by Lisa Samson
His name is Dr. Smart. How reassuring. He doesn’t look like your typical doctor, more like a football player: stocky build, blond crew cut, wide feet. The Johnny Unitas of Shock Trauma.
We sit with him in the waiting room. Brian and Brett and me. It’s eight o’clock.
“Piecing things together from her medical history and the CAT scan, we’ve found she experienced a small stroke.”
Brett sucks in a breath.
“She’s actually fortunate it wasn’t larger, with the plaque buildup she has.”
“She didn’t want the angioplasty,” I say.
“She needs it done, and the sooner the better.”
“I don’t know how to convince her.”
“Do all you can. She needs to have this done.” He flips a page on his chart. “She’s been experiencing dementia?”
“Oh yes. Getting worse and worse.”
“And she’s diabetic.”
“That too.”
“Well, we think that her dementia is coming from her lack of kidney function.”
Wow.
“Her creatinine levels are extremely high. Has she been nauseated recently?”
“She’s definitely lost interest in eating and has been throwing up occasionally.”
“That’s probably why. She needs to begin dialysis.”
Can anything else be wrong?
“All right.”
“We’ll get her started right away, and I’m scheduling the angioplasty for tomorrow morning. Dr. Merritt is a good man. He’ll be doing the procedure.”
“Can we go in now?” Brian.
“Certainly. She’s sleeping.”
“Did she ever come around?”
“Oh yes. She was asking for her children.” He smiles, blue eyes crinkling. “Go on back.”
Thank God she’s breathing on her own, deep and peaceful. At least there’s that. Brian stands here shaking, and Brett cries. I’m sure they have regrets. We all know that the major responsibility for ailing parents always falls to one child, and the others continue to live their lives seemingly unscathed. But at least a few what-ifs must find their way in when your mom is lying there and could die, and you didn’t find the time to stop in and chat or have a cup of coffee. Maybe her time in the hospital will afford them the opportunity to display their mettle, to acknowledge Mom’s place in their lives. For her sake if not their own. And Mom will think they’re so great.
In my heart, I resent this. I’d be insane if I didn’t admit it. After I’ve done the majority of cooking and laundry and running around, they’ll simply sit by her bed and even the score. But for Mom’s sake, it’s better.
Brett’s different these days. At least she says thank you to me. But Brian’s never once sat me down and said, “Ivy, I know you bear the brunt of the family burden, I know I’m not capable of dealing with this, so I want you to know how thankful I am for you.”
That’s never going to happen. He thinks that because I live in her house, I deserve all I get.
I take Mom’s hand, punctured by an IV. “Let’s hope that angioplasty does the trick.”
“I know.” Brett. “And the dialysis. Especially if it clears up the dementia. It sure would be nice to have the old Mom back.”
Brian continues to sniff. “I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t stand this.”
He turns, and I lay a hand on his arm. “You did fine at St. Joe’s, Bri.”
“That was just a broken hip. We could lose her, Ivy.”
“I know. Look, go on ahead. I’ll call you if anything develops.”
If I want him to play nice, I should do the same. And honestly, I pity him right now more than I ever have. No wonder he drinks like he does.
Brett kisses his cheek and pats his back, and off he goes. Maybe Dani will talk him into coming back.
“To tell you the truth, I’m sorry about Mom.” Brett. “But I can’t say I’m sorry I can’t accompany Marcus these days.”
“It must be tiring.” I rub Mom’s arm. Maybe, somewhere in her subconscious, she can feel the love.
“It’s more than that.”
“That doesn’t sound good. What is it?”
“I’m suspicious of his motives for running.”
“Marcus? I always thought he was a committed Republican.”
“I did too. Obviously not dyed-in-the-wool like us Starlings. It’s a power trip. Pure and simple.” She begins to rub Mom’s other arm. “I see a man for sale. Corporations meeting with him, other special-interest groups. All trying to buy his allegiance. So how can I support that?”
“I don’t see how you can.”
“I mean he’s obviously not going to take a stand for what he believes.”
“If he really believes anything.”
“Exactly.”
“Have you talked with him about it yet?”
“I’ve tried. It’s like talking to a brick. He’s decided he wants this bad.”
“So if he can’t have another woman, he’ll woo the political whore.”
“Exactly! That’s exactly it, Ivy. Either way, I’m left on the outside. Maybe that’s what he wants. And here I thought maybe we’d actually have a decent politician in Annapolis. How foolish of me.”
Hmm.
“So do I tell him to go on without me? That I can’t support his campaign?”
“What do you think you should do?”
“Seems to me I don’t have a choice, not if I want a real relationship. It’s the beginning of the end.”
“The beginning?”
“That’s true.”
“Let’s go get a cup of coffee.” Sure.
We head down one of the many glass elevators to the atrium and Donna’s Coffee Bar and Restaurant. She orders a triple latte, whole milk. I get a tea.
We sit at a table overlooking the atrium, glass walls towering above us. “I’ll support you in whatever you do.”
“I don’t know how much more of this life I can stand. I feel like I’ve lost myself, Ivy. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to look like or act like anymore. I’d rather go it alone than play the trophy wife beside a plastic man.”
See? I could have it a lot worse. Maybe there’s something to be said for being stuck in a quagmire.
“Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days? We can run to and from the hospital together. You know, mutually support each other during this trying time.”
“Those are good words. Marcus will go for that. And it’ll give him an easy explanation for why I’m not standing by his side.” She deepens her voice. “My wife asks for your prayers as her family goes through this trying time surrounding the illness of her mother.”
I kiss her cheek. “Why don’t you go home and pack a bag, and I’ll meet you at my house? You can bunk with me.”
“That’ll be nice.”
My house will soon burst if anyone else comes to stay.
It’s kind of nice, though, isn’t it?
Mitch walks into Mom’s room.
He kisses my forehead but doesn’t let it linger. Disappointment mixes with relief.
“How’s our Dorothy?”
“Tomorrow will be a big day for her.” I point to the large machine by her bed. “They’re dialyzing her now.”
“I was on my way home from a dinner with a potential business partner.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Still keeping a few irons in the fire. You going to be okay?”
“I have to be, right?”
He rubs my arm. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
We talk in the coffee shop for an hour. He builds me up, tells me I’m more woman than he’s ever met, tells me he’s so proud of me. And at the end, he leans forward and kisses me. And I kiss him back, and dear God, what am I doing?
I run from the shop, accompanied by the hollow thumping of my heels and my guilty conscience.
Enough, Ivy. You’ve had enough.
Oh great! Brett went home, and there went my ride. I call home. H
arry’s on his way. He asked if it would be all right if he came up to the room. I said sure and meant it. Anything to keep the memory of that kiss at bay. I could use a dad right now.
All these years later, I still dream that my parents will get back together. Can you believe it? In my heart, I really wouldn’t wish that on Mom, but that little girl who sat on the couch and heard her father was gone for good still thinks, “What if he came back to stay?”
How stupid. I’m almost forty, for crying out loud.
He enters the room, hat in hand, looking older than I’ve ever seen him. His gnarled hand smoothes his ruffled gray hair. “She’s sleeping?”
“Yeah. She woke up for a few minutes earlier and asked where she was, then went back to sleep.”
I go over the doctor’s plans and my own for convincing her to get that angioplasty. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing by insisting on the procedure?”
“It’s your call, Ivy.”
“But what do you think?”
He lightly taps the bed rail. “Second chances are never a bad thing.”
“You ready to go?”
“If you’d like.”
I slip on my coat, tuck my hand in his arm, and we walk out together.
“I haven’t been here in years, Ive. Sure has changed.”
Let’s hope that’s a good thing.
I fire up Old Barbara and begin my column. It’s not like I’m going to sleep anyway. The notes I took during the phone interview, hitched up with some modifiers, conjunctions, and decent verbs, provide me with an easy write. I send it off to Tony.
Oh, this woman was such fun! I hope I can meet her in person someday. All these women I’m meeting are people I’d like to be when I grow up.
The phone rings. Krystal.
“Hey baby. How you doing?”
“Pretty good, considering.”
“Got you all on the church prayer chain.”
“Thanks. It’s what we need.”
“It’s what we all need. Now you shut down that computer and get some sleep. I’ll tell you, you have to really take good care of yourself now. Eat right, too. You may not feel like eating, but make yourself. Fruits and vegetables, chicken, fish, meat. God’s food.”
I smile. I need a mama right now. “Will do. I just need to e-mail Rusty, and I’m off to bed. I don’t have high hopes for a good night’s sleep, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Drink a cup of warm milk before you go.”
“Does that really help?”
“It sure can’t hurt. Good night, baby.”
Man, that felt good. When people care, it makes all the difference in the world. When this is all over, I’m going to behave differently.
Dear Rusty,
Mom had a stroke today. She’s in Shock Trauma down at University. Needless to say, I need you, Rust. Please come home. If you don’t come for this, don’t bother coming back at all.
I can’t risk a full-fledged affair with Mitch. My defenses are crumbling beneath the stress and the loneliness, and it will happen if I don’t do something. I need my husband to love me. If he loves himself more, then good-bye.
I click the Send icon. Another e-mail arrives.
Ivy,
I’m sorry. Forgive me. That will never happen again. I trust our friendship won’t suffer. I’m still here for you.
Mitch
So now we wait. I thought the hip operation was bad. But this! Well, I keep imagining them poking up into her neck with a coat hanger, dislodging the Drano-worthy plaque. And then those particles swim on up to the brain, tumbling in the flow, getting stuck in a gang, stopping the blood, and whammo, another stroke, only larger and more merciless, and she doesn’t die on the table, oh no, she ends up unable to talk or use the left side of her body, and there’ll be diapers to change, Ensure to buy, nurses coming in and out, baths to give, and, dear God, how will I do this?
Brett shuffles her feet.
“Did I just say all that out loud?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I swear, I’m losing it.”
She flips through a magazine. Guns & Ammo. Now who left that here? Oh well, she’s not really reading it anyway. “Brian’s not coming until later.”
“Brett, how do you do it? How are you so longsuffering with him?”
She shuts the magazine and lays it on the end table. “Do you remember Brian before Dad left?”
“Not really. He played a lot of baseball, I remember that. Boy Scouts, too. And I remember he’d play Life with me sometimes.”
“He used to sing a lot too. Like when he was raking the yard, or emptying out the dishwasher, or doing homework.”
I shake my head. Don’t ever remember Brian singing.
“Remember when he stopped going to church?”
“That I do remember. Harry told Mom it was time to let him make his own decision about religion. But that was before he left, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, which makes it even more rich. I saw things you didn’t, Ivy. I know it seems like we’re always saying that, that we’re almost throwing it in your face, and I don’t know why I do that.”
“…”
“Fact is, you’ve paid your dues on this end of the deal. Which is way more than we can say about Brian.”
“Then how can you remain so close to him? Give him excuse after excuse? I mean, I love him because he’s my brother and I have to. You love him for who he is. Which amazes me.”
“He’s not so bad when you get to know him. Unfortunately, by the time you were old enough to get to know him as a human being, he was too far gone.”
“Maybe it’s true. Maybe you do have more reason to be mad at Harry than I do.”
“I don’t know. But I saw what he did to my brother. That day Mom told us? Remember sitting on the couch?”
I nod.
“It was like a light bulb turned off in Brian. And Dad flipped the switch. No doubt in my mind.”
“Yeah. I can see that.”
“At the same time, you had to grow up with a mother who was never home, drowning in your schoolwork, your sister running you around, and yet you always did so well. And let’s face it, you’ve made the best of your marriage, you have a great career, great kids, and you’ve carried the ball with Mom.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m about to die.”
“I know. But I want you to know, Ivy, I think you’re the most kindhearted, decent person I know.”
It’s been so long since I had a good cry. I feel my eyes begin to fill, and Brett reaches out. I’m done for. She smells so nice.
I lift up my head later. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive Harry?”
“I’m going to have to, aren’t I? I mean, really, do I have an option?”
“No.”
“Have you forgiven him?”
“Yeah. He’s living in my house. It was either that or go around mad all the time.”
She smiles. “Thanks for putting me up, by the way. I slept better last night than I have in months.”
“I gave Rusty the ultimatum last night.”
Brett grabs my knee and squeezes. “Good. Good for you.”
“Hey Lyr.”
“Hey Mom.”
The connection isn’t good. She sounds so far away.
“How’s everyone?”
“Okay. Is Winky okay?”
“She’s not out of surgery yet. Trixie driving you nuts?”
“Gramps thinks she’s getting sick. And I agree. She’s been sitting on the couch with him, sucking on her pinkie, and her cheeks are as pink as they can be.”
Oh man. “Lyra … I’m sorry about all this. I’m sorry I haven’t been the mom you’ve needed. I’m trying to do my best, but unfortunately, it’s not good enough for anyone.”
“Mom, I know. Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It’s going to be fine. Gramps and Grandpa are taking us to the fairgrounds after Winky gets out.
They’re having a car show there. You know Persy and cars.”
“That’ll be nice.”
“So we’re fine. Don’t worry about a thing. Oh yeah! I forgot. Dani and Uncle Brian came by. They went into Winky’s room and cleaned up everything. Took the sheets home to wash, polished the furniture, just everything.”
“That’s cool.”
“I really like Dani, Mom. I know she wears those, well, you know type of clothes, but she’s really sweet.”
“I agree.”
“And guess what?!”
Wow, she’s back with a vengeance. Great! It’s nice to have my daughter back. Hopefully she’ll stay a long time.
Poor Trixie, though.
“I got my interim grades. Straight As!”
“Way to go, sweetie. I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, just wanted to tell you. You want to talk to Gramps?”
“Absolutely.”
“Hi Ive.” he whispers.
“How’s our baby?”
“Lyra found the Children’s Advil. She just fell asleep.”
Dr. Merritt pulls off his surgical cap, revealing a rumpled head of straight, dark hair finely lined with gray. “It went fine. None of the arteries were completely closed, so we were able to do the procedure. You should see a real improvement in her.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” I reach out to shake his hand.
“You’re welcome. I’ll fill Dr. Smart in on everything, and he’ll be getting with you. In the meantime we’ll be moving her down to ICU. I don’t know which room yet.”
He takes his leave. Brett and I pull out our cell phones and begin to make the rounds.
I sure wish I had an Internet connection here at the hospital. I’m dying to check my e-mail, having no idea how Rusty’s going to respond.
You know, I thought I had it in me. You hear about women who can support their husbands in difficult career choices that take them far away for long periods of time. And then, when the man retires, the couple rides away into the sunset together to spend the rest of their lives at ease, enjoying and appreciating each other’s company.
But perhaps they find they have nothing to say to one another anymore, and they separate, and those years of forbearance, of setting the teeth and swallowing hard, meant absolutely nothing.
