could have a dozen recliners, enough burled walnut to choke a horse and an ivory leather toilet seat—didn’t hurt either.
On the other hand, I reminded myself that these women were not obligated to entertain or impress me. Even though they made me feel like a travel agent. And even called me a tour guide. Well, what could you say? It was what I did. I was not their peer, and it irked me every time something would happen to remind me of it. On another day, I might not have minded them at all. I was just gestating dark thoughts because of Michael and my mother’s phone call.
I finally got to my room and called my mother back. I could tell she was crying when I heard her voice.
“So tell me what exactly happened, Mom.”
“It was all my fault, Grace.”
“Oh, come on, Mom!”
“No, I swear on the Bible, it was my fault. I had just washed the kitchen floor and she came in looking for the newspaper and she slipped. The next thing I know she’s screaming and yelling…”
“So what’s new? That doesn’t make it your fault.”
“Please, Grace! Yes, it does!”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, I called 911 and I told her not to get up. But she tried to get up anyway and fell again. Oh, dear heaven, was she mad at me! I have never seen her so angry.”
“She’s always angry with you, Mom.”
“Sometimes it seems like it, doesn’t it? They took her to the emergency room and I followed her to the hospital and I called your father because I had to call him to fill out all the papers and he came…I’ll tell you, Grace, it’s too much for me. She had to have an operation. All this is just—”
“How is she now?”
“Sedated—she’s sleeping. But even your father, even Daddy is angry with me. He blames me, too.”
She began to sob and I felt terrible for being so unsympathetic.
“Oh, Mama, come on now. Don’t cry. Don’t you know there’s nothing worse than listening to your mother cry?”
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t know what to do next. If she dies and I have to carry that on my conscience, I think I might just die, too.”
Oh, please, I thought. “Did you call Aunt Theresa?”
“No, I don’t want to bother her. What can she do?”
“Well, she might want to send flowers, Mom. And God forbid something happens…”
“You’re right, you’re right…I’ll call her tonight when your father gets home.”
“Why are you waiting for Dad to get home?”
“Because he’ll want to talk to her about this, too, and I don’t want to waste the phone call.”
“But, Ma! What if Aunt Theresa wants to get on a plane or something?”
“Grace, you know she can’t do that. She doesn’t have the time to go running all around the country.”
“Would you like me to send her a ticket?”
“No. Don’t bother. She probably can’t take the time off from work anyway.”
“Well, look. Call your sister, and if anything changes call me back right away. Otherwise, I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll come see you next Thursday or Friday, okay?”
We hung up and I just sat there on my bed staring at the wall. My poor mother was so desperately insecure. It was frustrating for me and awful for her. I was so “solution-and-next-step-oriented.” She was actually taking the blame for my grandmother’s accident. She was too unsure of herself to fill out hospital forms. She didn’t think her own sister would accept her description of Nonna’s fall as accurate, that Aunt Theresa would prefer to get the real story from my father. And my aunt Theresa, who owned and ran a bakery with my uncle Tony back in New Jersey,probably wouldn’t take the time from work because they never hired enough people to cover for them if they weren’t there. They never went anywhere. Aunt Theresa would send some carnations through FTD and two pounds of the cookies she made with pignoli nuts. Nice. Nonna would go on and on about how wonderful they were, and at the end of the day my mother would be miserable.
My mother could
On the other hand, I reminded myself that these women were not obligated to entertain or impress me. Even though they made me feel like a travel agent. And even called me a tour guide. Well, what could you say? It was what I did. I was not their peer, and it irked me every time something would happen to remind me of it. On another day, I might not have minded them at all. I was just gestating dark thoughts because of Michael and my mother’s phone call.
I finally got to my room and called my mother back. I could tell she was crying when I heard her voice.
“So tell me what exactly happened, Mom.”
“It was all my fault, Grace.”
“Oh, come on, Mom!”
“No, I swear on the Bible, it was my fault. I had just washed the kitchen floor and she came in looking for the newspaper and she slipped. The next thing I know she’s screaming and yelling…”
“So what’s new? That doesn’t make it your fault.”
“Please, Grace! Yes, it does!”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, I called 911 and I told her not to get up. But she tried to get up anyway and fell again. Oh, dear heaven, was she mad at me! I have never seen her so angry.”
“She’s always angry with you, Mom.”
“Sometimes it seems like it, doesn’t it? They took her to the emergency room and I followed her to the hospital and I called your father because I had to call him to fill out all the papers and he came…I’ll tell you, Grace, it’s too much for me. She had to have an operation. All this is just—”
“How is she now?”
“Sedated—she’s sleeping. But even your father, even Daddy is angry with me. He blames me, too.”
She began to sob and I felt terrible for being so unsympathetic.
“Oh, Mama, come on now. Don’t cry. Don’t you know there’s nothing worse than listening to your mother cry?”
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t know what to do next. If she dies and I have to carry that on my conscience, I think I might just die, too.”
Oh, please, I thought. “Did you call Aunt Theresa?”
“No, I don’t want to bother her. What can she do?”
“Well, she might want to send flowers, Mom. And God forbid something happens…”
“You’re right, you’re right…I’ll call her tonight when your father gets home.”
“Why are you waiting for Dad to get home?”
“Because he’ll want to talk to her about this, too, and I don’t want to waste the phone call.”
“But, Ma! What if Aunt Theresa wants to get on a plane or something?”
“Grace, you know she can’t do that. She doesn’t have the time to go running all around the country.”
“Would you like me to send her a ticket?”
“No. Don’t bother. She probably can’t take the time off from work anyway.”
“Well, look. Call your sister, and if anything changes call me back right away. Otherwise, I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll come see you next Thursday or Friday, okay?”
We hung up and I just sat there on my bed staring at the wall. My poor mother was so desperately insecure. It was frustrating for me and awful for her. I was so “solution-and-next-step-oriented.” She was actually taking the blame for my grandmother’s accident. She was too unsure of herself to fill out hospital forms. She didn’t think her own sister would accept her description of Nonna’s fall as accurate, that Aunt Theresa would prefer to get the real story from my father. And my aunt Theresa, who owned and ran a bakery with my uncle Tony back in New Jersey,probably wouldn’t take the time from work because they never hired enough people to cover for them if they weren’t there. They never went anywhere. Aunt Theresa would send some carnations through FTD and two pounds of the cookies she made with pignoli nuts. Nice. Nonna would go on and on about how wonderful they were, and at the end of the day my mother would be miserable.
My mother could
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