by K. J. Young
She scoffs. “You have no idea how much I make now, Mark Norman. I do very well for myself. And who says I want to go into business with you? Do you even remember my business idea?”
He remembers hearing her talk about starting her own business, but he never paid attention enough to be able to bring anything to mind at the moment. Still, he has an answer. “I’m sure that whatever you’ve got in mind is absolutely brilliant.”
“It is brilliant,” she says. “I want to start a commercial cleaning service. Offices and stores. That way I can start small and then hire other employees as I get more accounts. The added bonus is that the work is at night, so everyone is gone and I won’t have to deal with the customer being on site.”
“As I said, absolutely brilliant.”
She starts to smile, then gets serious again. “Your charm is not going to work on me this time, not when I think you’ve lost your mind.”
“It’s not just the pay. Nurse Darby told me Roy is planning on putting me in charge of everything—the house, their care, their finances.”
“People talk shit all the time.” Monica waves her hand as if shooing away a pesky mosquito. She has a general distrust of people and promises. “That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe she was trying to get a rise out of you.”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I believe that he told her that and that he means it. She said that Roy feels like I’m like a grandson to him.”
“Oh, Mark.” Her tone is pitying. “You think you’ve got it all figured out.”
“Monica, I’m telling you, this is a great opportunity for both of us.”
“Have you even given a thought to this apartment?” As she gestures around the room, he takes in the mismatched, shabby furniture: chair, loveseat, couch, and a beat-up coffee table. On the walls are cheap framed pictures, one of sailboats on turbulent waters, the other a farmhouse surrounded by autumn foliage. They exist solely to break up the white space. Neither one reflects Monica’s life or interests.
“What about this apartment?”
She says, “Am I supposed to break my lease and just walk away from all this? And what about everything I own here? I started with nothing, and it took me a long time to get set up. Every piece of furniture, every pot and pan. It all belongs to me, and I’m not about to toss it aside for some crazy scheme of yours.”
Mark knows that everything in the apartment belongs to her, but he hardly thinks secondhand furniture and framed department store prints should be a deterrent to a better life. He says, “I know, babe. You’ve accomplished a lot.”
Monica has more to say, however. “And what would you have me do, quit a steady job to take another one, one I may not even like? Then I’ll be living with geezers in the worst part of the city, probably doing God knows what.” She shudders. “What if they die in two months and we’re out on the street? I bet you didn’t think of that.”
Mark walks around to the back of the couch and begins to rub her shoulders. “I did think of that. Here’s my thought—we leave the apartment the way it is and sublet it to your friend Brenda.” Brenda works with Monica and is currently living unhappily with her parents. From what Monica has told him, she’d jump at the chance to move into an already furnished apartment. And if she can’t afford the whole amount, Mark and Monica could always make up the difference in the rent and still come out way ahead. “We tell her that it will be a month-to-month arrangement, so if you don’t like the job or the Walgraves die suddenly, we can move back in. Tell your job you want a leave of absence. That you’re going to take care of a dying grandparent.”
“I don’t think they’ll go for it.”
“They will. It’s easier to take someone back than to train a new person.”
“They’d need to train two people. I don’t just waitress—I also bartend,” she reminds him.
“Making you all the more valuable.”
“They’ll replace me, and when I want to go back they’ll say, Too bad, so sad.”
He shakes his head and says, “No, that won’t happen. How many times have you told me someone didn’t show up or that some waitress quit unexpectedly? So much turnover there. They’ll let you have a leave of absence, believe me.” He feels the tightness in her shoulders loosen, and he knows he’s making some headway. He croons, “Come on, baby. You and me. We go live at Alden Manor and rake in the money. It will be an adventure. What do you say?” He thinks he comes off as both convincing and endearing. How can she say no?
She stretches like a cat and motions to her back. “I say to go a little lower, right between my shoulder blades.”
Mark accommodates her request. “Answer the question.” He shifts his thumbs lower and makes circular motions against her back. “What do you say about my plan?” She stretches again and sighs with pleasure. He leans in and whispers. “Come on. Say yes.”
After a long silence, she says, “No.”
“No, you won’t do it?” He stops massaging her back.
“No, I won’t do it. And I still expect your half of the rent until the end of October when the lease is up. I never would have rented this apartment on my own.” She turns to face him and shakes her head. “You’re putting me in a bad position.”
He can tell she’s dead serious, but he also knows she has no way to enforce this. Her name is the one on the lease, which means Mark Norman is a nonentity to the building management. He could slip away like a shadow in the night. Still, he wants to keep things positive between them, at least for now. “Of course. We’ll still be seeing each other from time to time, and I’ll send you a check every month. You know I wouldn’t leave you high and dry.”
She eyes him suspiciously. “You agreed to that awfully fast.”
“Because it’s the honorable thing to do.” He is proud of the way he manages to pull out the right words.
“Hmm.”
Mark can tell that Monica knows he’s feeding her a line of bullshit. He doesn’t have an honorable bone in his body. She’s got his number.
“So I take it that we’re breaking up?” she asks.
“Not breaking up, exactly, but I’ll be pretty busy, so I won’t be able to see you that often.” Even to his ears this sounds a lot like breaking up. It will be sad to be alone again, but he reminds himself that eventually there will be another Monica to take her place.
“You do know this whole thing is bizarre, right? It was weird enough when they hired you, and now they want me, sight unseen? They don’t know anything about me, and neither of us has any experience taking care of old people. They don’t need me. I’m sure they can find any number of qualified candidates for the job.”
“They want regular people. Nurse Darby treats them like invalids. Roy told me he hates that.”
From the expression on her face, he’s not making any headway. She says, “So they prefer to have you as opposed to a medical professional? Sorry, Mark, not buying it.”
Mark takes offense at the notion that he somehow falls short. If Monica spent even one minute with Nurse Darby, she’d understand why he’s the better choice. His personality, for one thing. And Roy did say that Mark reminds him of his younger self. That counts for a lot. He walks around the couch and sits down on the end, one cushion between them. Monica gets up to turn up the volume and begins to watch her show again. Mark knows that this is the episode where Fonzie rents a room above the Cunninghams’ garage, and he also knows Monica has seen it already. Nevertheless, they watch together in silence.
Maybe, he thinks, Monica just needs some time to get used to the idea. He hopes that she’ll reconsider his proposal after a full night’s sleep.
The rest of the evening is spent without a word, each of them respectful of each other’s space. Once they are in bed in the dark, he reaches over to stroke her hair, and she pushes his hand away. He knows then not to try for sex. Sadly, he realizes he’s already had sex with Monica for the last time and hadn’t even known it. In the morning, Mark tries once again to convince her to
take the job at Alden Manor. As she watches him pack up his things, he says, “Won’t you at least come down and talk to them? If nothing else, it will make an interesting story to tell your friends.” He has a full suitcase and a duffel bag. He’ll come back later for the custom suits Roy purchased for him.
“Why would I bother?” she asks. “Really, Mark, it’s such a long bus ride to end up talking to old people. Honestly, how interesting could it be?”
“If Roy lets me pick you up in the Excalibur, then would you do it?”
“Maybe.”
His heart sinks. When Monica says maybe, she actually means no. Sleeping on the subject hasn’t changed her mind. When he leans in to give her one last kiss, she lets him, so he makes it a good one, a passionate, lingering connection of the lips. Always leave them wanting more.
Chapter Sixteen
By the time Mark rounds the corner to Alden Manor, the duffel bag hangs like dead weight off his shoulder and he is half dragging, half carrying the suitcase. He knows that he’s scuffing the bottom of the leather suitcase, but some part of him doesn’t care. The damn thing is heavy.
He’s not happy to catch sight of Doug, who stands with one leg bent, his back against the industrial building next door. As he gets closer, Doug calls out a greeting. “Good morning!”
“Morning,” Mark says, not meeting his eyes.
“Moving in, huh? Right on schedule. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” He throws his head back and laughs.
Mark chooses to ignore him. Climbing the steps to the porch, he spots another dead crow lying feet-up in front of the mat. With a swing of his leg, he kicks it off the porch and watches as it lands on the lawn. He is no longer shocked by the sight of a bird corpse, even this one, which appears to be disemboweled. If a predator doesn’t eat the rest of it, it will stay on the grass until the next scheduled visit by the gardener. He imagines it being sliced and diced by large lawn mower blades and winces only slightly at the mental image. Not his problem anymore.
Inside, he greets Nurse Darby, who is wiping down the woodwork in the front hall. For once she does not bark orders at him, but just says, “Morning,” and continues her work. Next, he drops his things off in what used to be Lisa’s room and takes a look around. The furniture— double bed, dresser, nightstand—is comprised of plain maple wood. The headboard is a solid rectangle. The room is small and cozy, with adequate storage space in the drawers and closets. He gives the bed a try, sitting down and giving it a bounce. It seems fairly comfortable, and the mirror above the dresser gives back a flattering reflection. Overall, the room is similar in size and shape to the bedroom he had as a child. In general, it’s fine, but he can’t shake the feeling it’s not really his room. He feels as if he’s stolen it from Lisa, which is ridiculous because she has no use for it anymore.
When he gets to the blue room, he finds Roy and Alma visiting with Dr. Cross. After he gives them the bad news about Monica, Dr. Cross nods and says, “Well, that’s it, then. I’ll get in touch with Beverly at the agency and have her send some female candidates. In the meantime, we still have Nurse Darby to cover the daytime, and Mark will be here at night.” He gestures to Mark. “Once we hire the new girl, we won’t need Nurse Darby anymore.”
They talk among themselves as if Mark isn’t there, with the men discussing how likely they are to find someone willing to move in right away.
“But we need a new Lisa,” Alma says, whimpering.
“Yes, my dear,” Roy says, putting a reassuring arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Never fear. Calvin is taking care of everything.”
With a start, Mark realizes that Calvin must be Dr. Cross’s first name. The good doctor has to be a close personal friend. How else to explain his constant visits and how he dotes on them? After they wrap up the chat, Dr. Cross reaches into a leather satchel at his feet and pulls out a slim binder, which he hands to Mark. “Everything you need to know is right here,” he says. “Any questions, call me, day or night. My numbers, home and office, are listed under Important Phone Numbers.”
“Yes, sir.” Mark leafs through the binder and finds topics on everything from the daily schedule, to household services (cleaning, snow shoveling, mechanic, grocery delivery, lawn care), and where things are located in the house. That particular page is topped with a warning in capital letters: The first floor is the only floor in use. Do not go upstairs under any circumstances. Interesting. He guesses that at one time Lisa was also given this binder, but she disregarded that particular caution. At their first meeting, he pegged her as a good girl, a complete rule-follower, but like everyone else, it turned out there were two sides to her. It is true what they say: you never really know a person.
According to one of the binder notes, Dr. Cross would take care of all medical and dental appointments for the Walgraves, including transportation and serving as their advocate. Thank God for that. One less thing for him to do.
True to his word, Dr. Cross calls Beverly at the agency, and candidates start arriving that afternoon. There are five in all, and they arrive one after the other. Mark is tasked with greeting them at the door and taking them back to the blue room, where they are questioned by Roy and Dr. Cross, with Alma sitting silently nearby. After each one leaves, Mark is asked what he thinks. It’s hard to know what to say. Although they are attractive and in his age group, none of them do much for him personally. He uses the words satisfactory and nice to describe most of them, and when he does, Roy and Dr. Cross exchange troubled glances, as if he’s said the wrong thing. Collectively, all of these young women blur together in his mind, but even so, any one of them would be better than Nurse Darby. And isn’t replacing her the objective?
After the fifth one leaves, Dr. Cross sighs and says he’ll have Beverly send a few more applicants the next day. “We were lucky in getting Mark,” he says, gathering up his things to leave. “Maybe we’ll get lucky again.”
Once they’re through eating dinner, Roy takes Mark over to the drink cart and shows him his preferred method of mixing a brandy manhattan, dry and neat in a martini glass. Mark is surprised by the lack of ice, but he has to admit it does make it easier.
“Like this?” he says, setting the glasses down in front of them.
“Perfect!” Roy exclaims, taking a sip, his face rapturous. “Lisa would never mix cocktails for us,” he chuckles. “She disapproved. But when you get older, you have so few pleasures left.” Mark assures him he is happy to serve as bartender. After a few rounds and an evening of television watching, Mark helps both Roy and Alma make their way to the bedrooms. It is nine o’clock, but it feels like midnight. Before she left, Nurse Darby helped Alma get undressed and into her nightgown, so at least that part is done. Roy assists his sister in washing up and brushing her teeth while Mark stands by. He watches as they both climb into bed, and then Mark adjusts the covers for Alma like she’s a child. He shuts off the lights but leaves their bedroom doors ajar as instructed in the binder. He still has the dinner dishes to wash, but then the rest of the evening belongs to him.
In the kitchen, he has time to think. Time crawls by in Alden Manor. Roy and Alma move so slowly that he finds his own heart rate and breathing slowing. How can it be so exhausting doing almost nothing? So much of today was spent helping them do the most basic tasks. Hoisting Alma to her feet from the chair, handing the cane to Roy, walking to the refrigerator to get the ketchup. He’s done nothing physically taxing, and yet he feels dead on his feet. Maybe once he gets into a routine it will be better. Tomorrow he’ll suggest they all go for a drive in the Excalibur. Mark knows that being at the wheel of that car will give him an adrenaline spike certain to counteract his current lethargy.
The dinner dishes are done in fifteen minutes. Reluctantly, he heads to his room, feeling like a child with an early bedtime. He’s never been in the house alone and so late at night. The light switches in the hallway are not conveniently located, so there are moments when he has to grope his way through the suffocating dark. He walks c
arefully, and when his foot lands on a thick softness, he gasps, thinking that he’s stepped on another bird, but then he realizes it’s the edge of the narrow carpet runner. Keep calm, Mark. The house is the same at night as during the day. Nothing scary here.
When he reaches his bedroom, he proceeds with caution until he finds the lamp on the nightstand, right behind the clock radio, the way he remembers. He’s relieved once he’s turned on the switch and light fills the room. Although there are shadows in the corners, nothing appears odd. Had he really been afraid a few minutes ago? He hates to admit that he was, but only a little. Being in an old house at night is disquieting. He just needs to get used to being here.
Mark sits on the bed, his back against the headboard. He opens the binder and reads over all the information one more time. It seems rudimentary enough. He hopes that the new Lisa will be the one doing the cooking, because the baked chicken he made that evening pretty much exhausted his kitchen skills. Until the new hire comes on board, they’ll be getting carryout or grilled cheese sandwiches.
After reading over all the directions, he can tell that his new job is not all that complicated. Tedious, but easy. Mentally, he calculates his pay over the course of the next three months and rejoices at the amount. He’s always wanted to run his own business, to be in charge, but he never had the money to get started. Now that it could be a reality, he just has to decide what kind of business would work best.
Monica’s idea is not the worst he’s ever heard. Maybe, once she gets past her anger at him, she’d be open to running a cleaning business with him. Or if not, he has another thought. He once heard of a guy buying vending machines, then convincing business owners to allow him to place them in highly trafficked areas of their buildings. All the guy had to do then was periodically stock them and empty out the money. This sounds exactly like what Mark has in mind. Profitable but not too arduous. He makes a mental note to look into this.