by Jo Owens
The idea that we might travel together was gestating in my mind.
Looking up, I noticed that you were looking very tired, and I remembered that you’d been looking tired the last time I saw you too.
“Hawaii is supposed to be beautiful,” I said.
“I found a lump,” you said.
BUTTERFLY
Christmas is coming. All the day aides from both wings help the activity aides put up the big tree in the dining room and the glittering garlands in the sunroom. The skies outside are stubbornly grey, and only the tinsel and fairy lights brighten the room. No wonder the ancients devised this holiday, Anna, to distract us from winter’s gloomy prospect.
Remember the wonderful breads you used to make? The stollen, the braided bread stuffed with marzipan and chocolate, the poppyseed rolls? The diner was fragrant as a bakery with the smell of fresh bread and coffee. Oh my God, I can feel my bones relaxing.
We made some good memories, didn’t we, Anna? Angelina’s glee at receiving the very skateboard she’d wanted. The year Chris invested hours making a science fiction gingerbread starship. The expensive robes the kids bought for both of us the year that Chris and Angelina took a paper route together. I remember good food too, and afternoons playing Monopoly. Normal family stuff.
When I think of actual Christmas Day, though, I always have an aftertaste of disappointment. Everyone decries the materialism, but it was more than that: it was the bloody unreasonable expectation that somehow for a day we would be better than we were. Angelina didn’t magically become compliant, I certainly didn’t suddenly have more patience, and Chris didn’t stop disappearing at the first sign of tension just because it was December 25. I couldn’t make Christmas perfect for the kids…or make them perfect for it, not even for a day. I see that now.
So why does my heart rise at the sight of a few glass balls set in a bowl of holly? Why should my eyes mist up when Lily comes dancing into the room wearing a Santa hat, in a red and white candy-cane-striped scrub?
Then I think, who cares about the “why”? I’ll take the gift…the light and the glitter, and Lily like a little Christmas pixie. For now I feel good. That’s all that matters.
* * *
Lily and Michiko are my nurses for all of December; I have that to look forward to.
Lily has been glowing lately and it’s lovely, but…has she found a man? Is that the reason for her shine? Is she headed for another fall? Frankly I’m a little worried.
“Would you like to know a secret?” she whispers, while doing my care.
Of course I do!
“I’m seeing someone.”
Here we go. I sigh a little.
“You guessed, didn’t you, and I can see that you’re worried, aren’t you? You’re justified in being skeptical, but this time is different.”
Like a sweater is different from a pullover. I can’t even pretend.
Lily smiles.
“I think you’ll like this. Do you remember when I told you all I wanted was a decent man? I think I finally heard myself. Listen.
“I’ve been friends with Nathan since high school and he’s been Sierra’s chum ever since she was born. He went into nursing, and got his RN, then spent a couple of years up north, and then he did some volunteer work in Ghana. We stayed in touch on Facebook, of course. This fall he came home and started working in the hospital, so we’ve been spending a lot of time together, Sierra, Nate and I, just as friends, as we’ve always done in the past. About a month ago, he said, ‘I want you to think about something.’ ”
Lily swipes at my armpit ineffectually with the washcloth.
“I said, ‘Of course,’ and he said, ‘I know you don’t feel this way about me, but I’ve always loved you, and I love Sierra, and I think we’d make a good couple.’ My heart just sank, Francesca.” Washcloth still in hand, Lily put her hand to her chest, as if to protect a sore spot.
“I thought, Here we go, this is where I lose my friend, and I tried to brush him off gently. I said, ‘Nate, that’s very sweet…’ He just stopped me right there. He said, ‘Don’t say anything. You can do the same old thing that you’ve been doing over and over, because God knows that works so well for you, or you can try something different. You think it over. Think about what it might be like to choose a man who really loves you, even if you don’t start out feeling the same way. If you think it might be worth trying something new, call me, and we’ll go on a date.’
“Then he got up and left, just like that.”
I’m getting cold, because Lily has stopped washing me entirely, but I don’t care. I want the rest of the story.
“I truly didn’t know what to do, Francesca. On the one hand, I didn’t feel any chemistry at all, because Nate’s always been just my good friend Nate. However, when I spoke to some of the older married ladies that work here, especially the ones who’ve had arranged marriages, they said the chemistry only lasts the first ten minutes anyway. Of course my younger friends said, ‘How can you have a relationship if there’s no spark?’
“Then, I met this other guy, who shall remain nameless, because he’s not important, and he was just as good-looking and suave and sexy as River or any of those guys ever were, and I thought, He’s the one. I’m just going to have to tell Nathan my heart is elsewhere. I made up my mind to do that, and I felt the relief one feels when one makes up one’s mind, but I hadn’t done the deed. One night, I was texting back and forth with this new guy just before bed, and I fell asleep with my phone in my hand, and I had a terrible dream. I dreamt I was chasing butterflies, getting very tired, because whenever I caught one, it would turn into the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, except that it had River’s face. The thing would laugh at me and say, ‘It doesn’t matter, does it?’ and disappear and then I’d have to start running again. I woke up sobbing…do you know Alice in Wonderland?”
I nod. I was very small when Papa read it to me.
“Oh, I loved that book as a child. I read it about a million times. Do you remember when Alice asks the Cheshire Cat which road to take, the cat asks where Alice wants to go, and Alice says she doesn’t know, so the cat says, ‘Then it really doesn’t matter, does it?’
“I got up, right there, still crying, and I made myself a gin and tonic…a really nice one, Francesca, with the good gin and a real lime, and I sat there thinking about River, and that guy I fell for last spring, and the hot new guy and all the other hot new guys out there, and how they’ve all been alike, and how I just have to get their attention and how they never once cared for me, and I had a really good blubbering cry. Then I called up Nate, oh, it must have been about three in the morning, and I said, ‘Okay. Let’s give this a try.’ He said, ‘Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ We’ve been together ever since.”
Lily starts working again. She slips my left arm into my valentine-red shirt from Carlotta’s Boutique, and shimmies the shoulder into place.
“And you know what?” she asks as my head pops through the neckband. “You won’t believe this.” She brings my right arm through.
“I think I’m falling for him!”
Lily gives me a soppy look. I give her a motherly smile and pat her hand. She hugs me and I can feel all the love she has to give; she burns with it, under her tidy scrub and under the skin of her baby-soft cheeks. Lily, my Lily, was made to be loved.
He’d better not change his mind, I’m thinking. If he changes his mind, I’m going to hex him. That’s what I’m going to do.
* * *
I didn’t really stop secretly obsessing about Angelina (nursing my sorrow like an alcoholic drinking quietly in private, hiding her empty bottles) until your diagnosis. Then I was incredibly angry at myself. Why did I waste the time I had with you, steeping in a misery that couldn’t be changed? I didn’t want to lose another precious minute and I threw myself into your life with desperation, to the point where you f
inally said, “Look, liefje, I am not so sick yet, but I will be if you don’t let me breathe.”
“I’m just trying to help you!”
“You’re smothering me,” you said.
I learned. Then I learned flexibility as your prognosis changed from serious to critical, and you needed more help.
It was terrible to see your life taken from you by inches; your suffering was profound. I don’t need to tell you that—you lived it. But I hope you also know that it was wonderful.
I didn’t have companionship looking after my children—they were not my equals; they were my children. We were three in a tippy boat. I was trying to stay afloat, aiming for shore, pulling hard. What happened with you was a completely different kind of caretaking. A different kind of love.
The pain, the time-eating day-to-day challenges, the treatments, the fear, the doctors’ waiting rooms, the vomit, the misery of it all. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But I had my silver lining; I got to show you how much I loved you before I lost you, and that was a gift. I wrapped it about me like a cloak.
* * *
Lily stops in on her coffee break, phone in hand, to talk to Michiko.
Molly just texted me. She’s at the dollar store. Do we need anything?
Tell her to get some of those barrettes for Nana, I can’t think where the last ones got to, and some socks for Dolores.
Can’t we ask the family for socks for her?
We did, and they got us a big bag of those men’s cotton crew socks that don’t have any give, they’re totally useless. Even if I could get them on, which I can’t, they’re too thick to fit in her shoes. Look, it’s easier to buy the damn socks than it is to talk to that family, and we’re making our own lives easier. Molly will know what to get, she was bitching at me about those stupid socks yesterday. Tell her I’ll chip in.
I see Melissa’s got a couple of really nice new sweaters, where did those come from?
Gurinder brought them in.
Gurinder from the third floor?
No, Gurinder from the kitchen. She says her mom lost a ton of weight.
Well, bless her, because Melissa’s gaining weight, and it’s getting to be a nightmare to dress her. Everything she owns is too tight except for those sweaters; they fit her perfectly…Oh my goodness, look at this: Molly found Christmas earrings that light up!
Let’s tell her to get a pair for Frannie!
Tacky! I make a face, and Michi and Lily laugh.
* * *
It’s been a lazy kind of a day. Even the aides are relaxed. I am sitting in the sunroom, which actually is a sunny room today, and Michiko and Molly are pretending to fill in their bowel books and shift reports, but really they finished long ago. They have surrendered to the warmth and light—so unusual for December on the west coast. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Molly with her feet up before. Lily is working in the East Wing today, but she’s come down to tell Molly that she’s finished the mending Molly asked her to do, and now she’s sitting on the side of Michiko’s chair, leaning over to rub her shoulders. It’s an old-fashioned feeling. There is warmth and companionship and ease…it’s lovely.
To make my happiness complete, Chris comes in and leans against the window chatting with the girls, who make a fuss over Astro.
Astro makes Chris relax. He’s friendlier because Astro is so friendly.
“You’re looking good since you started swimming again,” says Michiko.
How does she know? Chris smiles at me.
“You probably don’t remember, but Michiko was in some of my classes in grade twelve.”
“But you went to class, I didn’t.”
“You rebel,” chides Chris.
“You nerd,” she counters, grinning.
Lily is scratching Astro behind the ears.
“It feels so good to move. Since my mom had her stroke…it was a terrible blow. I don’t take mobility for granted anymore.”
“It’s a gift, that’s for sure.”
“We all say…well, people say, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to live like that. If that happens to me, let me die.’ Mom used to say that. But she’s adjusted. Haven’t you, Mom?”
I nod. That’s the short answer. I don’t have the energy for the long answer. I snap my fingers and Astro jumps onto my lap. His claws hurt me, but I don’t mind.
Chris is still talking. “Do your people here ever say they wish they could die?”
I lose track of the voices when everyone talks at once.
Sure they do.
We get that a lot.
But people don’t always mean it.
Sometimes they mean it.
Sometimes they’re just bitching. They get a little ache and they’re all, “Call the doctor!” and “Why don’t you do something?”
And people don’t get that there comes a time when we can’t do anything for them…
Or the cure is way worse than the disease.
They want death to be easy, but it’s not, it’s hard.
They want death to be simple, but it’s complicated. You get sick, you rally, you go down again…it can be a real roller coaster.
Yeah, lots of times we just don’t know when someone is going to die for sure. They bounce back.
And it’s really hard on families.
Why is that? The roller-coaster effect, I mean. That’s Chris.
Well, modern medicine, right? So we take good care of them, and they rally, and they swoop down again, and we take good care of them, and they rally and on it goes.
So when they finally die, it’s a shock, because they’ve come back so many times, it doesn’t seem possible that death will actually come.
I shudder. When I take a run at that buffalo jump, I hope to God I’m going over. On the other hand, that’s what I always said before, and I changed my mind when I came here. When my time comes, will I just want to live?
Astro jumps off of my knee.
The worst is when they can’t swallow, so we have to stop feeding them.
Suddenly we are all very serious, because we’re thinking about Mary.
Yeah, that’s bad.
Well, what happens then? asks Chris. They just…starve to death?
All the girls talk at once again.
It’s not quite like that.
It’s just like that!
Because what are you going to do? You can’t feed them if they’re choking…
Chris says, Can’t you adjust the texture of the food? I know some of your people are eating a purée diet.
We’re talking about someone who can’t even swallow thickened or purée. Like your mom, but there’s no point in putting a tube in this person because they’ve requested that not be done or because physically it’s not an option.
But it’s a long, slow death and I hate it.
Now it’s Chris’s turn to shudder. Isn’t there anything you can do?
Oh, we give them buckets of drugs.
But there’s a legal limit. And we’d be lying if we said it isn’t a horrible death because it is.
Can we not talk about this? says Lily. I think we’re upsetting Francesca.
All eyes on me, I try to smile.
“Come on, Mom. Let’s take a turn outside.”
“I’m sorry, Frannie,” says Molly. “We got a little carried away.”
Michiko looks a little shame-faced. “Sorry, Fran. Didn’t mean to bring you down.”
I wave like the queen. All very informative, I’m sure. I’m just grateful I didn’t throw up. On impulse, I mime sticking my fingers down my throat, and everyone laughs out of proportion to the joke.
We needed to. Laugh, that is.
* * *
But I feel differently, now, about what you did, Anna. I was so angry when you stopped treatment, I wanted to kill you mysel
f.
“You’re giving up!” I said.
You said, “You think love is trying to fix someone.”
“You still have a chance. Thirty percent, the doctor said. Why won’t you fight?”
“Thirty percent!” You coughed, bringing up blood, which you deposited in a tissue. You were so thin then, all your golden hair gone.
“Thirty percent is just the doctor’s way of saying ‘I’m covering the tush now.’ ”
“You don’t know that.”
“The cure is worse than the disease.”
How could I argue that, my poor friend?
“I’m not giving up,” you said. “I’m choosing what I want.”
It was a bitter cup. I had no choice but to drink it.
How can I blame you now, when I look at Mary, her health failing a little more every day? Who would want that?
* * *
Mary is on our minds because she’s barely eating now. She can still swallow, but only thickened juice.
“You can live a long, long time on just fluids,” Molly tells me, her eyes kind.
When Mary has a bed day, which is more often than not now, Ruby stops beside her and rests her hand on her tucked-in shoulder and says a little prayer. I think it’s “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,” but I’m not sure. Ruby keeps her voice low.
It’s odd to think how little I know, or Ruby either, for that matter, about the person who has stopped eating in the bed across from mine. Did she love her husband? How many children did she have? Did she prefer Dickens or did she read romances in the afternoon? When she had a bad day, did she put a dram of whiskey in her tea? We don’t know any of these things, and yet Mary belongs to us. This is Mary now, and she is ours.