Sweet as Candy

He had never found a more patient companion and friend than she proved to be. He had never looked forward with more anticipation to seeing anyone every single day. Her face lit up upon seeing him as she greeted him with the widest and most authentic smile he had ever seen.  That smile warmed him all over. Not only would she listen to his endless stories and often repeated adventures, she frowned when he was upset, bit her lip when he showed concern, offered support when he was down, and empathized when he felt vulnerable. She never nagged or ever insisted on being right. In fact, he couldn’t remember ever having had an argument with her. Most of his friends had either passed on or distanced themselves from him, but Candace was a godsend in his time of greatest need when he had no one to depend on. This wasn’t the way it always was.

When Earl Mason was young, he was tall, muscular, and crowned with a head of thick black hair girls wanted to run their fingers through. An only child, he never wanted for attention.  At preschool, his basic attempts at ball catching and stick figure drawing were lavishly praised by his parents, and with their urging, his teachers as well. A pattern was set, and it continued. Validation came easily to him. Even when his parents and teachers weren’t around, he applauded himself for any action he took he considered worthy of adulation. 

Earl’s invented spelling was encouraged and overlooked way beyond the appropriate age, and it wasn’t until his third grade teacher, Mrs. Babbit, insisted on accurate spelling that he finally buckled down and learned to spell. Mrs. Babbit’s insistence and his buckling down were new sensations for him, but he soon learned how to outshine his classmates by acing every spelling test given on Fridays. Mrs. Babbit would mark his tests with an A+ and write ‘Very good’ on them, but she felt an uncomfortable twinge doing that which came from her intuition.

Once, when she forgot to write ‘Very good,’ he came up to her desk with a droopy mouth and pouty lip.

“What’s wrong, Earl?” she asked.

“You don’t think my work is very good anymore.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you didn’t write it on my paper,” said Earl, pointing to the empty space beside the red A+.

“Earl, you know you did well. You don’t need anyone else telling you that. You learned the correct spellings of so many words. That’s the reward. The learning.”

“But I want you to notice. I want the other kids to notice. I want my parents to notice.”

“So, Earl, tonight I want you to think about this question I’m going to give you. Tomorrow I want you to come back with an answer for me, okay?”

Earl looked down at his shuffling feet, stalling while he considered whether or not to commit himself. Mrs. Babbit noticed.

“Earl, is this something you think you can do? I think you can. I think you’re up for it. You just have to think a little bit before you answer.”

“Can I hear the question first?”

Boy, thought Mrs. Babbit. An attorney in the making—at such a young age.

“Of course you can. The question is: Who or what is your learning for? Can you take that on?”

Earl stopped shuffling his feet and looked up at Mrs. Babbit.

“What if I get the answer wrong? What will happen if I get it wrong?”

“Earl, there are no wrong answers to this question. I just want to know what you think. Nothing will happen to you, except maybe you’ll learn a little about yourself.”

“Okay, if you’re sure nothing will happen to me, I’ll do it.”

That evening, while Mrs. Babbit was thinking about her strange conversation with Earl, Earl was staring at the wall in his bedroom, thinking about how to answer what he believed was a trick question.

Earl experimented a bit at Palisades High School smoking cigarettes and pot behind the F wing building where few administrators and campus supervisors ventured. The few times he was caught and written up for suspension, his parents threatened to sue the school for harassment.  High school staff was not as easy to intimidate as elementary school staff, and when sitting around the conference table in the principal’s office, Earl and his parents were confronting the campus supervisors as though the supervisors were on trial.

Mr. Mason started right in. “You claim you saw my son smoking behind F wing. That is impossible. My son doesn’t smoke.”

All eyes went to Earl, whose expressionless face indicated he might make a great poker player.

The principal, Dr. Wiseman, addressed Mr. Mason immediately. 

“We are here not to debate what happened and what evidence can be provided. If the campus supervisors say they witnessed Earl smoking, he was smoking. We are here because you requested a conference, and I invited the campus supervisors so they could answer any questions you might have. This is not a court of law, and neither are you prosecutors.”

That didn’t deter Mr. Mason.

“How do you know he wasn’t just holding the cigarette for someone else?”

Without waiting for Dr. Wiseman to intervene, Paula, one of the campus supervisors, spoke up.

“We saw him inhale and breathe out a cloud of smoke. When we walked him back to the office, he reeked of smoke and was still spewing it.”

Mrs. Mason had to contribute.

“This is all just circumstantial. If his friends are smokers, you’re assuming he is one too. We feel you are biased against him.”

“I agree,” said Mr. Mason. “I can’t believe you were just patrolling the campus and watching Earl lighting up in your presence. That isn’t even logical.”

Earl was learning from the example his father was setting about questioning everything and admitting nothing.

“Mr. Mason,” said Dr. Wiseman. “Your son was seen through an observation window with a tinted cover. He wasn’t aware he was being watched.”

Paula noticed a slight twinge in Earl when Dr. Wiseman divulged that. She knew he had lost his stoic disposition. He started shifting in his seat and saying, “Dad, let’s just go. I’ve had enough.”

After another 30 minutes of questioning and arguing, Dr. Wiseman called a halt to the meeting and told the Masons it was their right to sue, but the suspension stood.

An athletic football player for his high school and college teams, Earl used charm, quick wit, and humor to attract the cheerleaders and sorority women. Kathy was his first serious romance was in the MBA program at UCLA and one of the brainiest women he had ever met.  At one point, they would meet daily in the law library on campus. Earl was in law school and eager to be hired by a prestigious firm in the greater Los Angeles area. When that did occur, he lost interest in Kathy and did the unthinkable – he pursued and married Laura, his equal in the law firm for which they both worked. Laura was soon hired away from this firm by Singer and Putnam, who wanted her as their star litigator. His parents loved petite, dirty blonde Laura and were sure she would support and care for their son as they always had.

After three kids and a break for Laura from her position at the firm, she wanted to return to the firm of Singer and Putnam, perhaps on a part time basis. Earl frowned on that, as did his parents. She should be home with the kids, at least until the kids were in high school. The boy and two girls needed a mother’s guidance. For years they argued over this, but he won out, being the stubborn individual he was. Laura was not submissive in the least, as her petite figure might suggest. In fact, she was a powerhouse of strength, vitality, and determination.  She determined to reroute her career from home until she would return to Singer and Putnam. While watching over their children, Simon, Cynthia, and Rachel, she began to research precedent-setting law cases and rulings and publishing them in a journal she soon took over as editor. Earl marveled at how success flowed from everything she touched. He, however, was holding steady at work and not advancing. He knew he had done the unthinkable when he married her because he was so competitive. She was winning, in his mind. Instead of butting heads with him on matters, she side-stepped the confrontations and steered her own course for getting what she needed. Cynthia and Rachel grew up admiring her and emulating her strategic moves. Simon was impressed by them as well, but championed his father.

Earl’s parents were pleased Laura had remained at home with the children and didn’t know how much she looked forward to returning to Singer and Putnam. They would not live to see her return to that firm. On Highway 50, on their way to Lake Tahoe for a skiing trip, they died in a car crash. Earl’s complete devastation paralyzed him. Laura arranged the funeral and gave the eulogy. Earl’s catatonic reaction lasted for months and let him to drink.

When the kids were in college, Laura back at Singer and Putnam, and Earl and Laura empty-nesters, patience became a scarce commodity between them. He took up smoking as she threatened to leave him over this. She went vegetarian as he craved meat. He continued drinking, and she began to spend more and more time away from home. They stopped entertaining at home and rarely accepted invitations from others. Their close circle of friends was no more.

When Simon, their eldest, got married, Earl showed up drunk at the wedding. When asked to toast his son and new daughter-in-law, he rambled on incoherently and spilled wine all over himself as he slumped to the floor. Simon would never forget the shame he felt. Cynthia and Rachel hoped he would behave better at their weddings.

Though Laura was flourishing at work, her health was compromised. She had developed lung cancer, from Earl’s smoking she was sure, and treatments were proving futile. Earl had no idea how to support her, nor was he willing to learn. When she had to leave Singer & Putnam, it never occurred to him to ask for time off to help take of her.  

Simon and his sisters offered to have Laura come stay with them, but she wouldn’t hear of it. In and out of treatment she went, until the last surgery ended her life. If Earl was devastated, he didn’t show it. He tried contacting his children to plan the funeral, but they told him they were planning it and he was welcome to attend. Only then did he start realizing how alone he was and how much help he himself needed. He was now diabetic, arthritic, and suffered from high blood pressure. He paid little attention to the medications prescribed for him and continued to worsen. His worst fear was that of being alone. His doctor had recommended he move to an assisted care facility, but he refused. Neither would he allow care workers into his home. The doctor was keen to find other ways to help him.

One day, lonely and sullen, Earl walked slowly over to the neighborhood park a few blocks away. He seated himself on a bench facing the playground to watch the children at play. Parents hovered close by. It was so much easier for him at their age; all his needs were taken care of, and he was loved unconditionally. Soon, a woman who appeared close to him in age sat down on the same bench and smiled at him. Her brown hair was short and wavy and nicely framed her face. Earl noticed her curvy figure, slim waste, and that she was wearing a light blue leisure suit. She must be an active type. He smiled back, and the two of them sat quietly for a while. When she got up to leave, he asked for her name.

“Candace,” she said, smiling again.

“Come here often?” Earl continued, knowing full well it was a pick up line he had overused in his youth.

“Every day.”

“Why?”

“I like to get out, meet people, watch the children.”

The next day, Earl made a point of going to the park again and met Candace. She was wearing a pink leisure suit similar to the one she had worn yesterday. She had brought a lunch to share, and Earl eagerly accepted the lean turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread with just a touch of mayo. She watched him eat while she barely tasted hers.

Earl started looking forward to the daily meetings in the park. Candace never let him down. Her lunch became the one healthy meal a day he looked forward to. Frosted flakes for breakfast and pizza for dinner comprised the other two.

At some point he started calling her Candy, and she seemed to like that. Soon he invited her over to his house where she started making lunch for them. This seemed to be the easiest friendship he had made in years. At one point she asked if she could call him Earl. He couldn’t remember if he had told her his name. “You must have,” she said.

The abundant chef salads and veggie wraps she would prepare for lunch expanded to oatmeal and banana breakfasts, and eventually three-course dinners. Candace would arrive early morning and stay through dinner. They would stroll through the park midday, and she would make sure he took his medications and bathed regularly.

“How do you know to do all this?” Earl wanted to know.

“I used to be a nurse,” she replied matter-of-factly.

As warm as her heart was, Candy’s hands always felt cold. Her hearing was keen, very acute. His was fading. The softest sound would alert her. The mildest odor or aroma would have her raise her nose.  It became harder for Earl to find his cigarettes ever since Candy showed up.

Earl didn’t ask much about Candace’s background. She was fulfilling his needs, and for him that was enough. She never judged and didn’t pry into why he was living alone and had no friends. Neither did she lecture or nag. A more even-tempered, friendly person would be hard to find. He was so proud of himself for having taken the initiative to introduce himself to her and build a friendship with her. He knew he still had it in him to charm a woman. He deserved a pat on the back.

Frequently they went to movies. She would drive his car and help him with his walker when he eventually needed one. She knew he enjoyed fast, action-packed films and seemed happy to see those with him. He never once asked what she wanted to see, and she never told him.

So accustomed had Earl grown to Candy’s companionship and nurturing ways that he could not imagine a daily existence without her, so when she shared some unexpected news with him,  his jaw dropped, and he sat with his mouth agape. She told him she needed a day off to see to some personal matters. She assured him she would leave prepared meals for him and return the next day, but he hardly heard her. How could she do this to him? After his anger at her dissipated, they talked logistics, and when she left for the day, he had calmed down somewhat and was ready for bed.

When Earl awoke the next morning, he found a note on his kitchen counter directing him to a stack of oat pancakes in the refrigerator. As he heated them in the microwave, he was imagining what Candy was doing without him. He missed her already and was moved to write a poem to read to her upon her return:

Candy, there’s no life without you,
You usher in the day,
You’re too good to be true,
Promise never to go away.

You are my only friend –
so patient and so sweet,
it’s heaven being with you,
I’m so happy we did meet.

This was the first poem he had ever written to a woman and knew it needed work.

After rereading his draft, he almost ripped it up. It was too childish; however, in the end he decided to leave it out for her to read the next morning. He knew she would be pleased with it because she seemed to enjoy everything about him, his conversations, his small achievements, even his attempts at humor. It dawned on him that he had never displeased her. How did he get so lucky?

As the hours ticked away slowly for him, he took out his old high school yearbooks and relived memories of his glory days at high school. Then he decided to go back further and pulled out yearbooks from his elementary school days. That’s when he came upon Mrs. Babbit and her third grade class. The first thing that came to his mind was the question she had posed to him which he didn’t want to answer. He remembered it now: Who or what is your learning for? That question had bothered him so much at the time because he didn’t want to look into himself and answer honestly. What had he told her? I want to be smart and know things. I want to be popular, and knowing things will make me popular. People will notice me. Looking back at his answer now, he felt he had been partially honest, as honest as a third grader could be. Could he remember what she had said to him after he gave her his answer? He recalled her saying something like, “It’s good to be smart and know things. But why is it good? What will you do with your smartness and knowledge? Will you build relationships, help people, be a good citizen? These are things you may to think about as you grow up.”

Had he thought about them? Not really until now. Had he built relationships? Except for Candy, not ones he was proud of. Whom had he helped? No one stood out. Did voting make him a good citizen? Was it too late to think about these things? Lately, he had thought a lot about his mortality. Who would remember him and how?  This became an all-consuming and sobering question for him. He had never been a religious person. Would spirituality have offered him a connection he felt was missing? Never one to accept dogma and rules, he put that thought aside. A bit of remorse settled over him.  Maybe he could start now changing his ways, in case he would be judged. He would start with Candy. He would become more interested in her, her opinions, her thoughts. Yes, that’s what he would do as soon as Candy returned.

While he was rewriting the draft on nicer paper, Candace was undergoing a tune-up. Her chilly hands and arms were being rewired to produce normal body temperature. The sensitivity of her odor detecting sensors was elevated. New updates were being installed to fine tune her programming, all to better support Earl in his advanced years and declining health. Every six months this non-sentient being required such adjustments, as outlined by the Society for Technically Assisted Living who partnered with Medicare and Steve Wozniak who helped underwrite it. Earl could accept from this being what he wouldn’t from sentient ones, as long as he didn’t know.

Published by The Red Penguin in My Robot and Me, 2021