John Casey - Compass Rose

May picked two tomatoes and another two. She said, “That’s more than enough. You’d better take some home with you.”

“I’m going back to the office,” Phoebe said. “I’m probably late; I am late. They’ll be all right in the car?”

Phoebe left in a flurry, shuffling to the back door with a pair of tomatoes in each hand, shaking off Tom’s boots, trotting out the front door in her high heels, waving out the car window.

May stood on the porch, a little let down. At first she thought it was because she’d been talking too much. Then she thought, what if Dick was to find out? No, that made her cross, not sad. Dick was out to sea, where he didn’t answer to anybody but himself. No reason why she shouldn’t do what she pleased in her own place. Then she had a suspicion that Phoebe had got round her, had got the better of her. No to that, too. Phoebe was clever enough behind all that giddiness, but she didn’t think Phoebe meant her any harm. Phoebe was lonely, was aching to find a friend.

So what did it mean that Phoebe picked her?

Elsie reread the instructions for hooking up the answering machine, one of the many small items on her list. In fact, they were all small, Lilliputians wrapping their tiny ropes around her just when she wished to do something big. She’d imagined that Miss Perry — Miss Perry’s situation — would require largeness of spirit, a beaming of will and encouragement. Instead she felt like an IBM typewriter ball tapping out one minuscule letter after another. The day nurse had immediately taken command of Miss Perry’s bedroom. On this first day she’d popped out four times to suggest things Elsie could do. All perfectly sensible. All elaborations of doctor’s orders. An electric heater, at least until Elsie got the plumber to bleed the radiators. A hot-water bottle. A tray with legs for meals in bed. As soon as Elsie arrived with one thing the woman would meet her in the front hall wanting another. And now this answering machine with instructions that seemed to be translated from Japanese.

The day nurse came down the stairs and said, “Lydia’s asking for you. Don’t stay long. Oh, we need baby aspirin. And I couldn’t find coffee. There’s tea, but I prefer coffee.”

“Baby aspirin?”

“Yes. Adult-strength would irritate her stomach, but we need a small dose as an anticlotting agent.”

“Okay. Baby aspirin. While I’m out, why don’t you see what you can do with this answering machine … It’d be a big help. I’ll put coffee on my list. Oh, by the way, it’s Miss Perry. We all say Miss Perry. Only Captain Teixeira … but he’s her oldest friend.” The nurse lifted a hand. Elsie said, “I’ll bring my coffeemaker, and we’ll have a chance to chat about everything tomorrow. Oh. We’re having meals brought over from Sawtooth Point, whatever’s the special. Once the answering machine is hooked up, just turn the ringer off and it won’t bother you anymore. And let me know if there’s anything you can’t eat. You’re okay with seafood? No problems with clams, lobster, squid?”

“I haven’t ever had squid.”

“Okay. No squid. After I see Miss Perry, I’ve got to run, but I’ll be back to meet the night nurse. Do you know her?”

“No. I don’t know who—”

“One of the Tran girls. She’s an angel. If you have any trouble with the answering machine, she’s very handy. They’re all very bright. The young ones all have perfect English.”

As she went up the stairs Elsie thought she’d just done a Jack. Not the stony-faced wait-’em-out Jack but the nipping-at-your-heels border-collie Jack. Couldn’t be helped; the woman was driving her nuts.

She trotted up quickly, a last little display of border collie. She slowed in the dark hallway. She’d never been in this part of the house. She stopped short in front of the half-open door. To go into Miss Perry’s bedroom seemed a terrible intimacy.

She knocked. Miss Perry’s voice floated to her, a single unsteady note. She went in. The light from the windows silvered the large lenses of Miss Perry’s glasses. In her long white nightgown and bed jacket, she looked like a snowy owl.

“Elsie.”

The sound of her name went through her. It had the odd effect of erasing her. It was a relief. It brought her to Miss Perry as a very simple organism.

“Elsie. Sit here.” Miss Perry moved her hand across the bed. Elsie sat. At this angle she could see Miss Perry’s eyes, one opened wider than the other. “I want to talk.” She waved her right hand back and forth without lifting it from the bedspread. She looked at her hand and said, “That means I’m laughing.” The right side of her mouth smiled.

“Yes,” Elsie said. “What are you laughing at?”

Miss Perry crooked her forefinger and slowly raised it. At last it reached the top of her head and tapped once. Then her hand seemed to dribble down back to the bed. She said, “Think.”

“All right. I’m thinking. You said my name … You know Captain Teixeira?”

Miss Perry shook her head. “Things.” She looked out the window.

“Tree.”

“Yes. Tree.”

She waved her right hand. Not a laugh. “Things you know. I know. More words for trees.”

“Oh. Ash. That tree is an ash.”

“Yes. Ash. Say a tree I don’t see.”

“Beech. The copper beech in front.” Miss Perry nodded. “All right. Sycamore. By my pond. It always looks like it’s peeling,” Miss Perry added. “And there’s the white oak beside it.” Miss Perry moved her hand, this time a laugh. Elsie said, “What’s funny?”

“ Quercus alba. ” Miss Perry touched her head again and said, “Odd. I know Latin. I don’t know beside. ”

Elsie was afraid she was going to cry. She squinted and squeezed her nose as if stopping a sneeze. She said, “Beside.” She held out one hand, put the other out. “This hand is beside that hand.”

“Odd,” Miss Perry said. She closed her eyes. She lay back and waved her hand at her hip.

Elsie said, “Do you want to lie down?”

“Yes.” Elsie reached under the covers to slide her down. As Elsie touched her, Miss Perry’s eyes opened. She said, “I remember. When it was odd, I called the telephone. I called you. ”

“Yes. Let me take your glasses off.”

Miss Perry’s eyes were blurry for a moment, then grew distinct. “You came. I said … Did I say thank you?”

“I’m sure you did.”

“You talked. You said trees. The same trees.”

“That’s right.”

“I remember the men came. The … car. Not a car. What is it?”

“Ambulance. We’ll talk tomorrow. You’ll remember it all tomorrow.”

“And the baby.”

Elsie said, “Yes, that’s right,” as if Miss Perry were a child trying to put off bedtime by saying to the grown-up reaching for the light switch, “I remember …”—what she saw at the beach, what she ate that day that was good for her, the end of a fairy tale.

Elsie was to meet Mr. Bienvenue at Miss Perry’s house at eight in the evening. She sent the night nurse, Nancy Tran, to babysit Rose. Elsie set out the memoranda, appointment books, and letters on Miss Perry’s desk. She laid a fire in the fireplace. She was still in her uniform, thought of going back to change, thought Mr. Bienvenue might arrive. She decided to go up to tell Miss Perry what was going on; Miss Perry would wonder when she heard a man’s voice.

Miss Perry was speaking more clearly now, and the doctor was pleased at how much she’d improved in a month. Miss Perry still had difficulty with prepositions. She had a theory that her grasp of prepositions would improve as she began to move around.