Waking Rose: A Fairy Tale Retold (22 page)

“Excellent men. Now, I am yearning to go investigate some of the thrift stores around here, but would you mind very much if I did an interview for my paper first?” Rose was daubing concealer on a zit that had emerged on her forehead, probably due to stress.

“An interview?” Blanche queried.

While brushing her hair, Rose explained about her long paper on the care of comatose patients. “One of the people in the nursing department here suggested I contact this woman who actually takes care of a comatose man at home. If you don’t mind, I thought I could run by and do that this morning. That way I can get some schoolwork done even while enjoying myself.”

“Sure. That actually sounds interesting,” Blanche said.

“Good! Let me call her and see if it will work out,” Rose said, opening the door to the room. She halted, speechless. A curtain of rainbow tissue paper hung from the door and a big sign:
Happy Birthday, Rose!
It was signed by Kateri, Nannette, and most of the girls on her dorm floor.

“Oh…my!” she finally said. “How did you get through that?”
“It wasn’t easy,” Blanche said, laughing. “Kateri warned me in the hall that you hadn’t yet opened the door this morning and not to spoil the surprise. Happy Birthday, Rose!”

“Thanks!” Rose recollected herself. “Okay, let me make that phone call!”

Lucille Johnson was happy to speak with Rose briefly at ten. So Rose and Blanche drove down after breakfast to the private home where Nurse Johnson worked.

The house was almost a small mansion, a brown brick edifice on the crest of a hill overlooking the town, in a nicer neighborhood than Rose had thought could exist in run-down Meyerstown. Rose knocked at the door and a sturdy blond woman with a creased brow and hurried manner answered the door.

“Are you Rose Brier?” she asked. “I’m Lucille Johnson.”

“Very pleased to meet you,” Rose said, automatically, juggling her yellow notebook and extending her hand. “This is my sister Blanche, who was visiting for the weekend. She wanted to be a nurse at one point,” she said, in a half-hearted explanation for her companion.

“Oh?” Nurse Johnson looked at her as she led the way down a nice but dark paneled hall and into a sitting room.

Blanche smiled, apparently not anxious. “I took two years of the coursework before I dropped out.”

“Well, what happened?” the nurse asked, indicating two tapestry chairs. She sat down on the very edge of her own chair.

“I got married, and now we’re expecting a baby, so I guess I’ll have to put things on hold,” Blanche said, adding, “if I go back to school at all.”

“Oh,” the nurse said, with some disapproval, as though Blanche had behaved irresponsibly.

“Well,” Rose said, “I’m awfully glad you could spare some time for me. Like I told you on the phone, I’m doing a paper for my medical ethics class on the care of comatose patients.”

“An ethics class? Why is that a subject in an ethics class?”

“Well, because there have been cases where the personhood of people in comas has been questioned, I guess, and they haven’t been treated as people.”

“So you’re looking to investigate whether or not I treat my patients as people or not?” the nurse’s eyes snapped.

“No, no, no,” Rose hastened to explain. “I’m just trying to find out about their treatment in general. I’ve found some articles about cases where abuse has happened, and I want to balance that out by providing some cases where the patients are well cared for.”

“Why did you choose this topic?” the nurse asked.

“Well, because...well, actually, my dad was an investigative reporter in this town once and he did some interviews on the abuse of patients, so that’s what got me interested in the topic.”

“Abused? How? Where?”

“I expect at the hospital in town,” Rose said carefully. “I don’t really know what exactly went on because when I went out to the barn where my father kept his notes, I couldn’t find them anywhere. My dad’s dead,” she added. “So I couldn’t ask him myself.”

“I still don’t understand—why are you writing a paper on comas?”

“I think because I was in a coma once,” Blanche spoke up quietly. “So our family has a little bit of experience with that kind of tragedy.”

“Hmph,” Nurse Johnson softened a bit. “Well, my patient here has been in a coma for the past three years. It’s been very hard on his family. His wife died last year, and so I’m the only one here with him now.”

“How did he go into a coma?” Rose asked.

The nurse looked at her hard. “Meningitis.”

“I see,” Rose ducked her head and wrote quickly in her notebook as the nurse talked. She wanted to avoid offending this choleric woman any further. For the rest of the interview, she tried to handle the woman with kid gloves.

“Well, that was quite a test!” she said to Blanche as she got back in the car. “She seemed to think I was there to question her credentials as a nurse.”

“Her attitude certainly was odd,” Blanche agreed. “Perhaps she just had a bad day.”

“She liked you,” Rose said, a little resentfully. “Some people just don’t like talkative people like me.”

“And others can’t stand quiet people like me,” Blanche smiled. “Well, you handled it fairly well, I think. It should make your paper more interesting to write, I think. Did you get all the information you needed?”

“I did,” Rose said. “Only two more interviews and then the writing and I’m off the hook! Thanks for coming with me, Blanche.”  She glanced at her older sister, feeling warm inside. “I’m glad you were there.”

“I hope your other interviews go off much better than this one,” Blanche said.

“Now,” Rose said, grinning as she switched gears. “Thrift stores. The real hunt begins! Sister, the game is afoot! We must find an interesting material object of a reasonable price and bring it home before sundown—or else our honor is forfeit!”

Blanche giggled uncontrollably. “Take me where you will. I’m in your hands, and we have a full tank of gas. And I want to buy you a birthday present.”

“In that case,” Rose chortled, “Bear and Fish may not see us for several days.”

“But we have to get back for your play tonight,” Blanche reminded her.

“Ah yes,” Rose sighed.

“What did you girls do today?” Fish asked her at dinner that evening. They had met the men at a local Italian eatery that Bear thought looked promising.  Dinner was early because Rose had to get back for the show, her last evening performance, and Bear and Blanche were to leave directly afterwards.

Rose, flushed from the fun of a good day of hunting treasure, recounted their shopping expedition with relish and in detail while Bear and Fish listened patiently. “Plus, we talked,” she said. As most of their conversation had been about members of the opposite sex, including some of those present, she passed over that subject with a mere generality.

“So, what did you two do?” she asked.

Fish and Bear exchanged glances and chuckled. “We climbed rocks,” Bear said solemnly.

“Was that all? Didn’t you talk?” Rose asked.

“When we had to,” Fish allowed. “But words were barely necessary. When inarticulate grunts sufficed, we used those.”

“Guys,” Rose said in disbelief, shaking her head at her sister, who instead of agreeing, winked and raised her glass of wine.

“
Vive le difference
,” said her married sister.

To her surprise, Bear had ordered a chocolate cake from the restaurant. Rose submitted to having “Happy Birthday” sung to her by the wait staff and her family, and gleefully opened her presents: a matching creamer and sugar bowl that she had helped Blanche pick out that afternoon, and a silver necklace with a polished rock on it from Bear. (Of course, there were inevitable jokes about rocks.)

Having had such a good time, Rose was saddened by the thought of Bear and Blanche leaving. During the play, she managed to persuade Blanche to sit backstage with her so they could chat some more. Her happiness prolonged, she noticed that she had less nervousness than usual around Donna, who occasionally skulked by on some errand for the stage manager. Tara and Rose had repaired their relationship to the point where they could be pleasant with each other, and Rose introduced her to Blanche.

During the few moments alone, Rose toyed with asking her sister about Fish again, a topic on which her sister had been rather reticent that afternoon. Blanche was free enough with offering Rose advice on Paul, whom she had met and liked, but had said almost nothing about her brother-in-law.

“So—how do you think Fish is doing?” Rose finally asked, having decided to bring up the topic in this manner.

“My experience with Bear,” said Blanche, clasping her hands on her knee and looking particularly wise, “tells me that when a guy wants to make himself obvious, he will. When he’s ready to say something to you, he’ll say it, no matter what obstacles are in the way. If he’s not ready, then nothing you do is going to tease him into saying anything.”

“Ah,” Rose murmured, flushing. She knew her sister too well.

...So Blanche
had
noticed something.

As she took her bows after the show, Rose was surprised again when a big bunch of carnations and roses was thrust into her hands by a stagehand, and the boy who played King Lear started singing “Happy Birthday…” to her. In a moment the entire theatre was singing to her, and she had to stand there, smiling a little stupidly, pleased, but embarrassed by all the attention.

Goodness
, she thought, smelling her roses from Dr. Morris and the cast,
I never thought to get so much attention on my twentieth birthday. I can’t let it spoil me.

After the play, Bear and Blanche reluctantly said goodbye. They were driving back to their home that night, as Bear had several new apprentices for his stonework school arriving the next day. Blanche kissed Rose goodbye and hugged Fish before she stepped into the car. Bear received Rose’s embrace and hugged his brother in his usual gruff manner. “Good to see you both again. Tremendous performance, Rose.”

“Always good to see you,” Rose said. “You two live too far away.” 

Her sister responded with her wry smile. “I miss you too. Love you. Hurry up and finish college soon, okay?”

“I’m trying my best.”

The two college students stood forlornly on the curb and waved goodbye as the little car sped away into the night. The couple that had brought them together had departed, changing Fish and Rose back into their solitary selves, silent in their own thoughts.

Lonely, she turned to the brother-of-her-brother-in-law, and found he was looking back at her with a curious expression. She had seen it on his face before, the “this is an interesting specimen beneath my microscope” expression.

“Yes, Rose Red?”  His voice had his typical tone of bland curiosity.

She turned away.

 “Nothing,” she said.

He shuffled his feet.

She yawned. “Long day,” she said lightly and decided it was time for her to dance backwards, away from him. He had been carefully distant today and hadn’t apparently remembered that it was her birthday. Not that she had expected a present, but…

“Let me walk you back,” he said.

“No, that’s all right. Kateri’s still here. We’re going to a dance,” she said.

“Oh. You enjoy those things, don’t you?” He shuffled his feet again.

“Yes. Do you want to come with us?” the invitation was out of her mouth before she could think.
So much for dancing backwards…

“Sure,” he said unexpectedly. “For a little while, at least.” 

Stranger and stranger...
But she tried not to think of it as she went to find Kateri.

However, when they arrived at the cafeteria, Paul hurried up to Rose as soon as she walked in the door.

“You’re here! Hey, come on, the dance contest just started. You ready?”

“Sure!” she said, surprised, and Paul took her by the hand and led her off, barely giving her any time to wonder what Fish must think.

11
...And on the day of the princess’s coming of age, there was a grand ball, and she danced with many eligible partners...