“I told her I’d think about it, and she said she hoped I would, that I was a bright girl. Then she squeezed my shoulder and said, ‘By the way, I don’t know what you’re doing, but whatever it is, keep on doing it. You look wonderful!’ ”
I paused again, not to leave space for Jamie to respond, but because, even now, after all this time, the memory stung.
“In the moment, I was happy. And, of course, I said thank you. Mrs. Babcock was a nice person, a good teacher. But later that night, I started thinking—if I was so bright, why hadn’t she said anything before? Why did I have to lose fifty pounds before she took the time to encourage me?
“And it wasn’t just Mrs. Babcock. Before I lost the weight, everybody looked right through me, which was a pretty good trick considering how big I was. How ironic was it that, the littler I got, the more people could see me?
“Except you. You were different, Jamie. And I loved you for it. I still do. I always will.” I closed my eyes and kissed the top of his head, burying my lips in his thick brown hair, the one part of him that seemed undiminished since the fall.
“I see you,” I whispered, lifting my head and looking into his vacant eyes. “Can you see me?
“Because I miss that, Jamie. More than anything else, I miss being visible.”
Chapter 18
Nan
You really can’t appreciate how dependent you are on a limb until you’ve been denied the use of it. Without my right arm, I couldn’t so much as style my hair properly, or button my own blouse, let alone prepare for my Monday night support group and sewing session with Grace and Monica.
Fortunately, Malcolm was around to lend a hand, two of them actually. I was so grateful. His cooking skills weren’t exactly advanced, but he drove me to the grocery store so I could buy fruit, crackers, precut vegetables, and an assortment of fancy cheeses. With a little guidance from me, Malcolm mixed up a batch of delicious homemade hummus to be served with veggies. It wasn’t a proper dinner, but no one would go hungry. And while I used my good arm to arrange the food on trays and added some parsley and a few edible pansies for garnish, Malcolm hauled my sewing machine and notions down from the guest bedroom.
He was setting up the ironing board when I brought in a basket of crackers and put them down next to the cheese tray.
“I set up three work areas,” he said, casting his eyes around my huge oak dining table, “one for cutting, one for pinning, and one for sewing.”
“Thank you, Malcolm. This is perfect.”
“Good. Now, I’ll just get out of your hair before your friends arrive.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay? We’ve got plenty of food.”
“No, no. This is your girls’ night. You don’t need me intruding. Besides, I need to get started on the evening round of walks. Two dogs a session divided by eight dogs—your seven plus my Stuart—means I’ve got a good two hours of trekking ahead of me. But if you wouldn’t mind saving me a bit of that cheese? I imagine I’ll have an appetite when I get back.”
“I will. I’ll save some of everything.”
Malcolm put on his coat and took two leashes down from the hook, one for Blixen and the other for Stuart, the shepherd mongrel mix that he had adopted as a puppy. Blixen and Stuart got up and walked to the door.
We were all used to the routine by now. Malcolm arrived every morning at eight, by which time I would already have been down to the kennel to feed the dogs—with so many, I let only Blixen and Nelson sleep inside. He took them for walks, two by two, then stuck around for an hour or two to help me with any errands or chores that needed doing. At five, he would return and do it all again. Malcolm was truly a godsend. But it felt odd, being so dependent on someone I didn’t know well, even though I’d technically known him for years.
“You shouldn’t have to do all this,” I said, frowning at the top of Malcolm’s gray head as he bent down to clip on Stuart’s leash. “Maybe I should ask Chrissy to come.”
Malcolm stood up, looking surprised and—possibly a little hurt? Though I may have been reading things wrong. I’m a little out of practice when it comes to interpreting the expressions and actions of men.
“Well,” he said. “If you’d rather have your daughter, I certainly understand. But if you’re worried that you’re imposing on my good will—don’t. This is no hardship for me. I far prefer the company of dogs to people.” He smiled. “Present company excepted.”
Besides being out of practice when it comes to reading men, I was having a little trouble interpreting my own emotional responses, at least since Malcolm came on the scene. When he smiled I became aware of a strange, anxious, sort of empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The only thing I could liken it to was the way I’d felt when James and Leila, his wife, invited me along for a family vacation to Florida. I hadn’t set foot on an airplane since Jim died. While waiting to board the flight, I started to feel very strange, almost light-headed, and turned so pale that James insisted I sit down. The Xanax Leila gave me helped me make it through the flight, but I stared straight ahead the whole time, refusing to look out the window.
Malcolm’s smile made me feel like I did while I was waiting to get on the plane, but not quite. Maybe I was hungry. Or maybe it was the pain pills Dr. Francatelli prescribed. I’d only taken them for two days, but still. You never knew how long these things stayed in your
