Nettie: To Be Loved and Loved Back

Nettie is that older, industrious, black lady you see trying to get her heavy cart up the steep subway stairs, the one who rolls the whole loaded thing past the seat-free zone at the front of the car and settles herself on the floor by the door at the back of the train because she knows if she doesn't sit, she's going to be falling on the laps of the people who did get seats. Today, though, jackpot, she finds two seats together on a bench. She takes one and her heavy backpacks, filled to splitting with her favorite things, toy computers, books, food, receipts, and so many notes, is safely beside her. Too many fraying plastic bags are arranged around her feet, filled with similar, less precious items, held close by the toes of her white crocs. Nettie pulls her plastic soprano recorder out of the backpack and begins to silently practice for the evening's class, her eyes following her homemade drill cards while her fingers rise and fall, slowly and deliberately over the keys.

Nettie tells you about herself as a grammar school kid, cutting school and staying home to avoid all the difficulty of managing herself in the classroom. Instead she will look out the window onto the street life below, the whole long day. This happens more days than it doesn’t and Nettie blames herself for failing to get a decent education. She has been making up for it ever since.

Nettie’s appetite for knowledge and betterment never falters. She tells you about how she was working her Hooked on Phonics last night and her neighbor complained about the noise and the late hour. She worries about her future. How she will surely be denied a good job without the vocabulary work she does with Hooked On Phonics. Worries about how she will ever make friends if she can't improve herself.

Nettie has been a Member of Fountain House for more than forty years. She knows the ropes. Because we all work so closely together, one day you overhear Nettie encouraging a new, completely overwhelmed, and disheartened member to stick it out. She illuminates all the ways in which the Clubhouse, its programs, its Members and Staff will be able to help get a job, or go to school, get an affordable apartment, and learn how to get along better in the world. You will never be able to duplicate the eloquence with which Nettie steps out of herself and offers these kind, optimistic and soothing words. You are so glad to have such a brilliant colleague.

You and Nettie have known each other fifteen years. Now you’re gone from New York, Nettie and you call each other to talk over the little and the big things. Her voice mails are endearing, sometimes making you laugh aloud from big love. 

Nettie's sister calls to let you know that things are not looking good. You are not surprised, as she hasn’t been answering her phone and Nettie is a phone girl.

Her sister tells you that Nettie can't remember her own name today, the first time. It is upsetting to both girls. She tells you Nettie isn't eating. You all know that if it doesn't taste just the right kind of good, Nettie simply cannot eat it. Her sister hopes she might be enticed by Caribbean food, like their Mom used to make. You think about the dishes Nettie loves to cook.

Nettie lies in her bed, sleeping long hours, a good deal of work ahead. After so many years, so many near deaths to step carefully back away from, it is a crafty bit of business to convince her body it should now do otherwise. This is when your visits begin. You spend the time left thinking about Nettie, sometimes feeling her gestures in your shoulders or taking her little tripping steps yourself in the kitchen. You think about the times you have spent together walking and taking trains and buses to places all over Manhattan and Brooklyn. All times of day and even into the deep night when the usual trains stop going where you need to, you both figure out the route and during the long waits you girls share stories and learn to care very much for each other, even for each other's family and friends. You have been with each other through joyous and hard as hell times. 

You aren’t sure Nettie is getting enough visits, you worry that no one is telling her it would be okay to let this world go. Is anyone there to say she has done her work thoroughly and oh so well. So you start in, just in case she can hear you across all this land and sky, feel you. You've been saying good bye for a few days, every time you close the bathroom door behind you. In the solitude, under the skylight, you remind Nettie you love her and offer words of comfort and sometimes make her laugh.

Friday night you show up in the bathroom for another talk. Before you know what you might say, you hear yourself, a cheerful toodle-oo, watch your hand, waving good-bye up toward the skylight, a big light flashes. Of course you dismiss the fleeting fancy immediately. You wake up the next day, Friday morning, and can’t stop hopping up and down. You feel frisky and happiness bubbles. That evening Nettie’s sister calls you with the news. You can’t help but do the cross country math. Let that be a lesson. Thank you Nettie.

Your dear friend Nettie died about midnight right between February 1st and 2nd, this still new year, 2013. It is such a pleasure to have someone let you love them, and of course, to be loved back.