THE NEXT TIME I heard Mrs. Collier make a fuss, I opened the door, thinking maybe I could help. But Graciela was ushering her back into her apartment, getting her settled. When the door closed behind them, I was once again drawn to the med cart. I stood peering down for a while. The way it was laid out didn’t make sense to me, and I tried to discern why things were organized as they were.
“What’s so interesting?”
I jumped and whirled around.
It was that guy with the thick silver hair, from the book group. What was his name? Evan?
He held up his hands. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to startle you. I was coming home”—he nodded toward the top of the corridor, where the entrance to my hallway met the lobby—“and I saw you standing here. You seemed to be looking so intently.”
I straightened. “Yes, well,” I cleared my throat. “I was just … remembering. I started my career as an aide, doing exactly this sort of work. I was wondering if things had changed very much.” I shifted the subject. “And you? What are you doing out and around at this hour? Usually, by this time of night everyone is in their apartment watching television.”
“My daughter took me to the grand opening of a new ice cream shop.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I had chocolate ripple. It’ll probably keep me up, but I don’t regret a single bite.”
A friendly-looking woman leaned around the corner and called, “Dad? We’re holding the elevator.” She smiled in my direction, obviously not wanting to be rude.
Evan called, “Be right there.” He inclined his head toward me. “Frannie, isn’t it? Nice to see you again. Have a good evening.”
I nodded at him and melted back into my doorway, watching as he ambled down the hall in his dated but fashionably patterned sweater. But after he was out of sight, a powerful urge nagged at me. I stepped back into the hall. Though I couldn’t have told you precisely why, I opened the camera on my phone—just like my grandsons had taught me—held it over the med cart, and took a picture. I didn’t question the urge too closely. Some instinct told me I might want to have it. For future reference.
Katherine had the flu. At least that’s what Jannah told me when I entered the dining room and noticed their usual seats were empty. Remembering her pallor, I asked, “Is she okay?”
“I think so. The judge had been sick for a few days, and she was tending to him. But I guess it caught up to her. She’s not so strong herself.”
“The old fool should let the staff help,” I said under my breath as I pulled out my chair to sit down.
But Jannah heard me. “I know. That’s why we’re here. But he is stubborn.” She pressed her lips together to stop herself from speaking ill of a resident. Her dark eyes flashed. “He wants her to be the only person taking care of him.”
I sighed. I knew Katherine saw looking after her husband as her main task in life, but still. “Will she be okay?”
“I heard she got worse, but I don’t know anything else.”
The next morning at breakfast, Nathaniel sat stone-faced, and Lisa sat next to him. Even when seated, she was taller than Nathaniel, but today he seemed almost shrunken, and Lisa hovered over him as he stared at his breakfast. He looked distinctly unwell.
I approached their table. “Good morning,” I said. “I heard you have been ill. I hope you’re feeling better.” I looked around. “Will Katherine be coming down?”
Lisa sent a worried glance at her father before gesturing for me to sit. Her graying chestnut hair was pulled back, fully exposing all her piercings. “Katherine’s in the hospital. They both had the flu. But it hit Katherine harder. She was having a difficult time, so we took her in last night.”
“I’m so sorry.” I turned to Nathaniel and added loudly, “I’m sorry to hear Katherine is not well. If I can help, please let me know.” I knew the words were pale and useless, but it seemed rude not to offer.
He lifted his chin and spoke with his usual aloof formality. “Thank you, but Lisa is here. I’ll be fine.” Then perhaps realizing he should offer some comment about Katherine, he added, “I understand she is resting comfortably.” His hand trembled as he lifted his water glass and looked away.
Lisa blushed at his curtness. “We’re heading to the hospital in a few minutes.” Bending her head nearer to mine and dropping her voice, she said, “I apologize if he seems rude. He’s at a loss. He relies on her. But he likes to pretend it’s the other way around.”
I patted Lisa’s arm and gave her the most understanding look I could muster before rising to return to my table.
I went to sit in my usual seat, half hidden in the corner. While I waited for my coffee, the server brought Nathaniel his breakfast, and Lisa pulled in close to him. “Try to eat something, Dad,” she said, and put a piece of toast in front of him.
He pushed it away. “I’m not some invalid.”
“Please?” She lifted a spoonful of cereal to his mouth. To my astonishment, he accepted the spoon meekly, like a child, before turning his face away.
Lisa let her glance linger on his head. Then she smoothed his back and said, “Come on. We should be able to get in to see her now.”
There was no sign of them in the dining room the next morning. Walking through the lobby after breakfast, I almost didn’t recognize the judge, curled into himself at the bench by the elevator. Worry had done its work: he was diminished and prickly, a desiccated husk of misery. I steeled myself. For a long time after Cal died, I thought he’d been the lucky one. You hear it all the time in a place like Ridgewood: those of us left behind suffer more. For a solitary and unfriendly man like Nathaniel, the misery and emptiness of life stretching ahead would be even worse. Having experienced that loneliness, I was sympathetic—even to Nathaniel Kearney.
The only thing worse is losing a child, I reminded myself. He didn’t deserve my sympathy. But still. It reminded me of how punishing the pain is when one is left behind.
I approached him gingerly. “Any news?”
He shifted, eyes unfocused and blurry. For a second I thought maybe he didn’t know who I was. “The doctors have nothing useful to say, as usual. If she can just fight off this bug …” He pressed his lips together.
“Dad?” Lisa rounded the corner from the hall. She nodded hello at me, then folded her tall frame to squat down in front of her father. “Ready to go to back to the hospital?”
I watched them slowly make their way out the door, her bright blue raincoat against his gray sweater.
I was supposed to attend the book club that morning. We were scheduled to discuss Jane Eyre. Katherine had chosen it, surprising everyone. I’d never enjoyed the story particularly—like everybody else I had read it in school—though I looked forward to hearing why she had picked it. But now that she wasn’t going to be there I didn’t really want to go.
Katherine and I hadn’t talked in the week and a half since we’d watched the soap opera together. In the immediate aftermath of that incident, I had decided that I was done with her and that no friendship was possible. But I realized I missed her. Despite everything. Maybe I just missed having a buddy. She was the last new friend I would make in this life, most likely. One of the things that happens as you get older is that friends dribble away, just when you need them most. After Cal died, some of our couple friends had acted like widowhood was catching, and became much more distant. My old pal Sylvia and her husband, Bob, were crisscrossing the country in a Winnebago and were hardly ever in touch. Another former colleague to whom I’d been close was busy building a new life with a second spouse. My kids were wonderful. But they were my kids. Certain things I would never talk about with them, and certain things they were too young to understand. Thank goodness, I had Ruthie. Even though she was far away, my cousin was a faithful correspondent and my oldest friend.
In fact, I had sought her advice about Katherine. In my pocket was a brief note from her, in which she had replied exactly as I had expected. She scolded that I shouldn’t be so quick to criticize (a comment she often aimed at me, even though she herself could more accurately be accused of it) and that finding friends at our age isn’t always easy. I turned and went back to my apartment. Maybe I’d pour my craving for connection into another letter.
But it was no good. I managed a few lines, but I couldn’t focus. Especially when my stomach growled. I had only picked at my breakfast eggs, which had been cooked to rubber, and now I realized how hungry I was. And not for any of the boring, healthy things I had in my refrigerator. I set aside my pen and paper and called Pam. “Hey! Do you know that new café on Central? Can I take you and the boys out for an early lunch? My treat—I have a coupon!”
It took a few days, but there they came, Katherine and Nathaniel slowly entering the dining room together. Katherine had grown even thinner and less upright, but she was still elegantly put together. She wore extra blush on her pale cheeks, and her sweater hung loosely on her frame. Lisa was with them, holding Katherine’s elbow. The judge glanced around like an eagle, proud and ornery. After they were settled, Katherine kept glancing sideways at him, with tender eyes.
Her vulnerability touched me. She gave me a welcoming smile when I approached their table. I bent down to hug her, and she was so frail I was afraid my gentle pressure would hurt. “So glad to see you back.”
She squeezed my hand. “I’m happy to see you too. Will you join us?”
The judge cleared his throat. “My dear, I don’t think that’s wise. You shouldn’t get yourself overly tired.” Then he looked at me directly and said, “I hope you’ll understand it should be family first.”
I turned to Katherine, expecting her to say, “Oh nonsense. Please, sit down.” But though she flushed at her husband’s attitude, she didn’t say a word. Her eyes flickered away. Lisa’s cheeks went deep pink.
I lowered my head slightly. “Of course. I just wanted to welcome you home.”
Katherine’s eyes were soft when her gaze lifted to mine. “Perhaps we can get together soon.”
Cheeks burning, I retreated to my seat near the coffee nook. I watched her, pale as she was, fret over Nathaniel, arrange his cane on the back of his chair, and pull close his sweater. He waved his hand and dismissed her. “It’s perfectly fine. Please stop fussing.”
She put her hands in her lap. “Of course. You’re right.”
What was this? She was the one who had been sick! I wondered how much the effort of maintaining the charade of everything being “perfectly fine” was costing her. The whole scene: his dismissal of my welcome, her apparent acceptance of his imperious attitude, his irritation when she was obviously trying to show him affection … Ugh. I wasn’t sure which of them I was more annoyed with.
He leaned over to pick up a dropped napkin and immediately let loose a cry of pain. “Aargh,” he groaned. “My back.”
Lisa stood. “Oh no, not again.” She exchanged a look with Katherine. Nathaniel moaned loudly as Lisa helped him up. “Let’s get you upstairs. You can take your medicine, and we’ll call the therapist.” An aide hurried over with a wheelchair.
Katherine spoke to her stepdaughter. “Go ahead and get him settled. I’ll have one of the staff bring me up in a little while.”
After Lisa pushed the grimacing Nathaniel out of the dining room, Katherine sat marooned at the table by herself, looking small and helpless. I decided to try again.
She glanced up as I drew near, and immediately smiled. I indicated the chair next to her. “Perhaps I can join you for a minute?”
“Oh yes. Of course!” Her voice was weak, but warm. “Now we can catch up.”
“I hope Nathaniel is all right?”
“Oh …” Her hand fluttered near her face. “He has these back issues. It’s painful, but he has pills for it.” She sighed. “He’ll be fine in a couple hours.” There was something wistful in her voice. And perhaps a whiff of bitterness?
“How are you?” My tone let her know I really meant the question, that it was not just passing-the-time small talk. “You were the one in the hospital, after all.”
“Oh yes. I …” She touched her nose with a tissue. Something passed over her face, and she glanced away. Then she pulled her lips into a brief smile that didn’t really reach her eyes. “You know how it is. Day to day.” She tilted her head. “It doesn’t get any easier, does it? Getting old, I mean. And everything we have to deal with.”
I half chuckled. “No. No, I guess it doesn’t. But I’m glad for every chance to get better at getting older. If you know what I mean.” I thought it was a funny formulation. But she seemed far away. When she didn’t say anything, or even smile, I cleared my throat. “So—will you be joining the book club meeting next week? I was hoping to sway your vote when we choose our next title. The others keep picking mysteries, and I want some biographies.”
“I’ll do my best.” She again glanced away for a second. “Frannie?”
Her tone surprised me. “What is it?”
“I’ve … really enjoyed doing things with you.”
“Me too.” At that moment I really meant it. “I enjoy your company.” I corrected the tense, for emphasis, and squeezed her hand. Her face was sincere, but there was an opaque quality. Was she offering some sort of half apology for Nathaniel’s rudeness, or her distance? Was she thinking about bringing up our conversation about the television show? Or was it something else?
“Are you all right?” I asked.
She smiled with forced sunniness. “Yes, of course!” She put her other hand on top of mine, tentatively at first. Then she patted it. “Do you remember when we first met? You took my pulse! It seems so long ago now.” Her voice grew pensive. “Time flies. It is hard to know the best way to make use of one’s energy.”
It felt like we were talking at cross currents, like she was saying something I couldn’t pick up on. I matched her exaggerated brightness with my own, trying to get her to be more committal. “Well, I advocate for time with your friends. And reading more books, of course.” She smiled and squeezed my hand again. Behind her I could see into the hall and caught a glimpse of Lisa getting off the elevator. I said, “Really, I miss you. Let’s get together. Maybe we could arrange another ‘pie lunch.’”
Her eyes were moist when she returned the smile. Vivid, but also sad. “Oh yes! I’d like that.”
Lisa arrived. “So you got to chat after all.” She bent down to kiss Katherine’s cheek. “Ready? We should get back to Daddy before too long. I’ll have them send up our lunches.” Katherine pushed against the armrest of her chair, and Lisa helped her up. As they left, Katherine looked over her shoulder at me. “It would be lovely to eat pie with you again, Frannie. Someday soon.” I watched her go, full of annoyance and puzzlement. And I had to admit, affection that persisted despite my reservations.
Still. I often felt, after talking to Katherine, that I had missed something. That if only I were more refined, more in tune with the charm school way of saying things, I would know better what she was talking about. She spoke in an allusive and indirect fashion, one refined, socially astute people understood and could respond to in kind, but indecipherable to a blunt kid from North Dakota.
Later that week I was walking through the lobby when someone called my name. I turned. It was Evan Silver Hair. From the book group. He hobbled toward me, somehow giving off the impression of spriteliness, although he was using a cane. He smiled. “Going to the library? Perhaps we can go together?”
He seemed a nice enough guy, but my lifelong tendency to resist kicked in. What was his real interest? And why did he always materialize out of nowhere? He said he’d been some sort of investigator, but maybe he was just a snoop.
“Ah, thanks but—”
He interrupted. “I’m glad you’re part of our reading group. I’m especially curious to see what you’ll suggest for our next picks.” We were standing in the window-filled main lobby, and over his shoulder I saw a flash of bright color. I realized it was Lisa, running though the parking lot to the door. It was raining outside, and her yellow umbrella was bright against her ultramarine trench coat.
I held up my hand, this time interrupting Evan and nodding out the window. “Thanks, but if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to catch her.” I gestured in Lisa’s direction and turned before he had an opportunity to respond.
I positioned myself so I was standing just inside the door when Lisa entered. I smiled at her. “You look like you’ve stepped out of a painting.”
She held out her sleeves and umbrella and laughed. “I guess I do!”
I gestured to a nearby bench. “Can you sit a second?”
She looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so. “Um, sure—I have some time.”
I carefully lowered myself onto the pale upholstery. She finished closing her umbrella and took a seat next to me. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I just wondered … Is everything okay? I haven’t seen your folks since Nathaniel hurt his back.”
Lisa nodded. “They’re doing okay. I mean, of course, Katherine is not terribly strong.” She paused. “You were a nurse, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, so then you know her trouble isn’t reversible. But the doctors say just keep doing what she loves. Like that book group. She always enjoyed it.”
“We’re picking new titles now.” I paused, hesitant to ask. But my last conversation with Katherine had felt so odd. “I hope I haven’t offended her for some reason? I haven’t heard from her.”
Lisa’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh! Please don’t think that.” She twisted toward me. “She’d be upset to hear that. It isn’t anything to do with you, at all.” She opened her hands, and slumped a little. “In all honesty, I’m a little annoyed with both of them. Dad is doing his thing again.”
“His thing?”
“Actually, I should say they’re doing their thing again.” She crooked her fingers in air quotes. “Dad sort of hems her in. Insists she stay at home, not participate in activities, and he controls their schedule. And she seems to almost relish it. I guess she likes him playing her protector.”
“I would never have guessed she’d submit to that so easily.”
Lisa shrugged. “When things are going well, she’s the one to set the agenda. But this is their pattern when things go wrong. Her recent bout in the hospital scared him. He feels helpless. And his response is to control whatever he can. As for her, she seems to almost be flattered by it. Like she has some weird princess syndrome.” She shrugged. “That’s what my therapist says, anyway.”
I considered for a minute. “I never quite believed she was such a shrinking violet, even when she acted the part.”
Lisa’s chuckle was humorless. “I know. It’s an aspect of her character I could never fathom.” She shifted toward me. “Their whole marriage has been like this. When everything is chugging along smoothly, Katherine’s life widens. Her world gets bigger and bigger, even though my dad is always at the center. She’ll develop independent friendships, do volunteer work, that sort of thing. Even travel with her stepdaughter …” She flashed a rueful smile. I could see her trying to find the words. “It’s like—I always picture her life as a rubber band that slowly stretches longer and longer. And they both seem fine with it.” Lisa gestured with her arms, opening them wide. “But as soon as something upsets the regular order—” She paused. “Some trouble at my dad’s job, for example …”
My chest tightened.
“And the elastic snaps.” As she said this, she clapped her hands together loudly. I almost jumped. She went on. “Then Katherine reverts to this ‘Southern lady’ role. Totally deferential, letting dad dictate the terms of their life. Her friendships and external commitments all fall by the wayside. It has happened over and over again. It used to drive me nuts until I got old enough to see the pattern.” She shrugged. “And to talk about it with my shrink.”
“I imagine sometimes it was you who upset the order.”
She smiled. “You don’t miss much, do you? Yes, as close as Katherine and I were, if it came down to a choice between me or my dad, I never doubted who she’d pick. Or which of us my dad would choose, for that matter.” She swallowed. “This is going to sound harsh, but I don’t mean it to. Katherine was really great to me when I was a kid. In some ways more supportive than my biological mom. But the thing is, my dad didn’t really have headspace for anyone other than Katherine. And whatever else she felt or thought, when push came to shove, she’d always stand by her husband. No matter what, she never challenged his actions, even when he—” She stopped short and pressed her lips together. “No matter what.”
No matter what? I tried to read her expression, but she had turned away from me, and her profile gave no clue as to what she meant. How well did she know her father? How much attention would she have paid to any scandal? I thought of the yellowing newspaper clippings in my desk drawer. I wondered, would Iris believe anything bad about me? Wouldn’t she dismiss such stories outright, out of love or loyalty?
Perhaps the only way we can survive is to be willing to believe the best and overlook the worst. And when it comes to family, I wonder how many of us really feel like we have any choice which side we are on.
I tried to phrase my question neutrally. “Is Katherine … one of those wives who believe their husbands can do no wrong?”
Lisa seemed to be looking inward. “Hmm.” Then she exhaled. “What she actually believes deep down, I couldn’t tell you. But let’s just say women like Katherine don’t see things that are inconvenient.” My hands were balled in my lap, and I squeezed my fingernails into my palms. I thought of the army of do-gooding women, the wives of powerful men staffing the ladies auxiliaries and church sales, volunteering at hospital gift shops and museums and drop-in programs—how many of them were performing compensatory labor? Paying the karmic debt for comfortable lives built on the back of greed or corruption or injustice? I had known, of course, that Katherine was married to a reprehensible person. Once again the mystery rose up. Was she guilty merely of not knowing what he did? Or was it a deliberate refusal to see? Facts don’t always reveal who we are. But our contradictions? That is where we show ourselves. We find a way to believe what we need to believe.
Lisa cleared her throat, startling me out of my thoughts. “Anyway, please don’t take it personally. It’s just that for now anyway, she’s letting him call the shots.” She shrugged. “She just seems so tired. Too tired to resist him.”
The following day I observed Katherine and Nathaniel again from my seat behind the serving station door. Lisa pushed Katherine in a wheelchair while Nathanial, on his walker, inched with careful slowness alongside them. She looked even more pale and thin, but he, as always, reminded me of some ancient bird of prey, craning his head around before he landed. Katherine fussed, patting his arm like a newlywed. Wrapped in her cashmere and jewelry. I wanted to yell at her. I excused myself, too agitated to eat.
As I was getting ready to leave the dining room I heard her saying to the server, “No thank you,” and the judge interrupting her, “Katherine. You will eat.” To the server he said, “Yes, bring Mrs. Kearney the potatoes.”
If Cal had done something like that to me, he would have received an icy glare, a kick under the table, and an earful when we were alone.
Katherine said, “Yes, of course, you’re right. Thank you, dear.”
I lurched away on my cane as quickly as I could.