The Goddess of Small Victories (48 page)

The sudden reminder of a countdown in progress made Anna’s insides heave. There wasn’t just the countdown to the holidays; that
other
one was also pending, but the young woman would have rather cut off her own tongue than articulate it to her friend. She made the decision that she had been backing toward for several days.

“What if I spent Christmas with you?”

“You would willingly subject yourself to a party with so many living corpses?”

“You’d actually be saving my bacon.”

Anna rubbed her face to erase the flood of emotions fighting for expression there. She was tired of having to always find excuses.

“Stop that immediately! You are giving yourself wrinkles before your time. Why do you torture yourself in this way?”

“I don’t have your courage, Adele. I spend my whole life running away from things. I’m pathetic.”

Adele stroked her hand. The gesture, intimate and gentle, brought Anna to the verge of tears.

“You’re not going to cry, all the same! What is making you so unhappy?”

“I’m too ashamed to say it. Especially in front of you.”

“Suffering is not a competition. There can be a certain relief in mourning. The memory of the departed can be more comforting than that person’s presence ever was.”

Anna reclaimed her hand gently. The old woman was recounting her own experience. For a brief moment, the young woman might have confided in her, but people’s worlds are watertight; their otherness is inevitable and definitive. How could she explain to Adele that she had refused exactly the fate that Adele had accepted? For Mrs. Gödel—who, after all, had only been following the paradigms of her epoch—choosing a man like Kurt or Leo necessarily meant sacrificing herself, even if at times it brought collateral benefits like sex. Monsters take everything and give back nothing. Adele had in the process lost her natural joy, along with any hope of resolving her incompleteness by becoming a mother. Anna understood the aspiration without believing it to be necessary. Her mother, Rachel, had chosen not to dissolve herself either in her marital or her maternal relations. Anna admired her freedom but not the intransigence that went with it. In the end, these two women paid for their choice by being similarly alone. This proposition, too, was undecidable.

“You should go on another trip, Anna. Take advantage of your freedom. You still have so many possibilities ahead of you.”

A sudden pain in her side pinned the old lady to her pillow. Anna reached for the alarm button, but Adele pushed her hand away, fighting to regain her breath.

The young woman prepared an eau de cologne compress and comforted her friend as best she could. The features of Adele’s face had grown more haggard since their escapade to the movies. How could Anna not have noticed? It was her fault that Adele had burned up her last reserves of energy. She had even sacrificed her last real pleasure: gossiping. The Great Grinch was counting his favors. She thought of the exhausting road home. She wondered if Jean was on duty: she would bum a cigarette from her on the way out. She was ashamed of already thinking about leaving. She felt dirty, soiled by her constant cowardice. Mrs. Gödel was going to die soon, and she, Anna, owed her at least this one bit of courage: honesty.

“I’m so glad I met you, Adele. Until now, I’ve had the impression that I wasn’t useful to anyone.”

The old woman straightened up laboriously. For a moment Anna thought she had used up her supply of indulgence, but Adele surprised her with the gentleness of her voice, bereft of sarcasm.

“I would be sorry to leave this world having made you feel this way, Anna. I am only a tiny inflection in your life path. You still have plenty of time to find a mission for yourself.”

1973-1978

So Old a Love

Princeton, November 15, 1973

Dearest Jane
,

I’m sorry I’m so bad at writing letters. This time I have a good excuse for my long silence. I’ve been very busy these last weeks. I finally agreed to work as a nursing assistant for the couple that Peter has been gardening for. They’re so old I felt sorry for them. They really needed a full-time aide, especially the poor lady. She is stuck in a wheelchair. So he’s the one who does the shopping and the housework. You can imagine what the house looked like when I arrived. I saw right away that I would have to be not only the nurse but the housekeeper, cook, and “granny-sitter.” The Gödels have been together almost fifty years. Their love is so old it would really be wonderful if their situation wasn’t so pathetic. They never had children and live a very solitary life. Mrs. Gödel finds this difficult.
She is delighted to have someone to talk to. She’s as much of a chatterbox as I am!

How can I describe this strange couple to you? Mr. Gödel is apparently a genius. I can’t say if this is true. He’s an odd man, sometimes very nice, but he often says nothing at all. He spends his days and nights shut up in his study. He eats very little, and only after sniffing and poking it a hundred times. His wife says he is afraid of being poisoned. He is so thin it’s scary. A walking skeleton. Adele Gödel, on the other hand, is very fat. She suffers from many of the infirmities of old age, but she doesn’t take her pills. Not that she hasn’t got all her marbles. She spends all her time worrying about the health of her addled husband
.

I can’t figure out what Mr. Gödel suffers from exactly. His doctor gave me some instructions about his prostate troubles, because he refused to have an operation and prefers to go around with a catheter, although it puts his kidneys at serious risk of infection. The poor man secretly ingests unbelievable quantities of substances he doesn’t need. You’ve worked at a hospital too, so you can judge for yourself. I made a list of everything he takes: milk of magnesia for his ulcer; Metamucil for constipation; various antibiotics, including Achromycin, Terramycin, and Cefalexin, Mandelamine, Macrodantin, Lanoxin, and Quinidine—although he has nothing wrong with his heart. And finally, to round off the menu, he takes laxatives like Imbricol and Pericolase. I’m used to impairments resulting from senility, but this really leaves me speechless. Last fall, he agreed to be operated on. But at the hospital he made a giant scene, ripped out his catheter, and insisted on going home as though nothing had happened. We’ve had difficult patients, Jane, but this one takes the cake!

Enough for now about my old people. You’ve had your share of experiences with the elderly over the years. As far as my own health goes, I’m doing fine. I still reject your theory that old age is contagious.
Write me soon, as I’m longing to hear about your adventures. Whatever made you move to the far side of the country? I’d be really angry with you if I didn’t like you so much. You’ve certainly earned the right to some sunshine
.

Big hug
,

Beth

Princeton, April 2, 1975

Dearest Jane
,

You always give me good advice, but I just couldn’t bring myself to quit. I can’t leave Adele to deal with her situation alone. I’m just not coldhearted enough. That man is going to drive me crazy! How did she put up with him for all those years, day after day? He’s not exactly mean, but he wears you out! At every meal I have to fight to get him to take even a tiny bit of food. Just to make him eat two little pieces of carrot, I have to cajole, beg, and threaten. He basically lives on an egg and two spoonfuls of tea a day! Every single morning he asks me if I remembered to buy oranges, and then he refuses to eat one. If I weren’t so fond of Adele (I can hear you saying “so sorry for Adele”), I’d have fled long ago. As it is, no one wants to deal with his manias anymore. Except his old friend Morgenstern, whom I’ve mentioned before, and a young “logician” of Asian background (I don’t exactly understand what he does!). They don’t visit him often, but they talk to him on the telephone all the time. Mr. Morgenstern has cancer, but he’s careful not to let his friend know, so as not to worry him. How does this crazy old coot manage to have such good friends? According to Adele, Mr. Gödel was a top expert in his field. The man I’m looking after is a pitiful old geezer on the brink of total senility. He has just been awarded the National Medal of Science, a
very big honor. In the state he’s in, I doubt he’ll be able to attend the ceremony
.

I haven’t talked about anything but my two charges. I live day by day with them. Their suffering has become my burden
.

I really thank you for your invitation, Jane. I can’t accept it at the moment. I just can’t walk away from the Gödels. Am I becoming overly involved with them? Of course! But you would have grown fond of them too, in my place. Adele is fairly gruff, even sharp sometimes, but she’s very brave. You’ve always liked love stories, and this is a real one. The fairy tales never mention how Prince Charming ends up: babbling and incontinent. I’ll never have the good fortune, or the wonderful ill fortune, to grow old with the love of my youth. Some days I’m glad, and other days sorry
.

This is a sad letter, I hope you don’t mind too much. You are such a good listener, Jane
.

Your fond friend
,

Beth

Princeton, June 15, 1976

Dearest Jane
,

In your last letter you asked for details about my “two old people.” Poor Adele has been hospitalized. She had another stroke. She is in critical condition, delirious and needing to be fed intravenously. I’m exhausted. I spend my time shuttling between the house and the hospital, driving Mr. Gödel to his wife’s bedside. He is painful to look at, like an abandoned child. I do his shopping. I cook little dishes for him, but he says he prefers to make his own meals. I don’t believe him. He is completely irrational. Some days, he’ll talk to me about Adele for hours on end. Other days, he suspects me of belonging to a plot to get him fired
from his job. He forgets that he has already retired. Adele’s stroke is perhaps related to the stress she has been under these past few weeks. Her husband escaped from the hospital where he was due for an emergency operation to replace his catheter. He walked home on foot. While I stood there, he accused his wife of wanting to kill him and of having siphoned off all his money while he was gone. The poor woman cried in discouragement. Several people tried to talk him into taking a sedative, including the doctor and his friend Morgenstern, but they all failed. He held out stubbornly for several days in a state of semidelirium. He even called his brother in Europe to ask him to be his legal guardian. The next day, he announced that he hated his brother. What this woman has had to put up with is beyond all telling. By being extraordinarily patient, she actually managed to calm him down. Everything seemed back in order (if there can be any order in a house full of crazies), when she suddenly began to feel unwell. We took her to the hospital immediately. Ever since, her husband has been filled with concern for her. Mr. Morgenstern is also not a pretty sight. He has grown thin and uses his last remaining energy worrying about his capricious walking corpse of a friend. Mr. Gödel should be locked up somewhere. Adele refuses to do it. She still finds ways to feel guilty about not being able to look after him
.

I’m almost at the end of my rope, Jane. Send me courage. I swear that from now on I’ll only look after newborns! Will you remind me of this?

Beth