Читать книгу City of Lies - Alafair Burke - Страница 20

6:15 p.m.

Inside the tiny efficiency studio that Glen Forrest Communities called her mother’s ‘apartment’, Katie Battle filled a green-tinted glass with water from the sink and placed it on the small rosewood table that doubled as both nightstand and end table between the empty bed and the chair that her mother currently occupied. Once she received the e-mail about her mother’s latest fall, she’d wrapped up the tour with the Jenning couple and made it to the assisted living center as quickly as she could.

Katie sat on the bed and watched as her mother slowly raised the glass to her lips with a quivering hand.

‘Don’t you…even…think…about grabbing…one of those…ridiculous children’s toys…on top of my icebox.’

Katie had purchased a box of plastic straws for her mother four months earlier, but they still sat unopened on top of the refrigerator. ‘Those are for children,’ her mother had said. ‘I start using one of those, and the next thing I know, you’ll be trying to feed me with a miniature spoon passed off as an airplane.’

Katie noticed that her mother placed her right hand on her chest during the three-second gaps between words. She knew that the falter in her mother’s usually strong voice was the byproduct of doctors tinkering with her heart medication again. They’d assured Katie that the occasional skipped beat wasn’t itself a danger, but she could tell that the irregularities in something we all took for granted – our beating hearts – scared her mother, causing the pauses in her speech.

None of this was easy for Katie’s mother. Phyllis Battle had always been a woman who had known what she wanted. When her first daughter, Barbara, had been killed in a car accident in 1974, she had known – and insisted to her husband – that they would adopt another, even though they had each already celebrated their fiftieth birthdays. And she had known – and insisted to her husband – that they would name the girl Katie, after the confident and independent woman who leaves Robert Redford behind in The Way We Were. And when her husband passed away ten years ago, leaving behind debts he had never mentioned to his wife, Phyllis had known – and insisted to her daughter, Katie – that she would continue to live in the family home alone.

The highest hurdle Katie had ever faced had come a year ago when she told her mother she needed to move. For the first time, someone for once was insisting on something to Phyllis. Katie had eventually won that initial battle between the Battle women, but that didn’t mean her mother was going to forfeit what might remain of the war. No plastic drinking straws. No arts and crafts in the common room with the women whom her mother called the ‘pathetic old biddies’. None of the loose, maintenance-free cotton housedresses that were practically a uniform at Glen Forrest.

And definitely no wheelchairs.

‘Mom, I know you don’t want to hear this, but another fall could be really bad.’

‘I can…take care…of myself.’

‘I know. But you’d find it’s a lot easier if you’d take advantage of some of the things they have here to help you, like a chair, Mom.’

Katie leaned forward and rested her hand gently on top of her mother’s. At eighty-two years old, her mother had maintained her full cognition and spirit, but her hand had never felt so thin and frail, her blue veins bulging beneath the loose and wrinkled skin.

‘You mean…a wheelchair. I’m not…an invalid.’

‘We could ask for a really crappy one if that would make you feel better. None of this high-speed electric power stuff. You’d wheel yourself. Think of the upper-body workout you’d get. I can even request a bum wheel so it would be like a bad shopping cart if you want.’

Katie was happy to see her mother smiling, but then the smile turned into a laugh and her mother wheezed and then coughed. Her hand moved reflexively to her chest again.

‘Shhh,’ Katie said soothingly.

Her heart. The stroke. The falls. Keeping track of her mother’s ailments required Mensa-caliber mental juggling.

The second her mother caught her breath, she was back on message. ‘No wheel…chairs.’

‘You scare me, Mom. I know you like to think it’s just a fall. But this isn’t something you can play around with. Falls in the elderly –’

Her mother shot her a look of darts.

‘Falls now can be fatal. Do you know how stupid it would be to survive everything you’ve survived, just to go out by falling down? Phyllis Battle is way too tough – and much too smart – to allow that.’

Her mother set her jaw, but she at least wasn’t arguing anymore.

‘I’ve asked Marj to bring a chair up tonight.’ Now her mom shook her head, but still no verbal resistance. ‘Just for you to experiment with. She’ll work with you out in the hallway when the others are listening to a music group that’s coming in tonight.’

‘Horrible, horrible…They call themselves singers. Like someone threw…a cat…in a washing machine.’

‘OK, so when all the old biddies are down there clapping along with the terrible music, you be nice to Marj. I’ll check in with her tomorrow about how it went, and we can go from there.’

Still, her mother said nothing. Progress.

Katie rose from the bed, picked up her purse from the floor, and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of her mother’s head.

‘Good night, Mom.’

Katie had already opened the apartment door when she heard her mother’s quiet voice behind her.

‘I’m…sorry, Katie. For…falling. For…being old.’

‘Don’t you ever apologize. Just be nice to Marj tonight. I want you around for a long, long time.’

On her walk to the F train, Katie retrieved her BlackBerry from the depths of her oversize black leather satchel. Pulling up a phone number, she hit the dial button, only to hang up after one ring. She wanted someone to take her place tomorrow night. With Mom’s latest fall, the last thing she wanted to deal with was tomorrow night.

Ironically, though, it was her mother’s situation that required her to handle this appointment herself. It was only a few hours. She’d get through it, just like she always did.