ANCHORS AWEIGH

Too many times to count I’ve heard my now almost ancient mother squabble with her sister, Becky, about nonsense, mundane ‘what ifs’I don’t eavesdrop, exactly. It’s always the rise and pitch of their discussions that draw me in.

Recently I learned they have a joint saving account at Bank of America. That day Mother’s voice was particularly strident, almost staccato. ‘Why didn’t you—deposit your $200 this —, Becky?’ My aunt snapped back. ‘Because I have enough money in our cache to cover my cremation and yours if you change your mind. Mil, I can do better with my money from now on. I might decide to eat lunches and dinner out for 2 weeks, not have to cook. I hereby officially vote that we stop adding money into the bank’s coffers and let it lie there, paying us pennies a month. ‘Mil, you have no worries. Your rich son, Ralph.’ Mother stops her before she says another word. ‘Becky, for 30 years I’m telling you my son’s name is Rolf, not Ralph. Learn it before I die and make me happy.’ ‘OK. Rolf isn’t going to let you rot at Dansky’s. He’ll cover any difference in case we both live extra long and prices soar. Millie, you want to lie next to Bernie and be eaten by worms. It’s your choice. I want to go out in a blaze of glory. Send off fireworks,’ Becky lived here!’

I can’t stand this morbid conversation and make an effort to be nonchalant. I go in the kitchen and interrupt the big two person meeting. ‘Anybody want something from the fridge? I’m opening a large Pepsi, I announce as if I were pouring god’s nectar. Mother is steaming. I see it in her eyes. ‘Go upstairs and help your son learn his Mahfter for his Bar Mitzvah.’ She has upset me. ‘Ma, you’re so loud. I couldn’t help but hear some of your conversation with Aunt Becky. It’s so damn morbid.’ ‘Didn’t I tell you not to use the word ‘damn? It’s a bad word.’ ‘Mom, you have good years left in your crotchedy old soul. Cut out this talk.’

So you know, Phyllis. Good. Am I right?’ My lips freeze. My tongue feels swollen. I can’t get too deeply into this discussion. Aunt Becky winks to me. ‘Listen, Mammeleh, I was about to ask your stubborn mother to go on a cruise with me. I’ve done all the paper, telephone work and have a beaut selected. I already chose our cabin. It’s mid-ship where the movement is hardly ever felt. There is a bank of elevators near by but no too close. The ship was just christened, oops, circumsized. It is the Golden Dream. Her sister ship is the Silver Dream. Flying from Miami, we cruise the Mediterranean for two full weeks. Listen to this, Mildred. There are hosts who dance with the single ladies, play cards, accompany them on tours. There are widows and widowers aboard and sometimes matches are made. I’m going, Mil, with or without you and will be taking some of my share out of our account. You will be notified exactly what I take.

My mother looks like she is going to have a stroke, not that I have ever seen that happen to anyone. She gets stern. ‘Becky, go. You are younger than I am and will live longer. Go if you want. Leave me here! How can you go and miss the Bar Mitzvah?’ ‘Mil, we’ll be back in plenty of time to buy new gowns for the four formal nights a week .’ Becky, I get seasick in the bathtub.’ The ship has stabilizers. There are pills, patches, injections. You won’t get sick.’ ‘Becky, I’m not a good dancer any more. My feet hurt all the time.’ ‘Sister, listen to me for once. You are worrying for nothing. We’ll throw coins in the Trevi fountain, see the Louvre, the Coliseum.’ ‘I’ve seen all those things more than once on the geography channel. Coins in a fountain? That’s for teens. I wouldn’t throw my lire away. ‘ ’Millie, stop, stop now. You are being mean, trying to ruin my awakening. I am going to live, live until I die. Right now I am going home to figure just how much money to take out of our kitty! So long, You Old Witch.’ Becky holds her head high and walks out the door. Mother calls after her, ‘ Becky, Becky, Darling. I’ll think about it.’