Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank
The Sisters
W
e went up in the elevator together—Patti, Russ, and I—and I led them to Aunt Daisy’s room where Ella sat right inside the doorway, staring at Aunt Daisy in her bed, no doubt continuing to chastise herself and praying Aunt Daisy well at the same time. It was plain to see that nothing had changed. I tapped on the window to get Ella’s attention. She came out, hugged Patti and then Russ. She had been crying and I decided right then that she was not going to spend the night there, working herself into a state of morbid anxiety and winding up sick herself. It just wasn’t a good idea.
First, Russ went in for a few minutes and then Patti took her turn. When Patti came out she rolled her eyes at me and whispered,
holy shit.
I nodded in agreement. Seeing someone you love in Aunt Daisy’s condition was a
holy shit
moment if ever there was one.
“I’ll be right back,” I said.
I slipped down to the nurses’ station and asked if Nurse Tolli Rosol was still around and she was.
“Oh, hi!” she said. “Just FYI? That was the best pecan pie I ever had in my life.”
“Good, good! Ella will be thrilled to hear it. Listen, I actually wanted to ask you for a little help with Ella . . .”
She understood perfectly, because sentinel relatives and friends who held their posts like the Swiss Guards at the Vatican were a common occurrence and she knew exactly how to handle it.
“I’ll give her about thirty more minutes, okay?”
“That would be terrific,” I said, adding, “thanks.”
And sure enough, about thirty minutes later she came strolling down the hall with Aunt Daisy’s chart and stopped to say hello to everyone.
“This is my sister Patti from Alpine, New Jersey,” I said.
“Oh! Nice to meet you,” Nurse Tolli said. “I have a cousin in Summit.”
“No kidding,” Patti said, “small world.”
“And this is my son, Russ, who coaches basketball at James Island and teaches, too.”
“Really? What grade?”
“Tenth,” he said and smiled.
“That’s a challenge, I’m sure. And, Ms. Johnson? Did Cate tell you what I said about your pie?”
“She did,” Ella said. She smiled and was all ears for the compliment to come. “Thank you.”
“Well, it’s true. Delicious! Now, y’all aren’t planning to spend the night again, are you?”
“
I
most certainly am,” Ella said and raised her chin a little. She didn’t think for a minute that this little nurse was a match for her determination.
“No, you won’t be doing that tonight,” Nurse Tolli said.
“And why not?” Ella said, surprised.
“Because I’m here. Ms. McInerny is under total surveillance from my station. If her blood pressure changes one little bit or her temperature goes up or down even one tenth of a degree, all my alarms go off. We’re so high-tech up here in ICU it’s better than having her own mother watching over her, believe me. And
you
need to get your rest because when she comes home you won’t have
me
!”
“But . . .” Ella started to object.
“Besides, even though you all think she’s asleep, she’s sedated. She knows there are people around her and she won’t rest as well with an audience. So, y’all are welcome to stay a few more minutes but let’s let Ms. McInerny get her rest. I
know
you wouldn’t want to impede her healing process.”
“No, of course not,” Ella said.
She spoke to all of us just as politely as I had hoped she would but Ella knew the nurse’s comments were directed to her. Ella also knew this was an experienced nurse who knew what she was talking about. And it was obvious that our sweet Ella was bone-tired.
“I know what,” I said. “Let’s all stop somewhere on Folly Road and get something to eat. And, Ella, I’ll bring you back here in the morning whenever you’re ready.”
“Besides, if you don’t go home, how’re you going to make us another pie?” my favorite nurse said.
“That one’s all gone?” Ella said, perking up again.
“Not a crumb left,” Tolli said so sweetly that it pulled my heartstrings. “Now, if y’all will excuse me I want to check on my patient,” she said and slipped into Aunt Daisy’s room. “Nice meeting y’all.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Russ and Patti said.
Nursing was truly God’s work. And this young woman was practically glowing with a saintly presence, putting all our worries, but Ella’s most especially, to rest.
“How about the Crab House?” Russ said. “It’s not crazy expensive and it won’t take all night.”
“Alice isn’t afraid of shellfish?” Patti asked. “You know raw shellfish can be dangerous in the first trimester. Smoked seafood, too. Not to mention sushi . . .”
“Oh great. Please don’t bring it up,” Russ said. “I’ll encourage her to eat flounder.”
“Yeah, and don’t let her eat tuna salad, either,” Patti said.
“Since when are you the OB/GYN nutrition expert?” I said.
“Oz was on
Oprah
last week while I was on the treadmill,” she said.
“I hate treadmills,” I said.
“Yeah, well, my walking buddy abandoned me and flew south,” she said.
“I drove.”
“Let’s get a move on,” Ella said. “It will do us good to have supper together. I know we ate a little something earlier but now I’m starving!”
I took it as a promising sign that Ella was so hungry. She felt relieved enough to get back in touch with her appetite. And the Crab House was fun. It would lift everyone’s spirits.
Locals in Charleston usually go out to dinner on the early side, so it should have been pretty easy for us to get a table at eight thirty. But the Crab House was still filled with patrons eating and drinking and having a good time. After seeing Aunt Daisy, we needed to be surrounded by happiness.
We waited for a few minutes, got a table, and ordered drinks.
“I’ll have a glass of the Raymond Sauvignon Blanc,” I said, choosing from the list.
“Me too,” Patti said.
“Iced tea for me,” Alice said. “I can’t drink alcohol.”
“Oh, no problem,” said the waitress. I could tell she was wondering if Alice was on the wagon, out of rehab, allergic, or what.
“She’s having a baby,” Russ said. “Actually, my baby.”
The waitress cocked her head to one side and looked at Russ like he was warped to be telling her his private business that would be patently obvious as soon as Alice started to show.
“We’re married.”
“Well, good for you hon,” the waitress said, without missing a beat.
Russ turned red. “And I’ll just have an Amstel Light,” he said.
“And for you, ma’am?” the waitress said.
“I’ll have a Crab House Slammer,” Ella said, looking up from the menu.
We all looked at her at once.
“What?” she said. “Y’all want to see my ID?”
“No! I think you should get whatever the heck you want,” I said. “It’s been a rough day.”
“Absolutely,” Patti chimed in.
“I’ll get those drinks right out for you,” the waitress said and left.
We all studied the menu, trying to make our decisions.
“So, Alice?” Patti said. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
“I feel great, except that I want to eat everything in sight,” she said. “I’m just really going to have to discipline myself so I don’t get as big as a house, you know? Well, actually, you wouldn’t know since
you’ve
never been pregnant . . .”
“How do
you
know?” Patti said, not wanting to miss the opportunity to stick it to Alice. “So, let me ask you this. Anybody rub your belly for good luck yet?”
“What?” Alice said.
“Ahem!” I cleared my throat and kicked Patti under the table.
“Ow! Sorry, so tell us how you plan to stay fit? Are there some new guidelines?”
“No, no. I’m just going to eat lots of protein and fresh vegetables and try to get some exercise every day. And sleep, which won’t be a problem, because all I want to do is sleep.”
“That sounds good, honey,” Ella said, being nicer than my sister.
The waitress reappeared with a tray of our beverages and began putting them in front of us.
When she got to Alice she said, “I didn’t know if you wanted lemon in your tea so I put it on the side.”
“There aren’t too many calories in a squirt of lemon, are there?” Alice asked.
The waitress looked up at the ceiling.
“You may squirt with impunity,” Patti said, but she was smiling when she said it so Alice didn’t think she’d been jabbed again.
“Actually, lemon juice is a natural diuretic,” I said. “So, if your ankles get swollen this summer, make lemonade. Or eat asparagus. They help, too.”
“I did not know that,” Alice said. “Thanks for telling me.”
“On the house,” I said and smiled at her. After all, she was pregnant with my grandchild.
The waitress waited to take our orders.
“So, girls? What are we having?” Russ said. “I’m thinking seriously about the tuna.”
“Who you calling a girl?” Ella said, winking. She raised her glass. “To Daisy, who would be right here having a martini if she could. Get well quick!”
“Amen,” I said. “Here’s to Aunt Daisy!”
And everyone touched the rim of their glass to another’s.
“I’m having the shrimp platter with collards and grits,” I said.
“That sounds good but I’ll have the crab cakes,” Ella said. “With red rice and collards. I’ve been thinking about the crab cakes ever since Russ said we should come here.”
“So good. Coconut shrimp for me with fries and cole slaw,” said Patti.
All eyes were on Alice.
“And you, hon?” said the waitress.
“Well, I can’t eat tuna because of the mercury thing and all this other stuff is too fattening so I’ll have the cheeseburger and fries with a side of mac ’n’ cheese? That mac ’n’ cheese isn’t a big portion, is it?”
“No, no. You could barely feed a mouse with it,” the waitress said.
“Eat what you want,” I said. “You’ll never be able to eat like this unless you get pregnant again.”
“Yeah, but then you have to starve yourself to lose it all,” Alice said.
“The weight will fall off of you like water,” I said, wondering if the whole dinner was going to be monopolized by Alice’s new favorite subject—herself.
It was.
We crawled through dinner, listening to Alice regale us on the topics of prenatal care, breast-feeding, Lamaze techniques, and her mother’s advice. Almost every sentence she spoke began with
well, my mother says . . .
I thought, yeah honey, when you go into labor and your momma ain’t here, you’d better learn how to spell
Cate.
Hugs and good-nights for Russ and Alice took place in the parking lot and then we drove out to Aunt Daisy’s and Ella’s house. Except for a few choice remarks about Alice, the ride was pretty quiet. We went up in the elevator with Ella just to be sure there were no robbers hiding behind the curtains or monsters under the beds. It was just really lousy manners to let a woman of her advanced years, or a woman of any age, for that matter, enter an empty house alone. Plus, Patti said in the car that she wanted a Diet Coke in the worst possible way and of course I didn’t have any at home and all the stores were closed. But Ella offered her a twelve-pack, because they had just made a Costco run and her pantry was fully stocked. So, we had our solution for Patti and our excuse to follow Ella in without making her feel like she needed special senior-citizen coddling.
“They’re right in the pantry in the kitchen,” she said, going from room to room, turning on lights and televisions.
“Thanks. Wow! The house looks great, Ella,” Patti said. “Did y’all redecorate the living room?”
“No, not everything. Just changed the drapes and repainted.”
Patti had her cans of Diet Coke balanced on her hip and she was standing by the sliding glass doors, debating opening them to take in the beach at night.
“Here,” I said, “let me do that.”
I took the drinks from her and put them on the coffee table and opened the doors. The salty air rushed in and the ocean was loud. It was high tide and the waves rolled in relentlessly, banging the shore and grabbing all it could on its way back out. We stepped outside.
“Holy mother!” Patti said. “Why is it so easy to forget how powerful this place is?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “The first morning I was here I stood on this deck and just looked out over the water, wondering why I ever left.”
“Why
did
we leave?” she said.