PRESENT TENSE
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Thursday, July 3, 2003
Rose hummed to herself as she cut the ends
off of some green beans and dropped them into a saucepan. She had been living
in this house for two and a half weeks now, and already she thought of it as
home. She had started her new job on Monday of that week and found it very much
to her liking, far more interesting than anything she had done as an intern for
Cal.
Rose hummed another tune as she filled the
saucepan with water and set it on the stove, waiting to turn it on until the
others were home. She was usually the first to return home, since her job was
in Masline and she finished for the day at five o’clock. Tommy also worked in
Masline, but he worked until 5:30, and Jack and Helga both worked in Southland.
Life was good—mostly. She did still have a
lot to learn about working in mental health—it was a sensitive sort of job—but
she was learning quickly, and the clients seemed comfortable with her. She had
been upset when, on her second day on the job, two people had called
simultaneously with crises, threatening to commit suicide, and she had had to
keep them both on the line and talking to her, while she found counselors to
talk to them.
On the whole, however, Rose was enjoying her
job, and she was glad that she had been assigned to this position. She was
comfortable in her new home, too. She got along well with her roommates, which
hadn’t really come as a surprise, since they had been friends for quite a
while.
She also did well in day-to-day life at home,
although she had to admit that her culinary skills needed some work. It was her
turn to cook dinner this week—each person took care of their own breakfast and
lunch—and she had learned on Sunday evening that it was not a good idea to cook
vegetables for as long as she cooked meat. The vegetables had come out mushy,
almost inedible, and Helga had explained to Rose how to cook them so that they
could actually be eaten. Rose had been a bit embarrassed, but she had never
really learned much about cooking beyond tossing something in the microwave,
which she could do very well.
Even the aftermath of Cal’s trial had worked
out well enough. Jack had finally called the North County Times—the
regional newspaper—and given a statement. He had refused to talk to anyone
else, though, even when Rose had pleaded with him after reporters had tracked
them down and started showing up at their front door. His lack of interest in
the outcome of the trial had puzzled Rose—it had taken him two days to even
call the local paper—and she was left to deal with the reporters at the door.
She offered them sodas and ice water, insisting that they stay outside, and
gave the same statement she had given the first time, refusing to give a phone
number where either she or Jack could be reached and trying to convince them
that Jack’s statement to the North County Times was all he had to say on
the matter. One reporter had tracked her to her workplace and tried to get an
interview, but had been driven off by a psychotic patient who believed that God
had told him to protect the women who worked the front desk.
The one real problem that she had encountered
was actually with Jack. When Rose had decided to move in with him, she had
never imagined that things would turn out the way they had. It wasn’t that
things were openly bad between them—they still spent time together, and
occasionally went out somewhere—but Jack seemed very distant, and they had
gotten into more than one argument since she had moved in, mostly over the fact
that she was concerned about him and was unable to hide her concern. Jack kept
insisting that everything was fine, but Rose didn’t believe him—not with the
changes in his behavior and the fact that he often acted as though he was in
pain and feeling sick.
Rose quieted, thinking. Something was wrong,
and she knew it. The others knew it, too, but no one quite knew how to approach
Jack about it. Only Rose had tried, and her efforts were generally rewarded by
him telling her to leave him alone.
She shook her head. She had known Jack long
enough to realize that this wasn’t normal for him. In contrast to the time
before he had been injured following the earthquake, he had generally been
optimistic, with a wry sense of humor. Even for a few days following his
recovery from the coma, he had continued to behave as he had before, but then
his moods and behavior had slowly deteriorated. He was often very distant,
seeming almost unaware of what was going on around him, and he rarely laughed
or even smiled. He continued to have little appetite, and was often unable to
keep down what he did eat, although he refused to admit it. Rose had felt how
thin he was when they sat down together in the evenings to watch television.
She also suspected that he wasn’t sleeping well, since more often than not, he
would be sound asleep within minutes, his head pillowed on her shoulder.
Rose suspected that the head injury was to
blame. Jack often acted like his head hurt, though he rarely complained
anymore. In addition, Rose had picked up enough information from various
clients’ charts at work to have gained some knowledge of what head injuries
could do. His strange behavior, combined with the frequent headaches and
continuing apathy, gave Rose cause to worry. But she didn’t know what she, or
anyone else, could do. Jack would have to admit that something was wrong before
anything could be done.
Trying to put her worry aside, Rose dug into
the refrigerator, searching for the ingredients for a salad, something she
didn’t have to cook. As she did so, she launched into another song, one that
she had learned from a CD she had convinced Mari to copy for her from Mari’s
folk music collection.
Well may the world go,
The world go,
The world go,
Well may the world go
When I’m far away.
Pulling out lettuce, red cabbage, tomatoes,
and a green pepper, Rose began to wash and chop the vegetables, tossing them
into a large bowl. She continued her song.
Well may the skiers turn
The lovers burn
The swimmers learn
Peace may the generals learn
When I’m far away.
Well may the world go
The world go
The world go
Well may the world go…
Rose was cut off as Helga burst through the
door, finishing the song for her.
When I’m far away!
It wasn’t the first time Rose had sung this
song, and the others knew it now, too. She turned to look at Helga, wondering
why she was home earlier than usual.
Helga set her purse down. Her face was
glowing, and she was almost dancing around the room in her practical nurse’s
shoes.
"You look like the cat that swallowed
the canary," Rose commented, watching her. She hadn’t seen Helga so
excited since her wedding day.
"I feel like that cat." Helga
darted into her room to put away her bag, then came back out, whirling around
excitedly.
Rose stared at her. "Okay, what is
it?"
"What?"
"Whatever you’re so excited about. What
is it—a promotion, a new supervisor, or what?"
"None of those."
"Well, what is it? You’re driving me
crazy here."
"I never thought it would really happen,
but it has..."
"What?"
"I’m pregnant."
Rose’s mouth dropped open. "You
are?"
Helga nodded happily. "About two and
half months. My doctor confirmed it today."
"Helga, that’s wonderful. I know you
wanted a baby, but Fabrizio died so soon after you were married..."
"I know. It’s kind of a miracle, isn’t
it? Fabrizio is gone, but he left a part of himself with me." She put her
hand over her still-flat stomach. "This baby must have been conceived on
our wedding night—or shortly thereafter."
"Or before."
Helga shook her head. "Nope. Couldn’t
have been before."
"Why not? Oh...you mean you
waited?"
"What’s so surprising about that?"
"Well...uh...you were living in the same
house and everything, and...uh...um...why are we talking about this?"
"You started it. And as to living in the
same house...I haven’t noticed you and Jack going back and forth between each
other’s bedrooms."
"Well, not recently anyway." Helga
arched an eyebrow at her, and Rose felt her face growing hot.
"Uh...I..." She changed the subject. "Do you like green peppers
in your salad?"
Helga smiled archly at her. "They’re
okay. They’re nutritious, anyway." She knew that Rose was trying to hide
her discomfiture.
Before she could tease Rose again, Tommy
walked in the door, followed by Jack. Jack barely greeted them before walking
slowly down the hall to his room, looking exhausted. Rose and Helga exchanged
worried glances.
Rose wanted to follow Jack, but before she could
do so Helga jumped up excitedly, telling her cousin her news. Tommy looked both
surprised and happy for her, and then Helga darted down the hall, shouting to
Jack that dinner was ready, unable to sit still for more than a minute.
At dinner, Helga dug into her food with
relish, declaring that she had to eat for two now. Rose and Tommy, who had
already heard the news, stared at her as she finished everything on her plate,
plus the leftover salad, in record time. Jack, who was just hearing Helga’s
news, glanced up at her and mumbled, "That’s great," before going
back to picking at his food, trying to find something he could stand to eat.
Rose looked at Jack in irritation. He
could at least pretend to like my cooking, she thought in annoyance. She
was still learning, but she wasn’t that bad. Of course, Jack seldom seemed to
like any food these days—even when he prepared it himself. He had made dinner
the previous week, and had, in lieu of preparing real meals, tossed frozen
foods into the microwave, allowing them to get about half-cooked before he took
them out. The others had wound up re-heating the food to make it edible. At
least she put some effort into her cooking.
After dinner, Tommy and Helga retreated into
the living room to watch television and talk, while Rose washed the dishes and
Jack continued to look at his barely touched dinner. Rose finally approached
him.
"Are you going to eat that?"
He shrugged. "No."
"Give me that." Rose gave him an
irritated look as she took the plate from him, tossing the uneaten food into
the trash. She wondered why she bothered to buy food for him at all, since he
showed no interest in eating it.
Rose sang softly as she began to load the
cranky old dishwasher, which often did a poor job of cleaning the dishes but
did heat them up enough to ensure that they were clean if they were scraped
first. Jack listened to her, holding his head in his hands.
"Would you please shut up?" he
asked her. “You’re giving me a headache.”
Rose glared at him. "No." She sang
louder, just to annoy him.
"Rose, shut up!"
"If you don’t like my singing, you can
go into another room."
"Maybe I don’t feel like going into
another room."
"You never feel like doing
anything!" Rose snapped back.
He got up from the table. Rose scowled at him
and turned back to the dishwasher, resuming her song. Her voice grew louder as
she waited for him to leave.
Jack’s blow caught her by surprise. She
stumbled forward against the sink, shock, anger, and fear coursing through her.
The blow hadn’t hurt that much—he had hit her in the shoulder, and not that
hard—but Rose had been abused enough before that any indication that it was
going to happen again was enough to bring back the memories—and the anger.
Before she thought about what she was doing,
Rose grabbed the paring knife from the sink and turned on him. "Jack, you
son of a bitch—"
Jack was staring at her, shocked at his own
actions. When he saw the knife in her hand, he reacted, darting out of her way.
Rose nearly tripped over the open dishwasher door as she followed him, her fury
not yet spent.
Tommy had heard Rose’s outburst and hurried
into the kitchen, followed closely by Helga. He saw Rose brandishing the knife
and rushed to disarm her.
Rose struggled, trying to keep her grip on
the knife, but Tommy squeezed her wrist, forcing her to let go. He tossed the
knife into the sink, out of her reach. Rose stood beside the stove, shaking
from the force of her emotions.
Everyone stood in tense silence, not sure
what to do. Suddenly, Rose grabbed the saucepan of still-warm water that she
had cooked the green beans in and dumped it over Jack’s head, drenching him.
She threw the saucepan on the floor and stormed from the kitchen, running down
the hall and slamming her bedroom door.
Tommy and Helga stared at Jack as Rose rushed
from the room. Jack wiped the water from his face as Rose slammed the door hard
enough to shake the house, sending another piece of the damaged ceiling
crumbling to the floor. He looked at the piece of plaster for a moment, and
then turned and, ignoring the stares of his roommates, walked out the front
door and down the street.