Read Much Ado About Jessie Kaplan Online
Authors: Paula Marantz Cohen
Much Ado About Jessie Kaplan (9 page)
“What are you talking about?” interrupted Jessie sharply.
“Pardon?” said Hal, stopping short.
“Don't give me that about the young man. A pure concoction. The young man wasn't the point.”
“He wasn't?”
“Of course not! It was spite, pure and simple.”
“Spite toward the young man?” Hal asked, puzzled.
“Stop with the young man already. No, it's all about making the lady jealous.”
Hal cocked his head as though he had missed something, then continued in a patient voice. “Okay,” he said slowly. “But I don't know if we have much support for that reading. Given that there are no more than twenty-seven sonnets addressed to the lady and a hundred and twenty-six to the young man, it would seem that the man occupied the more central place in the poet's affections.”
“What are you talking about?” said Jessie again. “He wrote a lot more than that to the lady.”
“He did?”
“Of course!”
The class seemed to be following this exchange with interest. They had never heard anyone quarrel about poetry before.
“Are youâa literary critic?” Hal asked.
“Lord no,” said Jessie. “But I should know what he wrote.”
“You should?” he seemed puzzled for a moment, then, as though a light went on: “An amateur enthusiast!”
The bell rang at this point and the rest of the parents left the room. Jessie remained in her seat, smiling at Hal. He smiled back. Anyone who took an interest in Shakespeare, however eccentric, was a source of pleasure to him.
“You look the same, you know,” said Jessie, tilting her head to one side and nodding in obvious pleasure, “and I see you've chosen to give up the mustache.” She glanced over at the picture from the frontispiece. “A wise move, if I may say so.”
“You think I look likeâWilliam Shakespeare?” said Hal, also glancing at the picture and trying to mask his satisfaction. It was a thought that had occurred to him before, though no one else had ever mentioned it.
“Oh, that picture's not really like him,” said Jessie dismissively. “They got the shape of the face all wrong and made the eyes too droopy. No, you're the image of himâdown to that.” She pointed to a small mole on his forehead.
Hal flinched, looking surprised and a bit frightened. “You areâ?” He seemed suddenly to notice that Jessie was not the right age to be a parent of one of his students.
“Jessica Kaplan, Stephanie Goodman's grandmother,” she explained, continuing to hold her head to one side and smile. “Her parents couldn't make it tonight. They sent me instead.”
“Stephanie has wonderful insights into poetry,” said Hal, pleased to be reminded of one of his best students, but shifting uneasily under Jessie's gaze. “I suppose she gets that from you.”
“Oh, no, I was never one for poetry. Some things rubbed off; they were bound toâbut it wasn't really in my nature to think like that.” She paused and her voice became dreamy. “You said your name was Hal Pearson. Hal was one of his favorite characters and a nickname for his son, Hamnetâhe couldn't very well call him Ham, could he? You see how these things come back.”
“Excuse me?” said Hal.
“Never mind.” Jessie waved her hand, but continued staring at Hal and smiling. “Margot must be about your age. Margot's my daughter. Not Carla, Stephanie's mother; she's already married to a nice doctor. This is my other one. She looks just like I did; at least, they say so.”
Hal seemed more and more bewildered.
“Well,” said Jessie, sighing and assuming a brisker tone, “I have to go now. I promised not to keep Carla waiting.”
She pulled herself up from the desk but without taking her eyes from Hal's face. “You'll come to Shabbos dinner some night soon,” she said, as if stating an established fact. “We can talk more then. I'll check with the doctor for some dates when he can get home on time. His schedule is hectic, and sometimes he stops at the tavern, but I'm sure we can work something out.” She reached out to pat Hal's arm in a gesture of affection and support. “Don't worry, it'll be worth your while. You can meet Margot, and I'll make the chopped liver you like.”
Hal looked confused and seemed about to formulate a question, but Jessie had already turned to go. As she walked to the door, she glanced at the sonnet that she was still holding in her hand and muttered irritably under her breath: “Only twenty-seven to the Dark Ladyâridiculous!”
W
hen Carla
PULLED UP IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL AFTER her appointment with Dr. Samuels, she could see that her mother was engaged in conversation with a large man in a Rutgers sweatshirt. They were both holding sheets of paper and appeared to be talking animatedly. As she opened the door, she could hear Jessie saying in the same pleasant, instructional tone she used to show Stephanie how to baste a chicken: “The last two lines are really all you need. They tell you what the poem's about. I used to go straight to them to get the point.”
hen Carla
PULLED UP IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL AFTER her appointment with Dr. Samuels, she could see that her mother was engaged in conversation with a large man in a Rutgers sweatshirt. They were both holding sheets of paper and appeared to be talking animatedly. As she opened the door, she could hear Jessie saying in the same pleasant, instructional tone she used to show Stephanie how to baste a chicken: “The last two lines are really all you need. They tell you what the poem's about. I used to go straight to them to get the point.”
The man nodded. “Thanks for the tip. Never had much experience with poetry. âCasey at the Bat' was about as far as I ever got.”
“It's another language.” Jessie nodded sympathetically. “It's a matter of being exposed.”
“Our kids are lucky that way,” said the man.
Jessie nodded again. “Back then, there were fewer opportunities. Most were no better than cannon fodder.”
“Sure,” said the man, figuring that Jessie was talking about her own youth. “World War Two, Koreaâ”
“And the War of the Roses.”
“Yup,” said the man, a bit confusedly. “Fortunately, I didn't have to go to war, but that didn't help me much. Teachers managed to
make Shakespeare seem like a bad case of the flu. It helps to have one with a little enthusiasm like this Mr. Pearsonâbrings the stuff to life.”
make Shakespeare seem like a bad case of the flu. It helps to have one with a little enthusiasm like this Mr. Pearsonâbrings the stuff to life.”
“Yes,” said Jessie, “it's a nice touch to have him come back as an English teacher. And seventh grade. He used to say their minds were useless by the time they turned sixteen.”
The man nodded, but seemed relieved as Carla motioned to her mother to get in the car.
“So how was Back-to-School Night?” she asked, noting that Jessie's face was flushed. “I see you've managed to make friends.”
“Yes, everyone was nice, though I can't say that Stephanie's teachers are very inspiring. With the exception of Mr. Pearson. It was wonderful seeing him again after all this time. Gave me quite a shock at first. But once I got used to it, it made sense.”
Carla swallowed. “What made sense?”
“Will coming back like that. As a teacherâhe always had a streak of that in him, always trying to get me to read. Then, of course, there's the practical side of it. He can talk up the plays, point out the good lines, get the word out.”
“Did youâdiscuss all this with him?” asked Carla slowly.
“Not in so many words. It was clear he didn't have a clue. He's too young. It only comes back later, once the curtain is about to fall.”
Carla was silent. It suddenly occurred to her that her mother's fantasies might be a way of helping her face death. “But you did speak to Mr. Pearson,” she finally continued. “What did you talk about?”
“Oh, the sonnets mostly. I set him straight about a few things. He had them all wrong, gave far too much credit to that sniveling Pembroke who wore his breeches too tight and was always hanging around trying to get things dedicated to himâas if Will cared a jot about him. I'm not saying that there weren't some episodes in that lineâhe and Kit Marlowe talked a lot about âthe varieties of love' and so forthâbut everyone knew that it was me he was trying
to make jealous. Then, when I wouldn't listen, he wrote the Venice play and broke my heart.” Jessie paused. “He was the love of my life, you know. No offense to your fatherâit was another life. Of course, there was someone who might have given them both a run for their money ⦠.” She paused again, as if realizing she were veering off on another line of thought, then continued in a more matter-of-fact tone: “Anyway, I didn't tell Mr. Pearson any of that. I didn't want to keep you waiting. Besides, we'll have more time later.”
to make jealous. Then, when I wouldn't listen, he wrote the Venice play and broke my heart.” Jessie paused. “He was the love of my life, you know. No offense to your fatherâit was another life. Of course, there was someone who might have given them both a run for their money ⦠.” She paused again, as if realizing she were veering off on another line of thought, then continued in a more matter-of-fact tone: “Anyway, I didn't tell Mr. Pearson any of that. I didn't want to keep you waiting. Besides, we'll have more time later.”
“Later?”
“I invited him to come for Shabbos dinner one night. He seemed very pleased by the idea. I dropped a hint about Margot, so that may have had something to do with it. And I promised to make my chopped liver. He loves my chopped liverâhe may not remember, but he does.”
“
T
here's no
REASON WHY YOU CAN'T DO MORE WITH YOUR practice,” Carla explained to her husband one evening soon after her visit to Dr. Samuels. “I'm not talking about anything too pushy or obvious. You just need to be more savvy about the business aspects and get the word out that you know your field and care about your patients.”
T
here's no
REASON WHY YOU CAN'T DO MORE WITH YOUR practice,” Carla explained to her husband one evening soon after her visit to Dr. Samuels. “I'm not talking about anything too pushy or obvious. You just need to be more savvy about the business aspects and get the word out that you know your field and care about your patients.”
Carla had been thinking this over in light of Dr. Samuels's success. Psychiatry was a languishing fieldâin worse straits even than gastroenterologyâbut Samuels had refused to languish. She felt Mark could take a lesson from him.
“I heard that Drexel University has co-op students who will work for a term or two at reasonable pay,” she suggested. The idea had come to her after Margot had noted that a Drexel student, an English major doing an internship in the DA's office, was finding inconsistencies in her cases that the regular staff would never have noticed. “These kids watch the crime shows on TV, so they ask all kinds of questions they don't teach in law school. Like when they had the lab analyze dirt under Mr. Giannini's fingernails for mud from the Schuylkill Riverânot the sort of thing he'd acquire at the family barbecue, his alleged alibi when the body was being disposed of. Now, that's straight out of
CSI
. Let me tell you, I
wish I had one of these media-savvy kids working for me.” It had occurred to Carla that a student well versed in the slicker medical dramas might be helpful to Mark as well.
CSI
. Let me tell you, I
wish I had one of these media-savvy kids working for me.” It had occurred to Carla that a student well versed in the slicker medical dramas might be helpful to Mark as well.
“You could hire someone to analyze the weaknesses in the practice,” she suggested to him now, “evaluate office efficiency and cash flow, for example, or put some promotional materials together. Ever since Katie Couric had her colonoscopy on TV, intestines have been big news. You've got loads of ideas on colon care that would be worth publicizing. I'm convinced that if you want to make the practice work, you need to take the initiative in this.”
Mark, though lacking the enthusiasm Carla would have ideally wished, said he was game to try anything; things couldn't get any worse. And so, she went ahead and called the Drexel co-op office. The harried placement officer, used to employers with a very vague sense of what they needed, reached into a grab-bag of miscellaneous students and sent over three, each from a different major, to interview for the job.
The first student, a film and video major with aspirations to be the next Andy Warhol, did not seem like a good candidate. Although he claimed to want to make a documentary film on the medical field, his black fingernails and multiply pierced eyebrows, not to mention his observation that “blood always makes for good visuals,” caused Carla to suspect that the documentary he would make might not be suitable for
Action News.
Action News.
The second candidate, a finance major, did not fit the bill either. He seemed horror-struck when Carla explained how the medical profession had become beholden to the insurance companies. “So you're saying your husband went to school for, like, fifty years and now they won't let him make a living? It's sick. I'm sorry, but trying to squeeze out a few more pennies here and there isn't what I consider challenging work. My advice to Dr. Goodman is to go work for the insurance companies; that's where the money is.” As for this student's own aspirationsâhe was headed for Wall Street, where capitalism could proceed unimpeded.
The third candidate, fortunately, was more promising. A stylishly attired black woman named Yvette, majoring in communications, she seemed to have some very good ideas about what might be done to put Mark and his practice on the area's GI map.
“You need to be more proactive,” said Yvette authoritatively. “I mean, no one's going to care about getting colon cancer unless you scare them about it. And your husband needs a serious makeover. He's got a nice-enough personality and he's not bad-looking,” she observed with clinical objectivity, “but I'd totally rehaul his look. Change the suitâwhere did he get it, Men's Wearhouse?” [He had.] “Get a more colorful tie, maybe a bow tieâwe'll have to see if that works for him. And the haircut, please!âhe looks like someone from one of those eighties shows. The point is to make him a spokesperson for his field, which means he has to look credible but hip.” She waved her hand in the air. “So that's the cosmetic aspect,” she concluded. “Then there's outreach. We need to put together a list of the health editors at the local papers and TV stations. I'll write a press release and have my boyfriend, Jeron, who's in media arts, make a video that shows Dr. Goodman talking about some hot issue in the field. We can brainstorm about what that is. But first he has to change the hair. I won't take the job if he doesn't.”
Carla felt that Yvette knew what she was talking about. The next day, she took Mark to the trendy Louis Christian Wayne Robert Salon and Spa on Route 70 for a haircut that at first embarrassed him to death but that he quickly became rather vain about. Yvette, now satisfied with the hair (they could improve it with mousse for the video, she said), came onboard and proceeded to begin work on “outreach.”
Meanwhile, Carla had finally informed Mark and the children about the full extent of Jessie's fantasy life. She had hesitated to do so out of concern that her family would find her mother's condition off-putting or frightening. It was one thing to have a grandma with memory lapses and confusion, another to have one who believed she was the reincarnation of Shakespeare's Dark Lady.
But the Goodman family reacted with surprising equanimity. They seemed to feel that Elizabethan delusions were no big deal and, if anything, a nice change of pace.
Stephanie, for one, had already gleaned something of the matter in the course of her study sessions with her grandmother. After the initial reading of
Romeo and Juliet
, Jessie's abilities with the text had picked up to an astonishing degree. She was now correcting Stephanie on errors of pronunciation and launching forth with explanations about archaic words and phrases. “When the character says âAnon,'” Jessie elucidated, for example, “it means something like âBe there in a jiffy' or âOn the double.'” Stephanie also noted that her grandmother sometimes used phrases that echoed the language of the playsâas in “Prithee, Stephanie dear, I do like your hair today!” or “By my troth, that's a nice necklace!” Stephanie found these remarks weird, though no weirder than when her best friend, Elaine, dyed her hair orangeâand with the definite advantage of making Jessie an excellent resource for English homework.
Romeo and Juliet
, Jessie's abilities with the text had picked up to an astonishing degree. She was now correcting Stephanie on errors of pronunciation and launching forth with explanations about archaic words and phrases. “When the character says âAnon,'” Jessie elucidated, for example, “it means something like âBe there in a jiffy' or âOn the double.'” Stephanie also noted that her grandmother sometimes used phrases that echoed the language of the playsâas in “Prithee, Stephanie dear, I do like your hair today!” or “By my troth, that's a nice necklace!” Stephanie found these remarks weird, though no weirder than when her best friend, Elaine, dyed her hair orangeâand with the definite advantage of making Jessie an excellent resource for English homework.
Jeffrey responded to the news of his grandmother's delusions even more enthusiastically. Given that his sense of the line between fact and fiction was extremely weak, he thought it was “really neat” that Grandma believed she had lived back then. As he saw it, they had swords and armor in Shakespeare's time, and maybe she could bring back some souvenirs.
Mark, driven to a crazed state of his own while calculating his new malpractice insurance, noted that Jessie's condition had its benefits. “I'd sure as hell like to go back in time to when the medical profession got some respect,” he grumbled to Carla. “Maybe your mother can ask her boyfriend to write a play about the tragedy of modern medicine.”
Other books
The Boss Vol. 2 (The Boss #2) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott
The Ghost in Love by Jonathan Carroll
Monday, Monday: A Novel by Elizabeth Crook
When Night Falls by Jenna Mills
Fly-Fishing the 41st by James Prosek
The Wolf Subdued by Colton, Riley
In My Dreams by Davis, Lynn
Peckerwood by Ayres, Jedidiah
The Escape Clause by Bernadette Marie
