Tender Loving Care Read online

  She had light brown hair cut sharply at the nape of her neck so that the strands hung straight and loose just above her shoulders. Her complexion was only a shade or two darker than pale, and I noticed the tiniest of freckles along the sides of her soft cheekbones. She was a little round-faced with an indistinct jawbone, but her mouth was strong and well shaped. Her nose was sharp but well proportioned. I was drawn to her eyes. They were a light blue, like the late afternoon sky, but they were magnetic and powerful.

  Being a bank teller for so many years, I was accustomed to facing people. Most people look away after they made their requests, especially when I look back at them. Mrs. Randolph didn’t flinch. She challenged, and I was the one who looked away.

  “Well, I ...”

  “I’ll change and come right down,” she said.

  “The bathroom’s just across the hall to the right.”

  “Thank you.” The door closed immediately, and for a moment I just stood there. I realized that I was trembling and ascribed it to my nervousness about presenting her to Miriam.

  As I suspected, Miriam hadn’t heard a thing, not the cab or Mrs. Randolph’s entrance. She was where I had left her, sitting in the corner of the couch, knitting and smiling as she watched her own fingers move through the monotonous pattern. It was as if her hands were two little animals working on their own and she was sitting there admiring their achievement. I stood there, hoping she would notice me and I wouldn’t frighten her. She didn’t so I cleared my throat. Her fingers stopped instantly, and she looked up at me as though I had interrupted a very private and very enjoyable conversation.

  “Didn’t you hear the cab pull up?”

  “No, Michael. I have to concentrate on what I’m doing so I don’t lose a stitch.”

  “Of course.” I came further into the room. “Well, you remember about the nurse we discussed?”

  “You mean the nurse for Lillian?”

  “Yes.”

  “I remember. I told you, I could take care of her without any nurse.”

  “I know, dear, but Dr. Turner said—”

  “Dr. Turner, Dr. Turner.” She turned away.

  “He’s just trying to do the right thing. You want to do the right thing, don’t you, Miriam? It’s important we do the right thing. It’s important for Lillian.”

  She was like a little girl, pouting. I waited.

  “Is that who came in the cab?” she asked without turning back to me.

  “Yes. Her name is—”

  “Lillian’s not going to like her. She’s going to be afraid of her, and she’s not going to like her.”

  “We have to give it a chance, dear. You promised me—”

  “I’ll give it a chance,” she said, straightening up again and moving her needles, “but I know what the end result will be. We’ll send her away.”

  “Maybe.”

  I heard the bedroom door close, so I stepped out to greet her. She was very impressive in her nurse’s uniform; it changed her entire appearance. She had gone into that bedroom and donned an aura of medical authority and importance the same way other women put on cosmetics. She paused at the top of the stairway as though she wanted me to appreciate her look of power.

  She was statuesque. Her posture didn’t seem stiff anymore; it was correct. Conscious of my own slouch, I brought my shoulders back. I suddenly realized the resemblance nurses and doctors had to the military. I got the definite feeling she was here to take command. She descended with heavy but sure steps. Her bosom barely shook. She moved like some sort of machine, every part tight.

  As she drew closer, I noted how the immaculate uniform lightened her complexion even more and brought out the dominance of her eyes. They were calculating and careful as she looked about and measured every aspect of the setting. I felt under surveillance. I was nervous and afraid of those eyes. They made me feel guilty, as though everything that was happening was my fault.

  “She’s in here,” I said nodding toward the living room. It was one of those superfluous remarks people make when they are intimidated. The nurse walked past me and into the living room without giving me the opportunity to introduce her.

  I was more interested in Miriam’s reaction, but the expression on the nurse’s face captured my attention. I don’t know what she was expecting, but what she found obviously surprised her. That hard, authoritarian look melted away. Her eyes softened, and her posture became relaxed.

  Miriam, unaware that the nurse was standing there, continued to knit. She still wore her Mona Lisa smile and looked peaceful. The nurse moved her hands over her own hips, and the sound of her palms against the stiff material made Miriam look up. For a moment they simply contemplated each other. Then Mrs. Randolph smiled.

  “Hi. I’m Mrs. Randolph.” She extended her hand. Miriam lifted hers slowly, and their fingers touched and held. “I’m here to help you. I know what you’ve been through,” she added with what I thought was tremendous sincerity.

  “Hi,” Miriam said, her eyes locked in fascination.

  “Please, have a seat,” I said indicating the easy chair. Miriam and she still held hands. The nurse looked at the chair and then sat next to Miriam. Miriam’s smile widened, and the nurse’s eyes became brighter. I backed myself into the easy chair and watched them. I was only afraid Mrs. Randolph would start off by saying the wrong thing.

  “Michael says you’re from New York City.”

  “Yes. I live in Manhattan and work out of a Manhattan agency.”

  “Michael’s on a leave of absence from his job.”

  “Oh.” She looked at me disapprovingly. “What kind of a job?”

  “Banking. I mean bank teller.”

  “Michael’s not very ambitious. He could be the bank president, if he set his mind on it.”

  “Now, Miriam. She exaggerates,” I said smiling, but Mrs. Randolph still looked disdainful. I felt chastised and fumbled for new words. “Would anyone like something to drink? Juice, soda?” I was anxious to get out of there for a few minutes. Sweat had broken out under my collar.

  “Not for me,” Mrs. Randolph said.

  “No, thank you, Michael. If you need something ...”

  “No, no, I don’t need anything.”

  “This is a very nice house,” the nurse said.

  “It was a farmhouse. We don’t do any farming anymore, but in the morning you’ll be able to see how beautiful the land is. Have you spent time in the country before?” I asked.

  “No, not really.”

  “Well,” I said finding a comfortable topic, “you’re going to have quite an experience. You’ll miss the noise, the hubbub, the—”

  “I’m not here for a vacation, Mr. Oberman. I won’t require much more than is completely necessary for myself. What I will require is cooperation.”

  “We understand that,” I said, a little more aggressively than I had intended. She seemed to appreciate it though. I saw a look of pleasure in her eyes.

  “This is the first time we’ve had a stranger living in the house with us,” Miriam said. Her voice was so small. My heart went out to her.

  “I know what it’s like, Miriam,” Mrs. Randolph said in a warmer, softer tone of voice. My eyes widened with interest. “When I was very young, we had to have a nurse in the house to take care of my mother. She had suffered a stroke.”

  “How terrible,” Miriam said.

  “Yes, but out of everything terrible, good can come. That was what decided me on becoming a nurse. I saw the tremendous good you could do for other people.” Miriam nodded at her, her eyes framed in a warm smile. “If people let you.”

  “Oh, we will,” Miriam said. She sounded so young, so impressionable.

  “Then things will be good. I know it’s later than I had hoped when I arrived,” Mrs. Randolph said, “but I’d like to talk to you a while about Lillian and about what happened.” She turned to me. “Perhaps you can excuse us for a few minutes, Mr. Oberman. It won’t be long.”

  I was surprised by
the request.

  Miriam’s eyes were wide with interest. For a moment I wasn’t sure what to do. Apparently, Mrs. Randolph realized it. She leaned toward me, and in a lower voice, she said, “It’s important we develop a certain trust between us, you see.”

  “Of course,” I finally said. “That is, if it’s all right with you, dear.”

  Miriam looked at Mrs. Randolph again and then at me. She seemed amused by all this.

  “It’s all right,” she said. I smiled and nodded, but Mrs. Randolph turned away from me to show her impatience, I’m sure. I thought she expected too much right from the start. She must have assumed I had all sorts of preparation for this, but I didn’t have much more than Miriam had. I was following the doctor’s recommendations, which is the same as the doctor’s orders. What do you do when a doctor suggests something? If you defy it, you’re defying all that medical knowledge.

  For a few moments I contemplated spying on Miriam and Mrs. Randolph, but then I thought myself ridiculous, perhaps even jealous. I went back out on the porch. I often wondered what was said during that initial private conversation. I asked Miriam about it, and she told me things, but I never believed she told me everything. She was too impressed with Mrs. Randolph too quickly.

  Mrs. Randolph didn’t come out to the porch afterward. I was hoping she would have a private conversation with me, too, but all she did was come to the doorway and say, “We’re finished. I’m tired, so I’m going upstairs.” I got up quickly, practically tripping over myself.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” I asked. She didn’t turn around or acknowledge me. I watched her walk all the way up, and then I went into the living room to see what effect she had on Miriam. Miriam was knitting again, smiling angelically and knitting. “Well,” I said sitting down across from her, “how was your little talk with Mrs. Randolph?”

  “Very nice.”

  “Very nice? Does that mean you’re happy she’s here?”

  “Well, of course I’m happy, Michael. Why shouldn’t I be happy to have professional help with Lillian?”

  “But I thought ... I mean ... that’s very good, dear. That’s the right attitude.” She continued to concentrate on her knitting. “You know, if it works out all right, I might go back to the bank.”

  “Fine.”

  “Not that we need money. You know you don’t have to worry about money, not with the legacy and the investments and all.”

  “I don’t worry about money, Michael. I have full faith in your ability to handle our finances. I mean, you’re a banker and all.” She laughed. It had been a while since I heard her laugh like that. “And we still have the trust fund for Lillian, don’t we?” She waited for my response. For a moment I teased her with my silence. “Don’t we?”

  “Of course, dear.”

  “She’ll need it for college. Once she gets better,” she said, looking at her needles, “she’ll want to go to college just like other girls her age. I wish I could have gone to college.”

  “You still can, dear. You can take courses at the community college if you want.”

  “It’s not the same thing, Michael. You know it’s not. I’m talking about being a college girl, being on campus, wearing sweaters and carrying books and meeting a nice fraternity man. All the things I never did, things Lillian will do. She will do them,” she said when I didn’t respond immediately.

  “Of course.” I looked toward the ceiling. The image of Mrs. Randolph’s well-outlined bra beneath her transparent blouse returned, and I was stimulated by the realization that there was another woman in the house.

  “What are you thinking about, Michael? Did you hear anything?”

  “No. I was just wondering if she likes the room.”

  “Who?”

  “Mrs. Randolph. She studied it so hard I thought she was either going to buy it or run out.”

  “Why shouldn’t she like the room? I always keep it clean even though we never use it. It’s a nice room and it’s very close to Lillian’s room. Where else should a nurse be?”

  “She seems like a competent sort, a down-to-business type,” I said, still fishing for Miriam’s real reactions.

  “We’ll see,” she said. I thought that was a very sensible response.

  I watched her for a while longer, and then I got up and made myself a highball. I am not a big drinker, but once in a while I like a shot to calm my nerves. With Miriam apparently content, I went outside to sit on the porch again. The first crisis was over; the nurse was in the house.

  As I sat there, I thought again about her youth and attractiveness. I told myself that almost any woman would seem enticing to me now. I had been living practically like a monk, afraid that any sexual advances might shatter Miriam’s fragile composure. She was untouchable, like a dream. The worse thing was she seemed incapable of understanding any suggestions. She had returned to some previous state of innocence. A rapist could come walking in and she would offer him milk and cookies. I laughed, thinking about it, but then I ached because of my own unanswered needs.

  What about her needs? Would they ever return?

  My thoughts were abruptly interrupted when I noticed Mrs. Randolph’s shadow move over the light from her room. The yellowish glow that had spilled over the lawn suddenly filled me with a tingling pleasure. I put my glass down slowly on the arm of the chair, barely making a sound. I touched my lips with the tip of my tongue and studied that portion of the lawn illuminated by her window. I felt myself becoming aroused, pressing up against the confining undergarment.

  My heartbeat quickened. I moved as one in a trance, lifting my body slowly from the chair. I inched myself into a standing position. My sexual excitement was reinforced by slow, deliberate moves.

  I stepped off the porch quietly, even slyly, staying as deeply in the darkness as I could. I moved out on the lawn until I could look up and over the porch roof. As I hoped, Mrs. Randolph’s window shade was up and the curtains were still open. I stood there for quite a while before I began to chastise myself for such a childish and dishonest act, but as I headed back to the porch, I saw her move across the window. She went by in a flash, but I thought she was bare breasted.

  The sight made me tremble, and I came to my senses quickly. What if she had seen me standing there looking up? The thought drove me back to the porch so quickly I tripped and fell. Fortunately, it was on the grass so I did no damage to my clothing or my hands. I got up and went back to my seat. My heart was beating so hard I thought I might go into some kind of cardiac arrest. That made me laugh because then I would need the nurse.

  I wiped the sweat from my face and straightened my clothes. When I was calm enough again, I got up and went inside. I put things away in the kitchen and turned off the lights. When I came back to the living room, I saw that Miriam had already gone upstairs. I hesitated, thought about the fact that we had someone else living in the house with us, and then started up myself.

  As soon as I reached Lillian’s room, I looked at Mrs. Randolph’s door and saw that there was no light coming out from under it. I imagined she had gone to sleep. Even so, I felt quite self-conscious about going into Lillian’s room to say good night, but I thought this of all nights had to be perfect.

  For a long moment I stood there in the doorway peering into the darkness. I tried desperately not to think of Lillian and to think only of the silence, but it was just as impossible as ever to do that. I could hear the rustling of her sheets. I could smell the scent of her powders and perfumed soaps. I could even hear her regular, rhythmic breathing.

  Oh God, I thought, please. Let Mrs. Randolph be of some real help for all our sakes. Even for Lillian’s.

  “Good night, Lillian,” I said, loud enough for Miriam to hear. And then I fled from her room.

  “I have been going over your wife’s medication,” Mrs. Randolph said. I was quite shocked that she had gotten up, gone down to the kitchen, and made coffee without my even knowing she had left the bedroom. I assumed, because her door was c
losed, she was still asleep.

  I was surprised at how quickly she had made herself at home, and I was a little annoyed that there wasn’t any uncertainty or timidity about her. She was behaving as though she had been living in my house for years. People like her have always been a mystery to me. They move with such control, such assurance. They make me aware of my own insecurities.

  “I thought you were still asleep,” I said. She peered at me over her coffee cup. She was seated at the side of the small kitchen table and had her legs crossed. The skirt of her uniform was pulled up almost to her knees. I hadn’t noticed it before, but she was wearing those antiseptic stockings that make a nurse’s legs look like the limbs of a skeleton.

  Gazing at the sterile whiteness of the uniform, the thick stockings, and the big-heeled, clumsy-looking shoes, I found it incredible that the woman had aroused some erotic interest in me the night before. It had to be because of the long interruption in sexual relations between Miriam and me.

  She took her time responding. Arrogance, I thought, pure arrogance. Dressed in my cotton robe and silk pajamas and wearing my oldest but most comfortable slippers, I felt like her patient. I tightened the belt of the robe and kept my hands in my deep front pockets.

  “I’m an early riser,” she finally said. “Getting back to the medication. I think using Valium as a depressant and Seconal as a sleeping pill is overkill. Ideally, we should wean your wife away from all medication.”

  “That’s more like a doctor’s decision, don’t you think?”

  “Of course. I intend to discuss it with Dr. Turner. Is your wife awake?”

  “No. She usually sleeps late in the morning. By the time I’m finished making her breakfast and bring it up, she’s awake.”

  “That’s wrong,” she said lowering her coffee cup to the saucer gently. “You’re keeping her too comfortable and secure in her condition. We have to bring her out to a more active and self-rewarding existence. I take it you didn’t always make breakfast,” she added.

  “No.” The way she asked the question made it a direct assault on my manhood. I poured myself some coffee and sat across from her at the table. I couldn’t believe how uptight I was, and I was hoping the coffee would relax me before she noticed. “There are a number of things I do now that I never used to do.”