“I think I’ve always been too focused on the past. I spent too much time dwelling on what I’d lost. I wasn’t always available for you and your brothers and sisters.”
There is a loud silence at my words. I hadn’t realized how extreme they would sound in the air, in this room. I have the sense that my furniture, the curtains, and even the photographs on the wall are surprised at me. I think, Why did I never speak like this before?
With a slight movement, Kelly tucks her body into the far corner of the big chair. “Mother, we really need to talk about your giving up driving.”
“Listen to me for one moment. I want to apologize to you—”
Kelly interrupts. Her sentences rush after one another. “You’re not making any sense, Mother. This is not the time to talk about apologies .” She says the word the way she would say snakes, as if it is something unpleasant and distasteful. “We have to pay attention to the subject at hand.”
“And what might that be?”
“You just had a car accident, remember?”
She seems to be waiting for me to respond, so I say, “Yes, I remember.”
“And just because you’re physically fine doesn’t mean you weren’t traumatized somehow. You aren’t safe on the road anymore.”
“I want to talk about the way I was with you when you were young.” Kelly does not return my gaze. Her eyes are focused somewhere slightly above my head. She scans the wall filled with family photos, documentation of her childhood. She seems to be searching for something familiar, something to rest her gaze on. Something that makes sense to her.
“Louis said you parked your car in the middle of the street. Why would you do that? You could have hurt another driver, or a pedestrian. I’ve spoken to Meggy and Theresa about this, and they agree that you should stop driving immediately.”
I am weary again. I don’t want to argue. “Soon.”
“Soon? What do you mean, soon?”
“I will stop driving soon. I have one more thing I need to take care of first. Now, if you don’t mind, Kelly, you’ve exhausted me and I’d like to take a nap.”
The conversation drags on for another tiresome minute or two while Kelly tries to confiscate the keys to my Lincoln. She apparently isn’t prepared to go so far as to snatch the keys out of my purse, so she leaves, but not before giving me her customary kiss on the cheek. I can see that the familiarity of the gesture calms her. It lets her put this disturbing visit back into some kind of order in her head.
I decide not to continue trying this approach with my children. Maybe speaking to them one by one isn’t the best way. I should think about Easter, and what I might say to them as a group. Individually, they will each think I am off my rocker. It will not occur to them that I am just being honest. Or maybe Kelly did recognize that and that was what scared her. I’m not sure any child really wants to know their parent, or vice versa. Maybe that knowledge and that truth are too much. I’m not sure. These are new thoughts for me, and I need to find a way through them. I am not accustomed to having new thoughts, and at seventy-nine am not at all thrilled to have to learn.
THE NEXT morning, I drive to early-morning Mass, and then from St. Francis’s to the girls’ house on Holly Court. I let myself in the back door with my key. I fill the kettle and place it on the stove. I sit in the sturdiest chair at the kitchen table and keep both feet on the floor. I am wearing my good tweed skirt with a pink blouse. I don’t mind waiting for Gracie to wake up.
Lila comes downstairs first. She is wearing her work outfit of thin blue pants and a matching top. She smiles to see me. “Feeling better, Gram? How did you get here?”
“I drove. And, as you can see, I’m fine.”
“I told Mom you were. But she said you’d decided not to drive anymore.”
“That’s not quite true. I want to thank you, Lila, for looking in on me in the hospital.”
Lila blushes at the very top of her cheeks. “Don’t be silly, Gram. I just sat with you for a few minutes. It’s not like I did anything.”
“Well, I appreciated what you did do. Is your sister here?”
Lila