Thank You for Listening(25)

“Are you hungry, Doll? Do you want something to eat?” Blah repeated for a third time.

“I’m good.” The slow deterioration had been challenging, but this recent acceleration was terrifying. She had to find out if Blah was aware it was happening to her. “How’s your memory these days?”

“I don’t know, what’s today?”

Sewanee gave her a smile, but said, “Seriously. Is it difficult to remember things?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m old, everything’s difficult.”

Sewanee wished she didn’t have to ask the next question. “Do you remember what happened on Friday night?”

Blah got a good rock going. “Did something happen?”

“Carlos found you in the common room in the middle of the night.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He did, Blah. According to him, you thought you were in Tennessee, getting ready for your debutante ball.”

Blah went silent. Sewanee went silent. The look that traveled between them was everything Sewanee needed to know.

Blah made her way to her feet. “Want a Mallomar, Doll?”

“No.”

She whispered, “Did you see Mitzi’s face-lift?”

“Blah–”

“How’s your mother?” She retrieved a Mallomar from the package sitting on top of the minifridge in the corner. “She should come for lunch sometime.”

Sewanee watched Blah nibble at a corner of the cookie. “She doesn’t live here anymore.”

Blah stopped nibbling. “Since when?”

“Since the divorce.”

“What divorce?”

Was she serious? “Mom and Dad’s.”

“Of course, of course. There are so many these days!” Blah laughed. She took another cookie and returned to her rocker. “Did she go home?”

“For about a year. To take care of Nana before she died. Then she met Stu.”

BlahBlah nodded and nibbled. “Stu’s an unfortunate name, but Stus are always nice. How did they meet?”

“It’s a good story. Wanna hear it?”

BlahBlah set her half-eaten first cookie down on the coffee table, keeping the second one in her other hand. She sat back. “I love how you tell stories.”

Sewanee sat back, too, fingering the fraying arm of the couch. “So after Nana died, Mom cleaned out the house and had a garage sale. And in the middle of making change, she noticed a man loitering by an old Victrola in the driveway.”

“Marv’s old Victrola?”

“No, Nana’s. But you’re right, you had a Victrola, too. Anyway, she went–”

“What happened to mine?”

“I–I don’t know.” Sewanee hadn’t seen it since Bitsy’s house. She could ask Henry about it.

But Blah didn’t seem bothered by the mystery. She took a bite of the Mallomar she was holding, the half-eaten one forgotten on the coffee table.

“So, Mom went up to the man. ‘Can I help you?’ And he says, ‘I can’t believe it, we used to have this exact model growing up. Do you happen–’”

“Jeez louise, everybody has a Victrola?”

This made Sewanee laugh. “I guess so. Anyway, he asks if she has any records–”

“She doesn’t have records? I have records. Somewhere.”

“No, she–she had records. She opened up the cabinet and pulled out a whole bunch of old 78s. He flipped through them and then stopped and said, ‘May I?’ Mom nodded and he started cranking the old Victrola, wound it up good, and put a record on the turntable. Ella Fitzgerald started singing.”

“Oh, Ella Fitzgerald! Which song?”

“‘I’ll Chase the Blues Away.’”

“Golly!” Blah started singing it. Her voice had thinned to a crackle, but she could still trill. “‘I’ll chase the blues away . . .’”

“That’s the one. And he asked Mom to dance. Right there in the driveway. She was in sweatpants and a bleach-stained T-shirt and before she knew it, she was crying and they stopped dancing and he just held her. When the song stopped playing, they pulled apart, and he said, ‘I’m Stu,’ and she said, ‘I’m Marilyn.’ And they’ve been together ever since.”

“Still in Seattle?”

It was Portland. Her mom was from Portland, but to be fair, BlahBlah could never remember that; she’d always thought it was Seattle. “No. Stu’d recently retired from Nike. He’d never been married, never had kids, and had gotten high up in the company. High up enough to buy an apartment on one of those cruise ships that have condos on them?”

“Cruise ships have condos?”

“These do. And you can get on and off whenever you want as it travels all around the world. They’ve been on board for about a year.”

“How perfect! Can I get one?”

“Well, they’re expensive.”

“Oh, I’m sure they cost a pretty penny, but so what? It’s like a fairy tale,” Blah murmured. “And Mar deserves it.” The way she said this made Sewanee believe that, for the moment, Blah remembered everything about her ex-daughter-in-law.

“She does. Yes, she does.”