you have to go.”
The problem was that she hadn’t gone anywhere, so where was the pee?
While the others sat dumbstruck and sniffing the air for any tale-tell ammonia smells, Mother Blister dropped her head, which allowed one of her several fleshy chins to rest on her chest as she returned to her self-imposed state of denial.
As was her nature, no sooner had her head dropped than it rose again. She began fidgeting and was wide awake with renewed energy. She pulled a wrinkled, folded paper towel from one of her pockets. She opened it and after rechecking the gummy adhesive on her beige-colored dentures that lay uneven in her hands, Mother Blister replaced the dentures quickly in her mouth and then decided to toss in her two cents.
At her age, her opinion was worth about two cents and a ten-percent off coupon for a box of industrial-strength bladder control pads, but for now, it was all Mother Blister had to offer.
Mother Blister continued staring at the others as she suddenly blurted out, excitedly, “So what do y’all think of my idea?”
Of course, she hadn’t given an idea but to avoid embarrassing her they all nodded and smiled. Everything would’ve been just fine and the meeting could’ve continued if Petunia hadn’t decided to rock the boat.
“Would you please repeat your wonderful idea?”
“I don’t feel like repeating anything,” Mother Blister replied, harshly. Every word she spoke was cloaked with annoyance. “Let someone just read it from the minutes.”
She fidgeted in her seat before continuing. “Y’all go ahead with the meeting. I’ve got to use the bathroom again.”
Mother Blister never moved from her seat but soon, a look of satisfaction spread across her face before she let her head drop back onto her chest.
Like the others, Needy quickly began, again, sniffing the room for any signs of Mother Blister’s real or imaginary watery gift. She didn’t smell anything unusual so she decided to ignore the obvious. “Why don’t we just go ahead and give any reports on dates, good or bad, since the last meeting,” Needy humbly suggested.
It took all the little strength she possessed to act as if she was being considerate and had nothing better to do than to humor and respect their eldest member, especially since she suddenly began to hear a squishing sound every time Mother Blister moved around on her cushioned seat.
So while the other women chatted and bickered, Mother Blister just sat and daydreamed. However, unlike the lonely and desperate women lounging around Needy’s small living room in various stages of hormonal decay, Mother Blister was the only one who really had a date waiting for her back at the Old Ben Gay Arms Assisted Living home. Even in her advanced years, she’d seen more action than a soldier with several tours of duty under his belt.
Every third weekend of the month Mother Blister and her longtime friend and undercover bed-buddy, seventy-year-old Slim Pickens, got together for a little “show me and I won’t tell anyone” inside the home’s fully stocked medicine room. It was where they always tasted the fruit of their illicit rendezvous so just in case they needed medicine or medical equipment to revive each other, it was handy.
The only reason Mother Blister ever left the confines of her secure assisted-living home other than to attend church, a bingo game or the singles club meetings was to keep the other women from nosing into her business. She needed to make sure none of them had any designs on her man.
As far as Mother Blister was concerned, Slim may be old, even a little phobic, since he spent a great deal of time trying to snap his crusty arthritic fingers and click his false teeth for no good reason. And certainly Slim was also quite cranky when he didn’t get his lunchtime prune-flavored apple-sauce cobbler, but he was still more man than the rest of the other women had.
With all the medications she took by mouth and otherwise, it was only fitting that delusions were one of the many side effects.
Mother Blister decided that she’d toyed with the women in the pathetic group long enough. She checked her watch and saw she still had about thirty minutes before she was to meet Slim. She and Slim met at least three times a month. With her memory becoming more and more faulty every day, she wasn’t sure if today was the first time since last month or not. She wasn’t taking chances, so she needed to make sure she had her strength. A nap was in order. She raised her head and then let it drop slowly, making her curly gray wig slide down onto her forehead.
“Have mercy,” Cill mumbled and snickered, using her thumb to point towards Mother Blister.
“Don’t be so mean,” Birdie rebuked her again. “She’s old and we ought to respect the old. We may one day become retarded, too.” Somehow, she always managed to reprimand and confuse, all in the same sentence.
“For you, someday is today,” Cill hissed under her breath. She was too through with Birdie. If Birdie weren’t a white woman with money, I’d have voted her out as soon as she joined, Cill thought.
For the next few moments, Needy continued to bark orders. Birdie tried to sound sympathetic to Mother Blister’s faulty state of mind, Cill sulked and Petunia whined about not being able to find her bra size.
Ten minutes later when Mother Blister awoke from her power nap, the women were still going at it, and they still hadn’t discussed any of their dates, real or imagined.
Mother Blister’s patience was growing shorter than a flea’s facial hair. There didn’t seem to be an end or an answer forthcoming to the women’s plight. With one dark leathery hand sporting long veins forming the shape of a road map, and age spots resembling routes, exits and all, Mother Blister pulled back her tatty wig. She fumbled around and picked up the Bible beside her that lay open to the “Song of Solomon,” resting with her other hand on the end table. She could tell that it was a passage that Needy must’ve read often because the ink was faded, the page folded repeatedly, and the verses highlighted while the rest of the Bible looked brand new.
Mother Blister grinned as she remembered the essence of the erotic verses before she hurriedly closed the Bible. She didn’t want to let the words of love go, so she hugged the Bible tightly to her sagging breasts as if to bring heaven a little closer.
Mother Blister’s pink rubbery gums supporting her dentures looked like two thick pieces of hard Bazooka bubblegum, laying one atop the other as she smiled and nodded, “I agree with Needy. I want to hear about your dates; if you’ve had any.” She squinted over her bifocals and pointed around the room. “I’m hoping that somebody in this room had a chance to be with a man lately—”
Needy interrupted Mother Blister that time, not caring that the woman was the senior member. Needy needed to regain control of the meeting so she added impatiently, “In addition to relating or lying about your dates, please for once let’s not give the man’s last name. We don’t need another fight like the one at the last meeting when Petunia and Gracie Charles thought that they were going after the same man.”
“I agree,” Cill butted in. “Y’all know it’s a shame that it wasn’t until Gracie was released from the emergency room that we found out that she and Petunia were actually chasing father and son.” Cill sat back proudly and pointed at Needy. “I’m sorry. You were about to get somewhere with this sordid trip down memory lane.”
Needy’s muddy brown skin was beginning to turn beet red but she was also determined to show a little decorum and not sink to Cill’s level. “Now, let’s get down
