Tender Loving Care

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Well?” Miriam said.

  “You go ahead, dear. I want to finish cutting this grass. It looks stupid. And then I’ll set up the dog run in the back by the doghouse.’’

  Miriam took the leash, and the mutt followed her up the steps and into the house. Mrs. Randolph opened the front door for them. She looked out at me, and we stared at each other for a moment. Then she turned and went with Miriam up to Lillian’s room. What if Dr. Turner called my house, I thought, because he had forgotten something or wanted to add or ask something? And she answered the phone? It could have happened, and he could have discussed the things I told him.

  So what, I thought. If she doesn’t like it, she can quit. I have a right to ask questions. I tried not to think about it, but all the while I was cutting the grass, I did. Doctors and nurses, they were already conspirators of a sort. It would be natural for them to gang up on me.

  My thoughts were interrupted by Miriam’s shouts. She was very excited so I had to turn off the engine and listen. I was almost finished anyway.

  “Lillian’s decided to name him Dinky-Do, even though he doesn’t look like Dinky-Do.”

  “What does Mrs. Randolph say about that?”

  “She said it was understandable. We fed it and now it’s sleeping in Lillian’s room. Oh, Michael, she was so excited about it. It made such a difference. It was just like when your father brought the first Dinky-Do. She stared and stared without saying a word, you know. And her eyes got so wide, and her face got so flushed with excitement. Remember?”

  “I wasn’t there the first time. My father had already given her the dog by the time I got home.”

  “It was the same, Michael. It was the same.”

  I wanted to say that nothing was the same, that things had to be different. But I just couldn’t get myself to do it. Instead I looked away over the newly cut portion of the lawn. Miriam’s face was awash with lies, but she wore them like a schoolgirl who had touched herself unknowingly with the ink side of her pen and had no idea that she was besmirched. I wanted to reach out and hold her face in my hands and wipe the fantasy off of it, but I was afraid everything would come off and I would be left holding a skeleton. The image made me shiver, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes took on the look of blindness; she could see only behind them.

  “She wouldn’t let us take the dog out of her room. She has such a look of energy and health in her face now, Michael.” Miriam put her hand on the tractor and leaned in toward me to whisper. “Mrs. Randolph was right. She knows things; she understands. She’s a very experienced woman for one so young.”

  Miriam almost made me laugh the way she said that, and then I looked back at the house and thought about the nurse. I felt funny asking Miriam things about her, but I sensed that she knew things I didn’t.

  “She is younger than I expected. How old is she?” I asked quickly, but Miriam stepped back, smiling like a tease. “What’s the matter?”

  “Women can’t give away other women’s secrets, Michael.”

  “Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding. You think that’s such a big secret?”

  “I’m going back inside.”

  “Miriam?”

  “What?”

  “You know how old she is but you won’t tell me?”

  “Why don’t you ask her yourself, Michael?”

  “I might just do that.”

  “Good. Then she won’t be mad at me.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I said. I was really annoyed. Why was she so concerned about what the nurse would feel, as opposed to what I felt? “That dog can’t sleep in the house,” I snapped when she turned around again. “Even the first Dinky-Do didn’t sleep in the house at night.”

  “We know that, Michael,” she said. “The nurse explained that very nicely to Lillian, and she accepted it,” she added and walked on again.

  Of course, it was an out and out lie. The nurse would never have known to talk about that. How could she? Miriam just said it to counter my anger. She could sense when I was annoyed. When two people live together as closely as we have, these things are obvious to each.

  I calmed myself, completed cutting the lawn, and went to the backyard to set up the run. They were both seated in the living room when I entered the house and walked upstairs to get the dog. Neither of them spoke as I led the animal down the steps and out to the back. I hooked it to the run. Almost immediately, it started to bark, but I ignored it and went back into the house.

  They were no longer in the living room. I went looking for Miriam and was surprised not to find her anywhere downstairs. She wasn’t in our room or Lillian’s room either, so I surmised she was still with Mrs. Randolph. The door to her room was closed. I stood outside listening, but I heard nothing. I felt silly standing there so I shouted for Miriam, pretending I had no idea she was in the nurse’s room. The door opened partway, and Mrs. Randolph peered out at me.

  “Would you please be quiet?” she said. “We’re trying to develop some concentration.”

  “Huh? I just ... I didn’t ... concentration?”

  She closed the door softly. I heard it lock, and it was very quiet there again. For a moment I didn’t know where to go in my own house. I felt I had to tiptoe about. I went downstairs to the living room, made myself a highball, and sat fuming in the easy chair. The dog had begun to bark again. Now I thought my actually getting it had been one of the dumbest things I had done over the past six months. I felt helpless and frustrated. For the first time since Mrs. Randolph had arrived, I seriously considered going back to work immediately. I wasn’t doing a helluva lot of good around here, I thought. And what was the point of having the nurse if I were going to be around, too? Surely that wasn’t logical. No one would blame me for going back to work at this point.

  I went to the phone and called my boss, Nat Kasofsky. He said he had been thinking about calling me himself.

  “We are short of help and with the summer and all .... We were hoping things had gotten easier for you and maybe you could come back.”

  “Well, I’ve taken in a full-time nurse. She seems to have things under control. To say the least,” I added in a mutter.

  “Come in tomorrow and we’ll see about setting you up. Welcome back, Michael. Good people are hard to find.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Kasofsky,” I said. I was impressed. Nat Kasofsky was quite frugal when it came to compliments, especially compliments for the employees. Things must have gone a little downhill since I left, I thought. It made me feel good to think so. After what I had been going through with the nurse and Miriam, I needed something to stroke my ego.

  After what seemed to be a good hour later, Miriam and Mrs. Randolph came downstairs. I should say, Miriam floated downstairs. She looked more peaceful than ever. She glided over the carpet; her face was nearly transparent. She looked beyond me, through me. It was as though the underlying stream of nervousness and hysteria that ran just beneath her fragile facade was completely gone. There was a contentment in her eyes, even an afterglow. I must say I think I was a little jealous at that moment.

  Mrs. Randolph followed right behind her, looking as powerful and as satisfied as usual. Her correct posture made the bodice of her uniform tight. Her breasts pointed at me accusingly, defiantly. As she moved I imagined that her legs were as aseptic white as the material that covered them. I was sure she had brought more than one uniform. This one seemed tighter, cut more to the contours of her hips and waist. Her arms, although covered with tiny freckles, looked more powerful and masculine than ever protruding from those sleeves. The two top buttons of her uniform were undone, and I could see the sharp outline of her collarbone. There was a slight redness at the base of her throat. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then I gathered my thoughts quickly, angrily.

  “I’m glad you’re finished,” I said. “I would like to talk to both of you.”

  “We were thinking of having lunch,” Mrs. Randolph said.

  “Can’t it wait a few minutes?” My voice betraye
d me with its whiny tone, but Mrs. Randolph sat down and Miriam, almost as though she were in tune with the nurse’s every move, sat down beside her. She held her legs the same way and pulled her back as straight. They had the look of sisters who had inherited similar familial gestures.

  “Well?” the nurse said.

  “I’ve been giving everything a great deal of thought,” I said and for a moment Miriam’s idiotic smile made me lose my drift. “And I think I should go back to work right away.” There was silence so I added, “Tomorrow.”

  I expected Miriam to voice some opposition immediately. For nearly six months, I had been home caring for her, providing her with needed companionship. Ironically, we had grown closer than ever at a time when events should have ripped us apart. We had developed a highly emotional and deep dependence. When two people spend as much time together every day as Miriam and I had spent, they grow interdependent as well. Our actions had become more like reactions. We were two parts of the same machine, each one bending and moving, turning and twisting according to the movement of the other. Surely she felt this as strongly as I did, and with her fragility, I felt confident that she would protest my being away from her for so many hours a day. I had prepared some arguments, but none of them were necessary.

  “That’s very good, Michael,” she said. I looked to Mrs. Randolph, but she sat there as stoic as ever, even looking a bit bored. “You should go back to work. It will be good for you to mix with people and be active again.”

  “You won’t ... won’t mind?” I said. I suddenly realized that what I had wanted was a private conversation, and my decision to blurt out everything had been a childish act of revenge for their shutting themselves up secretly from me. Now I didn’t want to discuss it in front of Mrs. Randolph, but it was too late.

  It occurred to me, however, that my entire life was opened before her. Because of Miriam and because of what had happened, I was as naked and as exposed as possible. The nurse could see, hear, touch anything she wanted. She was party to all our dreams, our nightmares, our fears. She heard us cry and laugh. The feeling I had experienced outside before returned. The nurse was more than another person living in the house; she was a presence. She hovered about us, around us, between us.

  “I understand, Michael,” Miriam said. Her angelic smile was unnerving now. “And it’s not like I have all the responsibility anymore,” she added, touching Mrs. Randolph’s arm. I nodded.

  “What do you think?” I asked Mrs. Randolph. I don’t think she wanted to say anything, but I felt like forcing her to voice an opinion. Maybe Miriam would disagree.

  “It’s a decision for the two of you to make, but if you’re asking me whether or not Miriam and I can handle things while you’re at work, the answer is yes.”

  “You see,” Miriam said nearly singing. “There’ll be nothing to worry about.”

  “Now what do you say we all have some lunch,” Mrs. Randolph said.

  “I’m not hungry,” I said.

  “That’s because you ate so many of Miriam’s pancakes.” She turned to Miriam, and Miriam smiled at her lovingly. It was nauseating to see. “We didn’t.” They laughed like two high school girls in a conspiracy.

  I watched the two of them get up and leave the room. They were arm and arm as though they were strolling through the park. My heart was beating hard and fast. I finished my drink quickly, and then I sat listening to them chatter and laugh in the kitchen. That plus the damn dog’s barking drove me outside. I went around back and took a stick to the animal. It ran into Dinky-Do’s old house and cowered away from the entrance. I slapped the roof a few times and then left it.

  As I looked past the overgrown pasture toward the thick forest filled with cool shadows and darkness, I felt terribly alone and almost overcome with a sense of foreboding. It had always been lonely growing up here. My father had his work, and I had so few friends. Those who came here always ended up working with my father because they were intrigued with the animals or the machinery. It got so I didn’t bother inviting anyone anymore.

  I suppose I’m not really a country person. I don’t like walking in the woods; I never swam in the lake. I never joined the Boy Scouts or went on a long hike. Even when I was a little boy, I had no interest in exploring. I remained around the house, I read, I had my games.

  Perhaps I was afraid; perhaps I’ve always been afraid. I enjoy peace and quiet and value my solitude, but I don’t venture into the darkness. At night I stay well within the perimeters of my light. I hear the animals, and I think all sorts of terrifying things and envision all sorts of horrible images.

  Sometimes on hot summer nights, I awake from my sleep and listen to the raccoons. They sound like little lost children crying for their mothers. It is so much like an infant’s wail. I want to stick my head out the window and shout at them to scare them away, but I can’t wake Miriam. So I cover my ears with my hands and wait. Eventually, they move on and there is enough silence for me to return to sleep.

  Invariably, the racoons’ crying makes me think of Lillian. I see myself going to her because she’s had a nightmare. Sometimes talking and holding her wasn’t enough so I had to lie down beside her and talk about nice things. I would make up stories about fantasy characters, like the Ice Cream King who had an army of all flavors and lived in the Candy Forest, where peppermint sticks grew like trees. I think I would make up the stories for myself as well as for her. It was easier for me to go to sleep afterward. It’s a memory and a picture that reoccurs often, but I don’t tell Miriam. Some things have to be private, even in a relationship like ours.

  Anyway, I thought, if I told her, the nurse would find out and I didn’t want the nurse to have that kind of information about me. My reluctance was instinctive, just like my fears. Some people would say I was being irrational about her, even childish, but I couldn’t help it. I decided it would have to be that way for as long as the nurse was with us.

  The moment I walked into that bank the next day, I knew I would have difficulty. It wasn’t just because of the length of time I had been away. I could overcome that and I could take to any new procedures Mr. Kasofsky had established. The actual labor wasn’t any problem. It was my concentration and the way my fellow workers behaved toward me.

  I would be handling money, counting out a withdrawal, when suddenly I would lose my place. Of course, I would have to start over again and the customer would be upset. I would look at the clock and think about Miriam and what she would be doing at this time.

  Most of all I would wonder about Mrs. Randolph. My instincts were at it again. Something was grinding away at me inside, telling me I was doing a terrible thing leaving Miriam alone with her. I called every chance I got, and although there was nothing in the content of the dialogue that would make me suspicious, there was something about Miriam’s tone of voice that told me things weren’t right. By the third phone call, she was downright belligerent. It wasn’t like her. I imagined Mrs. Randolph prompted every word.

  “Why do you keep calling me, Michael? It’s OK. Why shouldn’t it be OK? Mrs. Randolph is here with me.”

  “I know that. It’s just that ... that I like to hear it from you.”

  “You can’t be working very hard, Michael. Not if you can call me so often.”

  “Don’t you like me to call you?”

  “I like it. Once in a while. Like you used to call when you were working before. Let’s do things like we did before, Michael,” she said. It was practically a command. I paused for a moment and then asked to speak to Mrs. Randolph.

  “How is she doing?”

  “She’s doing fine, Mr. Oberman.”

  “I just thought ... I mean, with me actually gone. It’s one thing to talk about it, but it’s another when it really happens.”

  “The reality hasn’t been too much for her, Mr. Oberman. She’s doing fine,” Mrs. Randolph repeated. I was intrigued with her voice on the telephone. Maybe it was my imagination, but for some reason her voice was warmer. She sound
ed more concerned. It was ... interesting. I didn’t want to hang up, and I didn’t want to go back to talking to Miriam.

  “It’s been difficult for me,” I said, “being away from it so long.”

  “Yes, I understand,” she said. It was reinforcing. It was the tone of voice and the words I wanted Miriam to say.

  “I’ll try to be home early.”

  “Don’t feel you have to rush.”

  “Maybe I should bring home something to eat. Like Chinese food or something. Miriam likes it. Do you like it?”

  “We’ve already planned our dinner,” she Said. Her voice was cold and sharp again.

  “OK,” I said quickly. “Bye.”

  After I hung up, I was surprised to see how wet my hand was. I must have been squeezing that receiver for dear life. When I caught my reflection in a glass partition, I noted that my ear looked red. I had that earpiece pressed hard against it.

  What was wrong with me? I wondered. Why was I so excited about talking to Mrs. Randolph? I guess I had an absolutely troubled expression on my face as I stood there thinking because Charley Tooey, the teller next to me and a man I had known for years, came over to me and asked if anything was wrong at home. He had seen me on the telephone. In fact, everyone at the bank seemed to have seen me on the telephone. I thought they were all glancing my way, some straight out, some sneaky-like, pretending they were looking at something behind me or near me.

  I spun around. Mr. Kasofsky was looking through his big glass window. He was standing there with his hands behind his back watching me. Even some customers, people I didn’t know, stopped their transactions and looked my way.

  “Huh?” Charley said.

  “What?” I had no idea that I had screamed back at him, but he grimaced and lifted his arm defensively as though he expected me to throw a blow next.

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Kasofsky asked from his doorway.