A Begonia for Miss Applebaum Read online

  reported that Miss Applebaum represented the faculty in the school’s spring amateurshowbysinging“Hello,Dolly”and“I’mGonnaWashThatManRight

  outaMyHair.”Unfortunately,shecouldn’tcarryatuneverywell,andsomeof

  thefacultyandstudentsthoughtshewasbeginningtoactalittlenuts.

  IwastheonewhofirstsuggestedtoZeldathatwevisitMissApplebaumand

  bringherabegoniaplantfromYeGreenThumbFlowerShopasatokenofhow

  muchweweregoingtomissher.Also,Ithinkwhatreallydroveustodoitwas

  we just couldn’t believe she had really retired, and needed to hear it from the horse’s mouth. As you probably know, a begonia is one of those plain little plantswithsmallboringflowersonitthateveryonegivesasgiftsbecausethey

  can’t afford to spend the money on a dozen roses anymore. The begonia we bought for Miss Applebaum only cost two dollars and ninety-eight cents,

  including the pot—but I knew it would be the kind of thing Miss Applebaum would make a big fuss over. She always loved anything living, even skunk cabbages.

  WedidknowMissApplebaumlivedintheSaratogaApartmentHouse,which

  isaveryhumblebuildingonCentralParkWest,butwedidn’thaveherphone

  number. It was unlisted like everybody’s in New York to avoid recorded

  solicitationcallsfromcomputerizedbigbusinesses.Besides,Ithoughtitwould

  befuntosurpriseMissApplebaumanyway,whichturnedouttobeanextremely

  bad idea, but I didn’t know it at the time. Anyway, on September ninth, Zelda and I agreed to purchase the begonia and bring it up to Miss Applebaum’s immediately after school. We really loved her as a teacher, although we didn’t knowthatmuchaboutherpersonallife.It’sstrangehowyoucanactuallygrow

  toadmireandadoreteachersandnotknowverymuchaboutthem.Atschoolshe

  hadonceinawhiletalkedabouttheviewshehadofCentralParkandthatshe

  livedontheeighthfloor.Andtheonlythingelseweknewwassomemornings

  when we worked for her she would talk about some of her neighbors in the building, but just in general, like if someone had gotten a new poodle or if an elderlypersonhadbrokenahip.Naturally,itdoessounddementedthattwokids

  would think about bringing a plant to their retired science teacher on a Friday afternoon when most kids would be getting dressed for a trendy evening at Loew’sCineplex.ZeldasaysI’vereallygottotellabouthowstrangemymother

  andfatherare,butItoldhertoholdherhorsesandthatI’llgetaroundtothem soon enough. Actually, my mother is a psychoanalyst who I call the “Freudian Octopus”andmyfatherisamathprofessorwhoIrefertoasthe“Cockaloony

  Bird.”I’mnotrudetothemintheirpresence,ofcourse.I’lltellyoumoreabout themlater.

  Anyway,ZeldaandIgotoutofschoolat3:05on82ndStreetandwewalked

  downCentralParkWesttoMissApplebaum’sbuilding,whichisnearthesouth

  corner of 67th Street. We had often walked by the building before and

  sometimes we’d remember that Miss Applebaum lived there, but it wasn’t the kindofbuildingthatreallycaughtyourattention.Itwasn’tliketheDakotaorthe Parkington or any of the really fancy buildings that have people like Celeste Holm, Cher, or Yoko Ono and Sean living in them. The Saratoga really just always looked very insignificant with dull-brown bricks and underprivileged-looking gargoyles peering down from the top ledge. It had no doorman and a reallywornbrowncanopy.Itsonedistinctionwasthatitwasjustastone’sthrow away from the building used at the end of Ghostbusters where the giant marshmallowmonstergetszappedbylasergunsandoozeswhiteguckallover

  everybody.

  When we got to Miss Applebaum’s apartment house, we walked into the

  small outer lobby and Zelda held the begonia while I checked the apartment directory.Therehernamewas:AliceApplebaum—8C.

  “Maybeweshouldhavewrittenherfirstandtoldherwewantedtostopby,”

  Zeldasaid.

  “Thenitwouldn’tbeasurprise,”Ipointedout,pressingthebuttonfor8C.

  “Well,maybeitshouldn’t be asurprise.”

  WewaitedintheouterlobbyexpectingMissApplebaum’scrisp,happyvoice

  tocomeovertheintercomandaskwhoitwas.Instead,onlythereleaseforthe

  doorsoundedandwewentrightintothelobby,whichdesperatelyneededapaint

  job.

  “Sheshouldn’tbuzzpeoplestraightin,”Zeldasaid.

  “Maybeherintercomisn’tworking,”Isuggested.

  “Ifeelveryfunnyaboutthis.”

  “Youfeelfunnyaboutanything.”

  “Idonot.”

  Ipressedthebuttonfortheelevator,anditsdooropened.Zeldamoanedand

  wegotin.Then,Ipressedthefloorbuttonandwestartedgoingup.

  “Smellslikeozoneinhere,”Isaid,asthecontraptionstartedupwardmaking

  clankingsounds.

  “Itdoesnot,”Zeldasaid,hereyesflittingnervously.

  “DidyouknowanelevatorfelllastweekinParis?”Ioffered.

  “No,Ididn’t.”

  “Ithadanunandachihuahuainit.”

  “Wouldyoumindnottellingmeaboutitnow?”

  Theelevatorstartedtoreallycreakandshake.

  “Thenunandchihuahuafellninestories.”

  “Shutup,Henry.”

  “Don’tyouwanttoknowiftheygotkilled?”

  “No,Idon’t.”

  “Well,theydidn’t.Thenunwasveryquickthinkingand,astheelevatorfell,

  shesuddenlypickedthechihuahuaupandjumpedintotheair.”

  Rightthissecond,Zeldaisgettingacrankylookonherfacelikeshe’sgoing

  to foam at the mouth if I don’t let her get at the word processor, so I’d better beforeshepoutstodeath.Ijustwantedtotellyouwegotoutoftheelevatoron theeighthfloorandIthoughtwewereinahauntedwelfarehotel.

  4

  The trouble with Henry is he doesn’t really like any architecture or

  decorationsthataren’thi-techorfilledwiththeshockofthenew.Thetruth

  is that the hallway outside Miss Applebaum’s apartment was very atmospheric andremindedmeofthelovelyold-fashionedwoodtrimfoundinthefirstactof

  LaBohème wheretheleadsopranoknocksonthedoorandthenfaints.I’vetried to teach Henry the sweetness of old things. I’ve pointed out the beauty of intricatelycarvedmoldingsandhowmagicaloldwallpapercanbe.Tome,old

  wallpaperislikeamysticaleyethathasseenyearsandevendecadesoflifewalk by it. The wallpaper outside Miss Applebaum’s apartment probably had

  molecules from people’s breath and faint scents of perfumes and flavors of ancientcoffeecakes,andprobablytheveryessencesofhundredsofhumanswho

  hadpassedby.Perhapssweetandlovingghostsevenlivedinthewallpaper.

  “Whatajoint,”Henrysaid,ringingthebuzzeroutsideapartment8C.

  “I still think we should have called,” I repeated, turning the begonia in my handssoitcouldputitsbestflowersforward.

  The door opened so fast, it startled me. A blast of sunlight coming from the windowsmadetheforminfrontofusappearasadarksilhouette.

  “Whatdoyouwant?”theformasked.IrecognizedMissApplebaum’svoice,

  andtheshapeofherbrownpixie-cuthair.Buthervoicewas
tiredandweak.

  “Hello,MissApplebaum,”Isaid.

  “Hello,”Henrysaid.

  “It’sZeldaEinnobandHenryLedniz,”Iclarified.

  MissApplebaumshiftedtotheleftandsomeofthehalllightbouncedoffthe

  door to reveal the delicate features of her face. She looked like a mature porcelain doll, dressed in a dark-blue terry-cloth bathrobe. Her face froze for a moment as she absorbed the sight of us, but then she broke into a tremendous smileofrecognition.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she laughed with much more energy. “Come in! Come

  in!”

  “Iknowweshouldhavecalledyou,butwedidn’thaveyourphonenumber,”I

  apologized.

  Henry moved quickly inside like the nosy boy he is. I went in and politely concentratedonMissApplebaumasIpresentedherwiththebegonia.

  “Whatbeautifullittlestars!”sheexclaimed,liftingupthetinypinkflowersto

  getacloserlookatthem.“Ohmy,ohmy,”sheaddedassheclosedthedoor.

  “Wedon’twanttobotheryou,”Isaid.Henrywasalreadydriftingtowardthe

  livingroomandseemedtobesizingupeverythinginsight.

  “IwasexpectingmydoctorfromWeehawken,”MissApplebaumapologized,

  tighteningtheclothbeltofherrobe.

  “Wecanleave,”Ioffered.

  “Oh,no.”

  “Maybeanothertimewouldbebetter?”Iasked.

  “Ofcoursenot,”sheinsisted.“It’swonderfultoseeyou.Wonderful!”

  Sheledthewaythroughthefoyerandintoaverylargelivingroombeyond.I

  wassonervous,Ididn’tdaretolookaroundatfirst.Ijustkeptmyattentionon MissApplebaum,butIknewIwasn’tinanynormallivingroom.Iwascatching

  glimpsesofstrangemassivethingsoutofthecornerofmyeyeandIwasvery

  awareofHenryflittinghereandtherewithuncontrollableexcitement.

  “Ihavetositdown,”MissApplebaumsaid,panting.“Pleasesit.”

  “Ofcourse,”Isaid.

  Shesatdownslowlyontoanantiqueblue-and-whitewickersofaandIsatnext

  toher.Icouldseehowshewasn’ttheusualsparklingMissApplebaumwehad

  known from school. I mean, she had the same kind face, but she looked very tired. This was the first time Henry or I had ever seen a teacher in a bathrobe.

  Actually,MissApplebaumlookedrathercharmingandelegant,butshewasstill

  breathing strangely. I thought maybe she had been doing exercises or perhaps had climbed a ladder to change a lightbulb, but then I realized her breathing probablyhadsomethingtodowiththedoctorshewasexpecting.

  “Doyouhaveacold?”Henryaskedstraightout.Iwantedtokickhim.What

  wasworse,hesaidittoMissApplebaumbutwaslookingatmeandblinkinghis

  hugehawkeyesfranticallyinsomesortofcrazedsignal.Iknewhewantedme

  toturnaroundandlookattherestoftheroom,butIdidn’tdareyet.

  “It’sjustaslightcold,”MissApplebaumwheezed.

  Atthatsecond,thebuzzersounded.

  “Excuse me,” Miss Applebaum said, getting up and pressing the lobby door release.“ThismustbeDr.Obitchecknow.”

  “Wereallyshouldgo,”IwhisperedtoHenry.

  “Wereallyshould stay, ”hesaidfirmly,hiseyesstillflyingallovertheplace.

  I don’t know what was wrong with me, but I still couldn’t look around the room.AllIcouldseewasMissApplebaummovingslowlytowardthefrontdoor

  stillholdingthebegonia.Iwasmesmerizeduntiltheelevatorclangeditswayto

  theouterhallway.TheapartmentbuzzersoundedandMissApplebaumopened

  thedoor.Themansheletinwasaroundfifty,tallwithgrayhair,andheworea

  dark,wrinkled,pin-stripedsuit.MissApplebaumandheexchangedafewwords

  ofgreeting,andthensheledhimtotheedgeofthelivingroom.

  “Thesearetwoofmyformerstudents,”MissApplebaumsaidproudly.

  HenryandInoddedandsmiled,anditwasthenInoticedDr.Obitcheckhad

  the most unusual pair of eyes I’d ever seen in my life. His left one looked normal. It seemed to be peering at me in an alert professional manner. But his righteyewasmainlyallwhiteexceptforalittlebluecirclethatwasfrozeninthe farrightstaringatthefloor.TheresultwasreallyfrighteningbecauseIcouldn’t tellwhicheyewasreallylookingatme.Ididn’tknowwhichpartofhisfaceto

  relateto.

  “Howniceofyoutostopby,”Dr.Obitchecksaid,hiseyesshiftingintoever

  strangerpositionsasheclutchedaJacktheRippertypeofblacksatchel.

  “Thankyou,”Henrysaid,andIcouldtellbythesoundofhisvoicehetoowas

  mesmerizedbythedoctor’seyeballs.

  “Dr.Obitcheckhastogivemeabrieftreatment,”MissApplebaumexplained,

  settingthebegoniadownonasidetable.“Pleasejustmakeyourselvesathome.”

  Shesmiled,muffledacough,anddisappearedwiththedoctordownahallway.

  Theyweren’toutofsightforasecondbeforeHenrywasyankingmysleeveand

  repeating,“Look!Look!Look!”

  Now and only now could I let myself turn and focus on the complete living room.Iwasshocked!Ihadglimpsedclutter,butwhatwasinthatroomtookmy

  breathaway.Thearealookedlikeadensejungle,astartlinglaboratory,alibrary, andastorageroomallrolledintoone.Ihavealwayslovedplants,soI’dbetter

  describethosefirst.Therewereficustrees,hangingbasketsofivy,potsofsplit-leafphilodendrons,driedcat-o’-nine-tails,anthuriums,adozenorsootherlarge plants I didn’t know the names of, geraniums, marigolds, snapdragons, snake

  plants,cacti,orchids,lilies,andtheonlyindoorhugelilacbushI’deverseenin mylife.Theplantscompletelydominatedavastwindowareaandreachedtothe

  topoftheextra-highceiling.Thelate-afternoonsunlightbouncedintotheroom,

  but most of the light came from a large cluster of fluorescent lightbulbs just aboveoneofthemostunusualflower-growingmachinesIhadeverseen.Long

  trays of small potted plants sat on a Ferris wheel device, which rotated very slowly,liftingrowsandrowsofgloxinias,Africanviolets,spiderplants,liliesof thevalley,andherbsupwardtowardthelightandthendownagain.Isawatleast

  thirty begonias that were twice as big as the one we had brought. There were plantsineverynookandcranny.

  Thenthesecondshockconcerningthecontentsoftheroomhitme.Theclutter

  that was piled up over ten feet high on both sides of the living room began to have a rhyme and reason to it. It consisted of the strangest pieces of scientific equipment I had ever seen, except for one or two pieces I recognized from the laboratory storeroom at school. There was a huge model of an ear and a giant modelofanatomthathadbeenintheschoollabwhenHenryandIhadstarted

  working for Miss Applebaum, but they had been replaced by updated models last term. I had never thought about what happened to outmoded science

  equipmentfromourschool,butIknewIhadfoundout.Theentirelivingroom

  wasfilledwithwhatamountedtoscientificantiques.Therewasawindtunnelto

  demonstrateairplaneflightusingmodelruddersandailerons.Therewereeight

  oldbarometers,scientificjars,andPetridishes.Therewasalife-sizepull-apart demonstrationmodelofthehumandigestionsystem.Sevenbeautifulblack-and-gold-trimmedmicroscopes.Aset-up
ofthesunandplanetstoshowphasesofthe

  moonandperformeclipses.Thereweretest-tuberacksandopenboxesofone-,

  two-, and three-hole rubber stoppers. Tripods. An empty 8o-gallon aquarium.

  There was a 3-foot model of a flower blossom with its stamen and pistil and petalsshowing.Againstthewallbehindthesofawasastandwitharealhuman

  skeleton hanging from it. I recognized it from school because it had a few missing ribs and a cracked skull from when one of the lab workers had accidentallyknockeditoverandanewerskeletonhadbeenordered.Therewasa

  verylargestainlesssteelcoffeetableinthecenteroftheroomwiththebonesof afrogandanoldstuffedalligator.Therewerecorrodingbatteriesonshelvesand a collection of giant magnets with sprinklers of iron fillings. There were gears andtelegraphkeysandstaticelectricityrodsandaradioreceiverandearphones

  andchemicalsandaladderleaningagainstthehighestpileofequipment.Henry

  was touching everything. He did nothing but let out squeals of delight as he

  found still bigger magnets. And he discovered a break in the vegetation! We could see then that the living room was actually L-shaped. Henry moved vines asideandstartedonaroundthebend.

  “Don’t”Iordered.

  “Whynot?”

  “WeshouldwaitforMissApplebaum.”

  “Shesaidtomakeourselvesathome.”

  Henry’s eyes now moved like radar cones, searching deeper and deeper into the greenery and stacks of equipment. I followed him around the bend of the livingroom.

  Suddenly,hehalted.

  “What’sthematter?”Iasked.

  Henry didn’t say a word. He stopped breathing. I moved closer to him,

  whispering to him, saying, “I think we should go back to the wicker furniture andjustsitdownandwait.”ItoldhimIwasfeelingalittlescared.Iwasreally onthevergeofananxietyattack.

  AndthenIsawthelookinhiseyes.Icouldseeevenhewasfrightenednow.I

  movednexttohim,tryingtoseewhathewasseeing.

  ThenIdid.

  There, beyond a cluster of potted plants, past the leaves of a giant fern, was another door at the very end of the living room. It was like being in a maze, becausefromthatdoorwaywecouldseeacrossasmall,shadowykitchenandin