20.Iris Below needed to feel sad.
Sadness got her blood moving, got the synapses in her brain twitching. Sadness was something to talk about, particularly useful since she had no idea what was happening in the world around her. She would even forget who the president was from time to time. It’s not that her memory was bad, even though she thought it was. It’s just that she was closed off to anything besides her own thoughts. And these thoughts were often very, very sad.
Iris Below was standing in front of her mirror while she practiced her taglines. Taglines that could be used in any conversation at any moment. She loved her taglines. Had she practiced her taglines more regularly she probably would have quoted them more correctly more consistently. Iris knew she should practice her taglines every day, but she didn’t and, consequently, often got them wrong. This would then become another thing to be sad about. But there was one tagline that she never forgot no matter how long she went without practicing. This tagline glowed in her mind like the burning sun. Crystal clear like her own name.
“I’m not what I used to be.”
She always got that one perfect. But others like:
“You can’t teach a dog new tricks.”
Or:
“You can’t take me anywhere.”
Or:
“I wish God would just take me already.”
These were often quoted imperfectly and came out in the form of:
“You can’t trick a young dog to be an old dog.”
Or:
“You can take me somewhere but not here.”
Or:
“I wish God took me on a vacation.”
These taglines would make her son Sam’s head steam. And the forgetting of the tagline would make his head steam even steamier. He couldn’t understand how a person could not only repeat such cliché bullshit over and over again, but even more how she could forget that cliché bullshit when she had already repeated it over and over again. Sam worried about his mother. He worried that this forgetting was some form of letting go of life. That it was some slow surrender to death. It worried Sam for his mother, and it also worried him for himself.
Maybe in thirty years I’ll do the same bullshit, he thought. That thought kept him up at night.
This was a special day. It was Iris’s seventy-fifth birthday and Sam was taking her out to lunch. He had made a reservation at a great new place. A place Iris couldn’t remember the name of, even though Sam had repeated it to her at least ten times. Nevertheless, Iris had given up remembering the names to restaurants a long time ago. If it didn’t stick, it didn’t stick. This also frustrated Sam. Why not know? Why be okay with not knowing? Why welcome a lack of knowing? It drove him crazy. Sometimes he would start to have fantasies of smacking her in the face. Which of course would then make him feel guilty. Which of course would then make him even angrier at her.
Iris waited for her son to pick her up for her birthday lunch. He couldn’t have dinner with her because he had a meeting. She didn’t really like eating dinner with Sam anymore anyway. He ate too late. And when Iris ate too late she couldn’t sleep. So she preferred the lunch. But she would have really preferred a lunch and something extra. A lunch and some shopping maybe. Then she would have gotten some real time with her boy. She was aware that he avoided spending time with her, but she tried not to think those kinds of thoughts because those kinds of thoughts would just lead to more sadness, and that sadness would just make her wish for her own death, and as much as she wished for it, Iris was actually quite scared of death.
“Who knows what happens, and I don’t need to know till I know,” she uttered to Sam the last time they went to lunch. She immediately recognized after she said this that it was a great tagline. She’d have to remember that one, even though she knew she wouldn’t. How could she remember that tagline when she couldn’t even remember:
“You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink.”
She had been trying to say that tagline right all morning but to no avail. She wanted an alternative to saying, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Just in case she said that too early in the lunch. Plus, the horse tagline had a little more poetry to it. It was more of a something. She’d try as best she could, but she wasn’t confident she’d get any of her taglines right that day. The mirror practice had not gone well, and she knew she was going to drive Sam into a rage. But she’d do her best, and hopefully Sam would have some patience and understanding for once.
Iris’s doorbell rang. She opened the door, and there was her son. So handsome. A movie star. He literally was. Well, not quite a movie star. Sam actually was the face of Silk Bottom Toilet Tissue. The toilet paper that was all the rage right now. It had been the rage for a minute, and not just because it was by far the softest. It was because of her Sam, who, in the Silk Bottom Toilet Tissue commercial, played Dr. Jonas Silk: the “mad scientist” who had developed the most perfect formula to create the most perfectly soft toilet paper. Sam’s face was everywhere. Billboards, bus stops, and everyone Iris knew and ran into would constantly rave about how hilarious her son was. She was filled with so much pride. She wished the pride she felt meant more of something to him, but it seemed like it was just another thing that annoyed him about her. After all, Sam wasn’t that proud of being the face of Silk Bottom Toilet Tissue, but the money was not something to be walked away from. Not at all. And Sam did love telling his mother how much he made. Even though she got on his nerves, it did feel good knowing that she was proud of him.
Iris stretched out her arms, ready to embrace her son.
“Aren’t you the sight of my sores!”
Sam closed his eyes. That was one of the things he did when he got annoyed and Iris knew it. She knew all of his little tics. He closed his eyes, doing so with the hope that when he opened them he would be in another place and time where people didn’t speak in goddamn taglines. Especially taglines they didn’t remember.
“Mom, it’s ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.’ That’s the saying.”
Iris scratched her head. “It is?”
Sam shook his. “Yeah, Mom.”
Iris continued to scratch. “Are you sure?”
Sam closed his eyes again. Iris frowned. “Well, I’m sorry I got it wrong. I’m not what I used to be.”
Oh, fuck, Sam thought, this is going to be a long lunch.
They got in the car. The whole way there Sam could hear Iris breathing heavily.
“You okay, Mom?”
“Yeah, it’s just, you’re driving so fast. I mean, ‘Where’s the burning?’”
This confused Sam. It didn’t matter how much time he spent with his mother, she still could completely confuse the shit out of him.
“Where’s the burning? What does that mean?”
“You know, when you’re going fast and you don’t need to, you say, ‘Where’s the burning?’”
Sam dug his palms into the steering wheel. “Do you mean, ‘Where’s the fire?’”
“Do I?” asked Iris.
Sam tried to laugh through it. “Yeah, I think you do, Ma.”
Iris’s eyes glazed over. “Well, then I guess I do. ‘There’s the fire.’”
Sam started to grind his teeth. “No, not ‘There’s the fire,’ ‘Where’s the fire.’ ‘Where’s the fire!’”
Iris nodded her head. “You learn something new every day, I guess.”
Sam tried to focus on the road. It was hard. He was really worried. If he was getting this annoyed with her now, what would be happening thirty minutes from now? An hour from now? He was terrified that he was going to lose it on her in the restaurant. That would be bad. She was old enough now where any type of yelling or stress he put on her could really do something bad. It was only a matter of time where him yelling at her might give her a heart attack. God forbid. He needed to keep his cool. He needed to remain calm.
They got to the restaurant and sat down. Iris loved it. It was a delightful French bistro. Just the type of place Iris would go for. Homey yet classy.
“Ooooooh, I feel French already,” she announced as she sipped her water like it was a glass of wine. “I can’t wait to order. And you know how good I am at ordering, don’t you, Sam? Ordering is one of my specialties. You know that about me, right?”
Sam shook his head. “Did I know that you specialize in ordering? No, actually I didn’t know that.”
“Well, you know what they say. It is the voodoo I know that I’m swell.”
“It’s the voodoo you do so well.”
Iris laughed, thinking Sam was joking. “That’s great.”
Sam’s face got red. “No, Ma, that’s the saying.”
Iris turned up her palms. “If you say so.”
Iris was getting nervous. She could see that Sam was getting annoyed. And she knew that if he got in a certain way there would be no calming him down, and her birthday present would be her own son humiliating her once again in a public place. She decided to address it right away.
“Honey, I’m not what I used to be.”
This statement had the opposite effect on Sam than Iris meant it to have.
Sam tried to smile with compassion as he pushed down his angst. “I know, Mom, you keep telling me.”
Iris leaned in. “No, I really mean it, though.”
Sam looked at his shoes. “Mom, just because you can’t remember these sayings doesn’t mean you’re losing your memory.”
“But I am, and you have to accept it. You can’t teach a dog to drink water, honey.”
That was it. That was all Sam could take. And with that Sam punched the table. The café was small. Everyone saw him do this. Everyone stared. Everyone started to whisper. Both Iris and Sam could feel their stares and hear the whispers. Sam slouched down in his chair.
Iris folded her arms. “See what you do when you lose your temper. You embarrass both of us.”
Sam whispered, hoping Iris would follow suit, for his mother’s voice could carry like an opera singer’s. “Mom, I know you’re getting older, but it seems like it’s the only thing we talk about.”
Iris stared Sam down. “Well it’s happening and it’s my life and that’s what’s happening in my life.” Tears started to well up in her eyes. “Of all people I would think my son would understand this, and be there for me. But you just can’t, can you?”
Sam started to panic. “Mom, please stop crying.”
Iris grabbed her heart. “Well, what else can I do? Just sit here and take this from you?”
All of a sudden, a perfectly sculpted physical trainer strutted over to their table, his chiseled face filled with angry concern. The trainer put his hand on Iris’s shoulder. “You okay, beautiful?”
Sam immediately stood up. “Hey, she’s fine. I’d appreciate you not touching my mother.”
The physical trainer lifted his marble-like hand off Iris and pointed directly at Sam’s chest. “Well, I think we’d all appreciate . . . everyone in this restaurant would appreciate you not making your mother cry. I mean, who slams a table in front of their mother. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m a violent guy. I kick all sorts of fucking ass, but I would never slam a table that my mother was sitting at, and I’d sure as shit watch my fucking temper around her.”
Sam sat back down. It was clear he was in over his head. “You’re right, man. I shouldn’t have behaved that way. Now can you please leave us alone and let us celebrate my mother’s birthday here?”
The personal trainer smacked his own forehead. “It’s her birthday. It’s her birthday and you’re treating her like this. You’re lucky I don’t drag you outta here and make you beg for death.”
Iris piped up, “Young man, thank you, but I’m really fine. Please don’t threaten my son. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
The personal trainer put his hand back on Iris’s shoulder. “You sure you don’t want me to kick your son’s ass, ma’am?”
Iris giggled at this. She could have sworn that the personal trainer might be flirting with her. No surprise to her. Young men liked her. “No, that’s fine. He’s just stressed. He’s a very successful actor, so you know how that is.”
The personal trainer got a closer look at Sam’s face. “Wait a second. Holy shit. It’s you! That can’t be you.” He looked back to Iris. “Is your asshole son who I think he is, ma’am?”
Iris proudly nodded her head. “He sure is.”
The personal trainer smacked Sam hard on the back. “You’re the toilet paper scientist, right?”
Iris nodded her head again, even prouder this time. “He sure is.”
The personal trainer smacked Sam on the back again, this time a little harder. “Holy shit! You’re fucking hilarious, dude, and I love the toilet paper you invented.”
Sam dug his fork into his wrist. “Thank you . . . I mean, I didn’t invent it, but . . . thank you . . .”
The trainer’s smile immediately disappeared. “Too bad you’re a no-good asshole.” With that the personal trainer raised his hand. “Hey, waiter. Their meal’s on me. This guy don’t deserve to pay for such a beautiful birthday girl. Cool, buddy?”
Sam nodded his head. His head nod was just like Iris’s. Sam nodded his head again. “Yes . . . cool . . . thank you.”
The personal trainer gave a mocking grin. “Don’t mention it.” He then leaned over and gave Iris a big kiss on the cheek. “Happy birthday, gorgeous.” He walked away and squeezed back into his chair and resumed his niçoise salad. And as he chomped his greens, Iris Below blushed redder than a bleeding strawberry. Sam was also red but not for the same reason, obviously. Iris then leaned forward.
“See? It’s got me still . . . It’s still got me.”
Sam closed his eyes again. “I think you mean to say . . . Ma . . . ‘I still got it.’”
Iris took another sip of her water. “I do, don’t I?”