why not.”

  Carline filled one of the pots with milk.

  “Are you married, Carline? Do you have children?”

  Carline went about placing the pot on top of the stove over a lit burner. She stood staring down into the pot of dense whiteness.

  “Carline?”

  Carline kept her back to Tandi. “Would you like marshmallows?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Quietly, Carline went to the sink. She began pulling and tugging on a corner of the bag of string beans, trying to open it. The plastic gave a little but it wouldn’t tear.

  Tandi was reminded of what her aunt Gert used to say. Don’t be nosy. People will tell you what they want you to know. And what they don’t want you to know, they’ll keep to themselves. Obviously, Carline was keeping her personal life to herself.

  “I’m sorry, Carline. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “I love marshmallows,” Carline said, taking a fork and sticking it into the bag.

  Okay, so she had really stepped out of line, but a simple yes or no would have sufficed. “My son fills his cup halfway up with marshmallows first then he pours in the hot chocolate.”

  “That’s a lot of sugar. You allow that?”

  “On occasion. What can it hurt?”

  “I guess nothing.” Carline ripped a s
mall jagged hole in the bag with the fork. She tugged at the hole. It widened. A few of the string beans popped out into the sink. Those, Carline picked up, rinsed off and dropped into the pot. She then emptied the whole bag of string beans into the pot. She turned back to Tandi.

  “I’ve been married, but, unfortunately, I’ve never had children to call my own.”

  “I’m—”

  “Please, don’t be. The path I walk in life is the one I’ve chosen. No use crying over it now.”

  Tandi understood what Carline was saying. Hadn’t she taken a path with Brent that led places she wasn’t prepared to go? There was no use crying over that either.

  “I’ll get you that hot chocolate,” Carline said, lighting the burner under the string beans.

  “Can I help?”

  “No . . . no. Sit. I’m here to help you.”

  47

  Five months ago, five days ago, no one could have told Tandi she would be going out to dinner with Jared. She still didn’t believe it herself. She felt like a nervous teenager getting ready for her first date. Although she had told herself she wasn’t dressing for Jared, but for herself, she had changed her outfit no less than four times and still she wasn’t satisfied with the way she looked. Jared used to like her in straight skirts because he liked to see the sensuous curve of her hips and the definite roundness of her behind. Jared also liked her in red. Like most men, he liked the spiciness of red, and the straight skirt Tandi had on was cherry red and hit her just above the knees, just enough to show off her shapely legs. Of course, the sexy red ankle-strap high heels were kicking. They made her legs appear longer and shapelier. Tandi looked hot. The mirror told her so, but even if she didn’t have a mirror, she felt hot.

  Tandi stood looking at herself. “Stop lying. You know, you’re dressing to please Jared.” Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Jared might get the wrong message.

  She took off the red skirt, kept on the black silk shell and put on a straight black skirt. Again in the full-length mirror Tandi looked at herself. The ten pounds she’d lost was in all the right places. She looked good. That outfit, too, would please Jared. But what the hell, why not?