Beside Herself

by Elizabeth Laban

  She ordered, and it wasn’t until the server walked away that she realized how much she dreaded going back to work. She had been working up to the proposal for weeks—months, really, if she went back to her initial idea. She had been so excited when the managers had agreed to the meeting and beyond thrilled when two executives from corporate had agreed to fly in to hear what she had to say. Not only had she hoped to bring it to Philadelphia’s hotels, but she’d had dreams of taking it to the whole chain. Now she was going back to nothing, at least nothing that was hers or out of the ordinary. She was going back to the usual everyday drudgery.

  “Oh my God, is she okay?” someone said, pulling her out of her head. She looked across to the other side of the counter. There were people leaning down, but she couldn’t tell what had happened. She heard someone say, “I think she’s okay,” and, “Just ease her up.” She tried not to look as two people, an older man with thinning white hair and a younger man, maybe about her age, with thick, dark hair and a handsome and open face, helped a tiny older woman first to standing and then to sitting on the stool. She had short red hair that was clearly dyed, and she was wearing a navy sweatshirt that said MICHIGAN GRANDMA in bright-yellow block letters. Hannah assumed the two men were the woman’s husband and son.

  “Silly me, silly me,” the woman said. Hannah was so relieved it wasn’t some awful thing. “I didn’t know the chair swivels. I’m no good on a swivel chair.”

  “Did you hit your head?” the older man asked.

  “No, no, nothing like that,” she said, giggling nervously.

  Instantly the servers were around her, along with a manager, and the booth behind them was cleaned quickly so that she and the older man could be seated. Hannah expected the younger man to slip in, but instead he stood next to them for a few seconds.

  “Thanks for your help, young man,” the woman said.

  “My pleasure,” he said. “Go Blue!”

  “Go Blue!”

  The man went back to his stool but didn’t sit. He looked around and spotted the empty seat next to Hannah and walked over.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “Her soup spilled back there, and I don’t want to make a big deal about it.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” Hannah said. “At first I thought you were with her.”

  “Oh no, I was just sitting next to her. That was pretty startling. She went down hard.”

  “I hate when things like that happen,” Hannah said, surprised she was even talking to the guy. She had just wanted to get in and out, but then she had that thought again that she really wasn’t rushing back to much. The server placed her burger and fries in front of her and came back a few seconds later with a fizzing Coke.

  “I’d like that too,” the man said to the server. Then to Hannah, “I was just about to order when all the commotion happened. I’m Joel, by the way.”

  “I’m Hannah,” she said, taking a bite of her juicy burger. Normally she might be inhibited eating in front of a stranger with whom that code of silence had been broken, but she just didn’t feel it. “So she seems okay?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Joel said. Wow, was he cute. She had recently broken up with someone and was not seriously looking to start a new relationship. At least that’s what she kept telling herself so she could feel less pathetic. In fact, after today’s failed meeting she had had the fleeting thought that nothing was keeping her here in Philadelphia; she could go anywhere. Maybe she should. Maybe this was the time.

  “What did you say to her at the end? Something blue?”

  “Oh, she was wearing a shirt from the University of Michigan. They say ‘Go Blue!’ Like a battle cry, a connection, you know, one Wolverine to another.”

  “Oh, so you went to Michigan?”

  “No, I didn’t, I’ve never even been to Michigan,” Joel said. “But I know most college mascots and sayings. I mean, around here it’s easy—Temple Owls, Penn Quakers—but there are so many, and I love them all. Beavers, Roll Tide, Orange Power, Blue Hens. For my dad it was the names of newspapers. He loved them. I mean, he’s in the news business, so it makes sense. One of my first memories is of him reciting the names of newspapers and what cities they were in and how they had changed over time and what was defunct. It’s one of his things; you get the point.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure that she did.

  “So far I haven’t come across a shirt I can’t talk to,” Joel said. “You know what I mean. I like to do it. It lifts people’s spirits. For a brief moment I can usually make someone smile.”

  The server was back in an instant with Joel’s burger and their two checks, murmuring, “No rush,” even though there was a line at the door. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

  “Please leave that,” Joel said when Hannah eventually reached for her check. “Let me get it. It has been my pleasure to sit next to you.”

  “What? No, that’s crazy,” she said. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Please let me. I’d like to. I was also going to offer to pay for the older couple, but I heard the manager say their lunch was on them, so please let me,” Joel said, taking a huge bite of his burger. “You would be doing me a favor.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure what to do. She could grab the check and run to the counter and pay, or she could graciously agree. Either way, she would never see him again, so what difference did it make?

  “Okay, sure, thank you,” she said. “I had a hard morning, and this is really nice. It balances out my day.”

  Joel nodded, satisfied, and took another bite of his burger. She waited, thinking he was going to ask for her number or something, but he didn’t. She sat just a beat longer than she usually would before she got up and walked toward the door, hoping the server would understand that she wasn’t skipping out, that he was paying for her. It seemed like nobody was going to say a word. And then . . .

  “Hey, Hannah,” Joel called, and it sounded to her like he had been saying her name for as long as she could remember. It sounded right. She took a deep breath and turned.

  “Where did you go to college?”

  “Penn State. Why?”

  “We are,” he called out, like he was at a football game, sounding completely free and natural.

  And without thinking Hannah answered back, “Penn State,” along with about five other people in the diner. Everyone laughed.

  “You too?” Hannah asked.

  “No, actually, I went to West Virginia University,” he said. “We are the Mountaineers.”

  Hannah nodded. She had never met anyone who had gone there, and that simple fact raised so many questions, but she let them go.

  “Thank you again,” she said.

  “My pleasure,” he said, getting up off his stool and moving toward her. “I know this is so out of nowhere. I was going to just let you walk out that door. My general policy is to do something nice without asking for anything in return, but then I thought about the fact that I’m so curious about you and I might never see you again. I could come back here every day for the next month for lunch and just hope I run into you again, but what if you never came back? Or what if I kept missing you by fifteen minutes or something like that? I mean, even if I came back every day for lunch, I wouldn’t be able to be here for the entirety of every possible lunch period.”

  “I get it,” Hannah said, smiling.

  “So I’m not going to ask for your number; I’m not going to put you on the spot like that, but I just wondered, Is there any place I am likely to run into you again? I mean, like a coffee shop or a bookstore or something like that?”

  Hannah couldn’t think straight. What she wanted to do was jot down her number—that seemed easier—but also, who was this guy? Where did he come from?

  “Um, I’m selling honey with a friend this weekend,” she said. “At the Fitler Square Farmers’ Market, on Saturday morning.”

  “Great,” he said. “Good. Thank you.” And he went back to eating his hamburger.

&nbs
p; CHAPTER TEN

  Hannah continued to head south, moving the heavy box of pastries from hand to hand. She felt like it was her scarlet letter, which she knew was ridiculous, but still. She kept thinking she would just leave it or throw it out, but then she thought of all the good food in the box and how much money she had spent, and she decided she would go to Saint Martha’s and drop it off. When she was on her way, her phone rang. It was the nursing home. Weird.

  “Hello?”

  “Hannah?”

  “Hi, Reuben,” she said, surprisingly happy to hear his voice.

  “Am I getting you at a bad time?”

  “No, not at all,” she said. “I’m just heading over there. I come with pastries.”

  “Oh, great,” Reuben said, like it was all going to be much easier than he had expected. “I tried Joel, but he didn’t pick up, so this works out even better. Let me fill you in quick so you know what you’re up against when you get here.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Hannah said.

  “Well, Richard is having a hard day. He’s been in the lounge now talking nonstop for over three hours. He’s very concerned about ketchup and the moving away from traditional ketchup to different types and flavors. Apparently sriracha flavored is the worst offender,” Reuben said, managing to deliver the information without sounding snarky or sarcastic. “He’s also upset about the upside-down plastic bottles, which led him to a discussion about plastic in general and all that goes along with that. We’ve all tried to ease him away or to see if he wants to take a break. Don’t get me wrong, the other residents are enthralled. They don’t mind at all, and he is not being disruptive; that isn’t my concern. What does concern me is that his voice is going, and this just isn’t like him,” Reuben said.

  “Oh no,” Hannah said. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Great,” Reuben said. “I’m off in five, but I’ll wait until you get here.”

  “Okay,” Hannah said. “Thanks.”

  When Hannah got to Saint Martha’s, Richard was still talking, and the crowd he had amassed was shocking—there could have been fifty or sixty people sitting in the room, listening intently. Some of them must have come from different units and different floors.

  “A tour of a ketchup facility in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, revealed that there was much more than simple ketchup being made there,” Richard said, and his voice was so raspy Hannah was alarmed. “There are also chili sauces, steak sauces, mayonnaise, mustards, and a variety of other products being manufactured. Some are put into plastic bottles, and others are sold in glass bottles.”

  Hannah looked around. Weren’t these people bored? He had clearly gone over this information already, from what Reuben said. Also, Hannah wondered, how did he come up with this stuff and sound so formal, like he was truly anchoring the news? She expected him to say so-and-so had the story, but he didn’t; he just kept talking about plastic and glass and flavored and original. She tried to get his attention by waving to him, but he looked straight ahead and wouldn’t let on that he knew she was there.

  “Hi.” Reuben came up behind her, as he tended to do. “I’m glad you made it. Oh, your hair looks nice. Did you just get it cut?”

  Her hand went to her head, and she felt the silkiness that came with a professional blow-dry. She had forgotten about her hair. “Yeah, I just did,” Hannah said. “Thanks for noticing.”

  “My pleasure,” Reuben said. He gestured toward Richard. “See what I mean?”

  “This is nuts. How did all these people get here? And he is still talking about the same thing?”

  “Well, he came back to it; he’s covered a lot of territory since I called you,” Reuben said. “And once the word got out that he was talking, a bunch of nurses brought their people here, which is great for them. But he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink since he started this. I don’t want to upset him, but I think we’re going to have to cut this off. Are you okay with that?”

  Hannah hated to do it. Richard was so proud, sitting there in his work clothes with his bow tie, never mind the slippers. She almost couldn’t bear to think about where he had once been—the television studio on the third floor of the famous building at 30 Rock in New York City—versus where he was now: the common room of a nursing home in South Philadelphia.

  “Here, let me try first, before we embarrass him,” Hannah said, handing Reuben the box of pastries and taking a small step toward Richard. “This makes me so sad. Do you know how in charge he was when I first met him? How sharp and witty?”

  “I can only imagine,” Reuben said. “But the thing is he still is incredibly commanding. I mean, look at these people. It’s just all twisted and not what we think of as in charge. It is sad, but it’s also okay and just the way things go.”

  Hannah nodded, moving toward Richard again. She tried to be subtle, but it wasn’t like this was the actual news. There were no cameras; this was not something that had to be respected in that way and not interrupted. She was pretty close to him when Joel walked in, looking around frantically. Reuben must have left a message, but still she was surprised he hadn’t called her to coordinate. He looked so tired, with those constant bags under his eyes these days. He saw her, and his face lit up as it always did. He nodded, as if to tell her that he didn’t want to interfere with whatever she was doing. It was an accepted fact between them that she was better with Richard than he was.

  “Dad,” she said quietly, touching him on the shoulder. She didn’t usually call him dad—she called him Richard, but on rare occasions it just came out. He looked right at her, and the spell was broken. He glanced around, nodded once formally, then looked at her again.

  “Are you ready to head in for a rest?” she asked.

  “I am,” he said. “I guess I got carried away.”

  Hannah moved behind his chair and grabbed the handles. As she pushed him toward his room, he waved to the crowd. Everyone had started talking, and some of the nurses had come toward the middle from the edges of the room. The spell was broken for them, too, and she was sure there were a few people who wished she hadn’t done that.

  “I will be back,” he said, and the words I’ll see you tomorrow came into her head. This would be the time he would say that, when he was signing off for the night to return with more news the following day. She made a mental note to ask Reuben if he was still saying that at night. They hadn’t talked about it in a few weeks or so.

  Hannah had expected Reuben and Joel to follow them into the room, but she was glad when they didn’t. She was happy to have a little time alone with Richard.

  “I’m so thirsty,” he said.

  “Of course you are,” Hannah said, pulling a cold water bottle out of the mini refrigerator in his room. “You just talked for over three hours straight.”

  “There was a lot to talk about,” Richard said, not defensively, almost as though he were mocking himself.

  “Well, there was, I guess,” she said. “And you had a huge audience.”

  “They just kept coming and coming,” Richard said. “Honestly, they should pay me around here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Hannah pulled a chair over so she could be closer to Richard and sat down. Ever since Joel had told her about Celine’s affair, she’d wanted to talk to Richard about it, to see how he had gotten through, but every time she thought she might have a chance, she just couldn’t. Joel had asked her not to mention it, and despite her anger, she wasn’t going to risk causing a rift between Joel and Richard. She couldn’t do that to Richard.

  “What’s been going on with you, really?” she asked. “I mean, why the sudden interest in the ketchup?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, like he was really thinking about it. “I guess it was all I could remember. Also it truly bothers me.”

  “I understand,” she said. “But are you okay? Are you happy enough?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’m happy enough. I’m also lonely and mad at myself and feel some co
mpulsive need to keep talking, to tell people what I know. Can I tell you what I know?”

  “Yes,” Hannah said eagerly. “Of course.”

  “I see the way you look at me, like I was perfect and now I’m not, and that isn’t the case,” he said, sounding as lucid as ever. “I was never perfect. There are so many things I regret, that I wish I could do over. I think about them—”

  “Hi,” Joel called as he came into the room, interrupting Richard. Hannah realized she was scowling and had to rearrange her face or else Joel would ask what they were discussing. But what she really wanted was to know what Richard was talking about. What did he regret? What would he do over?

  “Son,” Richard said quietly and formally, not even looking in Joel’s direction. Was Hannah seeing that right? Usually he would reach out to him, bring him close for a hug.

  “I was worried,” Joel said. “How are you doing?”

  “Enough about me,” Richard said sternly. Hannah was not imagining it: he was definitely not looking at Joel. He turned to Hannah. “Who’s with the kids? That babysitter of yours? Why don’t you take advantage of this unexpected time together? Treat yourself. Better yet, let me treat you.” Richard pulled out his wallet and handed Hannah his American Express card. “Really, the sky is the limit, it’s on me. Do not hold back.”

  Hannah reached out for the card—she didn’t want to be rude—and looked at Joel with a questioning expression.