Broken Flower

  "Oh, Jordan. What is it?" she asked me.

  "I wrote a letter to Ian and I wanted to ask you to mail it to him for me, please."

  "I see. Yes. That's probably a good idea," she said, which surprised me.

  She sat up farther. Is your father rolling around the house?"

  "No."

  "He was a handful when he was a child: he'll be armsful now," she muttered and started to stand.

  Suddenly, she was dizzy. I knew because she moaned and reached out for the back of the chair. She swayed, too. I didn't know what to do. I never had seen her almost fall, but I reached out and took her hand. She had her eyes closed and gradually grew steady again. Then she opened them and realized I had taken her hand into mine to help her.

  She smiled at me. It was the wannest, most loving smile I had ever seen her give me.

  "Thank you, Jordan. I must have risen too quickly. That can happen to you, sometimes, even when you're young. I'm tired, though. I think I'm going up to bed. How about you?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "I'll see to it that Ian gets your letter, she promised, nodding toward her desk.

  I let go of her hand.

  She turned and started out. "Coming?" she asked me, holding out her hand.

  I was surprised again. I moved quickly to take her hand and we walked out together, down the hallway and to the stairway. I had never held hands with her before. She let go at the stairway and leaned on the balustrade more as she ascended. I followed closely behind. At the top of the stairway, she paused and took a deep breath.

  "Maybe I should have installed that lift," she said. "For myself." She glanced at me and then she took my hand again and we walked together down to our bedrooms. "Are you all right?" she asked me.

  "Yes."

  "Good. Don't let your father depress you," she warned me again, "Sometimes,'" she said as she stood by her bedroom doorway, "the people we love don't love us as much and sometimes they become lead weights around our ankles, pulling us down if we let them. The trick is not to let them," she said.

  She was back to tossing tidbits of wisdom at me. "Can you remember that, Jordan?"

  "Yes, Grandmother."

  'Good. Good. Let's go to sleep. Now that your father's here, we're both going to need our full strength." She opened her door and went into to her bedroom.

  I wished I hadn't finished Ian's letter and put it in the envelope.

  Now I had much more to tell him and to ask him.

  26 A Kaleidoscope of Emotions

  . Daddy was so demanding and so nasty to Mrs. Clancy that she threatened to quit twice the first week. Grandmother Emma had to raise her salary to keep her working for us. He had temper tantrums and threw things, including his food. He refused to cooperate with the therapist and for two whole days, he refused to leave his bedroom. I heard Mrs. Clancy say he messed himself deliberately. She told Grandmother Emma she had worked with disabled people enough to know when someone needed more psychotherapy and Daddy was someone who definitely did. She suggested he had been released too soon.

  "He's not ready to face his life as it now is," she told Grandmother Emma.

  "Few people are," Grandmother Emma responded. "Let's do the best we can and hope he improves."

  Mrs. Clancy staved on, but she was very unhappy.

  Grandmother Emma started to search for her replacement, anticipating that even the added money wouldn't hold her much longer.

  I tried to help. I brought Daddy food. I offered to wheel him around and talk to him as much as I could. He resisted bathing and often looked very disheveled and dirty to me. All the time 1 was with him or saw him with his nurse or Grandmother. I never heard him once ask to be taken to see Mama. I finally asked him myself if he would like to do that.

  "What for? Two cripples looking at each other? From what I hear, she's the one better off," he said. "At least she's in her own world."

  "But don't you want her to come home, Daddy? Maybe if she heard your voice, she would wake up more."

  "If she heard my voice, she would retreat more," he replied. "I was driving that night,

  remember? I was rushing." He paused and looked at me. "What did your brother do with you?" he asked. He looked like he had just remembered everything.

  "Nothing bad," I said quickly. "He made me his Sister Project and he was trying to help me get better and he wanted to write everything down so doctors and scientists would learn from him. It's in his journal, but I don't know where that is. Miss Harper took it."

  "Miss Harper," he said, nodding. "There was a piece of work."

  I hadn't known that he had known her, but I should have because her mother and Grandmother Emma were close friends. Or had been. I couldn't imagine them being friends now, because her daughter died in Grandmother Emma's house.

  "Weird kid, your brother, weird kid. I tried to make him normal. Don't ask me whose side of the family he takes after. My side has some real winners in it, too." He looked at me closely. "Is the medicine working on you?"

  "Yes, Daddy."

  "I suppose that's good," he said.

  I wanted to remind him about what he had told me the first night he had returned and I wanted to know what he meant, but I didn't. I was confident Ian would have the answers anyway when he wrote back to me.

  It was very difficult for everyone in the house. Food Nancy had made for him so many times before he suddenly hated or said wasn't made well. The therapist resigned because Daddy was so

  uncooperative and unpleasant, and Grandmother Emma had to find a new one. Mrs. Clancy complained about the nasty things he was saving, too. I overheard her tell Grandmother Emma that he had made obscene requests. She continually pressured Grandmother Emma to get him to psychotherapy.

  And then one day things changed. I wouldn't say they changed for the better in the long run, but for the time being, they were good changes for Daddy.

  He had a visitor. She was a visitor Grandmother Emma did not want him to have, but he had gone on the telephone and he had asked her to come see him. When Grandmother Emma heard about her impending arrival, she complained, of course. but Daddy said, "What difference does it make now? Why does it matter now?"

  She couldn't prevent it, so she ignored it.

  Daddy, on the other hand, cleaned himself up. He even asked me to bring him some of his clothing and help him decide what looked nicest on him. He had a hairdresser come to the house and a manicurist. And later that day, he wanted to be taken outside and to the pool, where he could work on his tan. I went swimming that afternoon. Mrs. Clancy was with us, sitting in the shade and reading. She was happy about his change of attitude and didn't care if he had made a deal with the devil or what as long as he was turning into a human being. At least, that was what she told Grandmother Emma, who replied, "You're not so far off. He did make a deal with the devil.'

  I had no real idea what all this meant until days later when the woman arrived and I realized that she had been Daddy's old girlfriend, the one he had hired for the supermarket, the one who had upset Mama, and the one Grandmother Emma had sent away.

  Her name was Kimberly Douglas and I was forced to admit to myself that she was very pretty. She had a dark, almost caramel complexion with lime green eyes shaped like almonds, a small nose, and a mouth with full lips. There was a slight cleft in her chin. Her dark brown hair was tossed in a style Grandmother Emma thought was simply messy, but I heard Mama once call it the "bedroom look" that was popular.

  When Kimberly stepped into the mansion that day, she was wearing a tight yellow tank top and a light green skirt with thongs that showed her orange toenails and ankle bracelet. She wore a gold watch that had tiny diamonds around the fact. I found out later that it had been a present from Daddy.

  Despite my desire to hate her as much as I could hate anyone, she burst into to the mansion with a smile that seemed to me to drag sunshine in behind it. Her eyes were twinkling with infectious excitement hard to resist. I think part of the reason for my reaction was
we had been living under such dark clouds and moving through so many thick shadows since Daddy's return. Everyone tiptoed about. Voices were kept low. The sound of laugher was so rare, it came as a surprise whenever it was heard, no matter what the reason.

  "You must be Jordan. Hi," she cried, and before I could back away or put up any resistence, she hugged me. She smelled good too, and delicious flowery and fruity aromas were as rare as laughter. Instead, we had the smell of cleaning fluids and alcohols for Daddy's rubdowns. I thought the mansion reeked of it, because it could find its way upstairs, around corners, and even into closets. It just stuck to the inside of my nose. I guess.

  I didn't say hi. I stared at her.

  Daddy, who had anticipated her arrival, wheeled himself out of his room and called to her from the hallway. It was Mrs. Clancy's day off and she had gone to visit a sister, so he was in charge of taking care of himself. I saw that he had dressed in the shirt and pants outfit I said looked the nicest. He did look like his old self.

  "Chris," she cried, and hurried down to him. I watched her kneel to hug him and saw his hands around her waist. He held onto her for quite a long time. I thought.

  When she straightened up. I couldn't hear what they were saving, but a moment later, she helped Daddy turn around and wheel back into his room. I started toward it, too, but they closed the door so I stopped.

  I didn't think Grandmother Emma had been paying any attention and therefore didn't know Kimberly was here, but she stepped into the doorway of her office and looked my way. "Your father can't live without his toys," she muttered. "Go amuse yourself and forget them. Jordan," she instructed, and waved toward the front of the house.

  One of the changes that had occurred since Ian's departure was Grandmother Emma's giving me more freedom. I could go outside by myself as long as I stayed away from the pool and didn't leave the grounds. There wasn't very much to do by myself, however. I enjoyed playing croquet, but most everything else required another person. Nevertheless. I went out and walked the grounds to watch Mac and his staff trimming bushes, fertilizing plants, or whitewashing fences and storage sheds. Once, he let me help paint. I got messy, but Grandmother Emma didn't complain or bawl him out for permitting me to do it.

  As I walked around the house. I thought about Daddy's friend and about Mama and tried to

  remember when she looked as pretty and as vibrant. If she got better and really woke up, would she come home and look as wonderful and alive again or would that take a long time, too? Was Daddy just tired of waiting? Was that why he wanted his friend to visit? She sounded so happy to see him. Would Mama be as happy or would she be as Daddy thought, still angry at him?

  All these questions fell into that pool of mystery Mama used to call adult talk so I would stop asking about them. Was I still too young to know the answers?

  I didn't deliberately do it, but I rounded the house and found myself walking toward the windows of Daddy's room. When I realized it. I stopped as if I were approaching some forbidden area, an area as off limits as the pool without supervision, but then my curiosity took over and like a puppet master pulled the right strings to get me to draw closer and closer to those windows until I could actually look into the room.

  At first I saw no one and thought they had gone out and were somewhere else in the house, but then 1 saw Kimberly walk out of the bathroom and I felt the blood drain from my face as a ripple of electricity flowed down and through my body.

  She was naked. And smiling.

  I had to shift to the right to see where she was going. She was walking toward Daddy, who was naked as well on his bed. She stood beside the bed looking down at him. He reached up for her hand and then she lowered herself over his face. I saw her left hand go to his knee, but before I could see anything else. I heard a lawn trimmer right behind me and spun around to see Mac doing the edges of the puss near the patio stone.

  He looked my way and I shuddered with embarrassment because I knew he could see I was peeping through Daddy's window. I turned and quickly ran toward the front of the house, my heart pounding with each step until I reached the portico and Daddy's ramp.

  A kaleidoscope of emotions went swirling through me. I was excited, frightened, and angered by what I had seen. I didn't know which emotion was most comfortable and welcome. All that I had learned about making babies came rushing back, too. Daddy could put tadpoles into that woman. What would happen then? Why was he doing that with her? Mama would be so upset. I thought. So would Ian and so would Grandmother Emma. I wondered if I should tell her so she could stop it.

  Daddy would hate me for sure. I thought as I walked up the ramp and into the house. I stood there in the entryway trying to decide what I should do. I heard Grandmother Emma come out of her office, close the door behind her, and walk toward the stairway. She saw me standing there and stopped.

  "What's wrong, Jordan? Why are you just standing there like that?" she asked.

  I shook my head. I couldn't say it or tell. Instead. I ran past her and up the stairs as quickly as I could.

  "Jordan!" she called after inc. "Jordan March!"

  I didn't stop. I ran to my bedroom and I closed the door. There was really only one person I could tell and that was Ian. I thought. I went immediately to my desk and started to write another letter. I told him what Daddy's friend looked like. I told him how she had hugged him and how he had held onto her, and I told him what I had seen through the window. I asked him what he thought I should do and then I folded the letter twice and sealed it in an envelope.

  Grandmother Emma took a long while to come upstairs, but when she did, she came to my room. "Did something happen outside. Jordan?" she asked me.

  I shook my head and said, "No."

  "Well, why are you so upset?" She waited and then added, "Is it because of your father's female friend?"

  I looked at her and then I nodded without saying yes.

  She nodded too. "You have a right to be upset," she said, "but unfortunately or fortunately depending on the way you view it your father still has manly needs. There are names for women like that, but there is no reason to talk about it with you. Just think of it as nothing important, nothing more than his going to the bathroom," she said, and smirked. "It's the way I thought of it when it came to your grandfather," she added, which raised my eyebrows.

  She shook her head. "I'm tired," she said. She had never said that to me in the middle of the day before. She's just very upset about Daddy. I thought,

  She turned and went into her room and closed the door.

  I went to my textbooks and read and did some workbook pages. Then I fell asleep for a while. When I woke up. I remembered the letter I had written to Ian and I took it and went downstairs to Grandmother Emma's office. I went in and put it on her desk so she would send it off as she did with my first letter. Every day I had been anticipating a letter back from Ian, so when the mailman came. I was right there waiting, but none had come yet. I was sure it was because he was thinking hard and long about what he wanted to say so it would be perfect. Ian always wanted everything he did to be perfect.

  Just as I stepped out of the office. I heard laughter and saw Kimberly wheeling Daddy out of his room. They both saw me standing in the doorway.

  "What are you doing. Jordan, having a business meeting with your grandmother?" Daddy asked.

  "No," I said. "I left her my letter to Ian. She mails them to him for me," I told him.

  He stopped smiling. Kimberly held hers, though, and continued to look at me.

  "Is that so?" he asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. He pushed his own wheels so they would continue down the hallway. I was surprised to see them go into the living room, where I heard Daddy tell Kimberly to make him a vodka cocktail. Later. I found out he had asked her to stay for dinner and had told Nancy to prepare another setting.

  I was positive Grandmother Emma would be upset about it. I wondered if she knew yet. It was drawing close to dinner so I went up to wash, fix my hair, and change
my clothes. Grandmother Emma still liked me to look dressed up for our dinners. When I was finished. I started out and saw that her bedroom door was still closed. It made me hesitate. She was usually downstairs by now, giving Nancy orders. I went to her door and put my ear to it to listen for sounds that would tell me she was still in her room. If she was. I was going to warn her about Kimberly staying for dinner.

  At first, I heard nothing and then I heard what sounded like water running. I listened hard. It was water running and running and running. It didn't sound like her shower or her bath either. I decided to knock on her door when the running water continued. She didn't answer so I knocked harder and then I called for her and waited. Still. she didn't answer. I tried the door knob and it opened.

  "Grandmother?" I called, and waited with the door slightly opened.

  Now I was sure the water was running in the sink, so I pushed the door completely open and I walked into her bedroom. She was nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door was open. I walked slowly to it, calling for her as I did so. She didn't answer.

  When I reached the door. I stopped and stared as if I was in a dream.

  The bathroom sink was overflowing.

  Grandmother Emma was lying on the floor, wearing a full slip, and reaching up toward me, her mouth twisted in the funniest way. She looked like she had messed herself, too. All I could do for a few moments was continue to stare, then I turned and ran out. At the top of the stairway with all the power of my lungs. I screamed for Nancy.

  But the music from the living room was very loud so I had to go down the stairs and scream from there. Finally. Nancy heard me and came out of the kitchen.

  "Something's wrong with Grandmother Emma!" I cried.

  "What?"

  "She's lying on the floor in her bathroom and the water is running out of the sink."

  Nancy wiped her hands on her apron and hurried to the stairway. I started up and she hurried past me, rushing down the hallway to the room. I followed as quickly as I could and stood in the bedroom, looking through the doorway as Nancy knelt down to talk to Grandmother Emma. Then she shot up, turned off the faucet, and went to the telephone. She punched 911 and screamed for an ambulance.