Book Read Free

The Gravitational Pull of Bernice Trimble

Page 4

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

 

‹ Prev