The Rabbit Hole
as Likely Explanation
My mother does not remember being invited to my first wedding. This comes up in conversation when I pick her up from the lab, where blood has been drawn to see how sheās doing on her medication. Sheās sitting in an orange plastic chair, giving the man next to her advice Iām not sure he asked for about how to fill out forms on a clipboard. Apparently, before I arrived, she told him that she had not been invited to either of my weddings.
āI donāt know why you sent me to have my blood drawn,ā she says.
āThe doctor asked me to make an appointment. I did not send you.ā
āWell, you were late. I sat there waiting and waiting.ā
āYou showed up an hour before your appointment, Ma. Thatās why you were there so long. I arrived fifteen minutes after the nurse called me.ā Itās my authoritative but cajoling voice. One tone negates the other and nothing much gets communicated.
āYou sound like Perry Mason,ā she says.
āMa, thereās a person trying to get around you.ā
āWell, Iām very sorry if Iām holding anyone up. They can just honk and get into the other lane.ā
A woman hurries around my mother in the hospital corridor, narrowly missing an oncoming wheelchair brigade: four chairs, taking up most of the hallway.
āShe drives a sports car, that one,ā my mother says. āYou can always tell. But look at the size of her. How does she fit in the car?ā
I decide to ignore her. She has on dangling hoop earrings, and thereās a scratch on her forehead and a Band-Aid on her cheekbone. Her face looks a little like an obstacle course. āWho is going to get our car for us?ā she asks.
āWho do you think? Sit in the lobby, and Iāll turn in to the driveway.ā
āA car makes you think about the future all the time, doesnāt it?ā she says. āYou have to do all that imagining: how youāll get out of the garage and into your lane and how youāll deal with all the traffic, and then one time, remember, just as you got to the driveway a man and a woman stood smack in the center, arguing, and they wouldnāt move so you could pull in.ā
āMy life is a delight,ā I say.
āI donāt think your new job agrees with you. Youāre such a beautiful seamstressāa real, old-fashioned talentāand what do you do but work on computers and leave that lovely house in the country and drive into this . . . this crap five days a week.ā
āThank you, Ma, for expressing even more eloquently than Iāā
āDid you finish those swordfish costumes?ā
āStarfish. I was tired, and I watched TV last night. Now, if you sit in that chair over there youāll see me pull in. Itās windy. I donāt want you standing outside.ā
āYou always have some reason why I canāt be outside. Youāre afraid of the bees, arenāt you? After that bee stung your toe when you were raking, you got desperate about yellow jacketsāthatās what theyāre called. You shouldnāt have had on sandals when you were raking. Wear your hiking boots when you rake leaves, if you canāt find another husband to do it for you.ā
āPlease stop lecturing me andāā
āGet your car! Whatās the worst that can happen? I have to stand up for a few minutes? Itās not like Iām one of those guards outside Buckingham Palace who has to look straight ahead until he loses consciousness.ā
āOkay. You can stand here and Iāll pull in.ā
āWhat car do you have?ā
āThe same car I always have.ā
āIf I donāt come out, come in for me.ā
āWell, of course, Ma. But why wouldnāt you come out?ā
āSUVs can block your view. They drive right up, like they own the curb. Theyāve got those tinted windows like Liz Taylor might be inside, or a gangster. That lovely man from Bruneiāwhy did I say that? I must have been thinking of the Sultan of Brunei. Anyway, that man I was talking to said that in New York City he was getting out of a cab at a hotel at the same exact moment that Elizabeth Taylor got out of a limousine. He said she just kept handing little dogs out the door to everybody. The doorman. The bellhop. Her hairdresser had one under each arm. But they werenāt hersāthey were his own dogs! He didnāt have a free hand to help Elizabeth Taylor. So that desperate manāā
āMa, weāve got to get going.ā
āIāll come with you.ā
āYou hate elevators. The last time we tried that, you wouldnāt walkāā
āWell, the stairs didnāt kill me, did they?ā
āI wasnāt parked five flights up. Look, just stand by the window andāā
āI know whatās happening. Youāre telling me over and over!ā
I raise my hands and drop them. āSee you soon,ā I say.
āIs it the green car? The black car that I always think is green?ā
āYes, Ma. My only car.ā
āWell, you donāt have to say it like that. I hope you never know what itās like to have small confusions about things. I understand that your car is black. Itās when itās in strong sun that it looks a little green.ā
āBack in five,ā I say, and enter the revolving door. A man ahead of me, with both arms in casts, pushes on the glass with his forehead. Weāre out in a few seconds. Then he turns and looks at me, his face crimson.
āI didnāt know if I pushed, whether it might make the door go too fast,ā I say.
āI figured there was an explanation,ā he says dully, and walks away.
The fat woman who passed us in the hallway is waiting on the sidewalk for the light to change, chatting on her cell phone. When the light blinks green, she moves forward with her head turned to the side, as if the phone clamped to her ear were leading her. She has on an ill-fitting blazer and one of those long skirts that everybody wears, with sensible shoes and a teeny purse dangling over her shoulder. āRight behind you,ā my mother says distinctly, catching up with me halfway to the opposite curb.
āMa, thereās an elevator.ā
āYou do enough things for your mother! Itās desperate of you to do this on your lunch hour. Does picking me up mean you wonāt get any food? Now that you can see Iām fine, you could send me home in a cab.ā
āNo, no, itās no problem. But last night you asked me to drop you at the hairdresser. Wasnāt that where you wanted to go?ā
āOh, I donāt think thatās today.ā
āYes. The appointment is in fifteen minutes. With Eloise.ā
āI wouldnāt want to be named for somebody who caused a commotion at the Plaza. Would you?ā
āNo. Ma, why donāt you wait by the ticket booth, and when I driveāā
āYouāre full of ideas! Why wonāt you just let me go to the car with you?ā
āIn an elevator? Youāre going to get in an elevator? All right. Fine with me.ā
āIt isnāt one of those glass ones, is it?ā
āIt does have one glass wall.ā
āIāll be like those other women, then. The ones whoāve hit the glass ceiling.ā
āHere we are.ā
āIt has a funny smell. Iāll sit in a chair and wait for you.ā
āMa, thatās back across the street. Youāre here now. I can introduce you to the guy over there in the booth, who collects the money. Or you can just take a deep breath and ride up with me. Okay?ā
A man inside the elevator, wearing a suit, holds the door open. āThank you,ā I say. āMa?ā
āI like your suggestion about going to that chapel,ā she says. āPick me up there.ā
The man continues to hold the door with his shoulder, his eyes cast down.
āNot a chapel, a booth. Right there? Thatās where youāll be?ā
āYes. Over there with that man.ā
āYou see the manāā I step off the elevator and the doors close behind me.
āI did see him. He said that his son was getting married in Las Vegas. And I said, āI never got to go to my daughterās weddings.ā And he said, āHow many weddings did she have?ā and of course I answered honestly. So he said, āHow did that make you feel?ā and I said that a dog was at one of them.ā
āThat was the wedding you came to. My first wedding. You donāt remember putting a bow on Ebeneezerās neck? It was your idea.ā I take her arm and guide her toward the elevator.
āYes, I took it off a beautiful floral display that was meant to be inside the church, but you and that man wouldnāt go inside. There was no flat place to stand. If you were a woman wearing heels, there was no place to stand anywhere, and it was going to rain.ā
āIt was a sunny day.ā
āI donāt remember that. Did Grandma make your dress?ā
āNo. She offered, but I wore a dress we bought in London.ā
āThat was just desperate. It must have broken her heart.ā
āHer arthritis was so bad she could hardly hold a pen, let alone a needle.ā
āYou must have broken her heart.ā
āWell, Ma, this isnāt getting us to the car. Whatās the plan?ā
āThe Marshall Plan.ā
āWhat?ā
āThe Marshall Plan. People of my generation donāt scoff at that.ā
āMa, maybe weād better give standing by the booth another try. You donāt even have to speak to the man. Will you do it?ā
āDo you have some objection if I get on the elevator with you?ā
āNo, but this time if you say youāre going to do it you have to do it. We canāt have people holding doors open all day. People need to get where theyāre going.ā
āListen to the things you say! Theyāre so obvious, I donāt know why you say them.ā
She is looking through her purse. Just below the top of her head, I can see her scalp through her hair. āMa,ā I say.
āYes, yes, coming,ā she says. āI thought I might have the card with that hairstylistās name.ā
āItās Eloise.ā
āThank you, dear. Why didnāt you say so before?ā
I call my brother, Tim. āSheās worse,ā I say. āIf you want to visit her while sheās still more or less with it, Iād suggest you book a flight.ā
āYou donāt know,ā he says. āThe fight for tenure. How much rides on this one article.ā
āTim. As your sister. Iām not talking about your problems, Iāmāā
āSheās been going downhill for some time. And God bless you for taking care of her! Sheās a wonderful woman. And I give you all the credit. Youāre a patient person.ā
āTim. Sheās losing it by the day. If you careāif you care, see her now.ā
āLetās be honest: I donāt have deep feelings, and I wasnāt her favorite. That was the problem with RenĆ©: Did I have any deep feelings? I mean, kudos! Kudos to you! Do you have any understanding of why Mom and Dad got together? He was a recluse, and she was such a party animal. She never understood a person turning to books for serious study, did she? Did she? Maybe Iād be the last to know.ā
āTim, I suggest you visit before Christmas.ā
āThat sounds more than a little ominous. May I say that? You call when Iāve just gotten home from a day I couldnāt paraphrase, and you tell meāas you have so many timesāthat sheās about to die, or lose her marbles entirely, and then you sayāā
āTake care, Tim,ā I say, and hang up.
I drive to my motherās apartment to kill time while she gets her hair done, and go into the living room and see that the plants need watering. Two are new arrivals, plants that friends brought her when she was in the hospital, having her foot operated on: a kalanchoe and a miniature chrysanthemum. I rinse out the mug she probably had her morning coffee in and fill it under the faucet. I douse the plants, refilling the mug twice. My brother is rethinking Wordsworth at a university in Ohio, and for years I have been back in this small town in Virginia where we grew up, looking out for our mother. Kudos, as he would say.
āOkay,ā the doctor says. āWeāve known the time was coming. It will be much better if sheās in an environment where her needs are met. Iām only talking about assisted living. If it will help, Iām happy to meet with her and explain that things have reached a point where she needs a more comprehensive support system.ā
āSheāll say no.ā
āRegardless,ā he says. āYou and I know that if there was a fire she wouldnāt be capable of processing the necessity of getting out. Does she eat dinner? We canāt say for sure that she eats, now, can we? She needs to maintain her caloric intake. We want to allow her to avail herself of resources structured so that she can best meet her own needs.ā
āSheāll say no,ā I say again.
āMay I suggest that you let Tim operate as a support system?ā
āForget him. Heās already been denied tenure twice.ā
āB...