Because

by Jack A. Langedijk

  Seema smiled and leaned back in her chair. “And how are you doing, Mrs. Sanchez?”

  “Oh, please just call me Monique, okay?”

  Seema watched Monique unbutton her coat and couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under her eyes. But despite Monique’s weary appearance, she spoke with a very cheery, upbeat energy.

  “And you can call me Seema. So, how has everything been going for you, Monique?”

  “Well, I’m sure Robert’s told you everything that’s going on, hasn’t he? About my company and the talk he is going to give?”

  Seema raised her eyebrow in question. “No, I’m sorry, Monique. What talk is Robert going to give?”

  “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe he didn’t tell you.” Monique forced a laugh. “You see, my company is expanding, three companies are going to become one. We have this big...well, huge event next month and Robert is going to be our keynote—you know, the guest speaker.”

  Seema tried to hide her surprise at the news. “And what is your husband going to speak about?”

  “Mountains. Oh, Robert, he’s done a lot of talks. Has he not told you that? He’s quite amazing, you know. He can make climbing a mountain, well, he can make it relate to anything. It was all arranged before, you know, before...”

  “Before the accident, you mean?”

  Monique smiled feebly and nodded. “Yes. Oh, it was planned well over a year ago.”

  Seema looked completely dumbfounded. “And Robert, he’s agreed to do this?”

  Monique’s smile vanished. “Why? Did he tell you he wouldn’t?”

  “No, no, not at all. Really, it’s just...Well, I guess I’m a bit surprised. He’s never mentioned it. This is the first I’ve heard of any talk.”

  Monique’s smile returned and she leaned forward, speaking in a confidential tone. “You know, I wasn’t sure if he still wanted to do it after the...you know...the accident. And because—anyway, I put all the slides and music together so all he has to do is be there and well, of course, talk! And you know, I think it’ll be good for him, don’t you think it will, Seema? ‘Cause I really do. I really think it will be good for him.”

  The more Monique spoke, the more shock Seema felt. Was Robert two different people—one at home and one with her? She just couldn’t comprehend the Robert she had been seeing for the past months being capable of such a feat. So she questioned Monique further.

  “And how does he feel about it? This talk. What has Robert said?”

  Monique answered with the same forced upbeat energy that she had come into the room with.

  “You know Robert. Right now he’s not, well, to be honest, he doesn’t really want to talk that much now. But I think...well, maybe I’m kind of praying actually...” Monique tried to make everything sound as hopeful and bright as possible. “But I hope once he starts talking about what he loves so much, I think, I really do...that the old Robert will just jump right out, right back out to all of us. Don’t you, Seema? Don’t you think it’s what he needs?”

  “Well, I’ve never met the old Robert,” Seema said.

  “I think it might...it might really help him. He loves that, you know, talking about his climbs. Oh, he really does. You can’t believe how many people want to hear all his stories. He just...he just comes alive when he’s up there.”

  “Well, that’s great, Monique, but how does Robert feel about doing this talk?”

  “You know, it is getting hot in here. I think I better take off this coat.” Monique stood up and removed her coat very slowly, folding it four times over and then balancing it gently on her lap as she sat down.

  Seema smiled politely. Seeing that Monique had twice avoided her question of asking how Robert felt about the talk, she changed the subject. “And so how have you been adjusting with everything, Monique?”

  “Hmmm...how have I been adjusting? Well, of course, it’s not easy. I’m sure you know that. But who am I to complain, eh? I mean, he’s the one that has to do almost all of the adjusting.”

  “Well, Monique, I’m sure you have had to adjust your life around Robert’s needs as well.”

  “You know, Miss Pourshadi, Robert has always been a man who takes care of himself, he’s always been that way. I mean, I try to help him. Like when he first had to take a shower and had that cast, or even now. Helping him...get in and out of that wheelchair. But he’s so independent...he just...just refuses to ask for or accept my help.”

  Seema noticed how Monique’s body stiffened and that she was calling her Miss Pourshadi again.

  “And how does that make you feel, Monique?”

  Monique suddenly lowered her head and looked at the floor. Seema waited a moment and then asked her again, “So how does that make you feel, Monique?”

  Monique raised her head, looked directly at Seema and sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know how it makes you feel?”

  Monique shook her head.

  “Does it make you feel hurt, resentful or angry?”

  “I don’t know, Miss Pourshadi. I simply don’t know. I just don’t have time to think those things. And anyway, I can’t be spending too much time being angry or hurt—and well, look, I just don’t know how I feel, okay? I really don’t. It’s just a lot has changed and—when someone you love, someone that you’re spending your life with, and this happens to them—you have to try. You have to try to do your best, to be there for them...”

  “And what kind of support do you have?”

  “Oh, Robert’s parents and family came by and so many of his students wanted to see him, but...but, he asked everyone to give him time and not come over for a while. And of course, he has this place...Benny’s been great and of course, you too.”

  “And what about you, Monique?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Fine, really!” Monique looked at her watch. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave soon. I have to be at work in twenty minutes. Is there anything specific about Robert I need to know or do for him?”

  Seema sadly smiled to herself. She had seen Monique’s same reticence to talk about herself in so many other family members that were taking care of a loved one: people who had the same life-changing experiences as she and Robert. Whenever Seema saw this kind of selfless behaviour, she knew it was the beginning of the end of most relationships. What she discovered was that when most of these parents, siblings and partners became helpers they neglected their own lives and feelings. Soon, they became lonely, angry martyrs. Their selfless behaviour towards the one who had been hurt usually created a wedge that eventually destroyed even the strongest relationships. Yet, the five minutes Monique had left this morning would not be enough to address this, so Seema tried another angle.

  “I’m sure you are doing everything you can. But Monique, just don’t forget yourself, okay? Concerning Robert, I do have a couple of questions. How do you feel he is sleeping lately?”

  “I’m not sure. You see, he sleeps in the guest room ‘cause it’s closer to the washroom. He was worried I might roll over on his leg, so when he first came home, I would only lie beside him until he fell asleep. But, he said, I always fell asleep before him and then he would have to wake me so I could go back to my bed—I mean, to our bedroom where we used to both sleep until...Anyway, so now after he gets into bed, he...well, lately he just locks the door. And it’s okay, I get it. I mean, I really do. I see he needs his space, so...so you know, I try to give it to him.”

  Seema tried to smile as compassionately as she could. “And affection, Monique? How—”

  Monique shot a scornful look towards Seema. “—Affection?”

  “Yes, do you and Robert share—”

  Monique’s voice became strained. “—You mean sex?”

  “No, I’m just asking—”

  “—Sex? How can you ask me that? I think that would be the last thing on his mind. Don’t you? He’s got enough to deal with, don’t you think?”

  “I’m sorry, Monique, really I was only asking about affection,
like a hug, hand holding, maybe a morning or goodbye kiss. That’s all.”

  “Do you know...that I haven’t even seen his legs yet?”

  “You mean since the operation?”

  “Ever since we got back from Kathmandu. I think he purposely keeps me from seeing them!”

  “Really? Have you asked him to show you?”

  “What? No! He has enough doctors and people probing and touching them, he sure doesn’t need me doing the same. But you would think after this much time—I’m sorry. I should be the last one to complain.”

  “It’s fine, Monique. It’s not a complaint. Do you ever talk about how—”

  “—We don’t talk!”

  “I’m sorry. You don’t talk?”

  “No...Well, not right now. He’s dealing with a lot. We never had a problem. We used to talk about everything, but now—look, it’s okay. I’m sure he would talk if...if he needed to.”

  “Of course. I was only asking about affection because I was just wondering how much has changed or maybe even has got back to normal between—”

  “—I’m not sure what normal you are talking about, Miss Pourshadi. Do you know how long Robert would be gone when he went climbing? Sometimes almost three months! Believe me, we’ve gone through long periods of time not sharing affection. So it’s not such a big deal now. It’s going to be okay, I’m sure we can last through this!”

  “Of course, of course you can.” Monique’s constant avoidance and responses gave Seema a sad glimpse into the Sanchez household—a home barren of communication and affection with a wife living as if her husband was still far away, scaling some mountain. Again Seema changed the subject. “And how about his prostheses?”

  “I’m sorry, his what?”

  “His prosthetic legs. Does he try to wear them at home at all?”

  “Well, um...” Monique looked truly lost and she stammered, “You see, um...the truth is, we never brought them into the house. They’ve been in the car for a while now. I wanted to bring them in but Robert, well, he said they don’t fit right. That they were going to make him new ones.”

  “Okay.” Seema smiled and nodded. Benny had already confided to her that he was at his wit’s end with Robert and his prostheses. Robert was abnormally resistant to working with the artificial limbs and always voiced a variety of complaints about how the prostheses didn’t fit properly or hurt too much. Benny had over twenty-five years of experience working with amputees and fitting them with artificial limbs and he told Seema he could not find any legitimate reason why Roberto Sanchez wasn’t already walking out of the centre on his own. But seeing how distraught Monique was, Seema didn’t push the issue.

  “Well, Monique, has there been anything of note that you might want to mention. That you think might be helpful to us?”

  “Note?” Monique creased her eyebrows. “Note? I’m sorry, it’s just that word, it just sounds...kind of strange. ”

  Seema smiled. “I’m sorry, you’re right, the word ‘note’ does sound strange, doesn’t it? No, I mean is there anything different, something Robert does or hasn’t done that concerns you?”

  “You mean other than everything?!”

  Seema’s eyes opened wide. It looked as if Monique’s defences had failed her and she was now going to finally let it all out, spill the hurt and reveal everything she felt. But Monique quickly let out a laugh, “Ha...no, I’m sorry, I’m just kind of tired this morning. Look, forget I said that.”

  “Really, Monique, would you like me to forget that?”

  “Yes, please, I just...oh, okay! Okay, do you want to know something Robert did that I’m concerned about? He bought a gun. That’s right, a gun! He did. I know for a fact he doesn’t even like guns, but he brought one home a week ago. Well, I think it was a week ago. How on earth was he able to get it? I don’t know. He didn’t show it to me, it was hidden under the mattress. I only found it when I changed the sheets. A gun...a gun? And did he tell you why he bought that gun, Miss Pourshadi?”

  Seema sat back in her chair and tried to hide her concern. “No, Monique, he never mentioned it. What did you say to him when you found it?”

  “I didn’t say anything. I was too afraid to ask him. I just...just put it back under the mattress. But then just last Friday, I came home early because our daughter, Jenny, was coming home for a visit and there he was. When I opened the front door, there he was, sitting there holding that gun. He saw me looking right at it, but he didn’t say anything. He just put that gun on the coffee table beside him like it was a magazine that he had just been reading. And then, he looked at me and saw me staring at the gun. And then he said, as simple as can be, ‘We need it for protection now,’ and I just didn’t know what to say! I was so shocked! So I said, ‘Okay, just don’t leave it on the coffee table, Jenny’s coming home tonight.’”

  Monique looked back at her watch. “I’m sorry, Miss Pourshadi, but I really do have to get to work now.”

  Seema looked down and realized she had mindlessly pulled her scarf from her neck and was now nervously winding it tightly around one of her hands.

  “Monique, I think we should—” A knock at the door interrupted her.

  “Excuse me, Monique.” Seema then called out, “Yes, who is it?”

  The door opened and there were Benny and Robert.

  “Oh, hi Mrs. Sanchez.” Benny smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here.”

  “What is it, Benny?” Seema asked.

  “Sorry, Miss Pourshadi, I saw on the calendar you were free this morning so we came up. I should have called first. It’s just Robert wanted to switch his afternoon appointment to first thing this morning.”

  Monique stood up and started putting on her coat. “That’s okay, I was just leaving, Benny.”

  Seema stood up and walked from behind her desk and held out her hand to Monique to say goodbye. “Thank you for the talk, Monique.”

  Monique completely startled Seema by hugging her instead of shaking her hand. Monique’s hug was so strong and powerful, it was hard for Seema to lift her arms and hug her back. This hug said everything Monique couldn’t speak out loud, Seema thought. Or was it that, for these past six months, Monique had just simply needed some affection from someone? A hug, because for last six months she had felt alone, waiting, like she had done so many times—waiting for Robert to come back from another one of his climbs.

  The moment the two finished the hug, Robert was in the room, a couple of feet behind his wife. In one fluid motion, Monique turned, briefly touched her husband’s shoulder, gave it a quick squeeze and then walked out the door without sharing a look or saying a word to him.

  26. NANCY

  Namche Bazar, 3:30 pm

  Dearest Love,

  I’m sitting on top of the highest hotel in the world—the “Everest View” hotel. Unfortunately, the only view is my pen on the pages of this journal. The clouds have decided to wrap themselves around us. I can’t even see who is sitting at the end of this table as the fog is so heavy. Today was newly-born with so many firsts...Today, these kids made me feel as if it was my first time ever seeing a mountain. With all the planning, weather gauging, the schedules and timing the breaks...I think I’ve been guilty of putting all my focus on watching where my feet are going, and completely forgetting to see where I am...

  We’re travelling with three Sherpas—Ang (you know, Mr. Happy Feet, always finding a reason to dance. He’s the same one who summited with me three years ago), Mingma (kids call him ‘the silencer’ because he just doesn’t like people talking and he can give you this look that just tells you he wants silence and so you better shut up immediately!) and Mingma’s teenage son, Satya (can’t figure him out yet, strange young man). I must say, even though Mingma doesn’t like too much conversation, he still smiles a glorious smile and in his own odd way he has made our gang feel welcomed and safe!

  I think Troy feels guilty every day watching the Sherpas carry his stuff and he keeps wanting to carry more than he shou
ld. Ang is constantly taking things out of Troy’s sack and putting them back on his yak during breaks. This hasn’t stopped for two days: Troy filling his backpack and Ang taking things out. Really makes the breaks quite entertaining with all that tugging back and forth between them.

  Satya must take after his father. He doesn’t talk! Seriously, we have not heard him speak ONE word! Yet we were told he speaks very good English. Nancy walked beside him most of the day, talking his head off. But he doesn’t say a word and he definitely doesn’t have his father’s wide-open smile. He’s such a sad looking boy, it’s impossible to make eye contact with him. I think Nancy’s trying to get him to smile as I write...I can hear her at the end of the table; can’t see them though. REALLY, the fog is that thick! Lots of filming and interviews with the village folk and climbers today...I think Philip will have a tough time editing all of it into a half-hour clip to put on the web site for the kids back home. I’m really proud of the way they’ve been taking turns talking into that lens and exposing themselves so far.

  There is an old song that sits inside me today. Found myself singing it as we trekked, Story of a Life it’s called. It’s an old Harry Chapin song and I find as I’m attempting to start Nancy’s story in this journal, well...I just can’t seem to recall how it all began with her and what words best describe her. It kind of reminds me of a line from Harry’s song: something about words can work so well...sometimes words belong in hell...because sometimes—words—they don’t do much of anything at all...and that’s definitely how it started with Nancy.

  The phone rang. It was two thirty-seven am on Thursday.

  Every Thursday for the past year Robert had been volunteering at the Scarborough Crisis Centre. He sat in a small windowless room in St. Teresa’s church basement. There were two phones on a bare wooden table with a couple of binders and an odd mix of paper pads. Against the back wall was a bookshelf filled with telephone books, an assortment of magazines and a variety of paperback novels that had seen better days. The generic light green coloured walls were empty except for a list of local emergency phone numbers and a map of the city that had some key emergency locations circled in purple.