Dial M for Meat Loaf Read Online Free PDF Page B

Minnesota originally?”
    “No, Indiana. John and I were both born in Kokomo, but we moved to South Bend in ’47 when my father changed jobs. John moved in with a buddy of his in Minneapolis after kicking around Indiana for a while. His first real job was here. He sold Camel cigarettes. Mary grew up in Marshall. They met at a party and were married a year later, in the spring of ’58. That’s when they bought this house. They’ve been living here ever since.”
    “What about you?”
    He shrugged. “I kicked around a lot, too, when I was young. I didn’t really settle down until I was in my forties. That’s when I met my wife, Doris. I used to call her the mother superior. She really straightened me out.” He laughed. “But sadly, she died a few years back, so I’m on my own now. John called me right after they got Mary’s cancer diagnosis. I told him I’d do anything to help. A few months later he called again and asked if I’d come stay with them for a while. John was having a hard time dealing with Mary’s illness. I think maybe his age was starting to catch up with him, not that any of us are that old. But the idea that he might lose Mary made him face his own mortality and . . . well, it was too much. On top of that, he had to take her to the hospital three times a week, do all the shopping, make all the meals, clean the house, hold everything together. Mary was too sick to help. And he had to stay positive, for Mary’s sake. He tried to be a good soldier, but by the time I arrived, I could see he was in terrible shape. My brother’s always been an in-charge, can-do kind of guy. He takes his responsibilities seriously.”
    Milton glanced up at a cupboard above the sink. “Look at this,” he said, rising and opening the cupboard door, revealing shelf after shelf of vitamin and mineral supplements. “And this,” he continued, bending over and opening a lower cupboard. “In case you’re wondering, that big machine is a juicer. John began making vegetable juices for everyone in the family about a year ago, insisting we all drink it. He stopped eating regular food and started on a diet of organic raw vegetables, fruits, and supplements. No meat. No dairy. No sugar. No salt. He was going to get healthy. Live forever. He’d lost control of Mary’s life; he wasn’t going to lose control of his.”
    Sitting back down at the table, Milton added, “But he did. He exercised every day. Walked miles. He used to be a big man, but before the stroke, he weighed just over a hundred and twenty pounds. He read constantly, all these books on nutrition, health, additives in the food, the toxins all around us. He came to the conclusion that everything we eat is polluted in some major way. All this occurred just as Mary started to get better, as she began to want to go out again, have dinner in a restaurant, see friends, go to a movie, live a little. John demanded that they stay home and eat wheat grass. So much of the way we socialize is based around food, and John wouldn’t give an inch. This may sound far out, but I think my brother was so deeply into control, he lost his ability to enjoy life. Everything was a threat. The air. The water. He told Bernice she couldn’t stay at the house if she wore hair spray. He threw out all his aftershave and deodorant, made Mary get rid of her perfume. Before the stroke, he was just about starving himself. ” Bowing his head, Milton said, “It was a nightmare. Something had to give.”
    It did sound like a horror story, Sophie thought, and yet she understood John’s motivation. With his wife ill, possibly dying, he must have felt powerless. In similar situations, other people might have turned to religion or meditation or booze. John simply chose another route, one that on the surface might have looked like a good choice, except that he went too far.
    Milton finished his beer, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. Stroking his beard for a moment, he said, “I think I better