The guy from Spectrum agrees with me.
About the visibility glare,
Should we keep the TV on the west facing wall.
But here’s the other problem.
The cable line is black.
While the baseboards are white.
So, to run a line discreetly
Will be hard.
I stopped reading after that and put the phone back in my pocket, on silent. I told the resident about to place the line what she needed to do in steps. She was the eager type and always nodding, but I never knew how much was being processed per nod. I asked if she had any questions. No questions, nope, she said, still nodding. Then before step one could happen, she dropped the sterile needle onto the sterile drape and the needle rolled off the drape onto the unsterile floor. Then in trying to catch the needle midair with both hands, she also dropped the ultrasound probe used to find the vein.
It’s okay, I said, thinking of my strawberry bagel experience after Madeline’s hug. These things happen. It’s okay.
Embarrassed, the resident kept apologizing and touching her face with gloved hands that already had yellow residue. I told her to stop doing both and to go change her gloves. By the time I could check my phone again, my screen was covered in texts from Mark.
So, which wall is it?
Your call but the guy’s on the clock.
Five minutes later came the last series of texts.
Decided to move the TV to the east facing wall
Because of glare,
Which came in at full force, while we
Were standing around.
But to hide the cable, we’ve wrapped it
In white painter’s tape and fastened it to your baseboard,
Like so.
He sent me a picture.
* * *
—
ONE NIGHT I FLIPPED through the two hundred channels just to see. All sorts of shows were playing: cooking and baking shows, house-decorating programs, in-home shopping, the local news, the international news, the Weather Channel, talk shows, game shows, reality-based shows about single people trying to find love, about single women who become crazy wives, crazy wives in every city, shows about families with twenty kids, families who just clip coupons, and families who never throw anything away.
Cable was, as Mark had predicted, relaxing, and I found that there was nothing I couldn’t watch, except for prime-time medical dramas in which the protagonist was always a rogue doctor who ran up alongside gurneys, then tried to reform （tear down） the health system. The rogue doctors usually looked like Reese and, as if worried that the audience or their in-show colleagues would forget, kept reminding all of us that they were doctors.
* * *
—
WE’RE HEADING TO VAIL, Fang said abruptly. He had called the morning after their Winter Bash to announce that in a few days’ time they were all going on holiday and for most of next month. Colorado was, in Fang’s opinion, the most beautiful state. Our mother won’t be skiing, but at least she can get some fresh mountain air. They had chosen a lodge and skiing village with out-of-this-world amenities, and they themselves would be staying in a private cottage with Jacuzzis, plural.
I don’t suppose you want to come, he asked. To ski or sit with our mother since the aide had been given the weeks off. I suppose you have to work through the month to avoid spending any time with us.
I said he wasn’t being fair.
Am I wrong?
No, I said, but this wasn’t necessarily just about right versus wrong.
There is right and there is wrong, he said, in the same tone that he used to talk about profits, about gain and loss.
I told him about my raise, hoping that once he heard this piece of news, he would be more content.
But is your title the same? he asked.
It was.
Ask for a real promotion next time. Tell your director that he either promotes you or you walk. Be more aggressive.
Berating is love, and here I was at thirty-six, still being loved.
He asked why I was always so indifferent.
Not my intention, I said, just how my voice, tone, and in-person facial expressions seemed to come across.
I didn’t like the word indifferent either. It was just two letters off from the word that I hate.
My brother launched into a series of loaded questions, which was another technique he used to wear his recipient down. Did my indifference to a title change link back to my refusal to start a private practice, and did that link back to my refusal to leave a chaotic city for a place with more comfort and space? Did my inability to take any time off stem from either a lack of belief in my own self-worth or a masochistic nature? Or both. Because my brother has never been able to pronounce that word perfectly, he said, instead, math statistics.