CENTER
Across the hall from the room where my sister may or may not be dying, there is a woman who moans Help all day long.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Should we help her? I eventually ask my parents.
Help who? my father says.
The woman who keeps saying help , my husband says.
No, she doesnât need any help, my mother says.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
What lovely sunflowers, I say. What lovely orchids. How kind.
Have you sanitized your hands? my mother says. You have to sanitize your hands.
Orchids and sunflowers, I say. They look surprisingly good together, donât they.
At first we too wanted to help the woman who says help, my father says, but the nurses told us she says it all day every day.
You know, theyâre sort of perfect opposites, orchids and sunflowers, I say.
Are you guys hungry? my father says. There are chocolates over there.
Did you have anything on the plane? my mother says.
Isnât it hard to believe you woke up in Brooklyn this morning and now youâre here in Colorado, my father says.
Hey, she smiled! my husband says. Look, sheâs smiling.
Oh wow, my father says. Great. Wow. Look at that.
Hi there girl, I say.
Smiley smiley girl, my mother says. Youâre smiling because you know your little sister and her boyfâhusband flew all the way across this great big country to visit you, arenât you, girly-girl?
You had us scared, you know that, I say.
Thank you for smiling, precious, my mother says.
On the TV, the barn-raising scene in the musical Seven Brides for Seven Brothers . Six brothers in their bright shirts dance on a sawhorse. My father and my husband crank my sisterâs hospital bed to the full upright position.
A confession: I have never looked into my sisterâs eyes and seen there anything that resembled recognition. Sometimes when we were children I would accidentally call her by the dogâs nameâ Hush-a-bye, Freck! I might say when she moanedâbefore quickly correcting myself, hoping my parents hadnât heard.
In bed, the smiley girl smiles.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
In the newly opened café across the highway from the Life Care Center, there are thirteen varieties of dessert on the other side of the glass case: rhubarb bread pudding, peach pie, apple pie, chocolate cake, carrot cake, cinnamon rolls, chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal raisin cookies, cranberry scones, lemon bars, almond croissants, chocolate croissants, chocolate cupcakes. Everything baked on the premises! Including the ciabatta!
Awed, genuinely awed, we ask the owner: How do you do it all? She does it single-handedly. She has red hair and big yellow teeth. She says: Well if you want to know how I do it is for say the pie I would make a bunch of pastry dough and then freeze it and save it for when I needed to make a new pie like today I made eighteen piecrusts or if youâre wondering about the scones what I do is I make a huge batch of scone batter and then save it in the fridge and then when I want fresh scones well all I do is pull some out and throw in walnuts or what have you I make ten batches of say chocolate chip cookie dough and shape it into balls and freeze them and then every morning I just throw a few on a cookie sheet so we have fresh-baked cookies basically I just rotate like this morning I made eighteen piecrusts itâs all about rotating almond ganache can keep for weeks â¦
By the time she finishes explaining everything we have finished our mushroom soup and our ciabatta. Already we are imagining ourselves standing up, walking to the door, stepping out into the parking lot of the strip mall, getting into the car, going back across the highway, returning to the person who has not eaten anything for sixteen days. Already we are nauseous. The ownerâs teeth are so yellow. As we leave she forces us to sample her lemon barâI sliced it into four pieces, one for each of you! What do you think! What do you think of my
Across the hall from the room where my sister may or may not be dying, there is a woman who moans Help all day long.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Should we help her? I eventually ask my parents.
Help who? my father says.
The woman who keeps saying help , my husband says.
No, she doesnât need any help, my mother says.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
What lovely sunflowers, I say. What lovely orchids. How kind.
Have you sanitized your hands? my mother says. You have to sanitize your hands.
Orchids and sunflowers, I say. They look surprisingly good together, donât they.
At first we too wanted to help the woman who says help, my father says, but the nurses told us she says it all day every day.
You know, theyâre sort of perfect opposites, orchids and sunflowers, I say.
Are you guys hungry? my father says. There are chocolates over there.
Did you have anything on the plane? my mother says.
Isnât it hard to believe you woke up in Brooklyn this morning and now youâre here in Colorado, my father says.
Hey, she smiled! my husband says. Look, sheâs smiling.
Oh wow, my father says. Great. Wow. Look at that.
Hi there girl, I say.
Smiley smiley girl, my mother says. Youâre smiling because you know your little sister and her boyfâhusband flew all the way across this great big country to visit you, arenât you, girly-girl?
You had us scared, you know that, I say.
Thank you for smiling, precious, my mother says.
On the TV, the barn-raising scene in the musical Seven Brides for Seven Brothers . Six brothers in their bright shirts dance on a sawhorse. My father and my husband crank my sisterâs hospital bed to the full upright position.
A confession: I have never looked into my sisterâs eyes and seen there anything that resembled recognition. Sometimes when we were children I would accidentally call her by the dogâs nameâ Hush-a-bye, Freck! I might say when she moanedâbefore quickly correcting myself, hoping my parents hadnât heard.
In bed, the smiley girl smiles.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
In the newly opened café across the highway from the Life Care Center, there are thirteen varieties of dessert on the other side of the glass case: rhubarb bread pudding, peach pie, apple pie, chocolate cake, carrot cake, cinnamon rolls, chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal raisin cookies, cranberry scones, lemon bars, almond croissants, chocolate croissants, chocolate cupcakes. Everything baked on the premises! Including the ciabatta!
Awed, genuinely awed, we ask the owner: How do you do it all? She does it single-handedly. She has red hair and big yellow teeth. She says: Well if you want to know how I do it is for say the pie I would make a bunch of pastry dough and then freeze it and save it for when I needed to make a new pie like today I made eighteen piecrusts or if youâre wondering about the scones what I do is I make a huge batch of scone batter and then save it in the fridge and then when I want fresh scones well all I do is pull some out and throw in walnuts or what have you I make ten batches of say chocolate chip cookie dough and shape it into balls and freeze them and then every morning I just throw a few on a cookie sheet so we have fresh-baked cookies basically I just rotate like this morning I made eighteen piecrusts itâs all about rotating almond ganache can keep for weeks â¦
By the time she finishes explaining everything we have finished our mushroom soup and our ciabatta. Already we are imagining ourselves standing up, walking to the door, stepping out into the parking lot of the strip mall, getting into the car, going back across the highway, returning to the person who has not eaten anything for sixteen days. Already we are nauseous. The ownerâs teeth are so yellow. As we leave she forces us to sample her lemon barâI sliced it into four pieces, one for each of you! What do you think! What do you think of my
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