Chapter 13 old lady rose

We continued walking, crossing the streets near our home.At this point, I've vaguely accepted this. How would you describe it?This temporary loss of sanity?No matter where my mother is going, I will follow her until I catch up with me no matter what I do.To be honest, I don't exactly want what's in front of me to end like this.When the dear one you lost reappears in front of you, it is not your heart that will fight against it, but your mind. Her first date lived in a small brick house in the middle of Lihai Street, just two blocks from our house.The porch of the house has a canopy and a flower bed filled with pebbles.The morning air seemed too fresh, and the sunlight was weird, illuminating the edges of the scene too vividly and sharply, as if they were lines drawn with ink.Except for my mother, I haven't seen anyone else, but it's late now, and most people should be going out to work.

knock on the door.mother said to me. I knocked. She is hard of hearing.Ring a little. I knock hard on the door. Hit it again. I slammed on the door. Don't push so hard.she says. The door finally opened.An elderly woman in a long smock, holding a walker, tries to grin a bewildered smile. Good morning, Rose.The mother said in a singing voice: I have brought a young man. Oh said Rose.Her voice was very high, almost birdlike: Yeah, I know. Do you remember my son Charlie? Oh yeah, I see. She took a few steps back and said to us: Come in.Come in. The house was small, immaculately kept, and seemed frozen in the 1970s.Dark blue carpet.The couch was covered with plastic sheeting.We followed her into the laundry room.Walking behind Rose and her walker, our steps became unnatural, taking slow, small steps.

How are you today, Rose?my mother asked. Oh, okay.Just come. Do you remember my son Charlie? Oh remember.handsome guy. She turned her back to me and said this. Rose, how are your children doing? what about How are your children doing? Oh she waved: they come to see me once a week.Like shopping for groceries. At this moment, I couldn't see who Rose was, or what Rose was.Is she a ghost?Is she a real person of flesh and blood?Her home feels real enough.There is heating in the room, and the smell of toast for breakfast hangs in the air.We went into the laundry room and there was a chair by the sink.Some big band was playing on the radio.

Young man, turn that off for me, will you?Rose turned her back to me and said: Turn off that radio.I sometimes turn it up too loud. I find the volume button and turn it off. It's scary, do you hear that?Rose said: There was a car accident on the highway.It was said on the radio news just now. I am stunned. A car hit a truck, and that car hit a big billboard, knocking it down.Terrible.I scanned my mother's face, waiting for her to turn to me and demand a confession of what had happened. (A good man is a good man, and he must admit what he has done, Charlie.) Rose, the news reports make you feel bad.As she spoke, she took out the things in the bag.

Oh yeah, said Rose: That's right. Wait a moment.Did they know about this matter, or didn't they know?A cold terror came over me, as if someone were about to knock on the window and tell me to get out. but none.I saw Rose turn her walker the other way, then her knees the other way, then turn her bony shoulders and walk towards me. How nice of you to spend the whole day with your mom.She said: Children should do this more often. She put one trembling hand on the back of a chair by the sink. Now, Percy, she said: Can you still make me beautiful? Maybe you're wondering why my mother became a hairdresser.I said earlier that she had been a nurse and that she really loved it.She has an endless stream of patience like a deep well, so that she can always carefully bandage and draw blood for patients, and answer countless worried questions in a cheerful way to calm people's hearts.The male patients loved having such a young and beautiful nurse by their side; the female patients thanked my mother for brushing their hair or putting on lipstick.Putting lipstick on sick patients wasn't the job nurses were supposed to do in those days, but my mother didn't just put lipstick on a handful of female patients at our county hospital.She believes that putting lipstick on her patients can make them feel better.Isn't hospitalization just to make people feel comfortable?You shouldn't be in the hospital waiting to emaciate after you're in the hospital.she says.

Sometimes, at supper-time, she would speak with a distant air of poor Mrs. Hoverson and her emphysema, or of poor Roy.Endika and his diabetes.Sometimes when she stopped talking about someone, my sister would ask: What did old Mrs. Grinsky do today?Mother replied: She went back, baby.My father raised his eyebrows, gave her a look, and continued to chew his food.When I grew up, I realized that to go back means to die.Anyway, it was at such moments that my father would change the subject. We have only one hospital in this county.After my father left, my mother was on duty as much as possible, which meant that she couldn't pick up my sister from school when my sister was back from school.So probably I'm going to pick up Roberta.I walked her home, then rode my bike to the field for baseball practice.

Do you think Daddy will be back today?asked the sister. will not be coming back.You idiot.I said: Why did he come back today? Because the grass grew tall, he had to mow it.She would say so.Or because there are a lot of fallen leaves to sweep, or because today is Thursday, Mommy will cook mutton for dinner on Thursday. I don't think that's a good reason for him to come back.I said. She would wait for me to finish before asking the next question as a matter of course. Chick, then why did he leave? I have no idea!He's just gone, how are you, please? That's not a good reason either.she murmured.

I was twelve years old and my sister was seven years old.One day I was walking out of campus with her when I heard a horn. It's Mommy!Roberta ran forward. Strangely, the mother did not get out of the car.My mother thought it was impolite to honk someone's horn.Years later, she warned her sister that any boy who wouldn't get out of the car and come to the door to pick her up wasn't worth dating.But at the moment she stayed in the car, so I followed my sister across the street and into the car. Mother doesn't look right.It was black under her eyes, and she kept clearing her throat.She is not wearing a white nurse uniform.

why are you hereI asked.That's how I talked to her during that time. Give your mom a kiss.she says. I stuck my head in the front seat and she kissed my hair. They made you leave work early?Roberta asked. Yes, sweetheart, something like that. She sniffled, looked in the rearview mirror, and wiped the black mascara from around her eyelids. Would you like some ice cream?she says. want!want!sister said. I want to practice.I said. Be lazy for a while today, okay? don't want!I protest: I have to practice.I must go to practice. Who said that? That's what the coach and everyone said.

I'm going!I want a cone!Roberta said. Just eat and go, okay?mother said. don't want!May I? I looked up and stared straight at her.The way she looked that day was something I had never seen before.Mother looked dazed. Later I realized that she was fired by the hospital that day.I later learned that some staff at the hospital thought she was too attractive to male physicians because she was single again.I later learned that a senior executive at the hospital had done something to my mother, and my mother had filed a complaint about his inappropriate behavior.She stood up for herself, and what she got in return was the hospital telling her: This is not the way to go.

You know, it's weird, when I look into her eyes, I know everything.Of course I don't know the details, but loss is loss.I know that look.Because I have too.I hate her for that look.I hate that she is as weak as I am. I got out of the car and said: I don't want ice cream at all.I want to practice.I was walking across the street when my sister stuck her head out of the car window and yelled, Shall we bring you a cone?I thought, You're so stupid, Roberta, don't you know that cones melt. ◆◆◆ When I didn't stand up for my mother She found my cigarettes.In the sock drawer in my room.I am fourteen years old this year. This is my room!I shouted. Charlie!We talked!I tell you not to smoke!Smoking is the worst thing ever!What happened to you? You are a hypocrite! She stopped.Her neck became stiff.You are not allowed to say that word. You can smoke by yourself!You are a hypocrite! You are not allowed to say that word! Mom, why not?You always ask me to use great words in my sentences.There is a sentence here.you smoke.I can't.My mother is a hypocrite. When I said those words aloud, I felt very moved; this feeling gave me strength and confidence, as if she couldn't beat me.At this time, she has found a job in a beauty salon.She no longer wears a white nurse's uniform to work in the hospital, but wears fashionable clothes to work, such as her lake green shirt and knee-length cropped pants.These clothes set off her figure.I hate them. I'm going to take these cigarettes away.She yelled, grabbing a cigarette: Sir, you are grounded. I do not care!I stared at her: why are you dressed like this?I think you are disgusting! what do you think of meShe rushed over and slapped me: what am I?Do you think I slap!nausea?Snapped!you think i'm sickSnapped!You were so slapping just now!Did you say that?Snapped!Snapped!Yeah?Is this how you see me? no!no!I yelled: Stop hitting! I held my head and ran away.I ran down the stairs and out of the garage.I stay out.until late at night.When I got home again, the door of her bedroom was closed, and I heard her crying.I go back to my room.Cigarettes are still there.I lit a cigarette and cried too.