It was more difficult to hear Debbie as her voice deepened and slightly echoed as she spoke with an open mouth. “What, dear?”
“She doesn’t like you.”
Thelma adopted a confident stance as she sat up in her chair and touched up her curls with her fingertips. “Not everyone likes everyone, honey. It’s something you get used to as you grow up.”
“Oh…” Right away, Debbie switched focus, much like she always did when she was five and finding something new and interesting to talk about. “Robbie says hi.”
“Does he? Has he come to visit lately?”
“He’s downstairs.” Debbie nodded as she put her spoon in her mashed potatoes and peas. “He doesn’t feel good. He’s sick.”
“I know, honey. Your father’s going to make dinner tonight. Would you like some toasted cheese?” This wasn’t the first time they had a conversation from the night Thelma disappeared.The night is written in her soul.Thelma was beyond feeling strange about it. She had a script she followed, and it usually worked on Debbie until she changed topics yet again.
“He says it’s his fault.”
That was new. “What’s his fault, honey?”
“You went away because he was tr…” Debbie swallowed. Before Thelma assumed the words were gone, her daughter defiantly spat out, as if she refused to forget, “Trouble.”
“Oh, honey.” Thelma did her best not to be flustered as she thought of something to say. “I didn’t go away for any reason. Certainly nothing you two kids did. It was completely out of my control.” She lowered her hand to Debbie’s lap.She’s so frail…Thelma’s teeth grazed her bottom lip as she tried not to think about it. “When I left that night, I absolutely intended to come back as quickly as possible.”
Debbie vacantly stared at her before starting to eat again. Thelma sighed.
Is that what Robbie thinks?Was Debbie a reliable narrator? Either it was the dementia screwing up facts, or it was such a core memory that it refused to dissipate among the twisted neurons in Debbie’s brain.A brain I made…While Debbie ate, Thelma gazed wistfully at her. Fingers threaded through Debbie’s thin hair in a tender attempt to clean her up. Yet wasn’t it futile? Debbie was gaunt in the cheek, and her V-neck sweater hung so loosely on her bony frame that Thelma assumed her daughter had already lost quite a bit of weight. From what she understood on the nursing side, Debbie didn’t eat much. She preferred her Coke and candy in her room to substantial food.“She only really eats her lunch when you’re here,”the director said a month ago, when Thelma checked in.“Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”
Even then, Debbie often left plenty of food on her plate. Something that Thelma would have chided her for back in the ‘50s. Now? Any nourishment was worthy of praise.
My daughter is too sick for me to take care of…Thelma held back a hiccup as she crossed her legs in her chair and stared at the fake floral centerpiece on the table. It was dusty. When was the last time these table linens were washed?My son would rather I stay dead.
What was a mother to do? Be grateful that she still got to see her children at all?
Before, I would have said yes…But she also knew that the time travelers who succumbed to depressive, suicidal ideation the most were those who came forward well beyond their children’s lifespans. Even Pauline had been candid that knowing all of her siblings were dead almost killed her. She had been taken in by a great-nephew who only knew her name from police reports. Now she lived separately from him and didn’t talk toanyone in her family. She had disappeared back into the LA ether.
Be grateful. Count your blessings.When Thelma went to sleep that night, she would kneel by her bed and thank God for giving her the chance to say goodbye to her children. Being steadfast meant accepting she would now outlive them. At least she had Megan… and the others in the group who would probably take her in if necessary…
Thelma caught sight of another visitor there to see her father. A tradeswoman’s build, coupled with short hair and a sweatshirt, reminded Thelma of Gretchen, who still said curt hellos whenever they bumped into one another in the driveway, but had not asked her out again.To be fair, I didn’t ask her, either.
The only one who knew about the date back in June was Crystal, who agreed with Thelma that it was probably much too soon for her to be dating, let alone someone who didn’t know she was from the ‘50s.I couldn’t help it. I wanted to feel passion…
Well, the passion had “fucked her up,” as Megan would say.
“Robbie’s sick,” Debbie reiterated. “He told me last time.”
Thelma broke free from her entangling daydreams. “Excuse me?”
“He told Ms. Otto.” She referred to the director of the home. “Because money. For me to live here.”
This was too much detail for it to be a fabrication of her misfiring brain. “Thank you for telling me,” Thelma said. “That’s a good girl.”
Debbie grinned. “I did good?”
“Yes. You did verywell.”
Debbie inevitably lost interest after lunch. Thelma followed her for a walk around the hallways for a while, stopping to pet the fat tabby cat who called this place his home, and eventually went with her into her room. As Debbie lay in her bed andate some of the candy Thelma brought, they putBonanzaon the TV. Since it premiered in the Fall 1959 season, Thelma had never heard of it until discovering her daughter was a big fan and always watched reruns during her afternoon nap.It’s not too different fromGunsmoke. Thelma sat in her daughter’s rocking chair as Debbie gradually drifted off to sleep. As the characters played out their dramatic storylines using 1960s filming technology, Thelma wondered what it would have been like to sit with her family on Saturday nights.Robbie and Bill would have loved it.Thelma also always got caught up in the storyline, too, allowing herself to watch one full episode before checking on Debbie and tidying up her room. There were always sweaters and socks strewn about. Thelma neatly folded them and put them in her daughter’s dresser, just like she would have when Debbie was five.
It wasn’t fair, was it?
Linda stopped in to check on them when Thelma stood, sweater dangling in her hand and gaze resting on her daughter’s dozing body. “Everything okay?”
