March 13, 2014
A friend in need
A friend in need
On incommode souvent les autres quand on croit ne les pouvoir
jamais incommoder. - La Rochefoucauld[1]
Uncle
Albert stumps into my room before seven. We’re still without plumbing. It was
down below zero last night. The snow is knee-deep.
“Wake up.”
“I’m awake.”
“Get dressed.”
When I
get out into the living room in my tee-shirt, long-sleeved shirt, sweater and
hoodie, in my long underwear and two pairs of pants,
“Where’s my cane?” This is a rhetorical question because Uncle
Albert knows where all of his canes are. Everything has its place and is in it;
there are rules for every where, every why, and every when except meal times. There are dietary laws; there are use restrictions on water and light, noise ordinances, shower, sink, and stool privileges, shoe and slipper stations, diagrams (albeit in Uncle Albert's head) about what can be hung where in the bathroom or what can be put next to what in the kitchen cupboards. I’m
always on edge, I’m going to put something in the wrong place, ask a question
for the wrong reason, get off schedule; and there are consequences: “I’m going
to kill you, if you don’t start wiping the faucets off when you use the sink.”
“Where’s my cane?” It’s a rhetorical
question, but it demands a response.
“The one with the icepick on the end
is leaning against your chair.”
“That’ll do. You ready?”
“For what?” Since Uncle Albert is
dressed to go out, I’m wrapping myself into my big coat. I’m getting ready.
“Let’s go, then. Get your keys.”
“Where are we going?”
“There’s a woman I know, about your
age.” Since he has no idea how old I am,
I have no idea what that means.
“What about her?”
“Nothing about her. She’ll let us shower
and shave, relieve our basic needs at her place. Bring what you need.”
“How do you know?”
“I called her.”
“When?”
“Don’t worry about it. If she’s not
there I know where the key is.”
“ . . . ”
“She may be in Florida for all I know.
Sometimes she just takes off.”
“I thought you called her.”
“Get your keys.”
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