was totally exasperated. “Je ne suis pas sourde! Je peux entendre!”
My son turned away.
I walked over to the kitchen sink. I needed something physical to do, so I began to wash the dishes and put them in the drying rack.
All I could think about was how it used to be when he was a youngster. Our first child. The Saturdays when Jim and I and Little Jim played in the park.
Now all he ever thinks about are fortune and fame. Money, always more money. Mr. Big Corporate Executive. The charity balls and the pictures of him and his third wife on the society pages. He commutes to Manhattan from Chappaqua and buys her a new Cadillac every Christmas. Dear God, whatever happened to simple living?
They’re very intense people, Jim Junior and his sister. But the middle one, Steve, he was like his father. He had the same hearty laugh. When problems arose his favorite saying was, “This too shall pass.”
If he had lived, I know he’d say these other two are daft.
My son’s voice escalated as he began pacing to the kitchen service door and back.
“Sophie, you’re involved in all of this with me. C’mon, Sis, how stupid can you be! WE have got to do something. Winter is coming and Mom can’t live alone!”
An angry voice erupted on the other end. He cut in.
“Well, getting totally pissed off does not get us anywhere. Just listen to me, will you?
“Here is the situation. Her days are all a tangle. She takes morning pills at night!”
He paused.
“Yes, yes, I know you got her the seven-day pill box with blue on one side for morning and red on the other for night, but she still gets them messed up! And I’m looking at her right now. One in the afternoon and she’s in her bathrobe. Not the one you gave her, either, it’s the old ratty one.”
He paused. I finished up the dishes and turned to face him.
He looked directly at me as he spoke into the phone. “Well, looks like I’m in the doghouse now. Time to do it.”
He held the cell phone away from his ear. He spoke loudly.
“Mom, can you hear me?”
I nodded. “Yes, I can hear every word.”
He lowered his voice. “Mom, Sis and I know what’s best for you. A quiet place where you won’t have to worry about a thing. Help with keeping your pills straight. Good meals, good nursing care—in a place that you can afford.”
“But this has been my home—our home—for more than fifty years. My daughter and my son! Why are you plotting against me?”
He turned away again, his voice triumphant.
“There, Sis, did you hear? A touch of paranoia, right? She’s losing her marbles; it’s worse than last year! Yes, now we’ve got to do something. Winter is coming and Mom can’t live alone.”
How could I make him and his sister listen? They had it all wrong.
“Yes, winter is coming but I am not alone! I have good friends and neighbors here! Why put me away in some strange place? Can you hear me?”
“You have to face the facts, Mom. Even your doctor says so!”
“You talked to my doctor!”
“He told me about the time you left your purse on the receptionist’s desk and she had to run all the way to the bus stop after you. He says your blood pressure is way, way too high. Yet you refuse to do anything about it.”
“My doctor told you this? Whatever happened to patient confidentiality!”
“Mom, I’m just getting started. He also said—”
“It doesn’t matter! I’m always tense when I go see him. Ever since I finally persuaded your father to go, and then came the bombshell about his cancer—”
“Mom, be reasonable!”
“I am reasonable. I just have a severe case of, what do they call it? White-coat syndrome. I walk through that office door, every part of me tenses up.”
“Listen to me, Mom. I need to go pay some attention to the company’s clients in London. Leaving tomorrow. Two weeks. Betsy is going too, for shopping and shows. So I won’t be around, and Sis is tied up. We need to find an affordable place for you where professionals will take care of you. Face it. It’s time.”
“You—you feel like you’re responsible for me. But you’re not! I’m responsible for me! If I need help, I have plenty of friends here!”
He smiled, ignored my protests, and turned his back to me once again.
“Sis, thanks so much. I’m glad we can agree. Gotta go, now. I’ll be in touch. Ciao.”
The cell phone went back into his shirt pocket.
“Don’t worry, Mom. Sis and I will get it all worked out.”
“You don’t need to get it all worked out,” I hissed.
“Well, who else, Mom? Who else?”
He looked around. “Everything has been the same since Dad died. Time for a change.”
As he lifted his slim designer briefcase from the table, several of my birthday cards fell to the floor. He leaned, picked them up and placed them on the table before moving toward the door.
“Gotta go, Mom. Got a big deal cooking. You take care, Mom.”
“You’ve always got a big deal cooking.”
He turned. “Mom, don’t start in on me. I’m not in the mood for it today.”
“I’m happy where I am.”
“Sure. For how long? Answer me that. For how long?”
“I want to die here.”
“That’s just great. Let me tell you something.”
We were spitting words back and forth.
“I am about to be named the president and CEO of my company. That’s what I’ve wanted for a long time. I also want to get you into a place that will take good care of you.” His voice rose. “I don’t have the time for it any more.”
“You’ve never had the time. It’s all about you. You’re just a never-satisfied striver.”
He put his briefcase back on the table. He gave me a long look and laughed.
“That’s good, Mom. That’s really good. Who the hell do you think I got it from? Good ol’ easy-going Dad? No. I got it from the person who was always best in class and wanted more. Wanted to go to college and did it. Wanted to be a French teacher
