Free There Was an Old Woman by Hallie Ephron Page A

slippers that were sitting by the bed. Evie rolled the IV rack along after as her mother took one shuffling step after another to the bathroom. The thin hospital gown hung loose. Her silhouette was like those starving children she’d seen in photographs, belly distended and arms and legs stick thin. Through the open back of the hospital gown, Evie could see that her mother’s back was mottled with bruises.
    Her mother waved off Evie’s offer to come into the bathroom with her. Evie waited outside the door. And waited. And then helped her mother back into bed.
    â€œWater?” Evie asked. Her mother nodded. Evie poured water from the plastic pitcher on the bedside table into a glass with a straw in it. Her mother sipped. The water level had barely receded before her mother made a face and pulled away.
    Evie put the water back on the table.
    Her mother held her gaze for a moment.
    â€œHow are you feeling?” Evie said, because she didn’t know what else to say.
    Her mother shook her head and closed her eyes.
    Evie said, “Your neighbor, the man from across the street? He stopped by the house.”
    Her mother gave her a startled look.
    â€œI didn’t know you were friendly with him. He offered to repair—”
    â€œDid you let him in?” her mother asked, anxiety flaring in her eyes.
    â€œNo,” Evie said, glad that she hadn’t. “I told him thanks but no thanks.”
    Her mother started to say something more, but a nurse came into the room. As the nurse wrapped a blood-pressure cuff around her arm, her mother said under her breath, “So he knows I’m here?”
    â€œMom, everyone in the neighborhood knows you’re here. The ambulance—remember?”
    Her mother winced and let her head drop back on the pillow, her lips a thin tight line as the nurse pumped air into the cuff. The nurse released it slowly, gave the cuff a puzzled look, and pumped it a second time. This time she seemed satisfied. She checked the IV, wrote something in the chart hanging on the end of the bed, and left.
    â€œGod, what I wouldn’t give for a smoke,” her mother said.
    Evie realized that the nurse had left a wake of cigarette-scented air in the small room.
    â€œMom, the health department is threatening to condemn the house.”
    â€œThe house?” Her mother blinked several times, like she was absorbing this information.
    â€œIt’s an awful mess. I’m going to need money to get the house cleaned up and repaired.”
    â€œI can take care of it. There’s money,” her mother said with a vague wave. “Plenty of money. When I get home.”
    â€œWhen you—?” Evie wondered if Ginger could have been wrong about how sick her mother was. “The doctor told you when you can go home?”
    â€œSoon. When I’m ready.” With her good arm, her mother pushed herself up straighter. Her face turned pink. “I’m not a child, you know. So don’t think you can just move in and take over.”
    Evie wasn’t sure she’d heard right. “What?” she asked. “Mom, I—”
    â€œThat’s what you do, isn’t it?” Her mother’s face reddened some more. “Boss everyone around. Take charge. Oh yes, Evie knows what’s best for everyone. Everyone except herself. As if you care a twig about what happens to me.”
    Whiplash. That’s what she and Ginger had called it when the switch flipped. Only she couldn’t be drinking. Not here in the hospital.
    Her mother grabbed Evie’s wrist and squeezed so hard that it hurt. “Stop looking at me like that. I can’t stand it when you talk down to me. ”
    Her mother’s breath was sour, but there was no alcohol on it, Evie thought in a disconnected corner of her brain as she tried to yank her arm free. But her mother’s grip had frozen like a vise. “I was only asking so—”
    â€œ I was only