The New Yorker Stories - Ann Beattie [265]
“No, no, it’s no problem. But last night you asked me to drop you at the hairdresser. Wasn’t that where you wanted to go?”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s today.”
“Yes. The appointment is in fifteen minutes. With Eloise.”
“I wouldn’t want to be named for somebody who caused a commotion at the Plaza. Would you?”
“No. Ma, why don’t you wait by the ticket booth, and when I drive—”
“You’re full of ideas! Why won’t you just let me go to the car with you?”
“In an elevator? You’re going to get in an elevator? All right. Fine with me.”
“It isn’t one of those glass ones, is it?”
“It does have one glass wall.”
“I’ll be like those other women, then. The ones who’ve hit the glass ceiling.”
“Here we are.”
“It has a funny smell. I’ll sit in a chair and wait for you.”
“Ma, that’s back across the street. You’re 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?”
A man inside the elevator, wearing a suit, holds the door open. “Thank you,” I say. “Ma?”
“I like your suggestion about going to that chapel,” she says. “Pick me up there.”
The man continues to hold the door with his shoulder, his eyes cast down.
“Not a chapel, a booth. Right there? That’s where you’ll be?”
“Yes. Over there with that man.”
“You see the man—” I step off the elevator and the doors close behind me.
“I did see him. He said that his son was getting married in Las Vegas. And I said, ‘I never got to go to my daughter’s weddings.’ And he said, ‘How many weddings did she have?’ and of course I answered honestly. So he said, ‘How did that make you feel?’ and I said that a dog was at one of them.”
“That was the wedding you came to. My first wedding. You don’t remember putting a bow on Ebeneezer’s neck? It was your idea.” I take her arm and guide her toward the elevator.
“Yes, I took it off a beautiful floral display that was meant to be inside the church, but you and that man wouldn’t 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.”
“It was a sunny day.”
“I don’t remember that. Did Grandma make your dress?”
“No. She offered, but I wore a dress we bought in London.”
“That was just desperate. It must have broken her heart.”
“Her arthritis was so bad she could hardly hold a pen, let alone a needle.”
“You must have broken her heart.”
“Well, Ma, this isn’t getting us to the car. What’s the plan?”
“The Marshall Plan.”
“What?”
“The Marshall Plan. People of my generation don’t scoff at that.”
“Ma, maybe we’d better give standing by the booth another try. You don’t even have to speak to the man. Will you do it?”
“Do you have some objection if I get on the elevator with you?”
“No, but this time if you say you’re going to do it you have to do it. We can’t have people holding doors open all day. People need to get where they’re going.”
“Listen to the things you say! They’re so obvious, I don’t know why you say them.”
She is looking through her purse. Just below the top of her head, I can see her scalp through her hair. “Ma,” I say.
“Yes, yes, coming,” she says. “I thought I might have the card with that hairstylist’s name.”
“It’s Eloise.”
“Thank you, dear. Why didn’t you say so before?”
I call my brother, Tim. “She’s worse,” I say. “If you want to visit her while she’s still more or less with it, I’d suggest you book a flight.”
“You don’t know,” he says. “The fight for tenure. How much rides on this one article.”
“Tim. As your sister. I’m not talking about your problems, I’m—”
“She’s been going downhill for some time. And God bless you for taking care of her! She’s a wonderful woman. And I give you all the credit. You’re a patient person.”
“Tim. She’s losing it by the day. If you care—if you care, see her now.”
“Let’s be honest: I don’t have deep feelings, and I wasn’t her favorite. That was the problem with Ren