Welcome to River’s Edge

Edith Sharp

I’m not where I’m supposed to be. Cold on my shoulders, fingers numb, I manage to pull the edges of my hat and scarf tight around my neck.

The empty driver's seat next to me… He was never one to sit still. “William?”

From outside the car, I hear his calm voice call, “I’m getting your wheeler.”

I only need it for the curbs. My ski pole was better than this clunky thing. I’ll have to tell him no getting rid of the old stuff with this “big cleanout” of his. And the house should be locked up—tight. The front door has to be pulled and the handle jiggled to lock it properly since the wood has warped. Time bends things. It can’t be avoided. Now, did I leave the outside lights on?

William opens the car door. “Mom…”

“Yes, dear?”

“It's time to head inside.”

I shiver, looking into my son’s gentle eyes. His hair is peppered. When did that happen? Rubbing my hands together, I can’t feel any warmth. “I think we should go back, check the locks and the lights.”

“Mom, it’s time.”

Time? It’s never time to come to this never place.

            And there it is, up on the hill… I heard it was fancy. Hmmph. This is it? Poorly trimmed bushes trailing beneath the dirt-smudged windows, the drab building rising one floor after another, ice dams on the gutters, and the stone at the corner—it’s crumbling! And things get stolen here, that’s what she says. My neighbor, my friend… What’s her name? Come on, Edith, the one with the car. I can’t believe I’ve forgotten her name after all these years. It’ll come back to me. I just need to sit in my recliner. At home. That's where all my memories are, where everything makes sense.

But here I am… I pull my scarf tighter and squint at the fogged-up windows. Will one of them be…mine?

“William,” I say, then forget what I wanted to tell him. I pat down the soft wool of my coat to give the thoughts time to return, if they choose to return.

Oh, well. William’s car is warm and comfortable. I don’t mind staying put. Besides, he was the one who insisted we go out in the cold on a day like this. So, I indulged him. My handsome boy. At least it’s only temporary. A week, maybe two.

“Mom,” he says, unfolding the wheeler, “I’m not rushing you.” He blows on his hands, rubbing them. “It’s a big day. Moving is never easy.”

“Visiting,” I correct him. My beautiful boy. “Moving shouldn’t be allowed, particularly at this age.” Just leave me in my house. I’m fine there. “Now where are your hat and gloves?”

“No gloves needed back in sunny California.” He leans closer. “Mom, just think about it. Blue sky, sun on your face. No more of this awful cold. I keep telling you, we would love to have you live out there with us. Kate’s mom and you. We can find a way to get you both the extra TLC you need.”

California! Over my dead body. I fix my scarf. “I can’t leave your father. He’s here, in Poughkeepsie.”

“Mom! It’s been fifty years. I’m sure Dad would be happy to see you making life easier. I think it’s what he would have wanted.” 

“Fifty years and it seems like yesterday. I visit him every week, you know. My friend drives me, in that little red car of hers. The flowers always need water, and his stone always looks better with the holiday decorations. And he did so enjoy a nice Christmas wreath.”

I close my eyes and let out a long breath. “He was my greatest love,” I smile at William, “until you, of course—my beautiful surprise.  He used to say, ‘we’re never ready for change, but change is always ready for us.’ And he never steered me wrong. So…” I turn towards the half-open car door and put one foot on the frozen ground, “…would you be a dear and open the door a little wider and give me your hand? And for heaven’s sake button your coat. I don’t want you to catch cold.”

William carefully opens the door and brings my wheeler closer. It’s a wide one with a bench seat—good for storage, the salesman said. But what would I need to store? Everything has its place—at home.

I insisted we park in a regular spot, not a special one close to the entrance. These places have people who are sick, not just old. The ones who really need help.

“Will you look at that!” I shake my head and point to a large dent along the side of the red car next to ours. “This other car, it’s been hit, scratched up. It probably was, that one, you know, my friend?” Irritated, I rub my forehead, as if that will bring back her name. “She drives me everywhere and gets frustrated about going back to the grocery store when we forget something, which is every time. Starts yelling at herself and me about keeping a list—and bad drivers.”

“Mom.”

 “Her complaining is so unladylike. I told her she is not allowed to visit me here unless she takes a cab.”

 “Agnes.” William moves his hand closer to help. “Accident Agnes. How does that woman still have her license?” 

 “Yes, yes, Agnes!” I laugh. “She’s the lost woman who doesn’t know she’s lost. Agnes said when the car goes, she goes. And after her last mix-up, I don’t have to worry about her visiting anytime soon.” I smile. “Besides, I won’t be here long, right? Better if no one comes. Better to see my friends back home. I’ll just keep to myself.” I lean closer. “Anyway, this is a place no one really even wants to visit.”

William looks away.

“Agnes can call me, just as she does now. She doesn’t hear that well, but she still calls. Three rings at night, every night. She never forgets…and she never forgets to remind me that she never liked Cosmo…”

“Mom,” William sighs, but not the sigh when he’s frustrated with me. “Agnes put up with Cosmo. I know you thought that dog was smart, but she used to call me in California about his obnoxious barking. And yet, she was the one who visited you every day after the little furball died.”

I pat down my soft, cashmere scarf. Cosmo’s fur, so comfortable on my lap. He’s in a better place now. The place we all go…eventually. William’s hand is safe, his grip reassuring. He helps me out of the car, taking a moment to steady my legs behind my wheeler in this slippery parking lot with its patches of snow, maybe ice. We should have waited until spring.