“How’s it going?” He sounded optimistic but concerned. He was checking on all his teachers who had gone home with kids. So far, everyone was happy, and the parents were grateful and relieved to have help at home.
“A little rugged,” Simon admitted. “Salima is heartbroken over Abby. And I think her mother hates men, in her house anyway. She’s not used to having Salima here either. It’s a little dicey. We’re all adjusting. And Abby must have treated her like a five-year-old, more than any of us knew. She did everything for her except chew her food. She infantilized her completely. We have a long way to go here, just to get her up to speed. And no one is enthused about that project. Salima’s mother keeps telling me not to rock the boat.” Simon sounded exasperated as he explained the situation to him. He was trying to be zen about it, but it was a challenge.
“I’m sorry, Simon,” Eric said sincerely. “I know she babied her, and they had a very close relationship, so it’s hard to make changes. And it’s very soon. And I think that her mother liked Abby’s style. She never objected to how cocooned she was when Salima went home. I think it assuages some of her guilt for not having her at home, and having a demanding career.”
“Maybe,” Simon said thoughtfully. He was trying to figure it out and be patient. “The apartment really isn’t big enough for me. Or even for Salima. It’s set up very nicely for a single woman. Salima is in Siberia, at the end of a long hall, and pretty isolated, and I’m in a maid’s room behind the kitchen, which is fine, but there’s nowhere for me to sit without annoying someone. I made a major faux pas this morning, and made her coffee at five A.M. before she left for work. She looked pissed. I guess she doesn’t like talking to anyone before she goes to work.” He was walking on eggshells, and Eric could hear it and felt bad for him. He was such a decent, capable guy, he hated to have them make him so uncomfortable, but he’d had no one else to send home with Salima, or he would have. And Blaise was right, a woman would have been easier, in close quarters with Salima and her mother.
“See how it goes and keep me posted,” Eric said, sounding concerned. He was wondering if he should say something to Blaise. He didn’t want Simon to quit, or just walk off the job, but he knew Simon wouldn’t do that, he was tenacious, and brilliant at what he did. Eric knew that if anyone could turn it around, he could. But they clearly didn’t appreciate his skills. He was the best teacher Eric had. He was a natural problem solver and creative thinker.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make it work,” Simon said, trying to sound hopeful, but he wasn’t. And the day got off to a bad start when Salima woke up and found her way into the kitchen, and she gave a start when Simon said good morning. She acted as though she didn’t expect him to be there.
“Did you sleep okay?” He tried to sound more casual than he felt. She looked ravaged, and was still in deep grief over Abby.
“Yeah, I guess,” she said, slumped at the kitchen table.
“What would you like for breakfast?” he asked cheerfully, ready to make her anything she wanted. He was a great short-order chef, but she had no reason to know it.
“Poison,” she said glumly, staring into space, and not looking in his direction. With his students, he always made them look in the direction of the person speaking. It was a good habit to get into, even if they couldn’t see them. But he said nothing to her. It was too soon.
“Sorry. I’m fresh out. No poison today. How about bacon and eggs? Or whole wheat pancakes?”
“Abby always made me special waffles. But we don’t have a waffle iron here. My mother doesn’t believe in keeping fattening foods in the house, and she always wants me on a diet for my weight and diabetes,” Salima said unhappily. Simon was aware that Blaise was very slim, but Salima wasn’t much bigger. And he was well aware of the diet Salima needed to follow for her diabetes.
“I can buy a waffle iron today and keep it in my room.” Maybe under the bed or in my closet, or on my head, he thought to himself. Salima looked in his direction then and smiled.
“She’ll get mad if she finds out,” Salima warned him.
“Then don’t tell her.” He was trying to find a way to ally with Salima, and if a waffle iron would do it, he was willing to risk her mother’s ire. “What are we going to do today? After breakfast.” He wanted to get some food into her first. She looked depressed, and he thought food might help.
“I just want to stay here.” She seemed lifeless as she said it.
“I have some errands to do, and I need your help. I don’t know the neighborhood, and I haven’t been to New York in a year.” She didn’t look enthused at the prospect. “Which reminds me, I need a bunch of phone numbers, and things off the Internet. I’d like you to get them for me on your computer.” It was a way to get her involved.