killed in a car accident in 1974, she had known – and insisted to her husband – that they would adopt another, even though they had each already celebrated their fiftieth birthdays. And she had known – and insisted to her husband – that they would name the girl Katie, after the confident and independent woman who leaves Robert Redford behind in The Way We Were. And when her husband passed away ten years ago, leaving behind debts he had never mentioned to his wife, Phyllis had known – and insisted to her daughter, Katie – that she would continue to live in the family home alone.
The highest hurdle Katie had ever faced had come a year ago when she told her mother she needed to move. For the first time, someone for once was insisting on something to Phyllis. Katie had eventually won that initial battle between the Battle women, but that didn’t mean her mother was going to forfeit what might remain of the war. No plastic drinking straws. No arts and crafts in the common room with the women whom her mother called the ‘pathetic old biddies’. None of the loose, maintenance-free cotton housedresses that were practically a uniform at Glen Forrest.
And definitely no wheelchairs.
‘Mom, I know you don’t want to hear this, but another fall could be really bad.’
‘I can…take care…of myself.’
‘I know. But you’d find it’s a lot easier if you’d take advantage of some of the things they have here to help you, like a chair, Mom.’
Katie leaned forward and rested her hand gently on top of her mother’s. At eighty-two years old, her mother had maintained her full cognition and spirit, but her hand had never felt so thin and frail, her blue veins bulging beneath the loose and wrinkled skin.
‘You mean…a wheelchair. I’m not…an invalid.’
‘We could ask for a really crappy one if that would make you feel better. None of this high-speed electric power stuff. You’d wheel yourself. Think of the upper-body workout you’d get. I can even request a bum wheel so it would be like a bad shopping cart if you want.’
Katie was happy to see her mother smiling, but then the smile turned into a laugh and her mother wheezed and then coughed. Her hand moved reflexively to her chest again.
‘Shhh,’ Katie said soothingly.
Her heart. The stroke. The falls. Keeping track of her mother’s ailments required Mensa-caliber mental juggling.
The second her mother caught her breath, she was back on message. ‘No wheel…chairs.’
‘You scare me, Mom. I know you like to think it’s just a fall. But this isn’t something you can play around with. Falls in the elderly –’
Her mother shot her a look of darts.
‘Falls now can be fatal. Do you know how stupid it would be to survive everything you’ve survived, just to go out by falling down? Phyllis Battle is way too tough – and much too smart – to allow that.’
Her mother set her jaw, but she at least wasn’t arguing anymore.
‘I’ve asked Marj to bring a chair up tonight.’ Now her mom shook her head, but still no verbal resistance. ‘Just for you to experiment with. She’ll work with you out in the hallway when the others are listening to a music group that’s coming in tonight.’
‘Horrible, horrible…They call themselves singers. Like someone threw…a cat…in a washing machine.’
‘OK, so when all the old biddies are down there clapping along with the terrible music, you be nice to Marj. I’ll check in with her tomorrow about how it went, and we can go from there.’
Still, her mother said nothing. Progress.
Katie rose from the bed, picked up her purse from the floor, and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of her mother’s head.
‘Good night, Mom.’
Katie had already opened the apartment door when she heard her mother’s quiet voice behind her.
‘I’m…sorry, Katie. For…falling. For…being old.’
‘Don’t you ever apologize. Just be nice to Marj tonight. I want you around for a long, long time.’
On her walk to the F train, Katie retrieved her BlackBerry from the depths of her oversize black leather satchel. Pulling up a phone number, she hit the dial button, only to hang up after one ring. She wanted someone to take her place tomorrow night. With Mom’s latest fall, the last thing she wanted to deal with was tomorrow night.
Ironically, though, it was her mother’s situation that required her to handle this appointment herself. It was only a few hours. She’d get through it, just like she always did.
6:45 p.m.
If there was a bar in the East Twenties that epitomized the drinking side of the law enforcement culture, it was Plug Uglies. Where glass-walled martini bars soaked in ubiquitous lounge music had begun to dominate even Murray Hill, Plug Uglies was still a dark wood pub adorned with black-and-white photographs of old New York, dartboards, and a well-stocked jukebox.
The comments began the moment Ellie opened the door.
‘Look alive, Officers. We’ve got a hardened ex-con in our midst.’
‘Call the probation department. Make sure she’s checked in.’
More jokes about the need for a shower, despite the fact that she’d cleaned up hours earlier.
Ellie took a mock bow in recognition of the attention, and someone playing shuffleboard in the back broke out in a round of ‘For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow’.
And then it was over.
‘See, not so bad,’ Jess said, ordering a Johnnie Walker Black for her and a Jack Daniel’s for himself.
Ellie took a seat on the bar stool next to his. ‘So how was life without me last night?’
After briefly shacking up with a self-described exotic dancer for two months last summer, Jess was back on Ellie’s living room sofa again, where he always seemed to spend the largest bulk of his residency.
‘Quiet.’
‘It’s not the first time you’ve been trusted at home alone without a watcher.’
Ellie and Max were taking things slow. Casual. Dating. No relationship talk yet. But she did spend the night with him about twice a week, enough to justify a second toothbrush at his place.
‘Quieter than that,’ Jess said. ‘I was worried about you.’
‘I think you got our roles switched. I’m the worrier. You’re the worri-ee.’ She smiled, picturing her usually stress-free brother alone in her apartment fretting over her.
‘Oh, shit,’ she said,
