Joy Williams - Taking Care

“She’s a girl who keeps her own witness, that’s a fact,” her mother said.

“I want you to be happy, honey,” Daddy said.

“Thank you,” Liberty said.

“But honey, what is it you two do exactly all the time with no babies or jobs or whatever? I’m just curious, understand.”

“They adore one another,” Liberty’s mother said. “‘Adore’ is not in Daddy’s vocabulary, but what Daddy is trying to say is that a grandson might give meaning and significance to the fact that Daddy ever drew breath.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to say at all,” Daddy said.

“They’re keeping their options open. They live in a more complex time. Keep your options open, Liberty! Never give anything up!” Her mother began to sob.

“We’d better be signing off now, honey,” Daddy said.

Liberty went into the living room and looked out the window at the light beginning its slow foggy wash over God’s visible kingdom, the kingdom being, in this case, an immense banyan tree which had extinguished all other vegetative life in its vicinity. The banyan was so beautiful it looked as though it belonged in heaven or hell, but certainly not on this earth in a seedy failed subdivision in the state of Florida.

She didn’t know about the ‘adore.’ ‘Adore’ didn’t seem to be in Willie’s vocabulary either. She supposed she could have told her Daddy about Willie saving people, making complete his incomprehension of his son-in-law. “He’s going through a crisis,” Daddy would say. “I wouldn’t rule out an affair either.” Once one got started saying things, Liberty knew, there were certain things that were going to get said back.

In the last six months, Willie had saved three individuals, literally snatched them from Death’s Big Grab. It was curious circumstance, certainly, but it had the feel of a calling to it. Willie was becoming a little occult in his attitudes. He was beginning to believe that there was more to life than love. Liberty didn’t blame him, but wished she had his vision.

The first person Willie had saved was a young man struck by lightning on the beach. Liberty had been there and seen the spidery lines the hit had made on the young man’s chest. Willie had administered cardiopulmonary resuscitation. A few weeks later, the man’s parents had come over to the house and given Willie a five-pound box of chocolate-covered cherries. The man’s mother had talked to Liberty and cried.

The next two people Willie had saved were an elderly couple in a pink Mercedes who had taken a wrong turn and driven briskly down a boat ramp into eight feet of water. The old woman wore a low-cut evening gown which showed off her pacemaker to good advantage.

“You’ve always been a fool, Herbert,” she said to the old man.

“A wrong turn in a strange city is not impossible, my dear,” Herbert said.

To Willie, he said, “Once I was a young man like you. I was an innocent, a rain-washed star, then I married this bat.”

“‘A rain-washed star’ is nice,” Liberty said when Willie told her.

Willie smiled and shook his head.

“Well, I guess I’ve missed the point again,” Liberty said.

“I guess,” Willie agreed.

Willie was making connections which Liberty was finding harder and harder to bypass. She believed in love and life’s hallucinations, and that every day was judgment day. It wasn’t enough anymore. Willie was getting restless with her, she knew. He felt she was bringing him down. His thoughts included her less and less, his coordinates were elsewhere, his possibilities without her becoming more actualized. This was marriage.

Liberty turned on the television without sound and picked up a piece of paper. She sat on the sofa and drew a line down the center of the paper and on the left side wrote things i would like and on the right things i would never do. She looked at the television where there was a picture of a plate with a large steak and a plump baked potato and some asparagus on it. The potato got up between the steak and the vegetable and a little slit appeared in it which was apparently its mouth and it apparently began talking. Liberty turned on the sound. It was a commercial for potatoes and the potato was complaining about the fact that everyone says steak and potatoes instead of the other way around. It nestled down against the steak again after making its point. The piece of meat didn’t say anything. Liberty turned off the television and regarded her list. She was sweating. She had closed all the windows late last night when she had heard the rain, now she cranked them open again. Deep inside the banyan, it still dripped rain. On one of its trunks, Teddy had carved I LOVE LIBERTY with his jackknife. Teddy was seven years old and fervently wished that Liberty were his mother. He often pointed out that they both had grey eyes and dark hair and a scar on one knee. She could easily be his mother, Teddy reasoned. He and Liberty had been friends for several years now. In the beginning, she had been paid by his mother for taking care of him, but now such an arrangement seemed unseemly. Teddy lived nearby in a large sunny house in a far more refined area of swimming pools and backyard citrus, but he preferred Liberty’s more gloomy locus. It was also his mother’s preference that he spend as much time as possible away from his own home. Janiella was a diabetic who did not allow her disability to get her down. She was a slender, well-read and passionate, if not nymphomaniacal, woman who enjoyed entertaining while her husband was away, which he frequently was. With Teddy she enforced a rigorous mental and physical schedule and was not very nice to him when he wet the bed.

When Teddy first began to wet the bed, Janiella had long discussions with him about the need for him to accept responsibility for his own bladder. When Teddy continued to refuse responsibility, Janiella began smacking him with a Whiffle bat every time she had to change the sheets. Then she decided on an alarm that would awaken him every three hours throughout the night. All the alarm has managed to do so far is to increase the number of Teddy’s dreams. Teddy dreams more frequently than anyone Liberty knows, he dreams and dreams. He dreams that he steals the single candy bar Janiella keeps in the house in the event she has an attack and has to have sugar. He dreams of Janiella crawling through their huge house, not being able to find her Payday.

When the phone rang again, Liberty walked quickly past it into the bathroom where she turned the water on in the shower. She stood in the small stall beneath the spray until the water turned cool. She turned off the water and stared uneasily at the shower curtain, which portrayed mildewed birds rising.

“Hey,” Willie said. He pushed the curtain back. His lean jaws moved tightly, chewing gum. Willie made chewing gum look like a prerequisite to good health. He was wearing faded jeans and a snug, faded polo shirt. His eyes were a faded blue. They passed over her lightly. Communication had indeed broken down considerably. Signals were intermittent and could easily be misread. Liberty didn’t know anything about him anymore, what he did when he wasn’t with her, what he thought. They had been together for six years. They had a little money and a lot of friends. There didn’t seem to be a plan.

“That was Charlie,” Willie said. “We’re going to have breakfast with him.”

They could never refuse Charlie when he wanted to eat. Charlie was an alcoholic who seldom ate. He was currently sleeping with Teddy’s mother and between his drinking and this unlikely affair, Charlie was a busy man. Liberty thought that Janiella was shallow and selfish and chic. She felt that it was ridiculous for her to be jealous of this woman.

As Liberty was dressing the phone rang again. It was Teddy, whispering.