“I didn’t even know that was a thing,” she said. “Like an amusement park church? Is there a little boat that takes you through the story of the Bible? Or some 3-D image of Easter Sunday or something? Do they strap you in and make you feel like you’re flying over heaven?”
“No, nothing like that,” Reuben said, chuckling again. “I think it’s a real church. I haven’t actually been there. But I liked the Queen of the Universe wording. So I bought it—ordered it online, actually.”
“I was going to say that if you went to a religious service while you’re on vacation, I would think you would go to a synagogue, right? I mean . . .” She trailed off. It was something they hadn’t talked about—Reuben’s religious beliefs. Really all she knew about him was that he worked at a Catholic nursing home and he wore a yarmulke, which made him fascinating to her. She considered asking now; what did she have to lose? But before she had a chance, his expression turned serious, and she felt that the moment had passed.
“Listen, I’m glad you came in today,” he said. “I’ve been a little concerned about Richard.”
She had worried about this, that they might say he was disruptive by holding court the way he did in the common area. Really, when he did that, nobody could talk other than him. When they did, if they even just tried to ask a question, even if it was on topic, he would talk louder and louder, basically running over their words. But he seemed so happy when he was doing it. She hated the thought of having to ask him to stop.
“Is it how he takes over the common room?” she asked. “Has someone complained?”
“Are you kidding? No, it isn’t that at all. In fact, people love that. It’s either him or one of those food shows droning on in the background. I’d say he is much better than that, much more stimulating for everyone. After all, how many people get to listen to Richard T. Bent in the flesh?”
“Well, not many,” Hannah said, slightly relieved. “So what is it, then?”
“Well, lately when I do one last check each night and I come into his room, I don’t know how to say this, but I find him crying, weeping, really,” Reuben said without looking at her. “The first few times I pretended I didn’t realize and just said good night. I didn’t want to embarrass him, but when it went on for a third night in a row, I felt I had to say something. He won’t tell me what’s wrong. Basically he just keeps crying and nodding and finally says in his authoritative voice, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ so I know that’s my cue, and I say good night and leave.”
“Wait,” Hannah said. “He says ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’? He never says that. I mean, not anymore, and we aren’t supposed to say it.”
“Well, that’s what he says,” Reuben said. “So that’s been going on for over a week now. I just thought you should know.”
Hannah’s phone vibrated, and she pulled it from her back pocket. Joel again.
“Do you need to take that?”
“No,” Hannah said. Then, to her absolute embarrassment, she started to cry. The burn behind her eyes came first and then intense pressure followed by the tears. It was like no buildup to crying that she had ever experienced before. Reuben sat back with such wide eyes it was almost funny.
“I’m so sorry,” she blurted. “It’s been a hard day. We were evacuated from our house last night because of an underground fire, and Joel had to go to the ER—long story, he’s fine, but we were there most of the night. And then everyone here looked so sad when I walked in—I mean, they looked happy, so happy when I said hi and waved to them, but it made me sad—and now Richard. I mean, so weird that he’s been crying, but honestly his saying ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’ bothers me more than anything. And something else happened that I can’t go into, but it is—well, it’s a bit shattering, so it’s been a lot.”
By the time she finished talking, she had stopped crying, but she felt red and puffy. She decided she couldn’t possibly be the worst Reuben had seen. “You must think we Bents are all a bunch of blubbering idiots.”
“No, not at all, I’m just concerned,” Reuben said. “There does appear to be a lot of crying in your family right now. How’s Joel? Was he injured in the fire?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” she said quickly.
“Well, then how is he?” Reuben said tentatively when it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything more.
She had to look away. How was Joel? He was bad, really, on so many levels.
“He’s okay,” she said, trying not to picture Joel’s face in an effort to hold it together.
“Okay, well, you know I’m always here if you need anything,” Reuben said before draining his mug. Hannah hadn’t had much of hers, so she took a few quick sips.
She nodded and mumbled thanks, but what she wanted to say was that she imagined there would be a lot of crying in her family from here on out. But none of this had anything to do with Richard. His crying was a mystery. That was Reuben’s priority, not her and Joel’s marital sadness and personal heartbreak. Reuben stood up, and Hannah rushed to follow him. She didn’t want him to think she was being greedy and asking for more time with him. Just before they walked out the door, Reuben turned to her.
“I’ll keep an eye on Richard,” he said. “But I want to keep this discussion going. We don’t want him to get depressed.”
“No, we don’t,” she said emphatically. That was one thing she was sure of.
When they got back to the common room, Richard was dozing off, and most of the other residents were still surrounding him as though they were waiting for him to start up again, a brief commercial break in the middle of the broadcast. Hannah leaned in, gently squeezing his elbow. She felt like everyone was looking at her. Richard opened his eyes and smiled, then looked around. “Can you take me back to my room?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” she said, getting in position to push his wheelchair.
“I will return,” he said to the small crowd, waving. They all nodded and made quiet sounds of agreement.
“Thanks for coming,” he said as soon as she got him situated in his room and sat down in the chair next to him.
“I brought soap,” she said, holding up the bag.
“Thank you,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. Then he shifted in his chair and looked right at her, taking both of her hands in his.
“Family is the most important thing in the world,” he said, his voice booming. “Studies have shown that loving family, spending time with family, having more of that, is the number one thing people wish for at the end of their lives. Not work, not being right, not shopping, not having a bigger house. It is family.”
Hannah nodded; she was used to this, but she wondered if this had more meaning than usual. Was this why he had been crying lately?
“I know, Richard,” she said, squeezing his hands. “I know.”
He nodded, like he was satisfied, and broke the gaze between them. That was when she allowed herself to fall back against the chair with the realization that no matter how mad she was at Joel, no matter whether they really did start down that road of separating, she could never stop seeing Richard. She could never let him know. They would have to pretend. There was no question about it. As if on cue her phone rang again. She lifted it to see Joel’s name. Four times was enough—with Richard here and everything else, she felt like she at least had to see what he wanted.
“I’m with your father,” she said by way of a greeting. She wasn’t cold, exactly, but she also wasn’t her usual self.
“How is he?”
“He’s fine,” she said. “He’s good.”
She smiled at Richard, and he smiled back.
“Okay, well, tell him I’ll come by tomorrow,” Joel said. He sounded much better, but Hannah didn’t want to ask, or she would have to tell Richard the whole story about the smoke and the fire and the ER, and lately they had been leaving a lot out of what they shared with him. It was just easier that way. “I wanted to tell you, we have an appointment at five thirty. Can you come h
ome, and we’ll go together?”
“An appointment?” she asked. Had she forgotten something?
“Yes,” he said, talking fast. “With a highly recommended marriage counselor. She had a cancellation. I feel really lucky to get this time with her. I think it’s a good sign. Will you please do this with me? Please? We would have to leave here by about five or so. Monica’s staying. She’s practically moved in.”
Richard was looking at her, waiting for her to get off the phone. She felt she had no choice.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Hannah tried not to look at all the old people as she walked out. It was too hard. Instead she focused on her phone and pretended to be busy. But pretty quickly, looking at her phone made her think of Joel’s phone, which made her more sad than the easy-to-please old people, so she glanced up at the last minute, and it was like there was a lady just waiting there for her. She was tiny and sitting in a chair, her feet not even touching the floor, and she had a crocheted lilac blanket half on her lap and half off.
“Hello, miss, can you please help me?” she said as Hannah made reluctant eye contact with her.
Hannah looked around to see if there was anyone within earshot. Her first impulse was to handle this the way she handled most interactions with people asking for help on the street. She could mumble something about not today or being in a rush or that she was sorry. Honestly, that would all be true; she had to get home. But too much time went by as she decided what to do, and the lady reached out her bony hand and tried to pull the blanket back over her lap but just couldn’t get a grasp on it. Hannah was suddenly concerned that the lady might tumble out of the chair trying, so she leaned over and pulled it straight and waited for the lady to start talking about what else she needed help with—there must be something more. But the lady just sighed and smiled, closing her eyes. That was easy, Hannah thought as she stood to go. In the corner of the blanket, she saw a name embroidered in white—KIM. For the briefest second she thought how strange it was that this woman had a blanket with her friend Kim’s name on it, and then she thought, Of course, this woman’s name is probably Kim too.
Hannah looked back at the lady, whose eyes were still closed. Now it didn’t seem so easy to just walk away. Was she all alone? Did she have a family? Did she have things to look forward to, or was the best, most satisfying thing she could hope for in a day simply the readjusting of her crocheted throw? This was exactly why she didn’t want to engage! And—Hannah tried not to let the thought form, but it formed anyway—was this where her best friend, Kim, might be in thirty years? On its back was an even worse thought that slowly rose to the surface—was she so far away from Kim’s reality that this couldn’t be her in thirty years? She shook her head, deciding she would bring something for this lady next time—flowers, a book, a box of candy, maybe a bunch of bags from Nuts to You—licorice and Swedish Fish. She would ask Reuben to help her find Kim.
She waited, almost wanting the woman to open her eyes so she could ask her some of these questions. Maybe she wasn’t lonely at all. Maybe her husband was around the corner waiting for her. But Hannah thought she might be asleep; she looked so peaceful, plus she really did have to go. She suddenly had the strongest urge to get to Kim. She didn’t even know if she was home, but judging from her routine lately, it was likely she was. She glanced at her phone; it was just before three.
Kim lived in a big house on Broad Street, way too big for one person. Of course, when she’d moved in, she wasn’t just one person—she was a family, one of four people. When Hannah arrived, she looked around. Usually, the sidewalk was swept and clean, and at this time of year the big window boxes were full of red, white, and blue flowers or some decoration appropriate for the season and whatever the current holiday might be.
But now the place basically looked abandoned, with leaves and candy wrappers blown up against the house, and scraggly purple flowers that looked like they hadn’t been watered in a while in the boxes. Hannah trudged up the wide steps, noticing that the shutters were closed on the big front windows, and rang the bell. She waited a minute and rang again. Then she made a fist and banged on the door. Finally, she heard movement inside. Even then it took a while for her to hear locks being turned, and eventually the door was pulled open, and Kim stood there, squinting in the afternoon sun.
“Are you sick?” Hannah asked, taking in Kim’s complete lack of makeup and her sweatpants ensemble. Her shirt had a big purple painted handprint on it, which Hannah could only hope was intentional.
“No,” Kim said, seemingly surprised by the question. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know, you just look like you haven’t been out today,” Hannah said.
“I haven’t been,” Kim said matter-of-factly.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Hannah asked. Suddenly getting Kim outside seemed like the priority.
“Um, I don’t know. I was just watching Six Feet Under,” Kim said, rubbing her eyes.
“Didn’t you see that already?”
“Yeah, but not in, like, two years,” Kim said. “Did we have plans that I forgot about?”
“No,” Hannah said. “I just had an urge to see you.” Kim nodded and opened the door wider, indicating that Hannah should come in. She walked over the threshold and had a very clear sense that she was going from one universe, the sunny July afternoon, to another—the dark, dank house of sadness and loneliness.
“Did you make sauerkraut or something?” Hannah asked.
“No, why?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I thought I smelled it.”
“Oh, I was just about to have dinner,” Kim said. “I got out the salsa, but it seemed a little funny. That must be what you smell. Luckily, I had another jar in the cabinet. Come, sit with me while I eat.”
“Okay,” Hannah said, wishing she had someone else there who could help her assess this situation. She’d known Kim was down, but she’d had no idea she was at this level. She had just seen her last week, and she’d seemed fine: maybe a little sad but fully functional.
Hannah followed Kim into the huge, grand kitchen at the back of the house. Big windows on the rear wall looked out to a charming garden, which was now full of dry plants—no red, white, or blue flowers or American flags in sight. Last year, when things had been moving sharply downhill but still going along somehow, they had all come for a festive Fourth of July barbecue, and the entire place had looked professionally decorated. Hannah realized now that that had been just weeks before it had gotten really bad for Kim and Hank.
Kim sat at a stool at the kitchen island. There were crumbs and smears all over the counter and a fairly large pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Kim worked to open a sealed jar of salsa and began to pull chips out of an open bag and dip them into the jar. She chewed noisily.
“Did you say this is your dinner?” Hannah asked.
“Yeah,” Kim said with a full mouth.
“But it’s not even four o’clock yet,” Hannah said.
“I’ve been going to sleep early this week.”
“Where are the kids?” Hannah asked.
“With Hank. He took them to Florida. I mean, who goes to Florida in July?”
“Oh,” Hannah said, feeling terrible that she hadn’t remembered that the trip was this week. That explained the state of the house and the depressive behavior. Kim had dreaded this, the first trip Hank took with the kids by himself, and to Disney no less. “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, well,” Kim said, taking another bite. She looked around and leaned over to pull a glass out of the crowded sink. She dumped out whatever was in it and ran the tap, filling it about halfway, and took a sip.
“Have you thought about going to a movie or something?” Hannah asked. “Or even out for dinner?”
Kim shook her head.
“It’s not too late. Should I see what’s playing at the Riverview?”
“Hannah, if you came over
to give me a hard time, I don’t need it,” Kim said. “I am not going out. I’m not going anywhere. I deserve this.”
“What? How can you say that? And I didn’t come over to give you a hard time! I had no idea there would be so much to give you a hard time about, honestly. And why do you say you deserve this? That’s crazy!”
Again, Kim shook her head.
“Why?” Hannah prompted.
“I thought I was so great,” Kim said with so little emotion that Hannah didn’t immediately realize she was talking about her marriage. “I thought I could play with all of it, toss it around, ask for more.”
“Kim,” Hannah said firmly. “Have you taken something? Some drug or something? Maybe a little too much Xanax?”
“Not yet,” Kim said, with no further explanation.
“You’re not going to do anything . . . permanent, are you?”
Now Kim looked at her. “Oh no, I meant I always take Xanax to sleep, but I haven’t taken it yet,” she said. “I’m not going to kill myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I would never do that to the kids.”
Until recently, really since just before all this had happened, Kim had been the strong one, the always-together one. Hannah could count on her for anything. A little over a year ago, Lincoln had been having a total meltdown and refused to leave the bathroom—one of only two singles at a crowded pizzeria, and there was a rather long line. Kim had gotten him out. One night before Richard had moved to Saint Martha’s, he’d been sick and couldn’t get his medicine bottle open—the Bents had been in Boston—and Kim had been there in under thirty minutes, opened the bottle, and hung around long enough to give Richard dinner so he wouldn’t have to take the medicine on an empty stomach. She needed that Kim now. That Kim would know what to do. This Kim couldn’t even get herself a clean glass of water.
Hannah tried to remember when Kim’s marriage had started to deteriorate, what the progression had been, and suddenly she felt so dizzy she had to put her head in her hands for a second. It wasn’t texts, so it wasn’t exactly the same, but it was Facebook, and it was discovered messages. Hank had been looking for something on Kim’s Facebook page and realized, without meaning to, that she had reconnected with her old boyfriend, Wesley. Hank had long joked that he was the consolation prize. Wesley had been the golden boy, the adventurer, but he was impossible to pin down. Kim had eventually given up on him and moved on, and not too long after, she’d met Hank. But there was never any true closure, never a concrete reason to stop loving him. To make matters worse, Wesley never got married, so there wasn’t even that barrier there, that clear shutting down of any future possibility. On the few nights she and Kim had too much wine and got on the subject of Wesley, Hannah would always say he was never going to settle down, that Kim would still be waiting. Usually Kim quietly agreed. But one night, Kim said, “I hear you, I do, but the flip side of that theory is that he would have eventually asked me if I’d given him more time. That he hasn’t settled down with anyone else because he still loves me. That I was the one for him.”
Beside Herself Page 5
