Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
Nathaniel Byrne.
Helen
'
s heart went out even more to little Katherine.
****
By morning Helen
'
s headache was back, worse than ever. It didn
'
t seem possible. It took all the strength she possessed to get out of bed and on with the day. She was making coffee and halfheartedly arguing with her son over whether or not he could go to a performance by a really vicious rock group when they were interrupted by the arrival of Helen
'
s aunt.
The elderly woman took one look at her niece and clucked in distress.
"
It didn
'
t work?
"
she asked, apparently incredulous.
"
For a while it did,
"
Helen said, managing a limp smile. She pulled her terry-cloth robe a little more tightly around her and padded over to the fridge for cream.
"
But then I guess the potion wore off.
"
"
You
'
ll have
to
get your head x-rayed then,
"
Aunt Mary decided without any more ado.
"
It could be a brain tumor.
"
"
Ma, can I go or not?
"
asked Russ, annoyed by the interruption.
"
Mickey hasta know to buy tickets.
"
"
I
'
ll tell you what,
"
said Helen, ignoring her son.
"
I
'
ll have my brain tumor looked at if you have your cataracts fixed. Do you want some coffee?
"
"
I don
'
t have cataracts,
"
said Aunt Mary stubbornly.
"
Just half a cup.
"
"
Ma-a,
"
whined Russ.
"
One of these days you
'
re going to fall down the steps and break a hip. Then where will you be?
"
asked Helen over her shoulder as she half-filled a mug.
"
Careful. Hot,
"
she said, sliding the mug across the table to her aunt.
"
I wish you wouldn
'
t treat me like a three-year-old,
"
said Aunt Mary, working up a head of steam of her own.
"
I wouldn
'
t, if you
'
d act like an adult. But this
thing
you have about real doctors—
"
"
Ma, I wish someone would listen to me because—
"
"
Hi, everybody,
"
said Becky as she strolled, yawning, into the kitchen.
"
You making breakfast, Mom, or are we on our own today?
"
"
On your own, I guess. I got up late.
"
"
Okay,
"
Becky said with a shrug. She pulled a box of Cheerios down from the cupboard. Moby, the stray cat they
'
d found hanging around The Open Door, heard the rattle of cereal and hopped onto the marble slab, where he began to whine piteously for a handout.
"
Becky, how many times do I have to tell you,
"
said Helen wearily,
"
no cats on the counter.
"
Aunt Mary came to the poor black cat
'
s defense.
"
He goes on the counter when you
'
re not in the room, anyway, dear. Why fight a hopeless battle?
"
"
Ma, even Moby comes before me. All I want is—
"
"
Some Cheerios?
"
asked Becky.
"
Here, twerp, have a handful,
"
she said, threatening the box over his head.
"
Screw you, Becky,
"
said Russ, shoving her arm away.
"
Russell Evett! Is that how your mother raised you?
"
"
Why don
'
t you ask her,
" snapped Russell to his great-
aunt.
"
Stop it!
Everyone
just—shut up!
"
Helen hurled the words at her family like a hand grenade, blasting them all into stunned silence. Immediately she realized that she
'
d never told any of them—much less all of them—to shut up before. Not in the lean years; not in the sad years; not in the first six days of the headache. But today, Saturday, the seventh day...
"
I have to call a doctor,
"
Helen said abruptly, pushing back tears of remorse. She turned on her heel
and walked out of the kitchen.
****
"
Well, Mrs. Eve
t
t, I really don
'
t know what to tell you,
"
said Dr. Thomas Jervis. The ear, nose, and throat specialist whom Helen had begun to see two weeks earlier was a kindly man of late middle age, heavily set, with twinkling blue eyes and thick gray hair that would someday turn white, at which time he
'
d be able to moonlight in malls as Santa Claus.
His looks alone made him easy to trust; but more than that, he had come highly recommended, which is why Helen was so dismayed when he confessed to being baffled.
"
As we know, nothing in your medical history suggests a predisposition to headache,
"
he said.
"
Nor did the preliminary X-rays turn up anything. Now that we have the MRI results, you can definitely dismiss those fears of a brain tumor,
"
he added with a gently ironic smile.
"
I
'
d consider blaming your headache on a ‘sick
'
building, but you say you
'
ve worked there for years with no ill effects.
"
Sitting across from her at his paper-strewn desk, the physician rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"
You also say you
'
re not stressed, but—have you had counseling since your husband
'
s death?
"
Helen shook her head gingerly; the pain was too intense for her to do it vigorously.
"
I
'
m not stressed,
"
she said once again.
"
The preschool
'
s doing wonderfully; I have no money problems. My daughter
'
s a treasure and my son— well, he
'
s fourteen. What can I say?
"
It
'
s true I have no love life,
"
she added, fiddling with the handbag in her lap before she looked up again.
"
But that doesn
'
t mean I
'
m sexually frustrated,
"
she said forthrightly.
Dr. Jervis nodded, then sai
d, "Since you watch your diet,
don
'
t smoke, and exercise r
egularly, it's my opinion that
psychotherapy is the most log
ical avenue for you to pursue.
I wish you
'
d think about it
. You sound as though you have
a lot on your plate. You c
ould be more frazzled than you
know, young lady,
"
he said with a fatherly smile.
"
I don
'
t need a psychologist,
"
Helen said simply.
Dr. Jervis sighed.
"
You
'
ve lived through a horrible experience, Helen. There
'
s no shame in wanting to deal with it.
"
Helen shook her head, convinced that a shrink was the wrong way to go.
"
In the meantime,
"
said the physician without arguing further,
"
I
'
m going to prescribe something for the headache.
"
He slid a prescription pad in front of him, then scribbled something on it as he said,
"
We
'
ll start with a very low dose; I want you to read the precautions carefully. If you have any numbness, unusual coldness, or pain in your fingers, let me know at once. Do you know whether you
'
re allergic to ergotamine?
"
Shocked, Helen cried,
"
Oh my God!
"
and stood up so suddenly that she knocked over her chair.
"
How dare you?
"
she shouted, slamming her purse on the astonished doctor
'
s desk.
"
Are you insane?
"
Unaccountably, she burst into tears.
"
How could you!
"
she croaked, and then she ran out of his consulting room, through the waiting room, past the receptionist, down four flights of stairs without even thinking about waiting for an elevator, and out to her car.
Helen was shivering too violently to line the key up with the ignition slot; only then did she realize that she
'
d left her coat behind. Somehow she got the car started and the heat going. Utterly shocked and dismayed by her bizarre behavior, she sat parked in the lot of the medical building for a full ten minutes, too angry—and mortified—to go back for her coat. Once she stopped shivering, she put the car into gear.
Once she stopped shivering, she realized her headache was gone. She was convinced it was for good.
****
"
Aunt Mary? These are for you. I
'
m
so
sorry for the way I
'
ve been acting. But that
'
s over now.
"
Helen handed her aunt an armful of scented pink tulips and kissed the surprised old woman on her fuzzy cheek.
"
It
'
s gone. The headache
'
s gone,
"
she explained, beaming.
"
Dr. Jervis said there was nothing wrong with me. It must
'
ve been psychosomatic—because ten minutes after he told me that, I felt fine.
"
She
'
d sent a second batch of tulips with a note of apology to Dr. Jervis, who seemed far too kind actually to have her hunted down and arrested for assault.
That left Becky and Russell and poor uncoddled Moby. Helen made a double batch of chocolate-chip cookies for the kids that night, humming the whole while, and offered the cat a mound of chopped liver.
It felt so good to feel good again.
Pe
aches Bartholemew gave Katherine a glass of warm milk, read her
The Cat in the Hat,
and sang her an extralong lullaby. For the thirtieth day in a row, there would be no kiss from Mommy tonight, no snuggle-buggle in the rocking chair with her. A peck from Daddy, once again, would have to do.
"
Daddy will be right in to say good-night,
"
said Peaches, tucking in the bathed and sweet-smelling child with a kiss of her own. She turned down the Snow White lamp next to the crib, and the room dissolved into soft shadows and glowing light.
"
Night-night, sweetie.
"
Katie rolled her head to face the wall. She blinked once, twice. And that was all.
Leaving the door ajar, Peaches tiptoed away and stood outside the nursery, relocated on the day after the funeral from the third to the second floor. She waited long enough to be sure that Katie wasn
'
t going to try escaping from her room again—lately the possibility that the child would hurt herself was very real—and then she went downstairs to tell Nathaniel Byrne, working in the library, that his daughter was in bed.