As the World Churns (22 page)
Gabe smiled wanly at my gorgeous physician. “Gotta love my Magdalena, right?”
If I was supposed to be getting any rest the remainder of the afternoon, it was definitely a lost cause. Everyone and their uncle either called or dropped by. One of the uncles, I think, called several times. As a result, my lunch-which arrived in twenty
minutes-
was cold before I could finish it. In the meantime I tried to school Gabe in the fine art of holding a Holstein competition. Honestly, how is one to hold court, lecture a city-slicker husband on animal husbandry, and eat chocolate pudding at the same time?
Shortly after five, Gabe said good-bye. For the next hour or so, I read a health magazine, and bravely resisted the temptation to turn on the TV. (I haven’t watched that spewer of evil since
Green Acres
went off the air.) Just as I was about to raise a fuss concerning the whereabouts of my supper-I’d heard the meal cart out in the hallway an hour earlier, but no one came to my room-the door was flung open, and the room filled with the wonderful aroma of real food.
I saw the cart first. Then, just barely sticking above the covered dishes, the hoary head of my mother-in-law came into view. Lacking someone else to pinch, I pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. Apparently, I wasn’t.
“Magdalena, must you alvays scream?”
“Ida, what are you doing here?”
“I came to feed you.
Vhat else?”
“Where did you get that cart?”
“Vhy the twenty questions?”
“Because you don’t like me, that’s why. Who put you up to this? Who brought you here?
My dear, sweet baboo?”
She shook her head as she rolled her eyes.
“Baboon?
Oy, dis voman is even more meshugah den I tink before.”
“Okay, so I’m nuts! Now tell me how you got here.”
24
“I drive myself,” my mother-in-law said, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
“But you’re not supposed to drive anymore; you lost your license. The judge said you are a menace to yourself and to everyone around you. If they catch you driving again, they could throw you in jail.”
“Do they have TV in this jail? I must watch my
Yeopardy
.”
“
Your
what?
”
“De game show.
Mit
Alex Trebek, yah?”
I’d actually heard a lot of good things about this show. Some-day-if I ever jump off the fence-I might give this program a try. But what Ida was able to watch in the hoosegow wasn’t the point I was trying to make.
“You could hurt someone, Ida. Even kill someone. And even if you got lucky for the rest of your life, what kind of example would that be setting for Alison?”
“Vill you vake me vhen dis lecture is over?”
“Sorry, dear. I know you meant well. So, what did you bring?”
Ida’s eyes lit up like a jar full of fireflies, and she actually smiled. “All your favorite tings, yah?”
Still beaming, she uncovered a platter of brisket, a boiled chicken, a small tureen of chicken soup
mit
matzo balls, a serving bowl of roast potatoes, a pan of noodle kugel, candied carrots, a mixed green salad, and, for dessert, a jelly roll. Oh, and a loaf of her homemade braided egg bread. Challah nagila I think it’s called.
“Ida, this is fabulous. Thank you.”
In the blink of an eye, she somehow hopped up on the bed and settled in next to me. Perhaps she had springs in her shoes. However she got there, I was actually stunned speechless for a minute.
“You vant dat I should cut your meat?” she asked. “Uh-uh-”
“Is not a difficult question,
Magdalena
.
”
“Okay, I’m game. Saw away.” No doubt I would embarrass myself if I admitted that Ida not only cut the brisket for me, she literally fed me as well. When I was full to bursting, she took the cloth napkin from my lap, spit on a corner, then dabbed at my face.
“Yuck! What are you doing?”
“You have
shmutz
on your chin. You vant it should stay dirty?”
“No. I want to know why you are being so nice to me.”
“Because you are family, dat’s vhy.”
“That’s
huafa mischt
. I’m not stupid, dear; I only look that way.”
“Yah.
So I tell you, den: I vant to move back to
“Vill you help me convince my Gabeleh dat you tink so?”
“Absolutely.”
She reached up and kissed my cheek. Then she grabbed my head, turned it, and kissed the other cheek. “You’re a mensch, Magdalena. I don’t care vhat da others tink.” Jesus instructed us to turn the other cheek should someone slap us. He said nothing, however, concerning what to do about random acts of osculation.
“Vhat-I
mean,
what-
do
they think?”
“Dis one is so arrogant, dat one says. Tinks she is the center of the voild, another says. Oy, such chutzpah we’ve never seen.
Of course I shtick up for you.”
“Who are these people?
Names.
I want names.”
“Too many for to name, yah?
But, like I said, I tell them where they should get off at.”
“Hopefully the first station.”
“Vhat?”
“Never mind.
All’s well that ends well.” Despite the reminder that I had my share of detractors, my heart was filled with latent joy. Who could have guessed that my biggest (although certainly not in size) critic would someday be a staunch supporter? Throw in the news that Ida Rosen was headed back to Brooklyn, and I was positively giddy.
“And now vee plan, yah?”
“Plan away!”
“I vas tinking dat foist vee should move back to da city, before selling da farm.
You vouldn’t mind selling it for us, if vee give you commission, yah?”
Mine was the gasp heard ’round the world. “Hold your horses! What is this ‘we’ you keep mentioning? Does that include my husband, or is it the royal ‘we’? No scatological reference intended.”
“Vhat?
So now you speak da Amish.”
“Just tell me,” I said through gritted teeth, “are you planning to take Gabe with you?”
“Of course.
I tell you dis, and you say fine.”
“I meant that it is fine for
you
to go back, but not for my husband.”
“He is my son!” Who knew such a thunderous sound could come from one so tiny. “He is the fruit of my looms.”
“Yet far too big to be a jockey.”
“Do you mock?”
“Quite often-or so I’m told.
Although I’m trying to be better, I really am. Now, you listen to me, Ida Rosen. My husband isn’t going anywhere with you. Not to stay. And if you don’t get your fanny off my bed right now, and make yourself as scarce as a shadow on a rainy day, I’m calling security.
Comprende
?”
“Oy, the Amish again.”
But she did remove her buttocks as directed, and I saw no more of her that evening.
Only the dead can sleep in a hospital, and I’ve no doubt that even some of them can’t get a full night’s rest. Nurses are forever coming in and shining lights in your face, taking your temperature, and writing full-length novels on your chart. When they tire of that, they take delight in coughing into the loudspeaker system, or dropping barbells in the hallway.
Yet somehow, I managed to sleep through breakfast, and thus, as one can well imagine, was not in the cheeriest of moods when my bedside phone rang. As usual, I prayed for a patient tongue, and, as usual, that prayer went unanswered. The phone, however, was answered.
“Just for that, you’re not getting the million bucks I promised you!”
“Who is this?”
“You tell me, you’re the one who called.”
“Hon, it’s me, Gabe. You don’t sound so good.”
“Your mother paid me a visit last night.”
“Uh-oh.
What happened?”
“She brought me supper. Then, like Judas, she kissed me on the cheek, before telling me she plans to take you back to
Permanently
.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Do I ever kid about your mother?”
“Huafa mischt,”
my husband said, although in English. “I can’t believe she’d do that-actually, I
can
believe it, and it really ticks me off. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” He paused wisely for several seconds. “What did you say to her in response?”
“I threatened to call security. Darling, tell me honestly, you didn’t know about this in advance, did you?”
“You better be kidding now, because if not, I’m going to be angry.”
“Shall I tell the truth and face the consequences?”
I could hear him counting softly to ten before speaking into the receiver. “Hon, it hurts me that you’d think, even for a second, that I would put Ma before you.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting.” I glanced at the bedside clock. “Say, aren’t you supposed to be presiding right now? It’s almost time to tally the results of round one.”
He sighed. “Look, I don’t want to fight. And yeah, that’s why I’m calling. I did call first thing this morning, by the way, and you didn’t answer. Anyway, there’s something fishy going on.”
“Fishy? Like what?”
“Holy guacamole!
Hon, look-I’ll have to call you back.”
“Oh, no you don’t! Don’t leave me hanging like this.”
There followed a lot of static, and only a smattering of words. The only two words that were said without a break were “lateral incision.” Shortly after he said those, the line went dead.
