It is early morning on Day Thirteen, the day they leave. Emery and Alejandro are in the barn packing up their things. Emery feels that although his mother is coming home, this trip is still hanging open. His sisters both said they needed more time to think about their eggs. And they wanted to discuss it together, as if the decision about how he should make a baby were more theirs than his. He is trying not to be angry, he wants to accept whatever they each want, but it is hard for him. Emery reminds himself not to let his fantasies get in the way of reality. He needs to remember that even his sisters, who used to delve into his brain as if it were a pot of soup, are unaware of how large this fantasy has been looming.
When he goes to the kitchen, Emery finds Portia sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of Grape-Nuts with one hand while fanning her wet toenails with the other hand. “Finally got your pedicure?” Emery asks.
“Did it myself,” Portia says. “I want to do Anna’s toes for her—they look so bald and ugly—but I think she’ll be offended if I suggest it.”
“She probably will be,” Emery says. He wishes his sister were thinking about her eggs and not Anna’s toenails.
Emery sits beside Portia and looks around the kitchen, at the things his mother has chosen to surround herself with. Along the wall above the stove is a procession of wrought-iron Pennsylvania Dutch trivets. One has an angry-looking woman molded on it; she wears a red apron and is raising a black frying pan in one hand. Above her are the words “Ach, don’t talk so dumb!”
“Ach, don’t talk so dumb!” Emery says. Portia laughs.
“That was my favorite trivet,” Portia says. “Whenever I was setting the table, if we needed a trivet I always got the ‘Ach’ one.”
“I don’t even remember those trivets,” Emery says. Sometimes he feels like he’s seen only an edited view of his own life, while his sisters got to see all the footage.
The phone rings and Portia reaches to answer it, knocking it off the receiver and onto speaker. Louise is on the line. Anna has answered from the extension in the bedroom.
“Don’t stop off to say good-bye,” Louise says. “I’m going to be busy all morning and you’ve gotta get to the airport early.”
“Mom,” Anna says, “you’re in a hospital bed—how busy can you be?”
“Busy,” Louise says, “busy. You know, the doctor checking out one thing, a nurse checking out another; and then I’ve gotta walk a lap around the cardio unit before they’ll even let me out.”
“We’re stopping by,” Anna says.
“Please,” Louise says, “I really don’t want you to come.”
“Mom?” Portia says. “You’re on speaker. Emery and I are here.”
“You’re on the phone?”
“Hey, Mama,” Emery says.
“Mom doesn’t want us stopping by,” Anna says. “She’s busy.”
“Mom,” Portia says. “I’m only going to tell you this once.”
“What?”
“ACH! Don’t talk so dumb!”
Louise laughs and so does Emery. Portia hangs up, leaving Anna to sort out the plans.
By eight a.m. they are in Buzzy’s car speeding down the mountain. Anna has claimed the front seat, just as she did when they were kids. Emery is beside Portia in the back; Alejandro is on the other side of Portia. She believes that with Buzzy at the wheel, the back is probably the safest place. Emery doesn’t disagree.
“Wouldn’t it be funny,” Portia says, breaking a silence, “if we all died right now in the car and Mom ended up being the one who lived longest.”
“We’re not going to die,” Buzzy groans. “No one is dying.” He takes an S-turn too quickly and Portia rocks against Emery and then away from him again.
At the bottom of the mountain Buzzy pauses, puts the car in neutral, and turns toward Anna.
“Well?” he asks. If he turns right, they go directly to the airport. Left and they’ll be on the way to the hospital.
“Left,” Anna says.
“She’ll be pissed,” Buzzy says.
“Fuck her. We’re her fucking kids.” Anna is obviously pissed.
“Don’t upset her,” Emery says. “Go to the airport.” He can’t understand why his sister won’t respect his mother’s wishes. If she doesn’t want to say good-bye, she doesn’t want to say good-bye. Let the woman be!
“I’m not sure what I’m more afraid of,” Portia says, “Mom being mad because we’ve stopped off to say good-bye, or Mom dying before I get a chance to visit her again.”
Emery wishes his sister would stop thinking about everyone dying all the time and start thinking about her eggs and how they can help him have a baby!
Emery looks over at Portia. As the car accelerates, she closes her eyes.
Louise looks up when the family appears in the doorway. She is genuinely surprised. She is definitely not busy.
“What? What the hell do you want?!” Louise is scowling.
“The kids want to say good-bye,” Buzzy says. His head nods like a spring-necked doll as if to say, “I knew you’d act like this.” They, the kids, are huddled behind him. Alejandro is half-smiling—his face reveals an appreciation one can have for cantankerous souls only when not related to them by blood.
“So good-bye!” Louise says. “Go.”
“Honey—” Buzzy says, and he goes to her bedside.
“They’re acting like I’m about to die! I’m fine. I’ll see them all this summer—they never stay away long.”
“Sweetheart,” Buzzy says, “say good-bye to them! I’ve gotta run back to the car—I parked illegally.” Buzzy kisses Louise on the lips, then inches past everyone, waving his hands as if to direct them in, before he rushes down the hall to the elevator.
Emery, Alejandro, Portia, and Anna are still hovering in the doorway. It’s as if no one has the nerve to enter.
“I cannot believe what a pile of spineless sea slugs this family is!” Anna whisper-hisses. She pushes in and goes to Louise’s bed.
“Fine, Mom.” Anna leans over and kisses Louise’s cheek. “Good-bye, I love you.”
“You too,” Louise says. The exchange is quick: words, kiss, words, kiss. Anna backs away from the bed and looks at Emery with her hands open and head shaking. He gets it.
Alejandro goes to Louise’s bed with Emery; they, too, have a quick exchange. The words sound like clucking, the kisses appear to be henpecks. Emery imagines they have been transformed into a herd of chickens.
Portia is waiting her turn to say good-bye. Emery steps back and makes room for his sister at the bed.
“Give me a kiss and get outta here,” Louise says. “You’re going to miss your flight.”
“I think Maggie Bucks hates me.” Portia perches on the edge of the bed as if they’re staying for a while. As if Buzzy isn’t waiting outside with the engine running.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, she sits on her fat ass and glares at me every time I open the cupboard.”
“She’s not fat!”
“Mom, she’s obese,” Anna says.
“She’s not obese!”
“She’s seriously overweight, Mom,” Emery says. “She’s the size of a raccoon.”
“She’s a delicate little thing!” Louise says.
“Fine. She’s zaftig,” Emery says.
“Maggie is not zaftig. She’s perfect. She has a perfect figure.” Louise’s tone is utterly serious.
“Well, she hates me,” Portia says.
“Maggie Bucks doesn’t hate anyone. She’s a loving, kind cat.”
“Did I tell you she came out? She’s a lesbian, you know,” Portia says.
Louise laughs.
“I’ve always had a strong gaydar reading on her,” Portia says, “so it was really no surprise.”
“We’ve all known she’s a lesbian,” Anna says. “It’s like before Emery came out when we all really knew that he was gay.”
“You knew before I came out?” Emery asks. He had no idea. He had thought he was so good at hiding it—all those girlfriends, the extracurricular activities, soccer!
Louise laughs harder. She is wiping laugh-tears from her eyes.
“I think she came out because she thought you were going to die,” Portia says. “She was thinking, ‘Ah-so, now I be true self; Smoker Lady dead, I fear no judgment.’ ”
“Smoker Lady?! Is that what she calls me?!” Louise is in full rolling guffaws.
“Maggie got everyone to start calling you Smoker Lady,” Emery says, and Louise lets out one more laugh bark.
“All right, kids,” she says, “get going.”
Portia leans into her mother, working her hands under the tubes attached to her arms so she can hug her, and suddenly she is crying.
No, not crying. She is sobbing. Anna sobs, too. And when Alejandro wipes tears from his face, Emery cracks open and he, too, is sobbing. Just like their mother.
None of them can speak.
And that is how they finally say good-bye.