by Beth Graham
(calling out) Mom, we need a damp cloth.
BERNICE
(calling back from the other room) What are you telling me for?
IRIS gets a damp cloth.
SARAH
I’m a mess. Icing in my hair, sprinkles down my bra. Shit. They were all decorated too. Heaven helped me.
IRIS
She has a daughter named Heaven. I’m not kidding. Heaven. Who names their kid that? I guess if you want her to grow up to be a stripper.
SARAH
Shit.
IRIS
(handing the cloth to SARAH) Here. Clean yourself up.
SARAH
Thanks. You won’t believe what Heaven did yesterday.
IRIS
What’d she do?
SARAH
A poop! Right in her potty. A big poop too; solid. Then she wiped her own little bum bum, all by herself, held up the toilet paper, and said, “Yuck.”
IRIS
No kidding?
SARAH
Last week she ate an entire box of crayons and pooped a rainbow. Kids are too funny.
IRIS
Yeah, hilarious.
SARAH
We just got Heaven her very own little potty that she can sit on all by herself, so I’m sure I’ll have a lot more stories to tell you.
IRIS
And I look forward to each and every one of ’em.
SARAH
You better. She’s your niece.
IRIS
All Sarah talked about these days was—
SARAH
Heaven, Heaven, Heaven.
IRIS
It’s like she’d died and given birth to—
SARAH
Heaven.
IRIS
Okay, she hadn’t died, but she had definitely given birth.
Sarah lives on the outskirts of the city with Mike. I probably see her once a week when she tells me all about—
SARAH
Heaven threw up all over the car. I’m talking projectile vomit. Sprayed everywhere. It hit the back of my head while I was driving. Disgusting. Hilarious, but disgusting. I’ll never get the smell out of the car. Never.
(calling out) Mom? Is there room in the fridge for cupcakes?
BERNICE
(calling back) Good luck!
SARAH crosses to the fridge.
IRIS
Heaven’s an exciting kid, and it’s great to hear all about her bodily functions, but there is so much verbal debris out there in the atmosphere already and sometimes. . .
What I’m getting at is that my sister is the talkative one.
PETER enters from the living room.
Whereas my brother, Peter. . .
(to PETER) Hey.
PETER
Hey.
IRIS
As soon as Peter graduated from university, he moved. Not far, but far enough. He’s a statistician. The smart one. The youngest. He didn’t even tell me he was in town.
SARAH
(to PETER) Hey, Petey.
PETER
Hey.
IRIS
(to PETER) Wow. I haven’t seen you in months.
PETER
Yeah.
IRIS
How are the statistics going?
PETER
Good.
IRIS
Still living in the same place?
PETER
Uh-huh.
IRIS
I wonder if Peter feels more comfortable with numbers than he does with people. Or maybe he’s just like this around his dumb sisters.
SARAH
Mom, how much stuff can you cram in here? It’s like a clown fridge.
BERNICE
Are you calling your mother a clown?
SARAH
Wouldn’t dream of it.
IRIS
I don’t think we’d all been in a room together since my dad’s funeral. The oldest, the youngest, and moi—the middle. The three of us could not be more different. Is it possible for people to have the same DNA and have nothing in common? Switched at birth, I bet. It happens. People take the wrong kids home from the hospital all the time.
BERNICE enters.
BERNICE
My bambinos. Come here.
IRIS
Mom hugged us all. She’s a good hugger. She always gives you a good solid squeeze and hangs on for just the right amount of time. Then she takes your face in her hands and says—
BERNICE
Like the Italians.
IRIS —
and gives you a big kiss on each cheek.
BERNICE
(kissing IRIS on each cheek) Mwah. Mwah.
IRIS
The hug I like, but the kissing I can do without. I’m always rubbing off lipstick.
BERNICE
Oooh, your skin doesn’t look so good. Have you been picking?
IRIS
Please, can we just leave my skin alone?
BERNICE
I know I can leave it alone. The question is, my dear—can you?
IRIS
I’m doing my best.
BERNICE
That’s all I ask for, your best. I made a casserole. Your favourite.
IRIS
Excellent.
I don’t know when my mother decided that casserole was my favourite. I don’t like casserole. I prefer my food in separate areas on my plate, not all mushed up together in one giant, goopy spoonful.
BERNICE
Tuna!
IRIS
Excellent!
BERNICE exits.
You have to choose your battles and casserole was not a hill that I wanted to die on.
SARAH
I wish I could have brought Heaven but Mom wanted it to just be us. Iris, what’s this about anyway?
IRIS
Beats me.
SARAH
Thought I’d ask. You’re always the first to know.
IRIS
Haven’t got a clue.
SARAH
Wow. Mom kept us all in the dark—even Iris.
IRIS
You detect that tone, right? Sarah is the queen of tone.
I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.
SARAH
Hope so. How’s work, Peter?
PETER
Good.
BERNICE enters wearing a cape.
BERNICE
Ta-da! Looks like we have quorum.
IRIS
What’s with the cape?
BERNICE
I thought we needed a bit more ceremony.
SARAH
What’s this about?
BERNICE
(using a wooden spoon as a gavel) I hereby call this meeting to order. I need a seconder.
SARAH
I’ll second that.
IRIS
I third it.
PETER
. . . I fourth it.
BERNICE
Then, it’s official.
SARAH
Let’s hear the news.
BERNICE
Drum roll, please.
IRIS does a drum roll on the table.
Iris, you should have been a musician.
IRIS hits an imaginary cymbal.
BERNICE makes a trumpeting sound.
IRIS
Wow, the mouth trumpet.
BERNICE
Ladies and gentlemen!
IRIS
Mom was really putting on a show. It used to work like a charm on us when we were—
BERNICE
Child
ren of all ages!
SARAH
Mom.
IRIS
But we are wise to it now.
BERNICE
Lend me your ears.
SARAH
We’re waiting.
BERNICE
Fine.
BERNICE takes off the cape.
Here goes.
Sarah, Iris, Peter, my bambinos. . . there’s no fun way of telling you what I need to tell you, so I’ll just come right out and say. . . what needs to be said. . . I. . . I uh. . . excuse me. . .
IRIS
And then she started to cry.
SARAH
Mom?
BERNICE
Will you give me a moment?
IRIS
So, we did. We gave her a moment.
It was strange to see my mom cry like this because she’s not this kind of a crier. Out in the open, I mean. She’s like me. We cry at the odd commercial on TV or a song on the radio but never about real things.
She and I were the only ones who never cried at my dad’s funeral. My mom even said afterward:
BERNICE
Well, that’s that.
IRIS
And she was right. He was gone. Poof. Here for one moment, one brief, impermanent moment, and gone the next. The memories of my father were packed into boxes and given away to second-hand stores or hung up in photographs on the walls of our houses. That was that.
We’re practical. Mom and I. People die. That’s life. You say goodbye and you move on.
BERNICE
You gotta keep on keepin’ on.
IRIS
My mom had been a social worker. She’d seen some pretty crazy stuff, so maybe that’s what dried up her tears. I don’t know what my excuse is.
BERNICE
Pull yourself together, Bernice.
IRIS
My mom hates her name, refers to it as the curse her mother gave her. She makes an effort to say it aloud as little as possible. So, this was odd behaviour. Sarah pulled out some Kleenex that she always keeps rolled up in her sleeve.
SARAH
(giving BERNICE Kleenex) Here.
IRIS
And the reluctant Bernice blew her nose and straightened up.
BERNICE
Thank you, Sarah.
IRIS
She has good posture. Posture is important to her.
BERNICE
Just give me a moment to regain my poise.
IRIS
Poise. That’s what she calls it. She’s always after me for slouching.
BERNICE
You too, Iris, it looks like your chest is apologizing for something.
IRIS
Sorry.
I’d been silently noting my mother’s fantastic posture because I was avoiding a question. A question I don’t think I’ve ever asked before in my life.
Mom, what’s wrong?
BERNICE
I’ve been having trouble remembering things.
IRIS
Oh.
PETER
Hm.
SARAH
What?
BERNICE
I said I’ve been having trouble remembering things.
IRIS
And that was that. Only it wasn’t.
PETER
Like Grandma?
BERNICE
What a way to go.
IRIS
My mom always says that when Grandma comes up in conversation.
BERNICE
What a way to go.
IRIS
My mom’s mom had had trouble remembering things and it had gotten worse and worse until she would sit and stare at a pair of pants and not remember how to even put them on. This broke my mom’s heart.
So, when she said:
BERNICE
I’ve been having trouble remembering things.
IRIS
We all leaned in a little closer.
SARAH
No, you haven’t.
BERNICE
Yes, I have.
SARAH
That makes zero sense.
BERNICE
It seems pretty straightforward to me.
SARAH
I see you all the time and you’re perfectly fine.
BERNICE
I’ve been having trouble for a while.
PETER
How long?
BERNICE
It’s hard to say. A year. Maybe longer.
SARAH
A year?
BERNICE
Maybe longer. I didn’t notice it so much when your father was around. He kind of filled things in for me.
SARAH
No, he didn’t.
BERNICE
Yes. Sarah, he—
SARAH
No way.
IRIS
Let her finish.
BERNICE
Lately, on my own, I’ve been forgetting things and getting. . . confused. I went to see Doctor Funditis and he gave me a test.
IRIS
And?
BERNICE
It’s what your grandmother had.
IRIS
Oh no.
PETER
Alzheimer’s?
BERNICE
Yes.
SARAH
No way.
PETER
Really?
SARAH
You’re being hypersensitive because of Grandma.
BERNICE
What a way to go.
SARAH
Doctor Funditis doesn’t know what he’s talking about.
BERNICE
He does.
SARAH
He’s a family doctor, not a specialist.
PETER
Aren’t you too young for Alzheimer’s?
BERNICE
Apparently not.
PETER
You can get that when you’re fifty-five?
BERNICE
Fifty-nine, honey, but thanks anyway.
PETER
You can get that when you’re fifty-nine?
BERNICE
Apparently so.
SARAH
According to Doctor Funditis.
BERNICE
That’s the diagnosis, Sarah.
SARAH
You can’t trust a doctor whose name sounds like a disease.
BERNICE
He’s been my doctor for years.
SARAH
Funditis. Gingivitis. Arthritis.
BERNICE
I trust him.
SARAH
Colitis!
BERNICE
That’s enough.
SARAH
Did you get a second opinion?
BERNICE
No.
SARAH
You should always get a second opinion.
BERNICE
I don’t need one.
SARAH
Why not?
BERNICE
Well, my mother had it, so it seems reasonable that I would too.
SARAH
No, it doesn’t.
IRIS
Is it genetic?
BERNICE
It can be.
SARAH
Mom, you’ve convinced yourself that you have it. You’re not anything like Grandma.
BERNICE
Not yet.
SARAH
You need to see an expert.
BERNICE
I don’t think that’s nece
ssary.
SARAH
I’ll take you.
IRIS
She says she doesn’t need to go.
SARAH
People get misdiagnosed all the time.
IRIS
Let her make the decision.
BERNICE
Sarah, I’m inclined to believe Doctor Funditis on this one.
SARAH
But doctors can be wrong. It’s best to double-check. You need to see a specialist. I’ll take you. It’s not a big deal.
IRIS
Not a big deal? I don’t know if you heard what she just said.
SARAH
Yeah, I heard. I’m not deaf.
IRIS
It’s a big deal, okay? Alzheimer’s is a big fucking deal!
BERNICE
Language.
SARAH
Exactly, that’s why I’m—
IRIS
Denying it?
SARAH
Better than blindly accepting it.
IRIS
Oh my god, Sarah, you are such a—
BERNICE
Iris! Sarah! That’s enough.
SARAH
Such a what?
IRIS
But, Mom, she can’t just—
BERNICE
Zip it.
SARAH
Such a what? Huh?
BERNICE
Zip.
SARAH
No, I want to hear Iris say it—
BERNICE
Zip.
SARAH
What were you going to call me?
BERNICE
End of discussion!
IRIS
My sister and I—nose to nose. Ready to go.
SARAH
(under her breath) Say it.
IRIS
I wanted to say to her:
You dick. You treat everyone like a child. You treat your own mother like a child and guess what? She’s not your child; she’s your mom. That picks my ass. You really pick my ass.
And to be fair, I’m sure there were a few things she was dying to say to me:
SARAH
Know-it-all Iris. You think you’re so much better than everybody else. You come across as a real cold-hearted bitch, you know that?
IRIS
Shithead.
SARAH
Twat.
IRIS
Super shithead!
SARAH
Super twat!
IRIS
But before we could open our mouths and say any of this to each other—
BERNICE
Sarah’s right. I’ll go. There’s nothing wrong with another opinion.
SARAH
Ha!
IRIS
Bernice had spoken. There was no choice but to back down.
SARAH
Ha.
IRIS
My mom spooned up the casserole and gave me a little extra because it is my favourite after all.
BERNICE
You’re too skinny.