and I hoped some day soon he’d be “slightly dead.” He claims not to know she was taking so much. That’s why he’s eager to put her away, he’s afraid of a malpractice suit. I told him I was considering it. Irresponsible shithead—
KAREN: Why did he write so many prescriptions? Doesn’t he know—?
BARBARA: It’s not just him; she’s got a doctor in every port—
IVY: Here’s how she does it: she sees a doctor for back spasms and gets a prescription. Day or two later she goes back, says she lost her pills and he writes her another one. Then next week she pulls a muscle, more pills, then the dosage is wrong, more pills, over and over, until she makes one too many trips and he says I’m not prescribing anymore. And she pulls a sheaf of prescription receipts out of her purse and says, “I’ll go to the AMA and have your ass in court for over-prescribing me.” She genuinely threatens these men and they give in to her.
BARBARA (To Ivy) : You knew this was going on again?
(Ivy shrugs.)
Different tactic today, just at her wounded best, this wilting hothouse flower. Which made me look like Bette Davis. I tried to goad her into it, you know, “C’mon, Mom, give him your speech about the Greatest Generation. Tell him about the claw hammer.” I was like that guy in the cartoon with the frog that only sings for him.
IVY: It wouldn’t have done any good, Dr. Burke’s part of the same generation.
BARBARA: “Greatest Generation,” my ass. Are they really considering all the generations? Maybe there are some generations from the Iron Age that could compete. And what makes them so great anyway? Because they were poor and hated Nazis? Who doesn’t fucking hate Nazis?! You remember when we checked her in the psych ward, that stunt she pulled?
IVY: Which time?
KAREN: I wasn’t there.
BARBARA: Big speech, she’s getting clean, this sacrifice she’s making for her family, and—
IVY: Right, she’s let her family down but now she wants to prove she’s a good family member—
BARBARA: She smuggled Darvocet into the psych ward . . . in her vagina . There’s your Greatest Generation for you. She made this speech to us while she was clenching a bottle of pills in her cooch, for God’s sake.
KAREN: God, I’ve never heard that story.
IVY: Did you just say “cooch”?
BARBARA: The phrase “Mom’s pussy” seems a bit gauche.
IVY: You’re a little more comfortable with “cooch,” are you?
BARBARA: What word should I use to describe our mother’s vagina?
IVY: I don’t know, but—
BARBARA: “Mom’s beaver”? “Mother’s box”?
IVY: Oh God—
KAREN: Barbara!
(Laughter, finally dying out.)
I’m sorry about you and Bill.
IVY: Me, too, Barb.
BARBARA: If I had my way, you never would’ve known.
KAREN: Do you think it’s a temporary thing, or . . . ?
BARBARA: Who knows? We’ve been married a long time.
KAREN: That’s one thing about Mom and Dad. You have to tip your cap to anyone who can stay married that long.
IVY: Karen. He killed himself.
KAREN: Yeah, but still.
BARBARA: Is there something going on between you and Little Charles?
IVY: I don’t know that I’m comfortable talking about that.
BARBARA: Because you know he is our first cousin.
IVY: Give me a break.
KAREN: You know you shouldn’t consider children.
IVY: I’m almost forty-five, Karen, I put those thoughts behind me a long time ago. Anyway, I had a hysterectomy year before last.
KAREN: Why?
IVY: Cervical cancer.
KAREN: I didn’t know that.
BARBARA: Neither did I.
IVY: I didn’t tell anyone except Charles. That’s where it started between him and me.
BARBARA: Why not? Why wouldn’t you tell anyone?
IVY: And hear those comments from Mom for the rest of my life? She doesn’t need any more excuses to treat me like
KAREN: Why did he write so many prescriptions? Doesn’t he know—?
BARBARA: It’s not just him; she’s got a doctor in every port—
IVY: Here’s how she does it: she sees a doctor for back spasms and gets a prescription. Day or two later she goes back, says she lost her pills and he writes her another one. Then next week she pulls a muscle, more pills, then the dosage is wrong, more pills, over and over, until she makes one too many trips and he says I’m not prescribing anymore. And she pulls a sheaf of prescription receipts out of her purse and says, “I’ll go to the AMA and have your ass in court for over-prescribing me.” She genuinely threatens these men and they give in to her.
BARBARA (To Ivy) : You knew this was going on again?
(Ivy shrugs.)
Different tactic today, just at her wounded best, this wilting hothouse flower. Which made me look like Bette Davis. I tried to goad her into it, you know, “C’mon, Mom, give him your speech about the Greatest Generation. Tell him about the claw hammer.” I was like that guy in the cartoon with the frog that only sings for him.
IVY: It wouldn’t have done any good, Dr. Burke’s part of the same generation.
BARBARA: “Greatest Generation,” my ass. Are they really considering all the generations? Maybe there are some generations from the Iron Age that could compete. And what makes them so great anyway? Because they were poor and hated Nazis? Who doesn’t fucking hate Nazis?! You remember when we checked her in the psych ward, that stunt she pulled?
IVY: Which time?
KAREN: I wasn’t there.
BARBARA: Big speech, she’s getting clean, this sacrifice she’s making for her family, and—
IVY: Right, she’s let her family down but now she wants to prove she’s a good family member—
BARBARA: She smuggled Darvocet into the psych ward . . . in her vagina . There’s your Greatest Generation for you. She made this speech to us while she was clenching a bottle of pills in her cooch, for God’s sake.
KAREN: God, I’ve never heard that story.
IVY: Did you just say “cooch”?
BARBARA: The phrase “Mom’s pussy” seems a bit gauche.
IVY: You’re a little more comfortable with “cooch,” are you?
BARBARA: What word should I use to describe our mother’s vagina?
IVY: I don’t know, but—
BARBARA: “Mom’s beaver”? “Mother’s box”?
IVY: Oh God—
KAREN: Barbara!
(Laughter, finally dying out.)
I’m sorry about you and Bill.
IVY: Me, too, Barb.
BARBARA: If I had my way, you never would’ve known.
KAREN: Do you think it’s a temporary thing, or . . . ?
BARBARA: Who knows? We’ve been married a long time.
KAREN: That’s one thing about Mom and Dad. You have to tip your cap to anyone who can stay married that long.
IVY: Karen. He killed himself.
KAREN: Yeah, but still.
BARBARA: Is there something going on between you and Little Charles?
IVY: I don’t know that I’m comfortable talking about that.
BARBARA: Because you know he is our first cousin.
IVY: Give me a break.
KAREN: You know you shouldn’t consider children.
IVY: I’m almost forty-five, Karen, I put those thoughts behind me a long time ago. Anyway, I had a hysterectomy year before last.
KAREN: Why?
IVY: Cervical cancer.
KAREN: I didn’t know that.
BARBARA: Neither did I.
IVY: I didn’t tell anyone except Charles. That’s where it started between him and me.
BARBARA: Why not? Why wouldn’t you tell anyone?
IVY: And hear those comments from Mom for the rest of my life? She doesn’t need any more excuses to treat me like
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