Tomorrow: WE'LL SEE

WE’LL SEE

 

Two weeks have dragged by and now I am not thrilled to be on my  way to visit my Mom. Guilt warps my soul. My visit is always reluctant, hard to bear. It will be the same. Mom will be in the lobby doing nothing at all and when she sees me coming in with gifts for her, she’ll say, ‘Why are you late, Rhoda? Why weren’t you here yesterday?’ I ignore her oft asked questions, smile and hug her still soft body. ‘Mom, want to sit on the patio with me or take a walk?’ I ask and am ignored. She merely shrugs and walks towards the open french doors. ‘What will be talk about, Rhoda?’ The jolt of her calling me Rhoda or Jane or whatever comes to her mind, pierces my aching, selfish heart. It is useless telling her my name is Patty.

 

At the patio stairs, I tell her to hold the railing going down. Back she comes at me, ‘Don’t tell me what to do, Rhoda. Enough people in this outhouse give me orders. See that bitch over there?’ I look at the young black woman in a pink uniform. ‘Her name is Hannah. She hit me hard on my back yesterday because I wouldn’t sit on the wooden bench in the shower. You know I like the warm water to run all over me. Can she make me sit there if I want to stand? ‘No, Mom. She shouldn’t force you.’ ‘Know what I did?’ ‘No, Mom, what did you do?’ ‘I hit her back. The warden in this jail refused to let me have the fudge cake for dessert last night. I got 10 stale peanuts.’ Oh, my blood is boiling. My dander is high as the sky. ‘Mom, come with me. We’re going to speak to Ms. Genderson together. Believe me, Mom, that won’t ever happen again.’ Suddenly I am choked with emotion. I feel low and sad for the wonderful Mom I used to have. Such indignities she bears.

 

I ask at the desk to see the manager, Ms. Genderson, at once. The handsome room that I thought was warm has turned to ice. There are cubes of it between Genderson’s desk, me and my mother. ‘Rhoda, I didn’t tell you this yet. Both of you listen, listen hard.’ I watch her, see how much of her is inside of me. ‘Rhoda, remember the picture I took of you at your college graduation? I kept it in a beautiful silver frame on my bureau for years and brought it here to this place and had it on the bureau in my room. Remember? ‘ ’Of course, I remember, Mom.’ ‘Well, it’s missing. Somebody took your picture out, left it in the trash can, and stole the silver frame. Ms. Genderson thinks I’m a liar. I’m not.’

 

I’m hot, ready for a face-off with Genderson. I give her the opportunity to deny the shower incident but no time at all to refute her refusing to give my mother dessert. My backbone is hard as steel, my tongue forked. With no hesitancy I ask my mother if she wants to stay in this place  or go someplace else. I don’t even flinch when she says, ‘Rhonda, take me home with you, please.’ Now my tears flow down my cheeks like a very blue Danube. ‘Mom, I can’t. You don’t remember but I work full time, even half days on Saturday. My house is small with two bedrooms, one for me and the other for your grand daughter, Melissa. She’s eighteen now and needs her own space. Listen to me. I have been searching for a new rest home for you and found a brand new one, much closer to my house than this one, so I can come see you more often. Come see it with me now.’ Mom has left me. Her eyes have glazed over and her hands run thru her gray hair, over and over.‘Ms. Genderson, my mother will be moving out tomorrow. I have paid for the month in advance and won’t ask for a refund.’

 

Mom holds my hand and I feel a warm electricity between us. In my car I suggest we sing and lead off, ‘Row, row, row your boat,’ and she comes in doing two part harmony. When finally we stop, we are both laughing tears.

 

‘See, Mom? Look at this place. It’s so new we can still smell the paint. Come meet, Ms. Martha. She runs this place and is really nice.’ I get no resistance. Ms. Martha shows us the indoor pool, up-to-date stainless steel kitchen, a cheerful breakfast room with white cane chairs and bright green cushions. The main dining room is large with plenty of indirect lighting. There is arts and crafts, a t.v. room with a white baby grand piano. She introduces my mother to several other residents who are playing canasta. There are men playing Gin in the game room. They look up, give us the once over and go back to their game.

 

As Mom and I leave the card players and head back towards the office where I can fill out the necessary forms, a tall man with a small white goatee slows down, stares at Mom and bows politely. ‘Madam,’ he says, ‘I hope you will be coming to stay with us. Are you?’ Mom is quiet. The gentleman extends his hand to her and they shake. ‘I’m Sam.’ ‘Yes, Mike,  I’ll be back, maybe tomorrow.’ He grins, bows again. ‘O.K. I won’t mind if you call me Mike. I’m on floor two in a front room corner, #200. See you tomorrow.’

 

I take Mom to the office, finish the particulars, have my credit card approved. Mom’s step is lighter and so is my heart.