The Pirate Queen

by Patricia Hickman

  “That was Turner. Ramsey was a natural B student. That’s not a failure, Mama. My phone’s ringing,” said Gwennie. She covered her pasta with a napkin. “I’ll take this outside. Signal’s awful in this place.”

  The sandwich Saphora had picked off the deli line was untouched. She cut it in half and then in fourths. Finally she wrapped it up in her napkin.

  “Impossible to eat the day of their surgery.” A woman seated across from her spoke. She was the Latino husband’s wife.

  Saphora felt elated to see a familiar face. “How do you eat during something like this?”

  The woman introduced herself as Linda Valdez. “It’s my husband’s second surgery. We both lose weight when Emilio goes under the knife. Try eating smaller portions more often. Tell yourself you’re just eating a snack. It’s better than adding starvation to stress.”

  Saphora gave Linda her name. “How long has your husband known about his cancer?”

  “A year. They gave him six months, but Emilio’s not giving up. We have five kids. He’s not going to leave us behind, he says. He says God wouldn’t dare bring him into heaven complaining.”

  “Bender just found out. We don’t know the prognosis yet.”

  “Chemo is hard on them.”

  “He hates to lose his hair. But he told his doctor, Jim Pennington, ‘Shave it all off for the surgery and get it over with.’ I hate every step of it.”

  “I wish I could say that after a year, you’re a pro at fighting cancer. But each day brings a new battle.” She got up and came to Saphora’s table. She took a seat beside her. “Don’t think I feel sorry for myself. Emilio and I have never known this kind of love before. You’ll know soon enough what I mean.”

  Saphora was getting better at holding back her tendency to fall into a crying jag. But after several tears slipped down her face, she finally just let go and cried in front of this stranger. Linda might have assumed her tears were all for sorrow. It would have taken too long to explain that the day Bender told her about his cancer was the day she had planned to leave him. Linda would think she was a terrible wife. She said, “My daughter is coming back. I don’t want her to see me like this.”

  “It’s good for her to know you’re not an iron woman. You don’t want to teach her to live ashamed of her emotions. A daughter can know her mother is less than perfect. She’ll be stronger knowing the truth.” Linda said it effortlessly, like a woman well practiced in opening up her life for the whole world to see.

  In her next leg of life, she would request an outlook like Linda’s. She dried her eyes and smiled for Gwennie.

  The first time Saphora’s hospital pager went off was to tell her that Bender had not yet gone into surgery. Three hours later, the entire surgical team had gotten ready in order to proceed. That left Saphora and Gwennie waiting until midnight, when he was finally wheeled out of the operating room into recovery.

  Before Saphora reached the recovery room, Bender was shouting, “Where’s Saphora? Bring her to me!”

  Gwennie ran slightly ahead of Saphora but then stepped aside to allow her to pass and enter the recovery area, a sort of wide, open room cordoned off only by curtains.

  Three nurses, including a big male nurse, maneuvered Bender onto a bed. But he was putting up a fight. The smallest female nurse stepped back to let her male associate try to gain control of Bender’s troubled waking state.

  Bender’s eyes met Saphora’s. “There she is.” His words were slurred from the sedation. “I thought I’d lost you.” His eyes closed. His grimace showed anguish uncharacteristic of him.

  “He’s a little groggy. That’s normal,” said the male nurse.

  Saphora took Bender’s hand. “I’m here, love,” she said. She had called him “love” in their early days as a couple. Seeing the suffering in his eyes brought back something tender inside her. Maybe it was self-comforting.

  Bender tried to get up again, turning on his side and exposing his bare backside to the smaller nurse who stood at the end of the bed. Gwennie laughed nervously as the nurse pulled the sheet over him. He sucked in deeply when the sheet covered his mouth and nose. Saphora took over the post of calming Bender down, adjusting the sheet and talking evenly.

  Gwennie plopped down in a corner of the room and pulled a magazine in front of her face.

  “Bender, you’re coming awake,” said Saphora. “You’re in Duke Medical. Get your bearings, love.” He was dependent, thrashing to come back in the world as if he were being born again. His head was taped with gauze tinged red. In spite of what he asked of Jim, only part of his head was shaven. His blond curls made a halo around the bandage. Blue circles were forming around both his swollen eyes.

  Jim walked up beside Saphora. “We found what we were looking for. It was a mass the size of a lemon.” He said to Bender, “We’ll talk about your treatment in the morning.” He left Bender’s bedside but continued to make eye contact with Saphora. She followed him out of the room.

  “He’s going to have a walloping headache for a week or so,” Jim told her out of Bender’s earshot. “If I were you, I’d hire a nurse who’ll come to your house. You know Bender. He’ll be a handful to manage. I’ll recommend an agency.”

  Saphora knew the surgeon song and dance before delivering the prognosis. She was ready to get to the bad news. “What’s his prognosis, Jim?”

  “Depending on his will to battle this thing, he could have six more months. I know you, Saphora. You’ll make them count.”

  She struggled to talk for the minute it took Jim to locate a box of tissues down the hallway and bring it back to her. “He wants to convalesce in Oriental,” she said, still trying to maintain her composure. “So I’ll need to find a nursing service near there. Is that possible?” She stammered around until Gwennie ran to her side, as if she could somehow give her the ability to talk again.

  Jim bent to hug her. His voice was somber. “I’ll find you a good home health nurse near Oriental,” said Jim. “The best I can find. We’re going to give him a light sedative to sleep through the rest of the night. You and Gwennie might as well go to the hotel and get some rest. Be back here about midmorning, and I’ll meet you in his room to powwow with you and Bender.”

  “I’ll drive us to the hotel, Mama. I called Tobias’s mom, and she says the boys are sleeping, not to worry about Eddie.”

  Saphora revisited the thoughts that dogged her the day of the Southern Living party. Now she felt a strange elation coupled with guilt. She had wanted to leave Bender, but she had not wanted him to leave. Not like this.

  “Have I been a good wife?” she asked Gwennie.

  “Don’t do that to yourself, Mama,” said Gwennie. “No one can say you haven’t.”

  6

  I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship.

  LOUISA MAY ALCOTT, Little Women

  Saphora let Tobias in the door. He circled around her, saying quickly, “Morning, Mrs. W.” He and Eddie played together nearly every day for the first two weeks in Oriental following Bender’s surgery. Whenever Saphora drove Bender to Duke, Eddie stayed behind with Tobias and his mother, Jamie. Today Saphora told Jamie she should drop him by. He kept Eddie busy outside, away from video games. His adoptive mother was younger than Saphora, his father more the age of a granddad, as Gwennie had said.

  It was overcast but rain was not predicted. “They’re no trouble,” Saphora told Jamie. “They’ll stay out in the tree house all day.”

  Jamie doted on Tobias. She never overstayed her welcome, just staying long enough for a pleasant visit. She made the days spent in vigil over Bender less burdensome. She was one of those highly positive women who never had a bad thing to say about anyone. Saphora wanted to be like her.

  Jamie said, “It’s good that Tobias has made a summer friend. I’m indebted to you.” She let herself out.

  While at the hospital Saphora had called and ordered a leased patient bed. Finally, midmorning, the rental company’s setup guy arrived. H
e recommended she install Bender’s sleeping space in the library. The energy to take the stairs evaporated under the rounds of chemotherapy coursing through his circulatory system. Bender could look out across the backyard and the Neuse and see the way the rain swept down the river, waving like women’s skirts.

  Bender got off the sofa and dressed himself in the library’s bathroom. Then he immediately sat in the rocker next to the hospital bed.

  Saphora washed berries and placed them around a plate, a cup of hot grits in the center, an egg on the side. He liked butter, but not today.

  He told her, “Tomorrow I’m eating in the breakfast room. Could you not overcook my eggs?”

  “You said that yesterday,” she said. “Hospice is looking for a nurse. Nothing yet. But they’ll find one. We’re just so far out.” She wasn’t going to bring up the fact that they would not have this problem in Davidson.

  The doorbell rang. Saphora gave him his medical journal. “I’ll be back,” she said. She left the library and walked to the front door. When she opened it, her surprise caused the visitor on her front porch to laugh. “Pastor?”

  John Mims was holding a white envelope. “Mrs. Warren! I looked for you at the fund-raiser. We missed you.”

  “My husband’s recovering from surgery,” she said, although she knew she had forgotten her promise to Pastor Mims out of convenience.

  “I’m so sorry.” He politely composed himself. “I heard the news Monday, just yesterday.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Bernard.”

  “Oh. Of course.” The curt grocery store clerk was also a covert neighborhood spy. She waited for a moment, thinking he was just dropping by a calling card.

  But the minister was well versed in making his intentions known in as few words as possible, his serious eyes examining her.

  Finally she said, “Want to come inside?”

  John followed her into the two-story living room. “Nice digs, Mrs. Warren.” Judging from his age, he was a product of the Jesus movement of the seventies.

  “It’s an old place. We should sell, but Bender thinks we need it for taxes.”

  “I hope you keep it. We like new folks coming to town for the summer. Oriental’s pretty quiet through the winter. Summers, we come to life.”

  “I’d like to have some time out in the village. We haven’t been sailing or anything,” she said.

  “Dr. Warren’s doing better, I hope?”

  She thought about Bender kneeling over the toilet puking up dinner last night. “Better, I guess,” she said. “How did you come to know about his cancer?”

  “Same way I found you. Bernard. He’s like the town post office. If it comes through Oriental, it comes through Bernard.”

  If she wanted privacy she’d have to find another grocery store.

  “I can visit with the doctor today if he’s up to company.”

  Pastor Mims meant well. But Bender’s interest in religion was piqued only when he breathed a prayer on the ninth hole to speak a bit of magic over his handicap. She was forming the words that would hopefully get him headed back out the door and on to more profitable pursuits when Bender appeared at the entrance to the library.

  “Saphora, it’s all right. I’m needing some company. Reverend, if you’d like to come and visit me, can you come back here? Best view in the house,” said Bender.

  Saphora was still holding the coffeepot. She tried not to look so open mouthed at Bender’s invitation. So she asked, “Tea or coffee?”

  “Coffee for me,” said Pastor Mims.

  Saphora followed Mims as far as the kitchen. He wandered into the library while she got out an extra cup. She was more than curious about Bender’s invitation to John Mims. She carried the coffee to the minister, who had taken the chair across from Bender. Then she excused herself to set up the cutting board on the marble buffet.

  Just as John Mims greeted Bender, the library door closed.

  The telephone rang. It was Turner wanting to talk to Eddie. He told her he would be up Friday. Saphora went to the back door, opened it, and called Eddie down from the tree house.

  Turner had come up the last two weekends. He had still not secured a sitter in Charlotte. But now that Eddie had found such a good friend in Tobias, Saphora did not have the heart to pressure Turner into taking him back home. School was starting in a few weeks anyway.

  Ramsey was also coming for the weekend, but this time he was bringing Celeste and their three boys. Ramsey confessed to Saphora that he had to explain to his children who their grandpa was. When they visited Lake Norman in the summers it was mostly Saphora who had spent time with them out in the sailboat.

  Celeste had been Bender’s excuse for not being around, staying late at the clinic when they had visited them in Davidson. He said her nervous talking made him want to gag her. Her temperament had worn on Bender so much that he had made himself scarce, much to his detriment, since Ramsey’s children had almost no remembrance of him at all.

  Bender’s voice was still too faint to hear through the closed library door. She laid aside the squash and onions, scraping the vegetables into a bowl and stowing them in the refrigerator. Finally she opened the door to the library and said, “Sherry is finally coming up. Her son is over the chickenpox, and her mother is watching him.”

  Bender was so intent on whatever he was telling Pastor Mims that he kept talking as if Saphora had not opened the door at all.

  She closed the door and then faxed a grocery list to Sherry. She couldn’t wait to see her. Once she drove in—she had promised by noon—Saphora would not lift another finger. The fax machine started grinding and jittering. She shut it down and made a new list on her BlackBerry. Sherry was most likely on the way to Oriental anyway.

  Sherry was her savior, but she felt guilty about that. Truth be told, if Sherry did nothing but stand beside her and prop her up, that would be fine. She loved her just for the comfort she brought her. Somehow, though, she was a buffer between Bender and her. With Sherry minding the everyday chores, he would stop complaining about the food and work out his demands with her. She had a calm way with him, asserting her will and taking his complaints in stride. Then she would go and retreat into a romance novel without another thought for Bender’s obsessive temperament.

  It occurred to Saphora she was hitched to Bender’s circus through years and years of habit.

  Finally, a phone text flashed that her list had been successfully sent to Sherry. Saphora had gone as far as she could go. She would go into town for the afternoon. She had not sailed since arriving, exactly what she had planned to do in the first place. Renting a boat was easily done downtown at the Oriental Marina.

  She decided not to tell Bender where she was going. Sherry could tell him. He was becoming so dependent on her. Who was he, after all, to run her ragged like she was another of those nurses who fluttered around him at the clinic, doing his bidding?

  Pastor Mims finally came out of the library, closing the door behind him. He was looking pleased with his visit. “Dr. Warren’s resting,” he told her. “He is a surprisingly spiritual man.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” she said, taking the chopping knife and dropping it into the sink.

  Pastor Mims quietly said, “You take care, Mrs. Warren. I’ll show myself out.”

  His last look at her was one that she had seen before from Bender’s friends when they sensed tension between them. Pastor John looked so intelligent, but Bender was smooth. He had won over another convert to his Bender cult. She imagined them all gathered to pay tribute to him, and that is when she realized that Bender had been building a case for himself, as if the Almighty could not see what she saw.

  It occurred to her he’d even been nicer to her since leaving Davidson. She wanted kindness from him, but for other reasons. Whenever she would see a couple quietly talking in a café, touching, and the husband gazing into his wife’s eyes as if he could disappear into them, be lost in love with her, she couldn’t help but fe
el a pang of something. Nothing as harsh as jealousy. Just a pang of wanting to feel something that others seemed to feel, a love that swallowed her up in completeness.

  Bender’s followers would all gather for his funeral and say the things about him that he had scripted and planted in their thoughts. Then she would stand up in the middle of them and start naming the women who had fawned over his special qualities. Perhaps that is exactly what she ought to invite from the funeral guests; she’d ask each of his girlfriends to stand and recount what Bender had done for her behind closed doors.

  Yes, exactly! Pastor Mims would say a prayer and then give her the floor. She would roll out the list like she was reading off the groceries for Sherry. “Erin Guff. Vickie Jaunice. Bernie Mae Milton. Pansy Fulton.” And while each woman was standing up and running out of the church, Saphora Warren would finally be getting the last word.

  She sat down on a stool and buried her face in her hands. What is wrong with me? I’m turning into the very thing I hate. God, help me!

  Sherry promised she would see to Bender. She had stopped in Raleigh and stocked up on groceries. When Saphora pulled away from the house, Sherry was out back feeding Eddie and Tobias pigs-in-a-blanket. She would finish up Saphora’s squash dish and feed it to Bender for lunch. Saphora felt tension releasing from her shoulders.

  Saphora stopped at the mailbox and was about to pull away when she saw the next-door neighbor getting his mail. She pulled up slowly and stopped. She brought down the car window and smiled, neighborly. “I’m your neighbor, Saphora,” she said.

  He was startled but acknowledged her. “I’ve seen you out with your boys playing.”

  “Oh. That’s my grandson, Eddie, and Tobias. Tobias lives a few blocks from here.”

  “You’re a grandmother? That’s surprising.”

  She had heard before that she looked too young for grandkids. But she appreciated it coming from a man who looked twenty years her junior. “My three are all grown. I have four grandchildren,” she said.