Almost Eden Page 6

  Most of all, please let it be your will for my mother to get well again soon. Dad says we can go see her tomorrow. Only I’m not sure I want to yet.

  In Jesus’ name, Amen.

  My stomach was growling so much I couldn’t sleep, so I slipped downstairs and helped myself to a huge plate of rollkuchen drowned in syrup.

  “Lookit once how high I can go, Elsie.” Lena, that little monkey, dangled hand over hand from the scaffolding. A minute ago she’d been drawing chalk pictures on the sidewalk.

  “Get off of there!”

  “Aren’t you done yet? Let’s go see Mom.”

  “Almost.”

  “That’s what you said before, like an hour ago. Can I help?”

  “I told you already, you’re too little still.” I leaned on the wire brush as I scrubbed the top corners of the bay window one more time. Really though, I was dawdling, putting off going to Eden a few minutes longer. Suddenly the scaffold shuddered, catching me off balance. I grabbed a support to steady myself then looked to see what the problem was. Lena was spread-eagled across the crossbar and reaching still higher.

  “Lena Margaret Redekop, get down this instant!”

  She ignored me. “I’m climbing Dad’s jungle gym.”

  “It’s not a jungle gym, it’s a scaffold. And it’s not for playing on. You know that.” By then Lena had climbed all the way up beside me. Tommy leaped down as she scrambled across the boards.

  “Fuy,” she scoffed. “I could jump to the ground from here. Bet I could climb as high as Dad even.” She tilted her head back, checking out the top level of the scaffolding.

  “Don’t even think it.” I scrambled over the edge, then held my hand out to Lena. “C’mon. I’ll help you down.”

  She scooted over to the other side, swung off the platform and jumped down by herself. Then she grinned at me, all cheek. “Now can we go see Mom?”

  “Not until you promise to stay off the scaffolding. Dad’ll kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “Promise.”

  Beth wouldn’t let us out of the house, though, until we ate lunch and looked “presentable.” Shorts and T-shirts weren’t good enough for her. “You can’t go to visit Mom looking like a couple of rug rats. She’ll think the whole house is falling apart.”

  “What’s wrong now?” I asked.

  “Look at your feet–they’re filthy. And Lena’s are worse. Don’t either of you ever wear shoes?”

  Okay, so maybe she had a point. “All right already. We’ll wash our feet. C’mon, Lena.”

  “And put on a blouse and sandals,” she called after us. “And brush your hair!”

  She had to give us a final inspection yet before she let us out the front door. “What happened to your leg?”

  The razor slice on my leg had been healing pretty well till I’d scratched the scab off this morning. I said the first thing that came to me. “I banged my shin on my bike pedal.”

  “Well don’t pick at it. You’ll get a scar. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

  Beth was such an old woman. It wasn’t like we’d never been to Eden before. Besides which, it was only ten minutes away by bike, and then we could head straight to the pool after.

  From the outside, Eden looked more like an old folks’ home than a hospital. We dropped our bikes on the front lawn. My heart was pounding already as we walked through the two sets of double glass doors leading to the lobby.

  “Fuy”, Lena wrinkled her nose. “It stinks.”

  “Shhh,” I hushed her. For sure she was right about the smell, though. No amount of Pine-Sol could cover it up. The place smelled of sick people, all shut in together. It made me wonder if maybe that was how sadness and heartache and hopelessness smelled, and how anyone could get well in a place like this. And then right away I was thinking of the other times I’d visited Mom here, even after I thought I’d forgotten them.

  All of a sudden I was angry. Why should a smell make me angry?

  “Elsie?” Lena tugged on my blouse.

  My feet dragged me to the front desk. “Can you tell us where Esther Redekop is?” I wished my voice didn’t sound so little. “Please.”

  “I think I saw her in the lounge,” the nurse nodded. “Right through there.”

  We knew the way.

  Lena and I walked through another set of doors into the lounge. I scanned the groups of stiff couches and chairs and checked the line of tables along the windows that looked into the courtyard. Sometimes we played knippsbrat with Mom there, or else shuffleboard at the long table at the other end of the room. A group of patients sat in front of a TV in one corner. In another corner stood a piano, all closed up. A few more patients sat by themselves, holding a book or magazine, but mostly they weren’t reading. Mostly they were just staring into space.

  Holy Moses. I glanced at one blank face after another, looking away again quickly before all those empty eyes could pull me in. I’m telling you I was relieved something fierce to find Mom wasn’t among them. They reminded me of zombies, or maybe robots. They only seemed human until you looked into their eyes. Then you knew. Then you could see they were mostly dead inside.

  I’d almost forgot how much I hated this place. My mother didn’t belong here.

  I pulled my shoulders back and made believe my mission was to guide Lena past all the nurses, doctors, and zombie patients to rescue our mother.

  “Where is she?” Lena whispered, slipping her hand into mine.

  If I went back to the desk to ask again, I might leave altogether. “Maybe she has the same room as before. C’mon.”

  A hallway opened off the other side of the lounge. Walking along the corridor, we peeked in open doors and checked nameplates and pretty soon we found her.

  “Mom!” Lena practically shouted.

  Mom looked up from the book she was reading. She smiled to see us there. The smile didn’t reach her eyes or light up her face like a smile is supposed to, but she did smile anyways.

  I hung back a little, but Lena right away threw her arms around Mom and hugged with all her might.

  Mom laughed softly. “Oh, my. This is quite the greeting. Surely I haven’t been away so long already for you to miss me so much?”

  Lena spread her arms out wide. “I’ve missed you this much!”

  “I’ve missed you this much, too, schnigglefritz. I’ve missed you to the moon and back again.” She scooped Lena up in her arms and hugged her tight, smiling at me over Lena’s shoulder, until Lena finally squirmed free.

  My heart was thudding in my chest still. Mom didn’t act like she was mad at me. I quickly kissed her forehead and tried not to let it show on my face that she smelled funny. Or that she looked so awfully tired. Her eyes didn’t shine like they usually did. Mom was maybe starting to turn into one of the zombies.

  “Let’s go for a walk,” I blurted, because I had to get out of there and I had to get Mom out of there, too. “Are you thirsty? I’m thirsty. Let’s go get a soft drink.”

  Mom moved slowly. I almost had to drag her, back out through the lounge and past the reception desk. She told the nurse she’d be outside with her daughters.

  Outside Mom’s eyes didn’t look so dead anymore. We walked across the street to the service station. Mom didn’t have any money on her, but I had brought some change. I dropped fifteen cents into the slot and slid a bottle of Grape Crush out of the rack for Lena. Mom wanted an Orange Crush, and I got myself a Mountain Dew.

  Then we walked back to Eden with our soft drinks and sat on a bench on the back lawn.

  “So, how goes it?” I didn’t know what else to say, and I wanted for Mom to say, “On two legs, like a gander,” because then we could smile and maybe even pretend everything was like always.

  Only Mom had gone somewheres, just for a second. Then she said, “Blow gout”, and chuckled at the puzzled looks we gave her. “It means, only good, just good. Your grandfather used to say it all the time.”

&n
bsp; “Were you thinking about him or something?”

  “I guess I was. Never mind about me. How’re you girls doing? Tell me how things are at home.”

  “Blous gout,” I said. At least it got a little smile out of Mom. And it was true, sort of. Things weren’t going great, but I guess they could’ve been going worse yet.

  “Are you girls getting along?”

  “Sure. Mostly.” What was I supposed to say? It wasn’t like I could tell her that Beth was a bossy old bag or that Lena was pestering me all the time or that Dad was already pulling his hair out. We weren’t supposed to get her worked up worrying herself over us.

  “Is someone remembering to feed Tommy?”

  I nodded. “Sure. I’m taking care of him.” I’d have to remember to fill his saucer when I got home. I was pretty sure I’d forgotten that morning.

  After that I didn’t know what else to say. Good thing Lena was with. She gabbed away about how Beth was in charge and how she was helping take care of the house. How she’d gotten sunburned and I was painting the house and had decided to be a “veternarian,” but Beth thought it was stupid. How we were remembering to say our prayers every night.

  Mom didn’t even pick up on the veternarian thing. I didn’t bother to correct Lena. I could see from Mom’s eyes that she wasn’t really listening anyways.

  “Nah yo, it sounds like you’re doing just fine without me.” It was Mom’s voice talking, but it wasn’t Mom. This person was a robot filling in for her while the real Mom was far away somewheres.

  Just fine? Hadn’t she heard a thing Lena said?

  “I swam across the pool three times last week,” Lena was talking a mile a minute still. “Pretty soon I’ll be able to go in the deep end.”

  “Won’t that be wonderful?” said the robot Mom. “I’d like to see that.”

  “You can. Come swimming with us.” Lena tugged on her arm, trying to get her to stand up.

  Mom smiled. “Oh, not today, schnigglefritz. I can’t today.”

  “Yes you can. Just stand up and come with.”

  Something flashed across Mom’s face. Just like that she looked small, smaller than Lena even. She just sort of crumpled. She shook her head and pulled away.

  Lena’s lower lip trembled like it did when she was getting ready to bawl her eyes out. Before she could get going I stood up and put my hand on her shoulder, squeezing a little bit so maybe she’d get it that she shouldn’t cry. “Mom can watch you swim another day. You still have to get all practiced up anyways.”

  She nodded, whispering. “Don’t worry, Mom. You can watch me swim another day.”

  “That sounds good.” Mom gave Lena a weak smile.

  A few minutes later we walked Robot Mom to her room and kissed her good-bye. “We’ll come back soon,” I promised.

  “I think I’ll put my ear a bit on the mattress,” she said, sitting down on the bed and still trying to smile at us.

  “Do you want me to put out the light?”

  Mom nodded. “Take care of each other,” she said. “I love you, girls.”

  “We love you, too, Mom,” I whispered.

  “Get better soon.” Lena stuck her head back through the door for one last wave.

  And then we were hurrying down the corridor, through the lounge, and bursting out the front door, running for our bikes.

  “Mom doesn’t look sick,” Lena said. “How come she has to stay in there?”

  “She’s not sick on the outside. She’s sick on the inside.” I grabbed my bike.

  “Because of your pajama party,” Lena said, out of the blue.

  My blood turned cold. “I’ll race you,” I said. “You can have a head start.”

  I pedaled just hard enough to stay behind her, even rode part way with no hands.

  Far enough to wish I didn’t ever have to visit Mom in that place ever again. I wished it twice. I didn’t give a care that conditions didn’t favor my wish coming true.

  Dear God,

  How come I feel worse after seeing Mom? I didn’t even have any fun at the pool after. Sadie and Jillian and Aaron and Pete and everyone were telling jokes and goofing off like always, but I didn’t feel one bit like laughing. Anyways, nothing they said was funny. It was all stupid and childish.

  I know they’re supposed to be helping Mom and everything, but I hate that place. Mom’s no crazier than other people, so I don’t know why she should even be in there. If she’s crazy, then probably I am, too. Maybe they should lock me up, too.

  Sometimes I think Auntie Nettie is right. Sometimes I think those doctors don’t have a clue how to help Mom. It’s like they’re making her worse instead of better.

  I don’t understand how it could be your will for Mom to be in that place. It’s not fair for her to have to go there just because I was bad. Please, please, God, help her get better soon. Really better. Not just well enough to come home, but well enough so she never has to go back there. Not ever.

  Amen.

  Mark Giesbrecht is a first-class, good-for-nothing dork.

  I was lying there at the pool minding my own business, soaking up the sun. He sits himself down and starts eating knackzote, which is no problem until he starts spitting the shells down my bathing suit top. He didn’t do it to anyone else, just me. I had to go into the change room to get them all out.

  “If you ask me, I think he likes you,” said Jillian.

  We’d taken over her backyard for our first pajama party of the summer.

  “That’s an understatement,” Heather mumbled, her face buried in her arms. “He’s always picking on you.” I was sitting on her bum, kneading her back and shoulders.

  “Ow!” she squirmed. “What’s with you? Take it easy already.”

  “Sorry.” Beside me, Sadie was giving Naomi a back rub and beside them, Joy was giving Jillian a back rub. It was Eleanor’s turn to sit out. “He bugs me. I wish he’d just leave me alone for once.”

  “Give the guy a break,” said Sadie. “Mark’s not so bad.”

  Sadie, defending Mark? She’d been acting a little weird the last couple of days, but sticking up for Mark wasn’t a little weird. It was–bizarre.

  “Mark’s okay, I guess,” Joy said, grinning. “But he’s no Pete Wiens, eh Jillian?”

  Sadie snorted.

  “’Fess up, Jill.” Eleanor got right in Jillian’s face. “Has he or hasn’t he?”

  “Has he or hasn’t he what?”

  “Kissed you, you fool!”

  “Time,” Jillian announced. She ignored the question purely for the pleasure of tormenting us. “Pete and I just like to hang out. We’re buddies.”

  “If you say so,” said Sadie. Grinning, she reached over to crank up the radio. Donny Osmond was singing “Puppy Love,” and she started crooning along with him.

  Jillian thwacked Sadie with a pillow, but she was outnumbered. We all howled out the words to the song, laughing ourselves silly and dodging Jillian’s pillow as we switched places.

  In ten minutes we’d switch again and so on, until everyone gave six back rubs and got six back rubs. It was a pajama party ritual, whether we slept inside or out, like tonight. We’d put our sleeping bags in a circle around a pile of junk food and Jillian’s transistor radio.

  “You might as well tell us,” Joy coaxed. “We’ll weasel it out of you sooner or later.”

  “Hah! See my halo?”

  Heather, sitting on Jillian’s bum, lifted two chunks of her hair. “More like devil horns.”

  Right away Naomi gasped. “Don’t say such a thing!”

  “Holy flippin’ Moses,” Heather rolled her eyes.

  “Hey you guys. Lets not fight over it.” Eleanor, the peacemaker, nipped the argument in the bud.

  Usually we were pretty careful to avoid subjects that upset Naomi, which included pretty much anything about the devil or witches or magic. Her parents were awfully religious, even for Hopefield. They were even more strict than Eleanor’s parents, and Eleanor’s parents had been missi
onaries in South America and everything.

  “Anyway, Pete’s far too shy to do anything except ride home with me,” grinned Jillian.

  “Maybe you could get him to ride home with you along schmungestrasse” said Eleanor, adding a long drawn out kissing sound.

  The rest of us were too astonished to speak. We were for sure all thinking the same thing–what the heck did Eleanor know about lover’s lane?

  Eleanor giggled nervously. “I just heard stuff, you know, from my older sister.”

  Jillian bailed her out. “I’ll probably just wait for a Sadie Hawkins Dance so I can ask him out.”

  “Fat chance,” said Heather.

  “Why?” Jillian looked up at the sudden silence. “What?”

  “You poor misguided child.” Sadie put a hand over her heart and used her best preacher’s voice.

  No one knew how to tell Jillian that she had about as much chance of going to a Sadie Hawkins Dance in Hopefield as she had of flying to the moon. Then I remembered the old joke Beth used to say all the time before she was saved.

  “I could’ve danced all night,” I sang. “But I’m a Mennonite.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jillian demanded.

  “This is Hopefield, remember?”

  “So?”

  “We don’t dance. Dancing is a sin. Right up there with smoking, drinking, playing cards, going to movies, and just about anything else that’s fun. Haven’t you noticed we don’t have a movie theater in this town even?” Seven churches, but no movie theater.

  For just a minute, I tried to imagine how it would be to dance with Aaron Penner. His hand on my waist, my hand on his shoulder, smiling up into his gorgeous blue eyes. It might happen. Maybe. Like if someone we both knew got married and there was a social after the wedding, and we were both invited.

  As if. The others were already gossiping about someone Sadie had seen parked on lover’s lane. The biscuit conference was going pretty good all right.

  The sun had set a while ago, and the first stars twinkled faintly. We hardly needed sleeping bags even, the night was so warm.

  We waited until it was completely dark, the entire town sleeping already, before we crept out the back gate.