him. Buddy held loosely onto things. She felt a wave of affection for him, having affectionate feelings in abundance.
There’s a rock garden down there, she said, feeling bold.
Is there?
You want to see?
He pushed back from the sill. Without turning to the others they opened the screen door to the long porch and went out. At another time Ann would have glanced back to the girls. This was different. This was hers.
5. T HE R OCK G ARDEN
T hey came in one after another, up the stairs on the pale-green nailed carpet around the flat top of the landing past the prints of ships sailing through icebergs and ships aflame at night, past the black framed photographs in the hall of Ann Katz on a zebra banquet wearing satin straps and thick bracelets, Margie and Constance in bathtub suds, the twins holding fishing poles, Ted stepping out of a plane cockpit, Ann in riding boots by a tent, Oscar and Ann on the terrace, little Paul with a parrot on his shoulder … they glided into her room and stood underwater holding their breaths watching her breathe water staying very still till finally they could leave, get out and gulp air.
They entered fearful, some were better at hiding it than others.
Mrs. Storey brought her dog who set his head on the bed next to Ann Lord’s limp hand. Hello old girl, she said coming in, and Good-bye old girl, when she left.
Mrs. Roland, Elsie’s eighty-eight-year-old mother, came up with a cane wearing a purple skirt above her stick legs. You’re beginning to look Oriental, she told Ann. You’ll be fine, she said, and thumped her knee. Ann said, I know.
They came to her bedside and talked about what was going on downstairs, out the door, out on the street, in other houses, out in the world. It had been hot that weekend, it didn’t rain in Dover but did in Beverly Farms. The beach was glorious. Camilla Shepley was getting married again, Penny Montgomery’s wedding in New Orleans was going to be enormous and she was organizing the whole thing. Nina was arriving on Friday, she had the second lead in this play, something about kids on the street in Brooklyn. Lila Cutler hoped to get down from Maine but her back was bad. The traffic on the way over was terrible, the Square was a mess. The Eastmans had telephoned and so had Mrs. Beegin and Mrs. Brocaw and Mrs. Weld and Dan Shepley.
What else?
they said,
What else?
There was an interesting article, they’d seen something stupid on TV, what was the movie they wanted to see? They’d had dinner at the Whites’, they were still not talking to the Brocaws, Peach Howe was visiting from Florida, she’d definitely had a lift, Ollie Granger had won the race with the Hallowells, they’d brought her a pillowcase from Kit Eastman’s store, Jared Brocaw punched out the starter at the golf course, there was a wonderful Winslow Homer exhibit at the MFA they’d not been to yet. Ann Lord listened propped against the pillow following the movement when a person entered and put down a vase on a surface which up until then had never seen a vase or picked up a newspaper before sitting down in a chair or leaned a briefcase by the door or turned on the lamp in the corner when it started to get dark.
Someone held the cup while she tried to clamp her lips onto the straw but the straw swiveled away. A hand came forward to help and she waved it away, what else did she have to do but fumble with a straw? Everyone went silent and she had to say, Go on I’m listening, and continued fumbling, as if nibbling air. They did their best to talk on
what else? let’s see
but kept watching till her lips clamped onto the straw and she drew up a sip of lemonade andthey could heave a sigh of relief.
What else?
It was important that someone always be talking otherwise the silence took hold like a Virginia creeper invading a garden and darkened the air with what was going on in the room, the battle with pain, the downhill journey. It was not discussed that they were all here to see her
There’s a rock garden down there, she said, feeling bold.
Is there?
You want to see?
He pushed back from the sill. Without turning to the others they opened the screen door to the long porch and went out. At another time Ann would have glanced back to the girls. This was different. This was hers.
5. T HE R OCK G ARDEN
T hey came in one after another, up the stairs on the pale-green nailed carpet around the flat top of the landing past the prints of ships sailing through icebergs and ships aflame at night, past the black framed photographs in the hall of Ann Katz on a zebra banquet wearing satin straps and thick bracelets, Margie and Constance in bathtub suds, the twins holding fishing poles, Ted stepping out of a plane cockpit, Ann in riding boots by a tent, Oscar and Ann on the terrace, little Paul with a parrot on his shoulder … they glided into her room and stood underwater holding their breaths watching her breathe water staying very still till finally they could leave, get out and gulp air.
They entered fearful, some were better at hiding it than others.
Mrs. Storey brought her dog who set his head on the bed next to Ann Lord’s limp hand. Hello old girl, she said coming in, and Good-bye old girl, when she left.
Mrs. Roland, Elsie’s eighty-eight-year-old mother, came up with a cane wearing a purple skirt above her stick legs. You’re beginning to look Oriental, she told Ann. You’ll be fine, she said, and thumped her knee. Ann said, I know.
They came to her bedside and talked about what was going on downstairs, out the door, out on the street, in other houses, out in the world. It had been hot that weekend, it didn’t rain in Dover but did in Beverly Farms. The beach was glorious. Camilla Shepley was getting married again, Penny Montgomery’s wedding in New Orleans was going to be enormous and she was organizing the whole thing. Nina was arriving on Friday, she had the second lead in this play, something about kids on the street in Brooklyn. Lila Cutler hoped to get down from Maine but her back was bad. The traffic on the way over was terrible, the Square was a mess. The Eastmans had telephoned and so had Mrs. Beegin and Mrs. Brocaw and Mrs. Weld and Dan Shepley.
What else?
they said,
What else?
There was an interesting article, they’d seen something stupid on TV, what was the movie they wanted to see? They’d had dinner at the Whites’, they were still not talking to the Brocaws, Peach Howe was visiting from Florida, she’d definitely had a lift, Ollie Granger had won the race with the Hallowells, they’d brought her a pillowcase from Kit Eastman’s store, Jared Brocaw punched out the starter at the golf course, there was a wonderful Winslow Homer exhibit at the MFA they’d not been to yet. Ann Lord listened propped against the pillow following the movement when a person entered and put down a vase on a surface which up until then had never seen a vase or picked up a newspaper before sitting down in a chair or leaned a briefcase by the door or turned on the lamp in the corner when it started to get dark.
Someone held the cup while she tried to clamp her lips onto the straw but the straw swiveled away. A hand came forward to help and she waved it away, what else did she have to do but fumble with a straw? Everyone went silent and she had to say, Go on I’m listening, and continued fumbling, as if nibbling air. They did their best to talk on
what else? let’s see
but kept watching till her lips clamped onto the straw and she drew up a sip of lemonade andthey could heave a sigh of relief.
What else?
It was important that someone always be talking otherwise the silence took hold like a Virginia creeper invading a garden and darkened the air with what was going on in the room, the battle with pain, the downhill journey. It was not discussed that they were all here to see her
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