As Paulie climbed the stairs, he paid no attention to the screams of anger and despair coming from his mother’s bedroom. When he reached the top landing, he stopped in the bathroom to pay a visit, then splashed some cold water on his face and proceeded to Ruby’s room, where the screaming had intensified.

“What’s the topic today, Ma?” Paulie asked as he entered the room, “Pissed-off broads get even with their cross-dressing, cheating husbands?”

“Get real,” Ruby said, staring straight ahead at the television. “I thought you were comin’ yesterday. You think because I got nothin’ to do but die, that I don’t mind waiting for you?”

“Sorry, Ma,” Paulie said, reaching for the power button on the television.

“Don’t touch my television,” Ruby said loudly, as one woman on the screen stood up and began physically attacking the other. “I’m watchin’.”

“What are you watching? One broad kill another?”

“If I could’ve gotten my hands on the bitch who stole your father, I would’ve done just like her on the TV.”

“No, you wouldn’t, Ma,” Paulie said turning off the television. “And you know that Pop wasn’t stolen; he left. A million fucking years ago.”

“Ah…whattya you know,” Ruby said, defeated. “Damn it, Paulie, I told you to leave the set on.”

“I know, Ma,” Paulie said, sitting on the bed beside her. “I know.”

“Did you bring me a cigarette?”

Paulie looked at the cluster of medicine bottles on Ruby’s nightstand. “Did you take your pills?”

“I asked did you bring me a cigarette?”

“No, Ma, not today.”

“Shit, what are you good for? And yeah, I took my pills. For what it’s worth.” Ruby picked up the remote control and pointed it at the television.

“Later for that,” Paulie said, taking the device from her and laying it on his father’s old dresser, to the left of Ruby’s bed.

“I just wanted to see the end of the show,” Ruby lamented.

“How about a hug, Ma?” Paulie smiled warmly at his mother, and for a moment, her sallow face became bright with joy.

“Okay,” she said, then slowly raised her frail bruised arms, as he delicately pulled her toward him. Paulie was too fine an actor to let his own pain show, but when Ruby’s head fell onto his shoulder and she could no longer see his face, he winced with grief at the bundle of bones who had given him life and was soon to lose hers.

“I love you, Ma,” Paulie said, holding on to her. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it yesterday.
There was no one to cover for me. I really tried.”

“You’re here now,” she said, holding him as tightly as her strength allowed. “Yesterday’s all forgotten.”

“That’s good, Ma,” Paulie said, releasing his hold and easing her slowly back into bed. “Tell me how you’re feeling. Are you eating?”

 “I’ve been feasting on mashed potatoes. Putrid, gooey slop they are…with gravy. And milkshakes: slimy, milky, tasteless goop. Hard to believe I used to eat that crap for pleasure. Hard to believe I’m trying to gain weight. Not with the hips I used to have.”

“Ma, please …”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Why should I be uncomfortable?” Paulie lied.

“You don’t fool no one,” Ruby said. “But you better quit smoking if you don’t wanna end up like me…with lung cancer. I was gonna quit once, then that bitch stole your father.”

“Yeah, Ma, I know.”

“As long as you’re still smoking, give me one of your cigarettes.”

“I don’t have ’em with me.”

“Yeah…Seen your old man lately?”

“I see him all the time. We work together. You know that.”

“Does he ask about me?”

“Sure, Ma. Sure he does.”

“Ever talk about comin’ to see me?”

“You said you didn’t want him to ever set foot in this house again. You want me to ask him to come see you?”

“Is he still with that bitch?”

“You know he is, Ma. They’re married.”

“Then screw him.”

“Okay, Ma. Can I get you anything before I go?”

“Damn it, Paulie, you gotta leave already?”

“Yeah,” Frankie said, entering the bedroom with a small vase of flowers. “Where are you going? You just got here.”

“Sorry. Gotta work. I got a late start today. I meant to come by earlier.”

Frankie looked disgusted. “Here, Ma, Arlene Humphries brought these by. Where would you like them?”

“Over there,” Ruby said, indicating her dresser, filled with half-empty perfume bottles, old lipsticks, and an assortment of hair products. “Just don’t mess anything up. I can’t stand it when you move my stuff around and I can’t find nothin’ afterwards. Just ’cause I ain’t go no hair now, don’t mean this wig don’t need brushin’. You hear me, Frankie?”
Frankie looked beaten. She put the vase down on the dresser, and walked over to the foot of the bed. “What can I get you to eat?”

“I ain’t hungry.”

“I’ll bet you were hungry until he had to go,” Frankie said bitterly.

“I said I got no appetite, Frankie. Now, leave me be.”

“Ma,” Frankie insisted, “the doctor said I gotta get you to eat. If you don’t keep your weight up …”

“What?” Ruby snapped. “I’ll die?”

Paulie kissed his mother and stood up. “I’ve gotta run, ladies. See you tomorrow.”

“Good-bye, son,” Ruby said. “Thanks for comin’ by.”

Frankie grabbed Paulie’s arm as he hurried out the door. “Can’t you ever do any of this for me?” she implored. “I’m dyin’ right along with her. I can’t take it. She’s driving me fucking crazy.”

“Sorry, Mary F.  You know I gotta work the night shift, and I’ve got to go borrow Pop’s truck and pick up supplies today. We’re way low. I really do have to leave. Could you let go of my arm now?”

Frankie looked hurt and angry as she released her grip. “So sorry to have detained you.”
“See you tomorrow,” Paulie said, as he rushed out the door.

“Don’t hurry back!” Frankie screamed after him. “You’re useless!”

“Don’t yell at your brother,” Ruby scolded. “He ain’t done nothin’ to you. You’re lucky to have him. Would you hand me my remote control?”

“As soon as you tell me what you want for dinner,” Frankie bargained. “Then I’ll give it to you.”

“I told you, I’m not hungry!” Ruby screamed. “Why the hell can’t you leave me be?”

“Fine!” Frankie said, picking up the remote control from Louie’s dresser and tossing it onto Ruby’s bed. “Eat this for dinner! I hear the channel selector is real tasty!”

Frankie turned on her heels and slammed out of the room. Ruby, about to zap the power button on, stopped and stared at her bedroom door, which was still rattled by the violent close. Alone in her world, she felt anger with herself for allowing her daughter, so loyal and so loving, to be hurt again – hurt by the pain that she couldn’t seem to stop inflicting. And so, the question goes: If a dying mother shows compassion for the daughter that she continues to maltreat, and there is no one to notice, does it make a difference?

***

Frankie kicked open the old screen door and felt the sun on her face. She wanted to take a good, long walk around the block to “cool off,” but she knew that was not possible. The inquiring minds were out in full force, and they would have questions for her: questions in the form of good wishes, questions in the form of invitations, and questions in the form of questions. Even staying on the porch for too long could be dangerous; but Frankie hoped the hot weather would render them too lazy to move.

Sitting down on the old wooden rocker, Frankie tried to calm her nerves. She noticed that Callie’s BMW was still across the street. For a moment, with Ruby and Paulie at the top of her angry list and Callie running a distant third, Frankie considered going next door to talk to her old friend; after all, Callie had already offered her services. But Frankie still couldn’t get past the betrayal, nor was she in the mood for any more disappointment.
So Frankie rocked slowly on the old chair, hoping instead that Callie would see her sitting there and come outside to talk. But Edna Murphy down the street had seen her first, and just as Frankie was beginning to calm down, she saw “Fat Edna” tramping her way toward the Cavalese home, intent as she always was on collecting whatever information necessary to maintain her status as the resident town crier.

Not today you don’t, Frankie thought, as she jumped up abruptly. Not today. And while the rocking chair swayed back and forth, as if it were still occupied, Frankie pulled open the weary screen door, walked inside, and immediately shut the front door behind her. She had barely reached the kitchen, trying to think of something her mother might eat, when she heard Edna Murphy leaning on the bell. Without a thought, Frankie flipped on the radio, closed the kitchen door, and for a splendid moment or two, blocked everyone out of her mind.

***

For Callie, her world again was cloaked in surrealism. Emily’s living room seemed distorted and impaired, as if the mere touch of a human hand would crumble it. Like a body in an open coffin, it was dead. Just a shell, a real and sometimes chilling reminder of what used to have life and purpose.

As Callie sat rigidly in her aunt’s old easy chair, unsettled by its touch, she wondered: why do things have to feel this way? Why couldn’t the room be alive with color and memories, perhaps like the homes that have become museums and have thick cords of velvet rope blocking their rooms from public access?

It was strange, Callie thought. Mrs. Balducci had resided in Emily’s house for over ten years, yet everything was exactly as Emily had left it. This old woman faithfully paid her monthly rent, yet lived for over a decade steeped in someone else’s memories, someone else’s tastes. Certainly, age changes everyone’s priorities, Callie thought, but does it change one’s need to be surrounded by the things that are one’s own?

Possessions don’t matter, she heard Emily say. Loved ones matter; memories matter. Don’t dwell on the unimportant.

Callie, momentarily stunned by the clarification from her dead aunt, shook off her spirit like a chill, not quite prepared for any further conversation. She smiled, as she noticed Emily’s lace doilies and silly knickknacks that graced the room. But when she thought about their fate, she felt sad. There was nothing here that she could use; there were few things she wanted. Why couldn’t she just leave everything as it was and walk away? Why did she have to dismantle her childhood, piece by piece, just to have its fragments end up God knows where?

Life goes on, Emily told her. These are mere objects; their spirit is with me, and within you. Do what has to be done. Stop your worrying.

Callie could not get a grip on what she was feeling or hearing. But she knew Frankie would understand. In fact, she was sure of it. But Frankie had made herself clear: heart-to-hearts were out.