Family Matters

“Bob?” she said when he answered the phone. “This is Shirley. Are you somewhere where you can talk?” The factory noise around him was loud, but he insisted it was all right. “It’s about Mom. We think, that is the doctor thinks, it’s time for you to come home.”

There was a pause, and then, “What do you mean, come home?” His voice was sharp and irritable. “Is she dying? I live 2,000 miles away, for God’s sake. It’s not like I can just drop in for the weekend.” She could picture him twisting around agitatedly, his eyes darting across his workplace to see who might be listening.

“No, she isn’t dying, not yet anyway, but hospice will be coming tomorrow.”

“Hospice? Aren’t you rushing it a bit? What are you trying to do, ease her out the door?

“Bob, look, you haven’t been here in a while. You haven’t seen her. Maybe when you come, you’ll understand.”

“I’ll be there all right. Then maybe you’ll understand. This isn’t like Ma. She doesn’t just lie down and die. She fights! What’s the matter with you? You know that. She’s a fighter.”

“How soon could you get here? We haven’t talked to Neil yet, and it would be good to have you here at the same time, don’t you think?” she asked.

“Why? So I’ll remember my place, the second son? Sure, he’ll agree with you, whatever you say. I don’t care if he’s there or not. No, that’s not true. Personally I’d rather not see his smug face at all.”

Shirley gritted her teeth. “Do you think you could get here Friday night? We’ll wait dinner on you.”

“I don’t think you can wait that late,” he said with a little laugh. Then, gruffly, “You’ll see me when I get there. “

“Will Janice come with you?” Janice was his third wife. They’d just been married a month.

“I don’t intend to ask her. She doesn’t need to be involved in family matters.”

“I thought she and Mama sort of hit it off at the wedding.”

“I told you, no, she won’t be coming! She has better things to do.”

“Than be with her husband when his mother is dying? How can that be?”

“Look. I’m tired of talking about this. I’ll see you Friday night.” He hung up.

Shirley shut her eyes and sat quietly on the seat of the old fashioned telephone table, her forehead in her hand. She wished she had a cigarette. She didn’t miss them often, but this was the time. Finally she got up and walked down the cold, hardwood floor to the doorway of her mother’s bedroom.

Eleanor, wearing a pink satin bed jacket, was sitting up in a hospital bed, an anachronism in the Victorian bedroom. The tray table pulled in front of her was arrayed with cotton balls, polish and remover. She was doing her nails.

“Oh good, you’re here. I need some help with this. The pink would look better but I can’t get the top off. The red looks too much like blood, don’t you think?”

Shirley wrenched the top of the bottle off and filled the brush with the pearly liquid. “Do you want me to do it for you?”

“Yes, please, if you don’t mind. I was going to do it myself, but you’ll do a much neater job of it than I would. Was that Bob you were talking to?”

She sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for her mother’s hand. “You overheard it then. I wondered. I had to speak up pretty loudly for him to hear in that noisy place.”

“His office is noisy?”

“Oh, he’s never in his office. He’s always out on the production line or one thing and another, always in charge. There’s no one in the office he could boss around.”

“Shirley! “ her mother said sharply.

“Sorry, Mother. I didn’t mean to sound so …. “ She let the sentence trail off.

“Well what did he say? Is he coming?

“Of course he’s coming. He’s coming to straighten us all out, get us all in line.”

“Even me?” Eleanor asked, holding one hand out in front of her to admire the polish.

“Even you. He doesn’t think you’re dying, and he’s angry about hospice. Angry at us for ‘making you’ do it.”

“Well, of course he’s right. I’m not dying, not just yet. I have to get my hair done first.”
She laughed, and her laughter still had that little cascading sound to it, like someone singing the first few notes of a descending scale. Her laugh used to ring out across the front porch; now it barely made it out the room.

Shirley applied two coats of the polish and then a top clear coat. “Don’t move” she ordered.

“But my shoulder itches,” Eleanor complained.

“Too bad. Here, I’ll scratch it. Where?”

“Further up, now around. There. Thank you dear.”

“This isn’t going to be easy.”

“Did you want to trade places?” she asked slyly.

Shirley frowned. “Do you know what you’re going to say to Bob when he comes?”

“In general, I do. I have a few days to think it over. Is Neil coming too?”

“I’m sure he will, but I haven’t called him yet. Should I?”

“Yes, but have him come tomorrow, will you?”

“Not Friday?”

“What day is tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s Thursday, Mom. Just Thursday.”

“That’s all right. I want him to myself. They can see each other Sunday morning. We’ll have waffles for breakfast, like old times.” Her voice did not match her cheerful words. Shirley heard the catch in it, saw the trembling lips. They sat, looking at each other in the bright room, then Eleanor dropped her gaze. “I think I’m ready for a little nap. What about you?”

“Sounds good,” Shirley said, getting up and straightening the bed clothes. “You just lie back, but don’t move your hands.” She lowered the head of the bed and pulled down the shade. “See you later. Just ring if you want anything.”

“I know, dear, I know.”

It was past ten o’clock when Bob arrived. Shirley was sitting in the Queen Anne wing chair by the window, waiting for him. She had been writing in her journal, and his knock startled her.

“Not paying much attention, I see,” Bob said. “I could have sneaked in and robbed you blind.”

“Oh, Bob,” she sighed. “I was…oh, nevermind.” She saw he was headed for their mother’s bedroom and ran to stop him. “Mama’s asleep. You can see her tomorrow. Since Janice isn’t coming we thought you could just sleep in your old room if….” She started to add “if that’s okay with you,” and thought better of it.

“Janice came. She’s in the car.” He looked at her darkly. “She insisted. We’re staying at the Inn, so don’t worry about fixing a room. I just came in to see Mom, but evidently that isn’t happening.”

“No, not tonight,” Shirley said firmly. “We’ll see you in the morning, after 9 please. And say hello to Janice. Tell her I’m glad she came.”

It was nearly 10 the next morning when they arrived, Bob ten paces ahead, and Shirley sensed they’d been arguing.

“So, is she up yet?” he asked. Eleanor had never been an early riser.

“Yes, she is, sitting in the breakfast room, looking forward to seeing you both,” Shirley said.

Bob guided Janice by the arm, down the hall and into the sunny little nook. Seeing Janice, Eleanor smiled with obvious pleasure.

“Mom,” Bob said, giving her a kiss. “You look great!” but his face looked visibly shaken.

Eleanor was in a wheel chair, her legs raised straight out ahead of her, covered with a blanket. She had a pillow in her lap where she rested her swollen hands, manicured as always to perfection. Her hair was brushed in a halo around her puffy face. Still, she smiled her old loving smile.

“What’s going on here? What’s all this?” he asked, his voice angry and confused.

“This is what happens when your heart, that is my heart, doesn’t work like it used to. It’s failing, Bob. I thought I could beat it, but I can’t. I hope you’ll understand.”

“Understand? That you’ve given up? No! Never! We’ll get you to another doctor, a better doctor, a better hospital. They can help you!”

“No, Bob. No one can help, and I don’t want them to. I’ve had enough. I’m finished. I’m ready to die.”

She held out her hands to him, and he took her in his arms. She let him hold her, patting his back, letting him cry.

“I’m glad we have this time together,” she said when he was quiet. “I needed to tell you
something. Can you hear me?”
Her voice had sunken to a whisper. He nodded, his head still against her chest.

“You were always my favorite. Did you know that?”

Almost imperceptibly he shook his head.

“You were always the one with courage, the one who dared to do what you thought was right. You took charge whenever you needed to. You didn’t put up with easy answers. I think you taught Shirley and Neil how to make good decisions too. You may have been the youngest, but you were the leader.”

Bob pulled away from her and looked into her eyes.

“You loved me? As much as you loved the others?”

She nodded. “Maybe more.”

Shirley stood quietly in the corner of the kitchen, listening closely to hear her mother’s words. Eyes closed, she stood there smiling. She and Neil had had their private times with Eleanor too, their special moments of good-bye. To each one their mother had said, “You were my favorite.”