“Tomorrow,” she said.
I nodded.
Columbia, Maryland was noted as a planned city right up to the time that its population exceeded its plan. It then became simply a city and its original plan worked against it. The hospital, which was mercifully called a convalescence retreat, was just outside Columbia. The staff was dressed not in the usual hospital blue, green, or white, but in cheerfully patterned smocks and dresses. And they were all painfully young and fit. They smiled nonstop, leaning over drooling patients, conversing with faces that stared back at them blankly. My sadness was deep when I considered my mother as one of the patients and I just knew that when I brought her to this place to check in, she would be completely lucid.
“There is always at least one physician on the grounds at all times,” the handsome blonde woman in the khaki business suit said. “We have seven recreation areas, all showing vintage and new release films. The food is exceptional. I encourage you to try it. You’d be hard pressed to identify it as the institutional fare it is.”
“Do you have a decent library?”
“We have shelves of books in the recreation areas.”
“Good books?”
“Mysteries. All sorts of things.” Mrs. Tollison, that was her name, detected, but could not pin down my concern. “Of course, most of our guests’ eyesight is so poor that reading is difficult at best.”
As I drove home, I knew that I had seen my mother’s future and final home, but I also knew that I could not yet commit her to the place. I needed one more episode to nudge me over the edge.
There are as many hammers as there are saws. A misplaced thumb knows no difference.
“Bill, I looked at a place for Mother to live this morning.” Through the window I could see the backs of Lorraine’s and Mother’s heads as they sat on the porch.
“I think that’s best,” Bill said.
I was quickly furious. In spite of his being correct, in spite of his being a physician, in spite of his being a child of the woman, he had no business offering an opinion. I said, “I’m glad you agree.”
After a short, but significant pause, he said, “I’ll send what I can.” To his credit, he did not quiz me on the suitability of the hospital, nor did he lecture me about what the place should offer. “I get to see the kids one weekend a month now.”
The unfairness of his situation rang loudly and all my effort to be angry with Bill for his absence dissolved into pity. “Are they doing okay?”
“I think so. The only stipulation is that Rob can’t be in the house when they visit.”
“That’s awful.”
“Well, this is Arizona.”
“This might not be the time to bring it up. In fact, there is no time to bring it up, but I’m going to do it anyway.” Mother and Lorraine seemed securely anchored on the porch. “We have another sister.” Bill’s silence was predictable and, by rules, it was not his turn to speak yet. “Father had an affair when he was in the army and it seems we have a sister.”
“Did Mother tell you this?”
“Not exactly. She let me discover it in Father’s papers.”
“I can’t deal with this right now,” he said.
“What’s there to deal with? Her name is Gretchen and I don’t know her last name. Her mother was a British nurse in Korea and I don’t know her last name.”
“It’s like him to spring this on us.”
I laughed. “What are you talking about? He tried to cover it to the end.” As I said this, I wasn’t sure it was true. “He asked Mother to burn the papers.”
“Listen to that,” Bill said. “He asked Mother to burn the papers. Mother’s afraid to boil water too long, lest it combust.” Bill was right. He was as sharp as ever and, as ever, had a better read on Father than I ever could. Enemies always understand each other better than friends.
“Anyway, there’s nothing to do about it. There’s nothing in the letters, nothing else in the box.”
“There’s something in that box, believe me. Look again. But I don’t want to hear about it.” A man’s voice spoke to Bill and he answered, calling the man “darling.” I couldn’t deny that hearing it made me cringe a bit and I felt badly for the reaction.
“Well, I’d better go check on Mother,” I said, using Mother as an excuse to get off the phone, but I also immediately noted the possibly perceived implication that I was the one going to care for our mother.
I could tell Bill was angry. “Talk to you later. Maybe I’ll make a trip back this fall to check on the hospital and everything.”
I allowed him that. “Okay.”
I stayed about the house all day and there was no call from Marilyn. I lied to myself, tried not to admit that I was in fact waiting for her to ring me up or come by. Mother was down for one of the great battery of daily naps on which she had come to rely for a semblance of stability. Her most lucid moments seemed to occur when she first awoke and after that there were any number of cracks in the surface of her world through which to fall. There was no steering her toward solid ground; she stepped where she stepped.
So, Mother was asleep. I stepped out the back and stood on the pier for a while, contemplating lighting a cigar. Then I went back into the house to find Lorraine and Maynard, as best I can describe it, rubbing gums. I cleared my throat to make them aware of my approach.
Maynard sat at the table. “How is your mother?” he asked.
“Not so well, Maynard.”
“Is she still asleep?” Lorraine asked.
I nodded and put on the water for tea. “So, what are you two young people up to?” I asked.
They giggled like young people. “We might as well tell you,” Maynard said.
“Maynard,” Lorraine complained.
“He’s going to find out anyway.”
I looked at Lorraine, then back at Maynard. “Find out what?”
“We’re getting married,” Maynard said.
The news made sense, but was no less shocking for that fact. “You’re kidding me.”
“No sir, I’m not,” he said.
I looked at Lorraine and I was filled with sudden panic. “And where will you live?” I asked them.
“Here in my house,” Maynard said.
“Thank god,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Lorraine said.
“I meant ‘of course.’ I’m really happy for you Lorraine. I really am. Congratulations, Maynard, you’re getting a fantastic partner.”
“I know that all right,” the old man said. He reached over and took Lorraine’s hand.
“Is it going to be a big ceremony?” I asked. “Or an intimate, special, small thing.” For which I will not pay and perhaps not attend.
“Small,” Lorraine said.
Maynard looked at me with his ancient, milky eyes and said, “I’d like you to be my best man.”
“Really?” Are you crazy? I don’t know you from shinola.
“Your family has been so kind to my Rainey and you mean so much to her. I just want you to be a part of it.”
“Don’t you think you should ask a good friend?”
“Friends all dead,” he said.
So, what do you say to that? I said, “I’ll be honored.”
“And I want your mother to be my matron of honor,” Lorraine said.
“Okay.”
“We’re tying the knot on Saturday,” Maynard said.
“That’s two days away.”
“We’re old. We don’t have time to waste.” Maynard laughed and then Lorraine laughed with him.
Their laughter was genuine, sweet, beautiful and I felt happy to hear it from Lorraine. Listening to it, I realized that I had never heard the same quality in the laughter shared by my parents, though I’d no doubt they loved each other very much.