by
Kenneth Meade
“I think I’ll back my car over him when I’m finished.” Eleanor said as she sipped her tea. “This is wonderful. Is it new?”
“I thought you said he was doing a great Job?” I asked, laughing at her.
“He is! A perfect job. I’m sure I’ll have the thing flying steady in a week.” She said spitefully.
“Well, why would you wreck the robot if it is doing what you bought it to do?” I set a plate of cookies next to her as I shook my head.
Spring had come early enough for Eleanor to be out in just her gown and slippers. At seventy-three, she could go anywhere she wanted in that gown - as long as it was warm enough. She had of course gone to great lengths to curl her hair and put on make-up, but that’s as far as she would go.
“Because I didn’t expect him to do it so well. The soulless bastard will have me winning tournaments and I only wanted to teach Arnie how to fly.” Her expression shifted from disgust to joy, as she tasted a cookie. “So fresh. Did you bake them today?”
Eleanor came over for tea about twice a month. There was no schedule to it. She would simply call the day before and go on about how wonderful my tea was. “I couldn’t remember the blend you said, but I’m sure it’s has more to do with the way you make it,” she would say. This would go on until I invited her over for a cup. In the five years I have known her, I have come to understand she wanted more than tea. Eleanor actually came to tell me her latest frustration, concern or amazement. More importantly, she wanted me to listen to it. Generally, Eleanor was a kind sweet old lady, and I could use the company myself, so I didn’t mind.
“Eleanor, when was the last time you heard of me baking cookies? They came from the market by the school. So tell me why you’re going to run over your robot again.”
“Cause the damn thing shows me up. I bought him to do what you used to do – teach. And I’m sure I am twice as bad as any of your students use to be. Yet you probably lost your temper with a student or two in your day. And I’ll be damned if that thing shows me more patience and effort than I do for Arnie,” she said triumphantly as she set down her cup. She always got excited when she could get to the point of her visit.
“So you think it will teach Arnie something better than you?”
“Hell no! I will not have it near little Arnie! I’ll get rid of it by then. It just miffs me that he is so good at it.”
Eleanor often had odd notions of things. I couldn’t really say odd fashioned, just odd, strange, delirious notions.
“So you have it teaching you how to fly a radio controlled helicopter?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
I looked at her for a moment waiting for more. “Ah, so Arnie will love that. Then you can show him how to do it.” I said finally.
“Exactly.” She smiled proudly and sipped her tea.
“But Eleanor, let me ask you something. Wouldn’t it be easier to just let the robot teach Arnie?”
#
Her laugh was a high-pitched cackling that forced anyone within earshot to laugh just as hard.
“No! No! No! Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Her fingers didn’t move as she held the remote. Her words were her only response to the spiraling dive of the helicopter. However, they weren’t even aimed at the remote or the copter. She was yelling at the robot.
It was standing patiently next to her and gently reaching for the control just in case Eleanor would concede them. Victor, as she had called him, looked just like a mannequin with a pleasant but dispassionate face. Even from my porch, he appeared more of a prop than a person. Its movements were fluid and it spoke clearly. Of course, Eleanor never did hand the controls over to it and the sputtering plastic bird slapped into the ground. It bounced leaving a trail of blades, smoke and bits across her yard.
I could watch this all day. And for most of that spring, I did. My patio, where Eleanor and I had tea, faced her front yard. It was easy to sit and pretend to read, while actually enjoying her antics. I wasn’t sure which machine had it worse. Only a robot would have the patience.
As the toy lay on the ground in pieces, she finally handed over the controls. She laughed and began hitting the robot’s arm. “You aren’t supposed to let that happen, Victor!”
“Perhaps I will better prepare you for such a circumstance. There was only a slight variance between what you did and what would have worked.” Victor’s voice sounded so even. There was no guilt or hint of accusation. And despite the fact that it would now go rebuild the copter – again - it was more than willing to keep teaching her.
“Just put it back together and don’t patronize me. I don’t have a damn clue how that thing works.” She stood and watched him, still in her gown and curlers.
Plastic hands flashed around the broken copter. Eventually, Victor had to move the operation to the garage for parts. But before I finished a chapter of my book, she was yelling again.
For what seemed like hours, Eleanor managed to have the helicopter hovering a few feet off the ground and just in front of her. Only as she gained her composure, would Victor encourage her to take the copter higher. It would wait with precision until she was not laughing or babbling about how she was certain to drive it into the ground again. “If you feel comfortable, raise the helicopter’s altitude gently,” it said.
She would bump the control and it would climb. Despite it moving up evenly, she would again quip about its imminent doom with her at the controls. This cycle would repeat until again, the helicopter smashed into the ground. Eventually, I notice the thing looked completely different. I’m sure it either had been made up of mostly new parts or had to be replaced in entirety.
This went on for the rest of spring. Eleanor must have spent a fortune on parts. Yet to the credit of them both, she had learned how to do it. Eleanor had the thing buzzing my house, her house and even cars that passed by. I guess the only question now was how well she could teach Arnie to do it. She probably wouldn’t admit this, but if Eleanor did manage to teach Arnie faster than Victor had taught her, it would be in large part, Victor’s doing.
This had been the first time in five years Eleanor hadn’t come over for tea through a full month. But with as much as I’d seen her outside, it felt as if I was spending more time with her. I also imagined when Arnie came I’d see her less, well, only in the yard again with Arnie.
He was a bright twelve-year-old boy. Arnie was just as excited to see his grandmother, as she was to see him. He had brown hair just like his father. I had seen him too when he dropped Arnie off. I remembered waiting for Victor to pop out and meet them as well. He never did though. Surely, she could sell the thing back or maybe she had it on some kind of lease.
#
Victor had done a perfect job. Sure, Arnie was a little more inclined to take to it than Eleanor did. Nonetheless, she was quite the pro now. The one thing I hadn’t understood was how she repaired it. Arnie had his share of crashes, granted, not nearly as many, but a few. Had Victor shown her how to rebuild it too?
As I watched them, I became amazed. I think the real thing that Eleanor picked up on was Victor’s way of teaching. She mirrored Victor’s patience and even his exact words at times. Arnie was maneuvering it just as well as Eleanor, in his second week.
Sadly, they didn’t seem to fly it as much as I would have thought. After Arnie got good with it, they spent time doing other things. Several days they would leave early and not get back home until nightfall. I considered calling Eleanor and inviting her over for tea so I could meet Arnie but I didn’t want to take from their time together.
As quickly as he came, he was gone again. I’m sure Eleanor felt the same. He had only stayed the first month of summer. I watched them that morning as Arnie packed the copter and several other new toys into his dad’s car.
A few days later, she called. I have to admit I was glad. She had begun by asking how my summer had been and even apologized for not having come by with Arnie. I said I understood and asked about her summer.
“His father spoils him. I wouldn’t have had to go to half the trouble if that weren’t true. I know he only does it trying to make up for how much he works but I think it’s going to be trouble as Arnie gets older,” she had said.
I was never able to invite her over for tea or ask what she had done with Victor. I didn’t have to.
“Marcy, I need to let you go. I have Victor teaching me to cook. And I’m going to enjoy a pot of tea with him before our roast is done. I’ll have to invite you over for a cup sometime. It’s wonderful. Talk to you soon dear.” She said, just before hanging up.
