A Little Help from Above
Page 14
Shelby’s face reddened. Okay, maybe she had gone a little far mocking the foreigners in the hospital. Lord knows how many Eastern European Jewish doctors entered the country after the war, and what a travesty it would have been had they been denied opportunities in America.
“I don’t have much time left.” Dr. Weiner coughed and sputtered.
“How old are you?” Shelby stood firmly at the door.
“Seventy-three this August,” he wiped his brow. “God willing.”
“Well, that’s a lot longer than our mother ever had.”
“Shelby!” Lauren grabbed her arm. “Don’t be rude.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” Dr. Weiner waved. “She’s angry vith me. Belief me. I understand.”
“To be honest, I can’t say angry sums it up.” Shelby’s wrath quickly converted to steam heat. “Not when I’m looking at a man who put his right hand on the Bible and took the Hypocrite’s Oath. Thou shalt enter the practice of medicine with the sole purpose of milking it for the cash cow that it is…”
“Shelby, please.” Mrs. Weiner put her arm around her. “He just thought if you two had the chance to meet…”
“That what? I’d sit here and listen to his crappy apology?” Shelby pushed her arm away. “Sorry. Apologies are for when you’re late for dinner or you forget a friend’s birthday. They don’t count for shit when a doctor is so cavalier and inept, so terribly conceited and unfeeling, he destroys a person’s life, then takes almost thirty years to express his deepest sympathies.”
“Jost like the mother.” Dr. Weiner smiled, shaking his finger in recognition.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Shelby stood, hands on hips.
“Of course.” His chuckle quickly turned into a mucus-filled gag. Still, he held his hand up, signaling he had more to say.
“You say I was conceited? Uch! You’re right. But not unfeeling. Never unfeeling.” He looked into Shelby’s angry eyes. “And not vithout regrets. You don’t think I vished I could do better? But who knew? We were in the dark ages then. We didn’t have the research, the tests…”
“Oh, please,” Shelby cried. “I’m not a child anymore. I don’t hold you accountable for what you didn’t know. I hold you accountable for your arrogance and your contempt. When my mother came to you in pain, you told her to stop kvetching. You blew her off, Dr. Weiner. And six months later she was dead. Now I’m supposed to forgive you just so you can die with a clear conscience? Give me a break!”
“Shelby, stop!” Mrs. Weiner ran to her ex-husband’s side. “You’re upsetting him.”
“No, no.” He waved. “Let her get it out. It’s good to get things out.”
“I think we should go,” Lauren whispered. “Mommy’s waiting for us.”
Shelby nodded in agreement and turned around.
“Wait. Please,” Dr. Weiner called out. “I vant to finish.”
“Maybe another time, dear.” Irma fluffed his pillow while signaling the girls to leave. “This wasn’t one of my better ideas…”
“Listen to me.” He tried to sit up. “You don’t think I cried at the sight of your mother’s small, ravaged body? At the sight of you beautiful children clinging to her? I was devastated, believe me. But I never turned my back on her. I consulted vith anyone I thought knew something about her cancer. I called the universities, the drug companies, I even flew to Tijuana to get her the Laetrile therapy. Ask Irma.”
Shelby and Lauren stopped.
“It’s true.” Mrs. Weiner stroked his arm. “He was also one of the first physicians to use marijuana to control pain and nausea.”
“I gave her from my best stash.” Dr. Weiner winked.
Lauren looked at Shelby in disbelief. Their mother had smoked joints?
“Toward the end he made sure she was so high she felt nothing,” Mrs. Weiner said. “And believe me, that was very risky. He could have been arrested. He could have lost his license…”
“It’s a lovely story.” Shelby smirked. “Very compelling. But did it ever occur to you, Dr. Weiner, that none of your Superman heroics would have been necessary if you’d just listened to her?”
“Okay, that’s it. I’ve heard enough.” Mrs. Weiner started to show them out. “You want to spend the rest of your life wallowing in pity and hatred? Be my guest. But you have no right to come in here and be heartless.”
“She’s not heartless, Mrs. Weiner.” Lauren held Shelby’s hand. “She’s in pain. And this was your idea. Not ours.”
“Out, out, out.” Mrs. Weiner began shooing them.
“Irma!” a ferocious-sounding Dr. Weiner growled. Everyone jumped. “Please.” He started to cough up blood. “I want to hear what she has to say.”
“No, dear,” Irma bravely defied him. “You have no idea what she’s really like, and…”
“You don’t know”—he tried catching his breath—“from having your mother torn from your arms when you’re a mere child. We do.” He pointed to the girls and himself. “What I wouldn’t have given to shake my fist at the barbarian who killed mine.”
“Oh my God.” Lauren placed her hand over her heart. “Your mother was killed?”
Dr. Weiner nodded, then pulled up the left sleeve of his hospital gown to reveal his German phone number. The six-digit tattoo brandished in his arm by the Nazis. “Not just my mother. My father. My aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, friends, neighbors. Believe me,” he whispered, “I know about loss. About suffering. Bergen-Belsen never leaves you.”
Shelby and Lauren looked at one another, too stunned to speak. Too moved to hear the cheerful cries of a child running down the hall.
“Papa, Papa! Today was Moving Up Day at school and the man said I could have red Jell-O.” An exuberant five-year-old zoomed in and jumped on the bed. “Now I don’t have to eat yours!”
“Justin!” Dr. Weiner tried to hug his beloved grandson but got tangled in his tubes.
“Oooh, Justin, be careful. Move down this way, sweetie.” Mrs. Weiner lifted him. “How’s Grandma’s big graduate?” she kissed his head. “Kindergarten here we come.”
“Hi, Mom.” The boy’s father strode in, holding a bag of toys and a sack of bagels. He walked over to his mother, kissed her cheek, then his father’s. “How you doing, Dad?”
“Fine. Fine.” He managed to smile. “Just doing some reminiscing.”
“You took the day off?” Irma took the bagels from her son.
“Sure. How often does one’s son graduate nursery school?” He patted Justin’s head.
“Not graduate, Daddy. Moved up. When’s the Jell-O coming, Papa? I’m hungry.”
“Soon, dear.” Grandma smiled. “Go find Papa a wheelchair? He’s waiting for his ride.”
“I’m sorry,” Brad said as he watched Justin scramble off the bed and out into the hallway. “I didn’t know you had company. Hi. I’m Bradley Weiner.”
“Hi.” Lauren smiled meekly, and extended her hand. “Lauren Streiffler.”
“Hello.” Shelby smiled, but decided not to introduce herself in case the Lazarus name offended him. And what was with the dirty look from Irma? So I checked out her son. He’s cute, but it’s not like I plan to seduce him.
“Okay, well, I think we can get going now.” Mrs. Weiner clapped. “We were just on our way to visit Mrs. Lazarus, dear. Take Daddy out, and I’ll be back in a little bit.” She patted Brad’s shoulder. “Unless I happen to pass a friendly tavern first.”
I swear on my previous five lifetimes I had nothing to do with what just happened. You think I’d want my daughters to be dragged into that old lion’s den? What was Irma thinking? That the meeting would turn into a lovefest? A “Tuesdays with Bernie”?
Yes, I know all about the best-seller. With the possible exception of Oprah’s Book Club selections, which only God was privy to and then sworn to secrecy, the libraries of the universe get advance copies of the books they know will fly off the shelves in the physical world so we can stay in tune with our loved ones.
>
But I digress. Listening to Shelby give Bernie Weiner a kick in the ass was one of my proudest moments as a mother. Not that I’m in favor of being rude to a dying man. It’s just for the first time she’s confronted one of her demons, and maybe now she’ll begin to realize that harboring hatred and resentment wastes tremendous energy, our soul’s most precious resource.
That’s my hope anyway. Plus now that she’s on a roll, it would also be a load off my mind if she finally came to terms with the two other people in her life she’s neither been willing to forgive nor forget. My husband and my sister, of course, who as you know are conveniently lying in the same hospital as Dr. Weiner. Gives new meaning to the expression one-stop shopping!
“You are some piece of work, Shelby.” Mrs. Weiner raced down the hall with what appeared to be a fairly decent tail wind.
Lauren tried to keep up, but Shelby simply stopped. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t see Aunt Roz now. Couldn’t make small talk with her other nemesis. Not after that mortifying, disconcerting encounter with Public Enemy # 1, Dr. Weiner.
“You go,” Shelby grabbed Lauren’s arm. “I can’t. I’ll just say something stupid, and everyone will get mad at me, and…
“It wasn’t your fault, Shel. She never should have brought us in to see him.”
“Yes, but she did, and now I’m spent. Just go. Tell her I’m coming down with a cold.”
“But we’re so close, Shel. Please?” she begged. “We wouldn’t have to stay long.”
“Sorry. I just remembered my horoscope said it was a bad day for relationships. “
“I thought you don’t believe in that stuff.”
“Suddenly I do.”
“But Mommy’s expecting you. What am I going to tell her?”
“How about the truth? Tell her Mrs. Weiner put her own agenda in front of mine, and it spoiled my big debut.”
“Don’t be like this,” Lauren pleaded. “I hated what just happened in there, too. But I understand why she wanted us to meet him. He’s not the big bad wolf you made him out to be.”
“Sure he is, Little Red Riding Hood. You just didn’t recognize him because he’s wearing a hospital gown instead of Grandma’s dress. Same shit, different designer.”
“Well I disagree,” Lauren said angrily. “But you know what? Nothing I say is going to change your mind, so go enjoy your stupid manicure…I hope you bleed.”
Not bad. Not bad, Shelby thought as she watched Lauren venture off into the medicinal sunset. Admittedly her sister was weak in the comeback department, but brave on all other fronts. Still, for herself, she knew she’d made the right decision. She was going to need lots more time to prepare for her first encounter with Aunt Roz. Just as a general needed time to prepare for battle. The big difference, however, was in lieu of hand-to-hand combat and sophisticated weaponry, the only arsenal she’d have at her disposal were pursed lips and under-her-breath commentary.
Maybe she’d go back to the house and rehearse, she thought as she headed down the hall. But just as she passed Dr. Weiner’s room, she saw a confused orderly holding a bowl of red Jell-O.
“I believe they went for a walk.” Shelby cleared her throat.
“Oh man. A walk? The kid wouldn’t let go a me ’til I promised to get this, and now he ain’t here? I gotta get back to my job.”
“I’ll give it to him.” Shelby shuddered. Acts of kindness were such unfamiliar territory. But what the hell? She was only going to leave it on the table and go.
“Thanks, ma’am.” The young man smiled as he handed her the bowl. “Tell the boy sorry they was out of whipped cream, but at least it’s red like he asked.”
“No problem.” Shelby slowly eased into the room, careful not to let a drop of the slimy red blob touch her clean white shirt. Of greater concern was why the attendant had called her ma’am. Good God, was Mother Time knocking already? Did she need to be cozying up to a plastic surgeon for the return of her youthful appearance? But who would operate on a woman who needed Valium for facials? So absorbed was she, she didn’t hear the ruckus.
“She’s taking my Jell-O! The mean lady’s taking my Jell-O.” Justin raced down the hall and into the room, colliding with Shelby as she was setting the bowl down on the rolling tray table.
“Oh crap!” Shelby yelled, gaping in horror at the wet, red slime running down the middle of her shirt. Her new, hundred percent ribbed, Armani T-shirt that flattered her tight abs and probably cost more than the kid’s entire wardrobe. “Look what you did, you little brat!” Shelby screamed.
“Please don’t speak to my son that way!” Brad ran in. “I’m sure it was just an accident.”
“Why did you take it, lady? It was for me,” Justin cried at the sight of his treat on the floor.
“What are you doing in here anyway?” Brad tried consoling his young son.
“Oh my God. I wasn’t taking his freakin’ Jell-O. I was doing him a favor. The guy who brought it had to leave, and I was passing by, so I said I would make sure he got it.”
“Oh.” Brad started to wipe up the spill with a tissue. “Sorry.”
“And why are you calling me a mean lady?” she asked Justin. “What did I do to you?”
“My daddy says you’re mean ’cause you made my papa cry.”
“I made him cry? Ha! What about all the times he made me cry?” Shelby replied.
“C’mon, lady.” Brad stood up, soggy tissue in hand. “Are you really going to stand here and argue with a five-year-old?”
“No. No, I’m not,” Shelby took off, mumbling about the pointlessness of trying to be nice.
Now look at me, she thought when she reached the parking lot. I’m never going to get this awful mess out. Figures something like this has to happen the first time I don’t wear black! And of all times for Mr. Dri-Kleen not only to have retired, but to be in and out of consciousness.
It’ll be okay, she thought as she ransacked her pocketbook for her car keys. I can be home in five minutes and hopefully Maria remembers a few of Daddy’s stain-removing tricks. Now where the hell are my keys? She dumped the entire contents of her bag on the hood of the car and then it hit her. She must have left them on the table in the cafeteria when Lauren and Mrs. Weiner whisked her away to see Aunt Roz.
“Shit, shit, shit!” She jumped up and down. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back in there looking like a child who refused to wear a napkin. But what choice did she have? She threw everything back in her bag, then stormed off in the direction of the cafeteria, brushing past people without uttering a single, “Excuse me.” If one more goddamn thing went wrong today, people were going to discover her testy side.
“Okay, break it up,” Shelby yelled at the teenagers making out at her table. “And get your tongue out of his ear. Don’t you know that’s unsanitary? Now did either of you two kids find a set of car keys when you sat down?”
They shook their heads no. No point in coming up for air to talk to this bitch.
“Oh great.” Shelby shot over to the cashier to ask if anyone had turned in a set of keys. The woman reached behind the cash register and retrieved a pair of men’s sunglasses. “Sorry.” She shrugged. “Try Lost and Found.”
“Where’s that?”
“Over by Admitting.”
“Well, now that’s real helpful as I’m personally familiar with the entire layout of this friggin’ hospital!” Shelby yelled as she took off in the direction the woman pointed.
“Shelby!”
She turned around at what sounded like Lauren’s voice. But that wasn’t possible. She was upstairs spoon-feeding Aunt Roz.
“Over here, Shel,” a beaming Lauren cried out. “Look who’s here!”
Shelby looked over her shoulder, then gripped the top of a chair. A broken and bandaged Aunt Roz was being wheeled through the cafeteria with Lauren at the helm.
“The nurses said it was okay to bring her down.” Lauren waved. “They thought a little change of scenery would do her good.”
“Look, Mommy,” Lauren cried as she wheeled Aunt Roz over to where Shelby had collapsed. “Shelby’s so happy to see you she’s in tears.”
Shelby wailed even louder.
Chapter Twelve
“Hello, Shelby.” Aunt Roz waved her arm cast, wearing her bravest face. What little of it showed through the bandages. “Thanks for coming.”
Shelby looked up, bewildered not so much by the yards of white tape running the width and length of her aunt’s body, but by the seated position from which she was taking it all in. It made her feel powerless to peer up from the floor at the Queen Mother on her makeshift throne. And what was with that trite, hackneyed expression, thanks for coming? First Dr. Weiner said it. Now Aunt Roz. It was eerily reminiscent of her mother’s funeral when her father, numb in the receiving line, mechanically shook hundreds of people’s hands. “Thanks for coming…thanks for coming…”
“Hello, Aunt Roz.” Shelby wiped her eyes and stood up, hoping it wasn’t necessary to kiss the woman, what with most of her face covered.
Fortunately, Aunt Roz did not appear slighted. For with her one good eye she was already focused on Shelby’s dirty shirt. “What happened to you?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Shelby teased.
Lauren and Aunt Roz laughed. Only Shelby would be funny at a time like this.
“You look good, honey,” Aunt Roz said. “A little too thin, and you could use a touch-up. But for your age, still a beauty.”
“Gee, thanks.” Damn straight I’m a beauty. Or hadn’t you noticed every man’s head turned when I walked by?
“So. How are you feeling?” Shelby knew it was a ridiculous question, but it was the best she could do in her shaken state.
“How do you think I’m feeling? Terrible! But at least, thank God, Daddy and I are still alive. I’ve always said as long as we can be together we’ll be fine.”