“That one in the front seems a bit droopy.”
Isabel shot him a look. “It’s supposed to be that way.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Stop fussing with it, Izzy,” Elizabeth said. “I like it just the way it is.”
Isabel glanced at the television, saw that it was tuned, as usual, to a cable news show. “Oh, you have to stop watching this all the time,” Isabel said, looking for the remote half-hidden under the covers near Elizabeth’s hand. She grabbed it, aimed it at the screen, and powered it off. “It just gets your blood boiling, and you hardly need that right now.”
Done with the flowers and the television, Isabel turned her attention to her mother. “Look at you. You’re all wrinkled.”
She could have been talking about the woman’s face, but she was referring to Elizabeth’s nightgown, which had bunched up around her upper thighs. Isabel tugged the hem down toward her calves and admired her handiwork. “That’s much better.”
Elizabeth sighed. Norman, still standing, had taken out his phone and was reading some online news.
Isabel glanced over at the window, which was shielded by a blind in the down position. “You need some light in here,” she said. “It’s a beautiful, sunny day out there. Norman, open the blind.”
“I’d asked them to lower them,” Elizabeth said, “because of the glare. Made it hard to watch the TV.”
“Well, the TV is off now,” Isabel said, and waved a hand at Norman to get busy doing what she had asked him to do. He found the drawstrings and raised the blinds to the halfway point.
“All the way,” Isabel ordered.
Norman brought the blinds up until sunshine filled the room. Elizabeth, squinting like someone enduring a police interrogation, used her hand to shield her eyes.
“Isn’t that better?” Isabel said enthusiastically. “It makes the room cheerier, if you ask me.”
“Whatever you say,” Elizabeth said wearily, turning onto her side so her back was to the window.
“So what have you been up to?” Isabel asked with relentless cheeriness.
“Well,” Elizabeth said, “last night I went bowling, and this morning I went into the city to do a walk around Bloomingdale’s but didn’t end up buying anything.”
Isabel frowned. “Come on, now. That was a serious question. Are you comfortable?”
“Not really much different than yesterday or the day before that or the day before that,” her mother said.
Isabel looked down at her mother for several seconds and looked as though she might start crying.
“Don’t,” her mother said.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t get all emotional and weepy around me. I can’t bear it.”
“I just love you, that’s all.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I know.”
“I want to do anything I can for you, is all. If you don’t like the flowers, I can take them away.”
“They’re fine.”
“You want some magazines? I could go to the gift shop and get you a New Yorker or something.”
“Reading is hard,” Elizabeth said. “I need stronger glasses and I don’t see any point in getting them now. The TV is all the entertainment I need.”
Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered, signaling to Isabel that she was going to fall asleep. At that moment the door opened and Albert walked in. Isabel immediately put her finger to her lips, shushing him in advance of any sound he might make. Norman looked up from his phone, took a step toward his brother-in-law, and extended a hand.
“Hey, Albert,” he said quietly.
“Norman.”
They stood there for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, as though Norman had found an ally, someone who understood what it was like to be in a room with Isabel.
Albert took a step toward the bed and whispered to his sister, “How is she?”
Isabel stood and motioned for Albert to follow her out into the hall. Norman wasn’t included in the gesture, so he opted to stay in the room while the siblings excused themselves.
In the hallway, Isabel allowed the tears she had been holding back to flow. She pulled a tissue from inside her sleeve and dabbed at her cheek.
“What is it?” Albert asked. “Has something happened? Is she worse?”
“She’s so... tired. And kind of irritable. Her glasses aren’t strong enough for reading but she says there’s no point in getting new ones now.”
Albert offered a resigned shrug, acknowledging their mother was probably right. “So long as we’re able to make her comfortable, we’re doing the right thing,” he said.
“I want to be able to do more,” she said.
“We’re doing all we can, honestly.”
“Every day she looks thinner. Have you seen her arms? They’re like toothpicks.”
“Mom’s a fighter, Izzy. She’s always been a fighter.”
Isabel tucked the tissue away. “Oh for God’s sake, you say that like she’s suddenly going to get better.” She sighed. “I’m running on empty. I come every day, sometimes twice. Everything’s gone to shit at home.”
“We should go back in, see how she’s doing.”
“Norman can keep her entertained,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “He can tell her some gripping story about radial tires.”
“Come on, let’s go in.”
She sniffed, nodded, and followed him back into the room.
Norman was stepping away from the window and taking a seat close to Elizabeth, gazing mournfully at her while she slept. Isabel stood behind him, evidently waiting for him to get up and surrender the chair to her. Albert strolled over to the window, felt the sun on his face. He stood there looking out onto the parking lot below.
Norman got the unspoken message and vacated the chair. Isabel was lowering herself into it as Albert became fixated on something outside.
“Izzy,” he whispered.
Her butt had just landed and she was studying her mother’s face, her closed eyes, waiting on the chance that they might open. She either did not hear her brother, or had chosen to ignore him.
“Izzy,” he whispered again, more urgently.
Isabel turned her head. “What?”
He waved her to come over. When she was slow to rise out of the chair, he waved again, urgently.
She came to his side and whispered, “What?” The two, standing together, had crowded out Norman, who stood behind them, peering over their shoulders.
“Look,” he said, pointing.
Isabel took in the view of the parking lot and the roofs of buildings beyond. “Look at what?”
“Right there. Down there. See the red car? The Corvette?”
“I don’t know cars.”
“Who doesn’t know a Corvette?” Norman quipped.
“Do you see the red car?” Albert said. “The sports car?”
“Yes, okay.”
“Okay, count over two to the left. That woman.”
Isabel squinted. Slowly, she said, “I see her.”
Very slowly, Albert said, “Don’t you think she looks...”
Neither of them said anything for several seconds. They both seemed to have stopped breathing. Isabel placed her palm on the glass.
The woman, dark-haired, slender, was leaning up against a black Volvo station wagon, arms crossed, as though waiting for someone.
“It’s just... it’s just someone who looks like her,” Isabel said.
“Her hair, the way she’s holding herself...”
“Let me see,” said Norman, squeezing in between them so he could look for himself. “Where?”
“There,” Albert said.
Norman squinted.
“Sometimes... I feel like I see her all the time,” Isabel said softly. “I’ll see someone walking ahead of me in the mall, something about the way the woman is walking, it reminds me of her, and I’ll run and catch up, just to make sure...”