Page 53 of Woman on the Verge

She shook her head.

“How is Merry doing with it?” she asked.

“I think she’s in a bit of denial.”

“Denial can have very protective qualities. Our psyches can only handle so much.”

I nodded.

“I guess I feel like we don’t have time for denial. We have to start making arrangements and things.”

I immediately regretted using that word—arrangements. As if we were already talking about his funeral.

“He will need significant care,” she said.

“I know.” She didn’t need to keep hammering this home.

“I’ll talk to Merry.”

I thanked her, then took a sip of my tea. It tasted strongly caffeinated. Alice reached across the table and held one of my hands in hers.

“You need to take care of yourself, okay? I know you have two little ones. Coming up here, that’s a drive.”

This was a common refrain on social media—All you mamas out there, you need to take care of yourselves. Put on your oxygen mask first, remember? You got this.Of course, most of these messages were put out there by celebrities and influencers who probably have three nannies on staff. I don’t know how the rest of us common folk are supposed to take care of ourselves when so many human beings rely on us to take care of them. That saying “It takes a village” implies there is a village readily available. But where is the village? Did I miss the registration email?

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

“You need to.”

Her eyes were serious. I got a glimpse of what she was like as a psychologist with her patients.

“And I’m always here to talk if you need to.”

“Thanks, Alice. I appreciate it.”

When we finished our tea, we went back to the house. Jim was nearly done setting up the king bed downstairs. When I told Merry this, she said, “And what about the TV?”

“I’ll figure that out,” I told her, though I had little confidence in my technology skills. I don’t rely on Kyle for much, but he is in charge of all things audiovisual.

“I can help with the TV,” Jim called from the bedroom.

“Thanks for eavesdropping,” I called back.

“What’s happening with the TV?” my poor dad asked.

I was about to text Kyle to check up on the girls when my phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was Prisha. We had messaged a few times since the previous visit. She’d known I was headed to the Bay Area again.

Hey. Was just thinking of you. Wanna meet for a drink? I’m off at 5

My first thought was to decline the invitation. I wasn’t sure it would make me feel better to see beautiful, unencumbered Prisha again. But then I thought of what Alice had said about taking care of myself. Maybe I needed some Prisha energy in my life. Besides, Merry was irritating me.

Hi. Yes. Would love that. Same place?

Yep. See you then

I spent the rest of the day pretending to assist Jim (I was really just watching him while scrolling on my phone) while Alice sat and chatted with Merry and my dad. Kyle and I exchanged a few texts, basically confirming each other’s existence and nothing more. Alice picked up sandwiches for lunch, and we all ate together at the kitchen table. When my dad was sitting, not attempting to walk, it was easy to believe things weren’t that bad. He didn’t participate much in the conversation, but he had a pleasant smile on his face. He just seemed quiet and tired. He started to doze off and then went to nap on the couch when we were done.

After lunch, we finished with the beds, and Jim set up the TV. I made a run to Trader Joe’s for Merry, where I felt assaulted by the peppy cashiers: “How’s your day going? Any fun plans?” They really need a “sad line” for people who are dealing with terrible life circumstances or just having a particularly awful day. In this line, the cashiers would be reverentially silent.