Tender Loving Care

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Michael!”

  “Listen to me, Miriam.” I reached out to take her hand, but she stepped away.

  “No,” she said. “I’ve got to make supper.” She started away.

  “Miriam, wait.” She continued on. I could have pursued her and forced her to listen, but I could see that forcing her wasn’t the way. There had to be a different approach. I looked up the stairs. The arrogant Mrs. Randolph, I thought. She’s expecting me in her room. My entire day at the bank came back at me—the faces of customers, the curiosity of the staff, Mr. Kasofsky’s polite way of firing me—all of it. I had to take a stand somewhere. I was tired of being pushed around.

  I practically lunged at the steps and ran up the stairway. I stopped before Mrs. Randolph’s door to compose myself, and then I knocked. This time I rapped hard enough for her to hear me even if she were meditating in the closet. The door frame rattled.

  “Just come in,” she said. “It’s not locked. Well,” she said when I thrust the door open, “I told Miriam you’d be eager, but I didn’t think you’d be this eager.” Her smile was sickening. She wore only a bra and a white slip. Because of the light coming from behind her, I could see clearly through the slip. She wasn’t wearing any panties. She had told me one had to dress comfortably to meditate. Now I thought, that was just part of her entrapment. Even that first time I looked in on her and discovered her naked in meditation was simply a planned enticement. I felt sure of it.

  “I’m not eager. That is, I’m not eager for your meditation.”

  “Oh?” she said, raising her eyebrows. I could see she thought I meant I wanted to skip it and go right to sexual relations.

  “What happened in here last night sickened me.”

  “Is that a fact?” Her smiled faded, and her eyes became small.

  “Yes, it’s a fact. The truth is it’s been bothering me all day. So much so that I couldn’t perform my job well at the bank.”

  “My, my.”

  “I don’t intend for it to happen again.”

  “I see.” She shrugged. I was encouraged by her nonchalance because I had expected a more violent reaction.

  “I don’t think you do see. What happened here last night is just a part of it. I’m unhappy with most everything. I don’t think you’re working out. What I mean to say is I think we’d be better off if you would leave. I’m willing to pay you for two more weeks. I think that’s fair.”

  “Really now?” She looked amused. “Does Miriam know about this?”

  “Miriam is not in any condition to make such decisions.”

  “Perhaps you’re not either.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re upset about what you did in here last night and you’re acting very selfishly. You’d like to forget about it and so you want me to leave, disappear as though none of it did happen. That won’t work.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I do. I have a professional responsibility, you know. Whether you’re willing to recognize it or not, I am making progress with Miriam.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She paused and stared at me for a moment. I didn’t back off; I didn’t look away.

  “What are you going to tell her, that you asked me to leave because you and I had sexual relations?”

  “Of course not.”

  “That’s the truth. She’ll have to know.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s not stupid. I told you that before. She’ll know something is up between us, and she’ll want to know what.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t tell her that.”

  “I would.”

  Blood left my face. I actually felt it turn white. Her glare was determined and piercing. There was viciousness in this woman, viciousness that I had not anticipated. I began to weaken. Mrs. Randolph had won over Miriam’s trust. She was a clever, conniving woman. I was sure she would find a convincing way to tell Miriam.

  “If you did that ... you might, might damage her even more.”

  “What do you care about that? Here I am having success with her and you want me out just because I’m sexually attractive to you and you can’t control your lust.”

  “That’s not so,” I protested, but even at that moment, my eyes did feast on the exposed portion of her bosom.

  “There is work to be done here yet,” she said. “I’ll tell you when it’s time for me to leave.” She took a step toward me. “Now get out of my room. If Miriam knew what you really came in here for—”

  “This is outrageous,” I said, but with nowhere the strength I had when I first began. “I’m going to speak to Dr. Turner—”

  “So am I. I’m beginning to think you want to keep your wife in her dreadful condition. That’s another reason why you want to get rid of me.”

  I couldn’t even respond to that accusation. My eyes widened, and my mouth opened and closed. I backed up to the door and felt for the knob behind me. She kept coming, her hands on her hips, her face red with indignation. Even her breasts seemed threatening.

  “Maybe we should talk more about the accident,” she said. “Maybe we should all know more about that night.”

  “Stop it,” I said.

  “Get out. I want to be alone so I can meditate long enough to calm myself down so I can enjoy dinner.” A smile returned to her face. “Did Miriam tell you? She’s making my favorite meal—veal Parmesan. We’re having an Italian feast. We were thinking of pizza for an appetizer. Lillian loves pizza. You’ll have to go get it so don’t get too comfortable.”

  “No,” I said, but it was more like a whisper. Her smile widened as I slipped out of her room and shut the door.

  For a few moments I turned around stupidly in the hallway, first looking at my room, then Lillian’s, then the stairway, and back at Mrs. Randolph’s door. How did it happen? How had she beaten me down? Miriam, I thought. I’ve got to get to Miriam before she does. I’ve got to make her understand.

  I ran down the stairs again and went into the kitchen. Miriam was working on the meal the nurse described. She didn’t even look up when I entered. I kept thinking there must be a way, there must.

  “Well,” I said just to get her attention.

  “You didn’t go in to meditate?”

  “No, no. I’ve been talking to a lot of people about that,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could.

  “Not many of them thought it had much validity. All it did was make me tired.”

  “I can’t agree,” she said turning back to her work.

  “Well, you know it’s a fad. Mrs. Randolph is into fads. Actually, Miriam, you have to agree she’s something of a kook.”

  “I do not.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been thinking,” I said taking a seat at the small breakfast table, “you were probably right from the beginning. We didn’t need a full-time nurse here.”

  “I’ve changed my mind about that, Michael. You were the one who was right. And Dr. Turner, too,” she added.

  “I know what I said in the beginning, but I’ve been talking to Dr. Turner about it. He didn’t really insist on a full-time nurse. He said we might need some assistance, that’s all. Maybe someone more on a part-time basis.”

  “What are you talking about, Michael? With all that’s been happening, how can you even think of such a thing?”

  “It is expensive,” I said. She gave me an icy stare. “We’ve got to consider that.”

  “Since when did money make any difference when it came to what was good for Lillian?”

  “I was just thinking that if we could do what was good for Lillian and save money at the same time ... money that we could apply to Lillian’s needs later on ...”

  “I don’t think so, Michael.”

  “You’re too dependent on her,” I snapped. I regretted it almost immediately because she looked so terribly sad.

  “That’s not fair, Michael. That’s not fair at all. I do my share. I do as much as I can.”
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  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “I meant ... well, when do you think we can be free of Mrs. Randolph?”

  “Free of her?”

  “I mean, when won’t we need her?”

  “When Lillian is up and around on her own, more or less. I would think you would know that yourself, Michael. Really. Now if you want us to have supper tonight, you’d better let me work.”

  Frustrated, I sat there quietly, racking my brain for another approach. The only way was to have her deal with some reality.

  “I won’t be going back to work in the bank on Monday,” I said. She stopped working again and turned back to me.

  “Why not?”

  “They fired me.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true. Oh, they don’t make it sound as though they’re firing you. Mr. Kasofsky asked me to continue my leave of absence. Something like that. The effect is the same.”

  “Why, Michael?”

  “I guess I haven’t been doing a good job. I’ve been worrying too much. Maybe he’s right; maybe I did go back too quickly. In any case I’ll be around here again and I’ll be able to help out just like before, don’t you see? We won’t need so much extra assistance.”

  “The kind of extra assistance Mrs. Randolph gives us, Michael, you can’t give. I’m really sorry about your losing the job. Why couldn’t you do something you’ve done so long? I mean, what specifically went wrong?”

  I looked at her. If only I had the courage to tell her, I thought. Maybe I could take the steam out of Mrs. Randolph. Maybe Miriam would hate her as much as I now did. All I had to do was confess. I could make it sound as though the nurse had seduced me. It wasn’t far from the truth. Miriam might believe that. I considered it, but when I looked at that fragile face, those sad eyes and tender lips, I faltered.

  “Just things in general,” I said.

  “I knew you were too uptight. That’s why I was hoping you would give the meditation a chance.”

  “No. No way,” I said as defiantly as I could.

  “Too bad. When you have someone like Mrs. Randolph living in your house, available to you—”

  “Miriam!”

  “All right, Michael. All right. Maybe you should think about getting another job. Try a different bank.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we’ll all talk about it during and after dinner. Mrs. Randolph will have some ideas, I’m sure.”

  “Will you stop putting so much faith in her? She’s just a nurse, for God’s sake, Miriam. She’s not some kind of god.”

  “She’s a very intelligent woman, Michael. It’s no shame to recognize that. But it is a shame not to take advantage of someone like her,” she added quickly. “By the way, I’m making her favorite meal. You like it too. It’s—”

  “I know. She told me.”

  “Did she?” Miriam smiled widely. “She’s so pleased. I’m glad.”

  “You’re spending more time pleasing her than you are me,” I said.

  “Don’t be silly.”

  I sat there for a while watching her work. She wore that soft, childlike smile, the one that expressed her contentment and pleasure with what she was doing. It reminded me of times when I sat here and watched her during the early years of our marriage. When Lillian was just a baby, I’d wheel the carriage into the kitchen and sit here rocking it and talking to Miriam. The three of us were always together, inseparable. My father used to comment about it. He’d say I was mothering the child or doting on my wife. “A man needs a man’s time alone,” he said. I think he was jealous because he never had such a family relationship.

  My reverie was interrupted by Mrs. Randolph’s entrance. She was dressed in uniform, her hair up. I glared at her, but she maintained an expression of complete confidence. Miriam turned around, her face lighting up. I felt so defeated.

  “Hi. Lillian hungry?”

  “Starving,” Mrs. Randolph said.

  “Michael brought everything we need for the lessons. You can start tonight.”

  “That’s good. The sooner, the better.” She turned to me. “I’m going to want you to go over to the school, Michael, and get some books. I’m sure they’ll cooperate with us,” she said.

  “Of course, they will,” Miriam said. “Won’t they, Michael?”

  “Of course.” I could barely talk. I had to look down at the table.

  “Too bad Michael is giving up on your meditation instruction,” Miriam said. “He’s been so uptight at work that Mr. Kasofsky asked him to hold off coming back.”

  “Is that so? When did that happen?”

  “It happened today, didn’t it, Michael?”

  “Yes.”

  “Something happened today?” Mrs. Randolph asked. I didn’t respond.

  “He says nothing specific, but I think maybe,” Miriam said.

  “Is there something special that’s making you upset?” Mrs. Randolph said. She was turning the screw in me.

  “No.”

  “Meditation,” Miriam sang.

  “I don’t think meditation was enough for him,” Mrs. Randolph said, her eyes on me, her face in a wry smile.

  “Maybe you’ll give it another try,” Miriam said. “Michael?”

  “I’d be willing to try again with him,” Mrs. Randolph said. Her smile grew wider.

  “Michael, Mrs. Randolph is offering to try harder with you.”

  “I heard her.”

  “You see how uptight he is?”

  “I see,” the nurse said. “If you change your mind, Michael, my room is always available.”

  I was squirming now, looking down at the floor and twisting my fingers around each other. I wanted to get up and charge right out of the kitchen.

  “Um, everything smells so good,” Mrs. Randolph said. “I can’t wait. Did you ask Michael to get the pizza?”

  “That’s right. I forgot. Michael, we’d like you to go get a pizza for an appetizer. Go to that Pizza World place in Loch Sheldrake.”

  “But that’s ten miles away.”

  “We’ll warm it up when you get back,” Mrs. Randolph said. I looked up at her with all the hate I could muster, but she didn’t even blink.

  “That’s right, Michael.”

  “Lillian hasn’t had a piece of pizza for some time,” Mrs. Randolph said turning to Miriam.

  “Michael?”

  “All right, all right.” I got up. The nurse stepped back to let me pass through the door, but I think she deliberately leaned forward just as I started through. My arm caressed her breast and she smiled. I hurried on.

  “Don’t go anywhere else, Michael,” Miriam called. “I have things timed just right.”

  I put on my light jacket and stepped out on the porch. That damn dog was barking again, as loud as ever. I covered my ears with my hands, pressing until the pressure brought pain. Inside, Mrs. Randolph turned on the television set. I looked through the living room window. She was sitting in my chair, her feet up on the hassock. She held a tumbler of soda in her right hand and sat back comfortably. In the kitchen Miriam continued to work on dinner. I hadn’t changed anything. In fact, things seemed worse.

  I stepped down and walked toward the car like a zombie. My sense of defeat made everything seem heavy, ponderous, difficult. The prospective ride to the pizza place seemed like some kind of torture. I slammed the car door closed behind me and then pounded the dashboard like a child in a tantrum.

  After a moment I started the engine, but I didn’t shift. I debated whether or not I should shut it off and run back into the house to scream and demand she leave. If only I could do it that way. But I couldn’t.

  All I could do was turn back to the house and look up at Lillian’s room.

  “Help me,” I whispered. “Please.”

  A moment more and then I started out to get the nurse her pizza. The real terror had just begun.

  10

  * * *

 
THE AROMA OF THE PIZZA PIE IN ITS BOX BESIDE ME ON the front seat of the car was tormenting. My mouth watered; my stomach churned in anticipation, but I had made up my mind that I would refuse to touch it. It was her pizza. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing I could enjoy it, too. Perhaps I was behaving like a sulking child. However, it was the principle of the thing. I couldn’t give in without compromising myself.

  It was only lukewarm when I arrived so Miriam had to warm it up. When she brought it out and they offered me a piece, I turned away without commenting. It didn’t bother them. Neither of them was affected by my melancholy mood. Their energy and chatter increased as the night went on. A good part of the conversation centered around what to do about me. I had become the person with all the problems. Should I go back to work?

  Was it self-defeating to stay home again? Should I look for a different job? Mrs. Randolph even suggested I should consider going back to college.

  “It’s not too late. Many people go back to earn different degrees or to learn different skills.”

  “That’s right, Michael. Maybe you could finish your business degree and become an accountant.”

  “I’m not interested in college.”

  “You might even go into teaching,” Mrs. Randolph said. “There’s always a great need for math teachers.”

  “That’s a good idea, Michael.”

  “It isn’t a good idea,” I snapped. “It’s a dumb idea. Another dumb idea,” I repeated, glaring at the nurse. She sipped her coffee as though I hadn’t said a word.

  “I’m very worried about you, Michael,” Miriam said. “You seem to be growing more and more upset every day. Maybe you should stop in to see Dr. Turner.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not a bad suggestion,” the nurse said dryly.

  I pushed my plate and cup away, but they ignored my anger. They went on talking about other things. I couldn’t listen so I decided to leave the table. But when I stood up, Mrs. Randolph turned to me and said, “Perhaps you could get us more coffee, Michael.”

  It was an outrage. I looked at Miriam, but she simply sat there smiling and staring up at me with those soft, gentle eyes. The nurse held up her empty cup.