The Real Mrs. Tobias by Sally Koslow

Author:Sally Koslow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

Mel

I HOPE YOU DON’T FEEL RAILROADED INTO THIS,” I SAY WITH belated guilt as David and I find seats in the teeming waiting room of the neurologist.

“Mel, doll, what kind of putz would refuse to see a doctor when his family tells him he’s slip-sliding away?”

“You’re being a good sport.” I lean over to peck David on the cheek.

He cups my face and strokes my cheek. “I’m sure this isn’t where you want to be, either.”

From the get-go, my father-in-law and I have reveled in a breezy relationship that grew from my belief that he understands why Jake loves me. There’s also the V factor. He’s a loyal husband who would never knock his wife—certainly not in front of me—but I’m convinced he knows how thorny she can be. Over the years, as if I deserve combat pay, he has compensated with a thousand civilities. David is my living, breathing malware, protecting me from Veronika. How will I manage without him? But I’m going all doomsday. Stifle yourself, Mel.

“What do you hear from Birdie?” David asks.

“Not much. She’s keeping her own counsel.”

“Why doesn’t Micah get his tuchus to Idaho or Indiana or whatever and beg her to come back?”

The best I can do is shrug. “I’ve stopped understanding my son.”

David opens his Wall Street Journal and offers me the first section, while he takes Money & Investing, loaded with numbers that would fly right by me. Can he still analyze them?

One by one, other patients are called, until the only people left are a handsome, turbaned Sikh; a doe-eyed woman shyly peeping out from a hijab; and an elderly Chasid from either nineteenth-century Poland or a cool part of Brooklyn. He is accompanied by a woman in long sleeves, long skirt, thick flesh-toned stockings, and a conspicuous wig. “Tati this, Tati that,” she whispers. I never fail to be fascinated by the colorful salad bar of New Yorkers who unite in any doctor’s office. God bless health care.

“David Tobias?” a nurse asks, finally.

“Do you want me in the room?”

“Please. I need a witness.”

David stands, tightens his tie, and marches toward his destiny. He could be a presidential candidate accepting his nomination. The neurologist welcomes us and introduces her subordinates. Their manner is respectful, affable, professional. This won’t hurt a bit. We’re just going to ask a few questions to see how unglued you are.

After preliminaries, the doctor begins with, “We’ll recite three words we’ll ask you to try and repeat later: velvet, daisy, table.” He slowly annunciates each word.

Velvet, daisy, table, I repeat to myself.

Then they fire away. David obediently answers questions, as do I, mutely. I’ve got to assume that identifying a rhinoceros, a giraffe, and a whale is a warm-up. From here, David is asked to start at one hundred and subtract by sevens, which he does at twice the pace that I do. The questions zip by. “What is today’s date?”

“December fourth.”

“The year?”

Two thousand eighteen, I say to myself. You’ve got this. But he comes up blank, then stumbles when asked to draw a clock face indicating ten past eleven.

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