The Trouble with Being Born: A Novel

Mother

19 Oh dear. It doesn’t smell very good here. The hospital smelled clean, like Mr. Clean, cotton and medicine, but it smells a little bit like Lakeview’s cafeteria here, and a little like Jeff’s dirty baby diapers. It looks nice and pretty. I like that shade of lavender on the walls and the shiny linoleum floors. And the nurses smile so. But it doesn’t smell as good as it looks. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. I don’t know if Ma will be able to find me here. That’s not right. Something’s not right with that. I don’t know about the boys who used to come visit me and tell me nasty things and ask me to do nasty things. They didn’t come to the hospital. I don’t know, I get so confused lately, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. I wonder where my husband Joe is. Is he still alive? I can’t remember . I like being in a wheelchair. I can walk. I like to walk. But I like the wheelchair. I’m a queen. “Mrs. DeShell? Frances ? This is the television lounge and the dining room. This is where you’ll eat your meals. Are you hungry now? Did you eat lunch at the hospital?” I don’t remember. “Did you eat lunch at the hospital, dear?” I don’t know. “No.” “Are you hungry?” I nod. “After I show you your room, we’ll see about getting you a snack. This is your room, Frances. Your roommate, Mrs. Robson, is asleep. She sleeps quite a bit. She doesn’t talk, I’m Mother 20 mother afraid. But many of the other residents are quite friendly and chatty.” The room is small. There’s not much furniture. I don’t mind sharing. I enjoyed visiting with Mrs.…oh, what was her name? Mrs. Something or other at the hospital. She told me all about her children, her grandchildren, her swollen ankles and the bad lungs she got from smoking. I was sorry when she left. It was so quiet. “This is your bed, Frances, and this is your nightstand. The closet on this side away from the window is for you. These two bottom drawers will be for your use. This is your sink, which you’ll share with Mrs. Robson, and here is your bathroom, which you’ll also share. There’s a light above your bed here. Do you think you can remember all this, Frances? I know it’s a lot.” I nod again. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember, isn’t it? Why don’t we make some signs to help? There are some cards on your bed, along with tape and a black magic marker. Why don’t we make little tags to help you remember what things are? I’ll sit down here on the chair, and we can use this table as a desk: see how it swings around over your wheelchair so it’s like a little desk? Isn’t that neat? There. Now take the magic marker in your hand, here…and let’s write, CLOSET, that’s good, C-LO -S-E-T. Now LIGHT, L-I-G-H-T.” It’s dark now, although I can see a shaft of light from the doorway. I wonder if they always keep the door open a crack. My bed is small, like the one in the hospital. I miss my big bed back at the house. I just bought a new mattress from Sears. A Beautyrest. I wonder when I can go home. I can hear a beep beep beep from the hallway. I can hear my roommate breathing softly in the corner I’m thirsty. I didn’t drink much water tonight because I don’t want to wet myself in the bed. Joe would get so mad at 21 mother me. He used to yell and yell every morning. I couldn’t help it. I don’t think anyone will yell at me here, but I don’t want to cause anyone trouble, and I don’t want to dirty the bedclothes. I never wet the bed when I was a little girl. My brother Lowell did when he was young. Up until the third grade. Ma wouldn’t say a word, she’d just...