time there was a quiet pause, one or the other would
jump in with a story, a joke, a comment, forcing
Mama to participate, be happy, eat, and drink wine.
Daddy was practically not mentioned at all, but that
didn't stop Mama from gazing around as if she
expected him to arrive any moment, just as he used to
when he was meeting us after court business. Twice.
Brenda caught my eye, and we both knew what she
was doing and feeling.
We went home relatively early, but Mama
showed fatigue and excused herself to go to bed
almost as soon as we walked through the door. Brenda
and Celia stayed up talking with me in the living room
about Mama's condition and how I had to do all I
could to keep her from shrinking,
"After a while, she'll even limit how much of
the house she'll go into," Celia predicted. Brenda
listened intently to her every word, as if she were a
licensed psychiatrist. "She'll get so she won't even
come out of her room. She'll have you bring her meals
there."
"No, she won't. That's not going to happen," I
cried. It was on the tip of my tongue to add. You're
not a psychiatrist. Stop pretending to be one, andwith
my mother, too! But I didn't say it,
"Just call us if anything like that starts to
happen," Brenda said. "She promised me she would
see someone, and I'll follow up on that. You'd better
make sure you're around as much as you can be, and
don't get into any more trouble. April."