7:35 AM: Very Athletic Sister
Mollie task list- vacuum dust dishes wipe microwave counters change sheets bathroom (clean sink tub toilet)start load of sheets and bath towels toss spoiled food from fridge
what shall I do about the vacuum? I need to buy a replacement?
No it's new
Or only a few months old
She could use the rainbow but its much harder
rainbow's in the upstairs closet
7:55 AM: I phone to tell her I'm coming to her house to take her to teach her yoga class at the Senior Center.
But I need a few things at Target first, so I'm stopping there and then I'll come fetch you. Do you need anything?
"Would you buy a box of tissues for me? I seem to be all out of tissues. Or two, two would be nice."
I'll be happy to buy some sneezers for you. That's why I called, to see if you needed anything.
"Oh, sneezers! Or snotrags, whatever. Maybe two boxes would be nice. If you don't mind."
Of course I don't mind. And then I'll be over to fetch you to take you for yoga, probably nine thirty or quarter to ten.
8:01 AM: Pugsley
whatall did we need at target
I need Nivea shaving cream but I'm not sure what else
mop moisturizer olive boil ??
Dunno, sounds like that is it
Maddie want tishoose we need toilet paper?
More wouldn't hurt
Wednesday needs to be there for that
8:22 AM: VAS
Am at Target now, will price a vacuum. Just sopoke to Mother; confused about taxi vouchers. I told her one of us would go with the first time.
Please don't buy a vacuum
And that she didn't need to worry about it today cuz I'm taking her
I described it to her yesterday
to mom- the taxi thing
the vacuum at moms is fine
She can't learn new things except by repetition. Mollie says not. I refuse to be in this pissing contest.
So of course the phone rings because VAS needs to explain to me that she isn't arguing with me. Except of course she is. Except I'm not really the one she's arguing with, because I have no dog in this race. I just want the vacuuming to be done, by someone other than me.
I poke things into the cart (buggy, basket; where ya from?) during this, and after I finish not arguing about a vacuum with VAS I discover Target doesn't have the moisturizer I usually buy. I spend more time than I ought researching what Paula deems a good eye cream, facial moisturizer, and I'd've liked to search mascaras, too, but I stop myself.
9:42 AM: Mollie
On my way.
I don't text back, because I'm later than I meant to be and she's probably driving.
9:55 AM: I phone to tell her I'm on my way, but there is no answer.
10:00 AM: I phone... no answer.
10:05 AM: I knock, enter and frighten Mollie, who has arrived and begun working.
Where's my mother?
"What? I though she was with you. I thought youz had already left. The door was unlocked. One dog was outside the house, the light one, and the other one, the jumping one, was inside. I thought youz had gone already."
Yeah, no, I'm running late. Did she take her yoga things? Or her purse?
The answer to both is No.
Mollie presses her hands to her chest, then flaps them. "Go, go! Find your mother! Aren't you worried sick?"
I should be, shouldn't I? I think about Wheres and Whys. She didn't phone and chew me out for being late. She might've phoned her neighborhood friend, who is IN the yoga class she teaches, but her yoga things are still there. Her glasses, the good ones, are on the desk. One dog in the house, one dog in the yard; maybe she thought she'd lost one and has gone looking. I do not phone VAS. My phone is mysteriously nearly battery-dead, despite having been plugged in to charge all night. I grab glasses, purse and yoga bag and back out of the driveway.
Hi, Ms. C. This is Cybele. Is my mother- is Jackie there? Has she come there already?
"I don't think so- hang on, I'll go look."
The pause is probably shorter than it seems.
"No, she's not here. I checked the yoga room and nobody's there yet."
I don't want to panic anyone, but I don't know where she is. She may have taken it into her head to walk to the Center. I'm driving there now. I'll let you know.
I drive the mile or so to the Center. I spot her as she crosses the road. I pull up and park.
Hey there, Mama. Whatcha doing?
"Well, I didn't get a call, and I needed to get here."
She's clutching a paper in her hand.
I did call. I told you I was going to the Target. You asked me to buy tissues for you.
"I have no memory of that conversation. I needed to get here, so I walked."
I brought your yoga things.
"It's seated shiatsu, I don't need them."
No, Ma'am, today's Monday and you have yoga.
I follow her inside, into Ms. C's office, where I hear her muttering, probably something unpleasant in reference to me.
"But Jackie, your daughter brings you here every Monday. Tuesdays, too."
She looks at me.
"Well, what are we doing? Are we coming or going?"
I thought you might like to teach your yoga class.
"If there's anybody still there, I guess I'll teach them, if they want."
You're not late yet. Only one or two of your students have arrived. Do you feel like teaching?
"Since I'm here, I may as well."
She wanders away and disappears, not into the room where her students are waiting, then emerges from the bathroom, still clutching that paper.
Whatcha got there? May I see it?
"It's the taxi voucher. I need to figure it out so I can use it."
I told you I'd help you with that. May I look at it while you go teach?
She hands it to me, and goes into the room. I look at the paper- it's an order form for taxi voucher books.
I can't manage to sort my feelings. She had a busy day yesterday, Mother's Day. Admitted when I phoned that she was wandering around her house feeling confused. She walked more than a mile and a half to arrive safely, and early, to get to her class. But forgot that I'd called, forgot that I always bring her to the Center. Didn't think to call her friend, the one who lives in her neighborhood and takes her yoga class. Didn't call me wondering why I was late to fetch her. Didn't... could have... What am I supposed to do?
Channing and Quinn; The Vanishing Act