Saturday morning, Tom opened the door before I could ring the bell. “I think you two are insane for even attempting to go to the mall today. You should take the nurse with you.”
I stepped into the foyer and pulled off my coat. “Good morning to you, too. Is there coffee?” I walked into the kitchen and helped myself to a cup of coffee. I could hear Jane humming in her bedroom.
Tom followed me in and held out a plate of scones dotted with dried cranberries and currants. He baked when he was upset. Judging from the volume of scones and muffins on the counter, he was beside himself.
I bit into a scone and talked through the crumbs. “No nurth. Sheth no fun.”
“She’s not supposed to be fun.” He put the plate down and ran his fingers through his hair. “All right, Mom can go to the mall. But you have to follow some ground rules.”
No wonder Jane wants so desperately to get out of the house. Poor Tom is having a nervous breakdown. I took another scone and said, “I’m listening.”
“Number one—now that she’s finished with the Prednisone, she’s feeling weak again. She has to use a wheelchair.”
“That’s fine, I can rent one from Customer Service. I already checked it out and—”
“No,” Tom interrupted. His face was flushed. I recognized the signs of panic; I had felt them all too many times myself. “She is not going to use some gross public wheelchair. Her immune system is too weak. She shouldn’t be out in public at all.” Tom took a sip from a coffee cup on the counter. “The hospital leased us a chair when she was doing chemo. Not that she’s used it. She is so friggin’ stubborn.”
The trait’s hereditary, buddy.
“I’ve put it in the trunk of her car. You’ll take that car. Who knows what kind of germs are in your car.” I felt offended on Ruby’s behalf.
“Number two—you are not to let her go touching anything. I put disinfecting wipes in her purse. Use them. Wipe everything down before she touches it—the seats in the restaurant, the table, the silverware, everything. Number three—she has to eat a good lunch. She needs to eat at least 800 calories. If she doesn’t eat enough at lunch, she needs to drink the can of Ensure I put in her bag. Number four—if she gets tired, she has to come right home.” I looked up to see Jane in the doorway shaking her head. I agreed to all of Tom’s demands so we could make our escape. As I helped Jane into the car, Tom stood in the garage and said, “I’m relying on you, Lara. Don’t let her do too much.”
“I’ve got this, Tom,” I said as the Jaguar roared to life.
Once at the mall, I did as I had promised and carefully pulled up to the curb, set up the wheelchair, and helped Jane out of the car. I left Jane sitting comfortably in the winter sunshine while I looked for a parking space. It’s odd that Tom thought nothing of giving me the keys to this beautiful car. He doesn’t really know me. I could just drive away right now. I parked the car far from potential hazards and jogged back to Jane. There were tears on her cheek when I got there. “You okay?”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Jane said, brushing her cheek with the back of her leather glove. “I’m just being silly. A little boy waved to me and his mother told him not to bother the old lady. Is that who I am now? A sick old lady?”
“Perhaps today was a mistake.” I tucked the cashmere blanket in around the legs of Jane’s velour tracksuit and turned the chair towards the parking lot. “I’ll take you home.”
“No.” Jane grabbed the wheelchair’s tire, nearly spilling herself onto the pavement. “I’ve been looking forward to this for days.” She sat up straighter in the wheelchair. “I’m okay Lara, really, it just gets to me sometimes. I forget. And then it surprises me all over again, kind of like standing up and realizing you’re drunk.”
I carefully pushed the wheelchair into Nordstrom’s and let Jane direct me wherever she wanted. She was in control today. Jane made me try on outfits I would never have looked at on the rack, much less considered wearing. The idea of spending more than thirty dollars on an article of clothing seemed preposterous. As I zipped up a periwinkle dress with layers of chiffon floating around my knees, I glanced at the price tag. $230! For a dress.
I stepped out of the dressing room. “This dress is so expensive!”
“But it’s gorgeous on you,” Jane beamed. “If you’d wear your hair up, your eyes would pop.”
“But it’s over $200.”
“Then I’ll buy it for you.” Jane pulled at the sleeves and adjusted the waistline.
“That’s not the point. I can afford it. I just don’t see why anyone would pay so much.”
“Turn around and look in the mirror. Does that girl look like a million bucks, or what? Could she wow any man in the room? You bet. That is why the dress costs that much.” I twirled around in the three-way mirror. The dress did flatter my slim legs and muscular shoulders.
“But I thought I needed suits. Why are we even trying on dresses?”
“‘Cause it’s fun. And this new job has cocktail party requirements, right? One does not wear a suit to a cocktail party, and believe me, I have done as much business over a martini at a party as a cup of coffee in the conference room.”
I closed the door of the dressing room and stripped the lovely dress off. “I’ll think about the dress. Maybe I’ll get just the one. For parties. Because it’s necessary for business.”
I could hear a triumphant smile in Jane’s voice as she said, “That’s my girl. You’re coming around. You do drink, don’t you?”
“Vanessa orders us piña coladas when we go out.” I wrestled a suit off the hanger.
“No, no, no, little girls drink those. If you want to be taken seriously, you need to drink serious drinks. I have cultivated a taste for scotch, but you might want to start off slower. Gin and tonics would be okay, as would red wine, but no girlie drinks. Nothing with obscure liqueurs or fruit. And definitely nothing that comes in a fancy glass. You don’t want them to think you are anything less than formidable. That suit looks terrible on you.”
I looked in the three-way mirror at the long straight black skirt and elongated blazer. I looked like a stewardess.
“Take that off. Try on the taupe one.”
The morning progressed in the same vein with me stripping and dressing while Jane gave me advice between fashion critiques. Jane knew what she was talking about. The outfits I bought made me feel fabulous. Jane picked out pieces around a navy palette so I could mix and match the suits, slacks, skirts and blouses into outfits for whatever an occasion required.
Just after noon, I emerged from yet another dressing room and found Jane slumped in the wheelchair. I rushed over and shook her shoulders. Jane perked up a bit but was still not quite right. “I think we should get some lunch soon,” she slurred.
Tom is going to kill me. Thinking of Tom made me remember the can of Ensure in Jane’s bag. I riffled around in the huge red leather pouch slung over the back of the wheelchair until I found the small can of chemical fortification. I desperately held the can up to Jane’s mouth. “Drink this.” She screwed up her face and turned away like an obstinate toddler. Worry bubbled in my stomach. What if she collapses? I refuse to be responsible for her having a setback. I forced Jane’s hands down in her lap and pushed the can against her lips again. “I’ll take you home right now if you don’t drink this.”
“You’re as bad as Tom,” Jane scolded after taking a sip. I made Jane keep drinking until she sat up a bit straighter and the crisis seemed to have passed.
“I’m going to change back into my own clothes now. I want to see that can empty by the time I get out.”
“Are you sure you’re not a mother?”
“Absolutely.” I flashed Jane a sly smile and teased, “Now if you’re a good girl, I’ll get you a cookie for dessert.”