Belle's Story

Chapter Thirteen

Despite the advanced notice provided by a layer of heavy snow clouds the night before, the city seemed totally unprepared for the weather. A blanket of white still remained on the sidewalks and most streets. Pretty as­­ it was, I found traversing the conditions in dress shoes with a bag of Belle's things slung over my shoulder to be more than a tad bit challenging. I managed to flag down a cab after a ten minute wait and some concerted effort. I stumbled into the back seat. The fifteen block commute turned into a 70 minute ordeal. The cab driver complained about Mayor Dinkins' inability to clear the streets for the entire ride. When I finally got to the hospital it was 10:30. I stopped at the gift shop on the way to Belle's room and got a New York Times and Wall Street Journal, a good blend of liberal and conservative. I also purchased a smiley face balloon and a dozen white daisies in hopes they would soften Belle's response to my late arrival. I shoved the newspapers in with Belle's clothes. With purse and bag in one hand, and flowers and balloon in the other, I waddled into the elevator and punched the 14th floor button with my elbow.

"Hi, grandma."

Belle was sitting in bed, watching television. "Deborah, thank God. I knew the snow would slow you down, but when you weren't here by ten o'clock, I began to get concerned."

"I'm fine. The streets haven't been cleared and traffic was a nightmare. I brought you a balloon and some flowers."

"Thank you dear. They're beautiful. Did you bring my things?"

                "Yes. I have them right here: two newspapers and some nightgowns. And, I brought you a couple of books too."

"Carrie said she talked to you last night. Is everything alright?"

"I think so. Mom said she's doing pretty well right now. We talked mostly about you."

"What did you say about me?"

"I told Mom they want to bring in hospice. She asked if you were really that bad. I told her you were sharing your life's story with me. I told her we were enjoying it."

"Is she coming up here?"

"She wants to."

I let go of the balloon and let it float to the ceiling. I put the vase of daisies on the end table near the bed and laid the newspapers and books on the bed were Belle could reach them.

Belle gingerly turned the vase. "These flowers smell so fresh," she said as I hung her nightgowns in the closet.

"Deborah, please leave out one nightgown. I'd like to put it on after they give me my sponge bath. What books did you bring?"

"An Ellery Queen novel and Emile," I said as I moved the vase of flowers to the window ledge and set the books on Belle's end table.

 "Emile," Belle's face illuminated at the mention of Emile.

"In French or English?"

"French. I thought you'd like brushing up."

"Kim bought that for me when I was expecting Lawrence."

 "Did grandpa speak French too?" I pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down.

"No, but he knew I loved languages."

"How come you never spoke French when I was growing up?"

"We were in America now. We wanted to be Americans. And in America, one spoke English. Not like these immigrants today. I don't understand how your sister deals with all of those illiterates at her job."

"Victoria likes her job. She says she's helping people."

"I don't see how dealing with unemployed Hispanics and Schwartzers is fulfilling. Those people can barely read and write in their native tongue. How does she expect them to learn another language? Now what Victoria is doing in Japan is something worthwhile, working with families so they can speak English before they arrive here. But, what she does at Bronx Community College is just ridiculous. If they don't know it before they come here, people should teach themselves English, just as they did when I was younger."