by Beth Graham
I was hoping for the rest of our visit we would talk about the weather or something of no consequence.
SARAH
Deodorant is another cause of Alzheimer’s.
IRIS
But she continued filling the atmosphere of my kitchen with this giant cloud of concern. I was choking on it.
SARAH
There are scientific studies that prove it.
IRIS
Wow. Modern science, eh?
SARAH
Goes in through your armpits and straight to your brain.
IRIS
No kidding.
SARAH
I’ve stopped wearing deodorant.
IRIS
So that’s what that smell is.
SARAH
You should stop wearing it too.
IRIS
Okay. Sarah, I solemnly swear that I will never—
SARAH
Why is everything a joke with you?
IRIS
Hamburgers and deodorant? Come on, Sarah.
SARAH
If Alzheimer’s can be prevented—
IRIS
Are you going to keep going around and around like this?
SARAH
I have Heaven to think about. I’m her mother.
IRIS
Right.
SARAH
It’s different for me.
IRIS
Fine.
SARAH
I mean, when you have kids—
IRIS
I don’t. So what’s the point?
SARAH
Doesn’t it freak you out?
IRIS
That’s why I’m trying my best not to think about it.
SARAH
You’re so smug sometimes.
IRIS
That wasn’t my intention.
SARAH
You’re always judging me.
IRIS
I am not.
SARAH
You’re judging me right now.
IRIS
No, I’m not.
SARAH
Yes, you are.
IRIS
No, I’m not.
SARAH
Yes, you are.
IRIS
No / I’m not.
SARAH
(overlapping) Yes, you are, you are, you are!
IRIS
Okay! Fine! Yes! I am judging you. Hamburgers? Deodorant? Those are the stupidest things I’ve ever heard. Why on earth would you want to convince yourself you have a disease for which there is no cure? There’s no pill you can take for all the lost words or the forgotten faces or the unrecognizable goddamn pants you can’t put on anymore. The whole idea of Alzheimer’s depresses the shit out of me, okay? It makes me never want to get out of bed. It makes me want to curl up and die. But, listen, if you get off obsessing about the possibility of having a fucking terrifying disease, then by all means, have a fantastic time with your self-diagnosis, I don’t care. How you deal with it is your business and how I deal with it is mine!
I was no longer the still point of Sarah’s turning world. Time to test my theory: If I was the one spinning, would Sarah go still?
SARAH
jesus, iris!!
IRIS
Guess not.
SARAH
If I’d known you were going to be like this, I wouldn’t have said anything.
IRIS
Great idea! Let’s not say anything.
SARAH
. . . But I need to think about the consequences—
IRIS
And I don’t.
SARAH
Then I can be more prepared.
IRIS
Sarah.
SARAH
I bet Mom thought about it before she was diagnosed—
IRIS
Stop it.
SARAH —
because of Grandma.
IRIS
Stop.
SARAH
Why is it so wrong for me to even—
IRIS
I don’t want to talk about this!
SARAH
Fine. We won’t.
IRIS
Great.
SARAH
End of discussion.
IRIS
Superb.
SARAH
Zip.
IRIS
Zip.
And just like that Sarah changed the subject.
SARAH
Can I show you some pictures of Heaven?
IRIS
Okay.
SARAH takes out her phone to show IRIS photos.
We sat in my kitchen and looked at photos.
SARAH
I call this one the great spaghetti incident. Look at that messy face. Don’t you just want to eat it?
IRIS
I did my usual silent thing. Sometimes—oftentimes—I find that silence is the best option. That way you can’t say the wrong thing. My sister, on the other hand, is the opposite of silence—
SARAH
(looking at a photo) Ooooh, I love, love, love this one. Look at her! What a little peanut. Those are Mike’s workboots. She found them in the closet and put them on. Had a fit when I tried to take them off. (looking at another photo) Oh, look at this one!
IRIS
Sarah needs to fill the void. I like to sink into it, to become the void.
SARAH
Oh, wow, I gotta fly!
IRIS
Wait.
IRIS hugs SARAH.
I’m sorry.
SARAH
I’m sorry too.
IRIS
And she was on her way.
SARAH
(exiting) Ciao for now.
IRIS
We continued with our own lives, making our own decisions and keeping busy. Orbiting around each other, around my mom.
Mom’s gravitational pull was strong and getting stronger. I had to check in on her. I’d make up excuses.
IRIS takes out the salt and pepper shakers and holds them.
Hi, Mom.
BERNICE
What brings you by?
IRIS
I was in the neighbourhood.
Hi, Mom.
BERNICE
Twice in one week! That’s lucky.
IRIS
I’m going to Goodwill. You feel the urge to purge?
BERNICE
Not really.
IRIS
The excuses became more and more lame.
Hi, Mom. Wanna go for a run?
BERNICE
I didn’t know you ran.
IRIS
Thought I’d take it up. Get the old ticker pumping, or the heart rate up, or whatever.
BERNICE
I don’t anymore.
IRIS
What?
BERNICE
Run.
IRIS
Oh.
BERNICE
I haven’t run in about ten years.
IRIS
Right.
BERNICE
Let’s just go for a walk. (exiting to her room) I’ll get my sweater.
IRIS
I stopped with the lame excuses. It was getting exhausting. She’d started expecting me to show up anyway.
(calling) Hi, Mom.
BERNICE
(calling back) I’m just out of the shower. Come on in.
IRIS
I trundled around her kitchen.
Were things tidier than usual? Was ever
ything in a specific order so that she could keep track? Hard to tell. Mom’s a neat freak. It’s all part of the poise.
A calendar on the fridge with a line drawn through yesterday. That was new. (picking up the crossword) The crossword was out on the table. Good sign. She was still doing them. There was one word carefully written all in capitals. Five across. The clue: “It may be half-baked.” The answer: Idea. It was the only word she’d found. The rest was. . . the rest was scribbles and faintly drawn random letters. Every square had been filled in but none of it made sense. The lone word, idea, had been traced and retraced with pencil standing boldly out against the confusion. In the margin, my dad’s name, Robert Trimble, written over and over again, and a date. Their anniversary? One never regrets writing things down.
She sets down the crossword and notices a slip of paper.
Another slip of paper, a prescription.
BERNICE walks in wearing a robe and her hair in a towel.
BERNICE
Look who’s here.
IRIS
(setting the prescription down) You shouldn’t leave the door unlocked.
BERNICE
That’s a fine how-do-you-do.
IRIS
Hi, Mom.
BERNICE
Hello.
IRIS
You shouldn’t leave the door unlocked.
BERNICE
Never locked it before.
IRIS
Maybe you should start.
BERNICE
Why start now?
IRIS
You’re here all by yourself, with no one else around, and you’re taking a shower. What if someone had come in?
BERNICE
I guess they would have seen a very surprised naked lady trundling around.
IRIS
I’m serious.
BERNICE
Someone did come in.
IRIS
Who? When?
BERNICE
You. Just now. Oh, sorry, did you want to see me naked?
IRIS
Not really.
BERNICE
Then I’ll keep my robe on.
IRIS
Appreciated. I’ve got a key, you know. I’m happy to use it.
BERNICE
Iris, stop pestering.
IRIS
I’m just saying you might want to—for security.
BERNICE
You’re starting to sound like Sarah.
IRIS
Yikes. Do whatever you want.
BERNICE
I always do.
IRIS
Keep up the good work.
BERNICE
You doing the crossword?
IRIS
I was just looking at it. You got five across. Idea.
BERNICE
That one’s always on the crossword. Lots of vowels. (picking up the crossword) What else have we got here?
BERNICE looks at the crossword and then turns it face down on the table.
IRIS
. . . You having trouble sleeping?
BERNICE
Hm?
IRIS
You have a prescription.
BERNICE
Aren’t you a snoop. You want to search under my bed or frisk me while you’re at it?
IRIS
It was lying out on the table. Kind of hard to miss.
BERNICE
Iris, you should have been a detective.
I keep waking up in the middle of the night and then I can’t get back to sleep, so Doctor Funditis prescribed some pills, but you know me and pills.
IRIS
Don’t take ’em if you don’t need ’em.
BERNICE
Exactly. You were listening.
IRIS
On occasion.
BERNICE
Doctor Funditis gave me another prescription for some other pills, but I’m not sure about them either. He says I don’t need to take them if I don’t want to. They’re for my brain. He says my function will improve.
IRIS
What’s not to like about improved function?
BERNICE
The disease keeps progressing underneath. The pills hide what’s really going on.
IRIS
Tough call, Mom.
BERNICE
He called it a “quality of life” pill. You take them so you can pretend to be okay.
IRIS
You’re pretty good at doing that on your own.
BERNICE
That’s what I thought. Don’t take ’em if you don’t need ’em.
IRIS
You want to grab a bite?
BERNICE
Sure do.
IRIS
Let’s walk down to La Table.
BERNICE
Just let me doll myself up.
BERNICE exits to her room.
IRIS
I sat in her kitchen and listened to her getting ready upstairs. My mom always has to be well put together. Appearance is important to her. Everything sounded fine. The footsteps were confident and precise. When she appeared again, she was all dressed up and raring to go.
BERNICE enters.
BERNICE
(taking out her lipstick) A little teacup and you can take me out anywhere.
BERNICE starts putting on her lipstick. She stops and looks at it.
What did I just say?
IRIS
Teacup.
BERNICE
I meant to say something else.
IRIS
Lipstick.
BERNICE
Yes, that’s what I meant. A little lipstick and you can take me out somewhere.
She finishes applying the lipstick.
Where are we off to?
IRIS
. . . La Table.
BERNICE
Excellent.
IRIS
La Table. I thought we could walk there.
BERNICE
What are we waiting for? Let’s go.
IRIS
Yeah, let’s go.
It was a hiccup. The only one of the afternoon. La Table is a little French café in her neighbourhood with really good shawarma. French shawarma. Go figure.
BERNICE
La Table. That’s table in French.
IRIS
Good memory.
BERNICE
Sharp as a hammer.
IRIS
Hammer’s are not sharp.
BERNICE
My point exactly.
IRIS
Huh?
BERNICE
Come on, that was a good one.
IRIS
(chuckling) It was good. We were joking. Letting off some steam.
BERNICE
If you can’t laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?
IRIS
You.
They laugh.
My mom found this hilarious. I was on fire. She busted a gut all afternoon.
BERNICE
Iris, you should have been a comedian.
IRIS
Or maybe that’s just how I remember it. We filled up on shawarma and crème brûlée at La Table.
BERNICE
It’s time we trundled home.
IRIS
Trundle—that’s a Mom word. I don’t know why she uses that particular word—I’ve never thought to ask—just one of those weird little quirks she has.
We got back in her front door and I was all set to turn around and go home when my mom. . . she—
BERNICE
Iris?
&nb
sp; IRIS
She. . . The next part is hard for me to put into words, so—
BERNICE
There’s something I need to talk to you about.
IRIS —
I’ll just let it happen.
Go ahead. Shoot.
BERNICE
I was going to wait but this seems like the right time.
IRIS
What’s up?
BERNICE
That prescription that you found. . .
IRIS
For the sleeping pills?
BERNICE
I’m not having trouble sleeping. I’m not going to get any better. In fact, I’m going to get a whole lot worse. You remember what happened to your grandma?
IRIS
I do.
BERNICE
She disappeared. She’d be sitting right in front of me but my mother was gone. She’d become a stranger, staring off into space, or screaming for hours, helpless, without a shred of dignity. . . dignity. Iris, I couldn’t wait for her to die. My own mother. Not the way I want you to feel about me. Not the way I want to go.
IRIS
You don’t really have a choice.
BERNICE
I think I do.
IRIS
How?
BERNICE
I’m going to take control.
IRIS
Not sure what you’re getting at.
BERNICE
Iris, when I start to really forget things, I mean things that are important, I want to bow out and go gracefully.
IRIS
Oh. With the pills.
BERNICE
That’s right.
IRIS
Don’t take ’em if you don’t need ’em.
BERNICE
I think the day is coming when I’m going to need them.
IRIS
Inside I was thinking, “No! No, no, no. You can’t do this! You absolutely cannot do this!” But outside I said:
Mom, I don’t understand.
BERNICE
You do understand, Iris. I know you do.
IRIS
I don’t want you to do it.
BERNICE
I’m not about to take them right this minute.
IRIS
But Mom—
BERNICE
Don’t worry. I’ll let you know.
IRIS
You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?
BERNICE
Everything is in order.
IRIS
Wow.
BERNICE
So. . . That’s that?
IRIS
. . . (faintly nods) Outside, I was nodding in agreement, but inside, I was thinking, “Promise me you will not do this. Promise.”
BERNICE
Toodle-oo, my bambino. (kissing her cheeks) Mwah. Mwah. Mwah.
IRIS takes away the salt and pepper shakers and BERNICE exits to her room.
IRIS
