jangled on her fingers like bangles. It was clear to Charlie that she hadn't actually been sleeping when they'd arrived, but had sent Buddy out with the excuse to give Grace time to dress and arrange her for presentation to her children.
Charlie noticed that the squash-blossom necklace was glowing dull red against Lois's nightgown and he felt a long, sad sigh rise in his chest. He hugged his mother and could feel the bones in her back and shoulders, as delicate and fragile as a bird's. Jane tried to fight down a sob as soon as she saw her mother, but managed only to produce what sounded like a painful snort. She fell to her knees at her mother's bedside.
Charlie knew it was perhaps the stupidest question one could ask the dying, yet he asked: "How are you doing, Mom?"
She patted his hand. "I could use an old-fashioned. Buddy won't let me have any alcohol, since I can't keep it down. You met Buddy?"
"He seems like a nice man," Jane said.
"Oh, he is. He's been good to me. We're just friends, you know."
Charlie looked across the bed at Jane, who raised her eyebrows.
"It's okay, we know you guys are living together," Charlie said.
"Living together? Me? What do you take me for?"
"Never mind, Mom."
His mother waved off the thought as if she was shooing a fly. "And how is that little Jewish girl of yours, Charlie?"
"Sophie? She's doing great, Mom."
"No, that's not it."
"What's not it?"
"It wasn't Sophie, it was something else. Pretty girl - too good for you, really."
"You're thinking of Rachel, Mom. She passed on five years ago, remember?"
"Well, you can't blame her, can you? You were such a sweet little boy, then I don't know what happened to you. Do you remember?"
"Yeah, Mom, I was sweet."
Lois looked at her daughter. "And what about you, Jane, have you found yourself a nice man? I hate the idea of you being alone."
"Still looking for Mr. Right," Jane said, giving Charlie the "we've got to get away and have an emergency meeting" head toss that she had practiced around their mother since she was eight.
"Mom, Jane and I will be right back. We can call Sophie and talk to her then, okay?"
"Who's Sophie?" Lois asked.
"She's your granddaughter, Mom. You remember, beautiful little Sophie?"
"Don't be silly, Charles, I'm not old enough to be a grandmother."
Outside the bedroom Jane fumbled around and in her purse and produced a pack of cigarettes, but couldn't figure out whether to smoke one or not. "Holy Motown Jesus with Pips, what the fuck is going on in there?"
"She's got a lot of morphine in her, Jane. Did you smell that acrid smell? That's her sweat glands trying to take the poisons out of her body that her kidneys and liver would normally filter. Her organs are starting to shut down, it means that there's a lot of toxins going to her brain."
"How do you know that?"
"I've read about it. Look, she never lived in reality completely, you know that? She hated the shop and hated Dad's work, even though it supported her. She hated his collecting, even though she was just as bad. And the thing with Buddy not living here - she's trying to reconcile who she's always thought she was with who she really is."
"Is that why I still want to punch her lights out?" Jane said. "That's wrong, isn't it?"
"Well, I suppose - "
"I'm a horrible person. My mother is dying of cancer and I want to punch her lights out."
Charlie put his arm around his sister's shoulder and started walking her toward the front door so she could go outside and smoke. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he said. "You're doing the same thing, trying to reconcile all the moms that Mom ever was - the one you wanted, the one she was when you needed her and she was there, the one she was when she didn't understand. Most of us don't live our lives with one, integrated self that meets the world, we're a whole bunch of selves. When someone dies, they all integrate into the soul - the essence of who we are, beyond the different faces we wear throughout our lives. You're just hating the selves you've always hated, and loving the ones you've always loved. It's bound to mess you up."
Jane stopped and stepped back from him. "Then how come it's not messing you up?"
"I don't know. Maybe because of what I went through with Rachel."
"So you think