A House Like a Lotus

by Madeleine L'engle

‘Sometimes it snowed in Lisbon. And we’ve seen snow when we’ve stayed with our grandparents in New England.’

  ‘Good. I didn’t think you could have written that if you hadn’t seen it. Does your English teacher appreciate you?’

  ‘She gives me B’s. She thinks I’m showing off when I write about Lisbon and other places we’ve been.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘No. When she wants a description of a place, I have to write about places I know.’

  ‘True. But I can see that it might seem like showing off to your English teacher. What’s her name?’

  ‘Miss Zeloski.’

  ‘Hardly a good South Carolina name. Who are your favorite poets?’

  Sandy and Rhea often give me poetry for Christmas. This year it was a small volume of seventeenth-century writers. I loved it. ‘There’s someone called Vaughan, I think. I love the way he relishes words.’

  ‘And Miss Zeloski?’

  ‘If anything rhymes, Miss Zeloski says it’s old-fashioned. She likes poetry that—that obfuscates.’

  Max leaned back on the sofa and laughed. ‘And I suppose she likes all that garbage full of genital imagery?’

  ‘Not at Cowpertown High. The PTA has its eye out for obscenity.’

  ‘Go and catch a falling star,’ Max said. ‘Get with child a mandrake root.’

  ‘She doesn’t like John Donne. I think he scares her.’

  ‘Too real?’

  ‘That’s not what she calls it. But yes. I think she’s afraid of reality. So if the poetry doesn’t mean anything, she doesn’t have to cope with it.’

  Max climbed up on the library ladder and pulled a book off one of the top shelves and read a few lines. ‘e. e. cummings.’

  ‘I love him,’ I said. ‘Sandy and Rhea gave me one of his books for my birthday a few years ago.’

  ‘Not cool enough for your Miss Z.?’

  ‘Too cool.’

  Max climbed down from the ladder, and refilled my cup. It was a special tea, smoky, and we drank it without anything in it. I liked it. I liked Max. I liked talking with her. At home, everybody (except my parents) was younger than I, and our conversations were limited. And at school I didn’t have any real friends. It wasn’t that I was actively unpopular, I just didn’t have anyone special to talk to. Mostly I felt I was walking through the scene, saying my lines reasonably well, but not being really in the show. At school I tried to play the role that was expected of me, as best I could. With Max, I was myself.

  She laughed at me gently. ‘What a snob you are, Polly.’

  ‘Me?’ I was startled.

  ‘Why not? It’s obvious that school bores you, and that there’s nobody to challenge you, teacher or student.’

  ‘A lot of the kids are bright.’

  She cut me off. ‘Go ahead and be a snob. I’m a snob. If you didn’t interest me I wouldn’t give you the time of day. Being a snob isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It can mean being unwilling to walk blindly through life instead of living it fully. Being unwilling to lose a sense of wonder. Being alive is a marvelous, precarious mystery, and few people appreciate it. Go on being a snob, Polly, as long as it keeps your mind and heart alert. It doesn’t mean that you can’t appreciate people who are different from you, or have different interests.’

  Max made me not only willing to be Polyhymnia O’Keefe but happy to be.

  It was, oddly enough, through Max that I began seeing Renny. He called me early one evening late in January.

  Xan shouted, ‘Hey, Polly, it’s for you. Some guy.’

  I ambled to the phone. Sometimes kids in my class call me to ask about homework.

  ‘Is this Polly O’Keefe?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t know me. I’m Queron Renier, and I’m a distant cousin of a friend of yours, Simon Renier, the one who’s staying in Venezuela.’

  ‘Well, hello,’ I said. ‘It’s nice to hear from you.’

  ‘I’m an intern at the M. A. Horne Hospital in Cowpertown, and I thought maybe we could get together.’

  Interns usually move in sometime in early July. This was January. ‘Well, sure.’ I didn’t sound wildly enthusiastic.

  ‘I haven’t called before because I’m basically a shy guy. But I was talking with an outpatient who’s a friend of yours. I guess she saw I was lonely, and somehow or other I mentioned that I’d heard of you through Simon but I hadn’t felt free to call—’

  ‘Who was it?’ I was curious now.

  ‘A Mrs. Tomassi.’

  It took me a moment to remember that Max’s husband’s name was Tomassi. ‘Max!’

  ‘I guess. She lives on Benne Seed at Beau Allaire—’

  ‘What was she doing at the hospital?’

  A pause. ‘She was just in for some blood tests.’

  I wanted to ask what for, but Daddy has talked to us often enough about confidentiality, and I knew that Renny wouldn’t tell me.

  He said, ‘Well, could we get together sometime? Take in a movie in Cowpertown or something?’

  ‘Sure.’ I realized I wasn’t being very hospitable.

  ‘Would you like to come to dinner? Do you have anything on, your next evening off?’

  ‘It’s tomorrow,’ he said. ‘It’s sort of short notice, but no, I don’t have anything on.’

  ‘Well, good. Come on over. Do you have access to a motorboat?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Well, come by the causeway, then. It’s a lot longer, but if you don’t have a boat it’s the only way. We’re the far end of the island.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘About six?’ I gave him directions, hung up, and then double-checked with Mother.

  ‘Of course it’s all right,’ she said. I knew she was worried that I didn’t bring friends home the way the others did.

  Renny was nice. Everybody liked him. Kate made eyes at him, but fortunately she really was too young for him. Fourteen, after all. Anyhow, Renny and I got on well. He was almost as shy as I was, and I think he was grateful to have someone he could be purely platonic with. I mean, he hardly saw me as a sexpot. But he asked me to go out for something to eat, and see a movie, on his next free evening.

  I saw Max the day after Renny came for dinner. She called me to come over after school, to do my homework at the long table in the library, and stay for an early supper.

  Ursula was in the library, too, sitting in her favorite chair, deep in some medical journal.

  ‘So how did you like my nice young intern?’ Max asked.

  ‘You described him,’ I said. ‘Nice.’

  ‘Not exciting?’

  ‘He just came over for dinner with the family. It was kind of a mob scene. But he was able to cope with it, and that says something.’

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘Max, why were you having blood tests?’

  Ursula looked up from her journal but said nothing.

  Max replied shortly, ‘When one is my age, every time one sees a doctor, one has to have a million tests.’

  ‘Why did you need to see a doctor?’

  ‘When one is my age, it is prudent to have regular medical checkups.’

  ‘Renny called you Mrs. Tomassi.’

  ‘It was, after all, my husband’s name.’

  ‘You never use it.’

  ‘Therefore it gives me a modicum of privacy, of which there is very little around here. And stop prying. It is not a quality I like.’

  ‘Weren’t you prying about Renny?’ I countered.

  ‘At my age, prying is permissible. Not at yours. Please treat me with the respect I deserve.’

  Ursula put her journal down and stood up, stretching. ‘I’m off to finish up in the kitchen.’

  ‘Need any help?’ I asked.

  ‘No thanks, Pol. Nettie and Ovid already think I’m displacing them. I do try not to hurt their feelings, and I’m more than grateful to have them wash up. It’s a dream of a kitchen, and cooking has always been therapy for me.’

  At Beau A
llaire it wasn’t always easy to remember that Urs was at the top of her profession. She seemed to enjoy acting the housekeeper.

  ‘I take outrageous advantage of Urs,’ Max said, as the doctor shut the library door. ‘But she doesn’t have to let me.’

  ‘Well, she loves you.’

  ‘So, are you going to see Renny again?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘He’s not on call on Thursday. We’re getting together.’

  ‘He’s coming to the Island for dinner again?’

  ‘No. I’m going out with him.’

  This seemed to please Max. And that surprised me. Max did not strike me as the matchmaking type.

  Ursula came in with a decanter of sherry and said she’d fixed a good French peasant stew for dinner and it could sit on the back of the stove till we were ready. ‘Like Nettie and Ovid, I tend to ignore the electric stove and use the old wood-and-coal one. I suppose I’ll be grateful for the electric stove come summer.’ She poured a small glass of sherry for Max, half glasses for herself and for me, and put the crystal stopper back in the decanter. ‘You’re good to spend so much time with us, Polly.’

  ‘Good! You’ve rescued me! You’ve no idea how lonely I’ve been.’

  ‘I do,’ Max said. ‘I grew up at Beau Allaire. I, too, went to school in Cowpertown. You were probably luckier on your Portuguese island, where you were the only Americans, the only Europeans, really, and had to make your own company.’

  I nodded. ‘I was lots less lonely than I am here. It’s not the island—I love Benne Seed.’

  ‘Too bad you and Kate don’t hit it off better. M.A. and I made life under the Spanish moss bearable for each other.’

  ‘Kate and Xan are the ones who get along. And Kate’s wildly popular at school.’

  ‘You’re not?’ Ursula’s voice was gentle.

  ‘I think the other kids think I’m weird.’

  ‘You’re brighter than they are,’ Max said, ‘and that’s threatening.’

  ‘A couple of guys in my grade killed a tortoise the other day,’ I said, feeling sick all over again. ‘I mean deliberately, and I could have killed them. I wanted to, it was awful, but then I realized that the tortoise was already half dead so it was better to let them finish the job, and everybody laughed because I was making such a case of it.’

  ‘Kate and Xan, too?’ Ursula asked.

  ‘They weren’t there. Xan would have stopped them.’

  Ursula spoke reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, Polly. You’ll have friends, too, even if you have to wait till you get to college and meet more people. You’re friend material, and once you have friends you’ll keep them for life.’

  Renny had borrowed a motorboat from one of the doctors, which saved us nearly an hour. He took me to a Greek restaurant, Petros’, near the dock, which shared a run-down sort of boardwalk with a seafood restaurant.

  Renny and I sat in a booth and he told me about his special field, tropical medicine, especially in South America.

  That surprised me. I looked at Renny sitting across from me, and there was something solid about him. His blue-grey eyes behind the thick lenses were amused. ‘I inherited the Renier myopia,’ he said. He’d have been good casting for a young doctor on a soap opera. If I’d been asked to guess what he was going to specialize in, I’d have said orthopedics, or maybe general surgery.

  No. South American amoebas and parasites.

  ‘What about India?’ I asked, because I’ve always wanted to go to India. ‘Aren’t there vast quantities of amoebas and parasites there?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m particularly interested in some parasites which are found largely in South America. They get into the bloodstream, and—to try to simplify a long procedure—eventually invade the heart.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound nice.’

  ‘Isn’t. The parasite Trypanosoma enters the body usually through the bite of an insect. There are two types of Trypanosoma problems I’m interested in—Chagas’ disease and Netson’s. Netson’s disease is even more lethal than Chagas’, particularly to someone with no immunities. When it gets to the heart, ultimately it kills, and thus far we don’t have any successful treatment. More important than treatment is finding a means of prevention.’

  ‘Hey. Is there any of this disease around here?’

  ‘No, no, don’t worry. So far, it’s found almost exclusively in South America. None indigenous to North America.’

  Behind Renny was a large poster of the Acropolis, the Parthenon prominent. Despite the Greek decor, the menu was Italian. But I had no idea, that first pizza with Renny, that I’d ever be going to Greece.

  ‘So how come you’re interning at M. A. Horne in Cowpertown if you’re so interested in South American diseases?’

  ‘Because Bart Netson’s on the staff of M. A. Horne. He’s my immediate boss.’

  When I looked totally surprised, he grinned. ‘I have the feeling you suspected that M. A. Horne was at the bottom of my list when I applied to hospitals.’

  I could feel myself flushing. I had once again jumped to conclusions. I had judged Renny quickly and unfairly. ‘Offhand, a small general hospital off the beaten track doesn’t sound like a number-one choice. I didn’t know about this Netson or his disease. Why is he at M. A. Horne?’

  Renny laughed, a nice, hearty laugh. ‘He was born in Charleston but spent most of his childhood in Argentina because his father was in foreign service. He came back to Charleston to medical school and married an Allaire. He spends a couple of months each year in South America doing research. He’s published a lot of good material, probably the best in the field of tropical medicine, and it’s prestigious for M. A. Horne to have him. They’re heavily enough endowed to give him pretty much whatever he wants.’

  ‘So he’s a sort of cousin of Max’s?’

  ‘Has to be. Her mother was an Allaire.’ He cut two more slices of pizza and put one, dripping cheese, on my plate. ‘Polly? If I go on riding my hobbyhorse, we’ll miss the movie.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’d rather talk.’

  He looked eager. ‘Sure?’

  ‘Sure. I’m interested. I wouldn’t think you’d have many patients coming into M. A. Horne with South American diseases.’

  ‘You’d be surprised.’ He took a large bite of pizza and a swig of milk. ‘With the continuing flood of refugees from South American countries, some of them coming in via Cuba and Florida and filtering up through Georgia, we get quite a few. And because of Bart Netson, their problem is recognized more quickly than in other places. For instance, a mild case of conjunctivitis plus a fluctuating fever isn’t usually equated with a parasite.’

  ‘Conjunctivitis? You mean pinkeye?’

  ‘The vector—the biting insect—often bites the face at the mucocutaneous junction—’

  ‘Translate.’

  ‘The lip, or the outer canthus of the eye.’

  ‘How’d you get involved?’ It did seem an odd choice for a perfect Southern-gentleman type like Queron Renier.

  ‘I spent a couple of summers working in a clinic in Santiago. Eventually, I want to go back.’

  ‘Like a missionary?’

  He shook his head. ‘To do research. A lot of good medicine has, in fact, come from medical missionaries who give their lives to help people nobody else gives a hoot about—millions of people worn down and living half lives.’

  ‘So how’d you get to Chile and this clinic?’

  He looked over my head at one of the Greek posters. ‘I met a girl from Santiago while I was in college. Jacinta was over here taking pre-med courses and stayed on for medical school. It was through her I got the summer jobs in Chile.’

  ‘You were in love with her?’ He nodded. ‘And vice versa?’

  A shadow crossed his face. ‘To some extent. But there wasn’t any future for us.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘For one thing, Jacinta was Roman Catholic.’

  ‘Would that really matter?’

 
‘To her, yes. And she came from a big Chilean family, and she was engaged to someone there. They still arrange marriages.’

  ‘She sounds like an independent type. Why’d she accept it?’

  ‘Who knows? Maybe she liked the guy. Maybe he had enough money for her clinic.’

  ‘And you don’t want me to ask you any more questions about her.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Renny said. ‘I’ve pretty well got her out of my system.’

  ‘But you’re still into tropical medicine.’

  ‘Yeah. I guess I’m grateful to her for that. I really am fascinated by it.’

  And he was still bruised over the Chilean girl.

  ‘Jacinta’s interning in Louisiana,’ he said. ‘I might bump into her if I ever get back to Chile. But she’ll be married by then. They make good baklava here. Want some?’

  ‘Too sweet. You go ahead.’

  After we finished eating, he drove back to the dock and we got into the motorboat. About halfway to the Island, he cut the motor and kissed me, which Kate had given me to understand was mandatory, whether the guy really liked you or not. I hoped that Renny liked me. He kissed nicely.

  ‘I’m glad your friend made me call you,’ he said.

  That was Renny, and I liked him, as the older brother I’d always wanted, even if I got a little tired of tropical medicine. And maybe I was helpful to him in getting his Chilean girl out of his system.

  The view of the Acropolis from the balcony at the King George was very like the poster at Petros’ in Cowpertown. I took longer over breakfast than I’d expected, looking out at the view, reading bits from the book on Epidaurus (Sandy would expect me to have done my homework), relaxing in the warm morning sunlight.

  So I had to dress in a hurry to get down to the lobby by ten. Not difficult. I don’t have a large wardrobe to choose from, unlike Kate, who could barely get all her clothes plus herself into her room at Benne Seed. Well, Kate’s an Only, and if I had that many clothes I’d have a terrible time deciding what to wear.

  I put on a blue-and-white seersucker dress and my sandals and was ready when Zachary pulled up in a diesel taxi with flames coming out the tail pipe. I remember thinking the car was on fire when I first saw a diesel taxi in Lisbon.