maybe …?”
“Yes, of course.” Ruggles looked at his watch and leaned back in his chair, relieved to be able to put this confrontation off. “She’s probably taking her before-dinner walk around the grounds. I can casually introduce you as a visitor.”
Ruggles led Moses outside. They walked along a tree-lined pebble path until Ruggles pointed. “That’s her.” Ten yards ahead of them, a woman ambled as if she were strolling freely in a park rather than a walled-in compound, head angled toward the sky. “If we speed up a bit we’ll catch her.”
“No, let’s follow her a minute.”
Moses began to sweat profusely; his knees jellied and his body trembled. Fear overwhelmed his curiosity. He grabbed Ruggles by the arm to steady himself. “I can’t. I can’t now.”
Ruggles, grim-faced, nodded. “You can come back anytime.”
Moses drove back to the hotel, still feeling emotionally unmoored from the guideposts, internal and external, that had marked and peopled his world.
At the hotel he called Jay. “Guess what? I got two moms. Both are living on worlds they created. One includes me and one doesn’t.”
“You should call the one that includes you. She is not in good shape. She feels neglected.” Jay and Hannah had spent the morning and afternoon together, and Jay went home after a late lunch.
“What? Why? I called last night and you saw her today.”
“It’s not rational, but she’s afraid to lose you.”
“Jay, I am so worn out. I feel so beaten down. I feel like giving up.”
“NO! You can’t.” Jay panicked. “You can’t. It would destroy your mom. And
me
. Please, Moses.”
Jay’s fear of losing Moses was colored by the loss of her mother who, when Jay was twenty-three, began to slide into the netherworld of Alzheimer’s. Jay had made plans to move back to Miami to be with her mother and to help her father and brother run the art gallery. Jay’s belief in the vows of “forbetter or worse” were shattered when her father put his wife in a home and began dating one of her nurses. Jay gave up her plans to move back to Miami. Her mother remained in the “home,” too physically strong to succumb yet unable to recognize Jay when she made one of her now rare visits.
When Moses’s illness struck, Jay resisted the notion that the world could be so unjust. Better, she often thought, if he would flee to another woman’s arms than lose him to the sheathing arms of illness and death. She swore unswerving devotion no matter how debilitating his illness became.
Moses understood he had to deny his urge to fade away into nothingness. He had battled with those desires before, and he knew this was the one dreadful fantasy he should never raise with Jay. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry. Please. I’m tired. I need to sleep and not think. I’ll call my mom now, but you have to take care of her until I get back.”
Jay seemed calmer. Moses intended to fly to Albuquerque, find Alchemy, and hope that he’d agree to help.
After they hung up, Moses phoned Hannah. He reassured her that he loved her and all was well and nothing had changed between them. He didn’t want her to feel suddenly peripheral. “Look, I’ll be home in a few days. Please wait.”
Perplexed and overwhelmed, the idea of peaceful surrender appealed to Moses. Nothing like the imminence of death to present one with an existential crisis, to raise questions about meanings and philosophies, God’s existence and faith. Moses flashed back to the vacant glare of a man who, when Moseswas speaking at the Skirball Center on his work about the children of survivors of the Holocaust, confronted him after the talk. He spoke with a slight Yiddish accent. “You are smart with words, like him.” He looked at his hands, which held a copy of
Man’s Search for Meaning
. “You make up words and theories to justify the emptiness inside you that knows there is no meaning and there is no God.” Moses fumbled to respond. The man, with a
“Yes, of course.” Ruggles looked at his watch and leaned back in his chair, relieved to be able to put this confrontation off. “She’s probably taking her before-dinner walk around the grounds. I can casually introduce you as a visitor.”
Ruggles led Moses outside. They walked along a tree-lined pebble path until Ruggles pointed. “That’s her.” Ten yards ahead of them, a woman ambled as if she were strolling freely in a park rather than a walled-in compound, head angled toward the sky. “If we speed up a bit we’ll catch her.”
“No, let’s follow her a minute.”
Moses began to sweat profusely; his knees jellied and his body trembled. Fear overwhelmed his curiosity. He grabbed Ruggles by the arm to steady himself. “I can’t. I can’t now.”
Ruggles, grim-faced, nodded. “You can come back anytime.”
Moses drove back to the hotel, still feeling emotionally unmoored from the guideposts, internal and external, that had marked and peopled his world.
At the hotel he called Jay. “Guess what? I got two moms. Both are living on worlds they created. One includes me and one doesn’t.”
“You should call the one that includes you. She is not in good shape. She feels neglected.” Jay and Hannah had spent the morning and afternoon together, and Jay went home after a late lunch.
“What? Why? I called last night and you saw her today.”
“It’s not rational, but she’s afraid to lose you.”
“Jay, I am so worn out. I feel so beaten down. I feel like giving up.”
“NO! You can’t.” Jay panicked. “You can’t. It would destroy your mom. And
me
. Please, Moses.”
Jay’s fear of losing Moses was colored by the loss of her mother who, when Jay was twenty-three, began to slide into the netherworld of Alzheimer’s. Jay had made plans to move back to Miami to be with her mother and to help her father and brother run the art gallery. Jay’s belief in the vows of “forbetter or worse” were shattered when her father put his wife in a home and began dating one of her nurses. Jay gave up her plans to move back to Miami. Her mother remained in the “home,” too physically strong to succumb yet unable to recognize Jay when she made one of her now rare visits.
When Moses’s illness struck, Jay resisted the notion that the world could be so unjust. Better, she often thought, if he would flee to another woman’s arms than lose him to the sheathing arms of illness and death. She swore unswerving devotion no matter how debilitating his illness became.
Moses understood he had to deny his urge to fade away into nothingness. He had battled with those desires before, and he knew this was the one dreadful fantasy he should never raise with Jay. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry. Please. I’m tired. I need to sleep and not think. I’ll call my mom now, but you have to take care of her until I get back.”
Jay seemed calmer. Moses intended to fly to Albuquerque, find Alchemy, and hope that he’d agree to help.
After they hung up, Moses phoned Hannah. He reassured her that he loved her and all was well and nothing had changed between them. He didn’t want her to feel suddenly peripheral. “Look, I’ll be home in a few days. Please wait.”
Perplexed and overwhelmed, the idea of peaceful surrender appealed to Moses. Nothing like the imminence of death to present one with an existential crisis, to raise questions about meanings and philosophies, God’s existence and faith. Moses flashed back to the vacant glare of a man who, when Moseswas speaking at the Skirball Center on his work about the children of survivors of the Holocaust, confronted him after the talk. He spoke with a slight Yiddish accent. “You are smart with words, like him.” He looked at his hands, which held a copy of
Man’s Search for Meaning
. “You make up words and theories to justify the emptiness inside you that knows there is no meaning and there is no God.” Moses fumbled to respond. The man, with a