Maude (35 page)

I hadn’t so much as said hello to Stella since the
divorce from George, but I remember her coming over
every day to cook and take care of things. People from
the church and other neighbors brought food, and that
helped a lot.

After a week, I tried to get myself back to some
kind of routine. There were boarders to be fed and a
big house to be cleaned, so the next Monday, I got up
early and went back to work. I was nearing eighty, and
by the end of the week realized that without Betty Sue
to help me, there was no way I could continue to care
for a house filled with thirteen boarders and Paul.

I hired a girl to help, but after only five days of
shopping for groceries, cooking, and doing laundry,
the girl quit. So did the next two. I finally had to admit
it wasn’t going to work.
I talked to my two favorite boarders, a Mr.

Crider, who was my own age and a widower, and a
nice young man from Kentucky named Doug. I felt a
kinship with them because they had both been raised
Holiness, even though they didn’t go to meetings
anymore. They agreed they would move with us to a
smaller house. I found a four bedroom place on Mack
Avenue, next to St. Bernard’s Catholic Church. With
my income cut quite a bit, I was barely able to make
ends meet. Gene gave me a little money each week to
help out.

Mr. Crider had a car. I told him how I missed
going to my own kind of church. From that time on,
he drove me and Doug to the services every week.

Ellis remarried only a few months after Betty Sue
died and didn’t have time for Paul. Without a drinking
buddy to pay for his beer, Paul remained sober.

Donna graduated from Southeastern High School and
began working at Michigan Bell as a long-distance
operator. Gene and I were so proud of her. Now
seventeen, she still lived with her grandmother Mayse
and paid room and board. She was making her own
way in the world.

Shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Gene
received a letter from the Friend of the Court. Evelyn
was suing him for back child support. It seemed that
when Donna was living with us during vacations and
through some of her teen years, Gene had assumed it
was all right for him to stop sending money.

Donna took a day off work, and she and I went
to court with him on the appointed morning. I told the
judge how Gene had kept Donna during school
vacations, and that she had lived in his home full time
for two years.

Donna told the judge that he’d been the one who
took her to the dentist and the doctor, who bought her
glasses and books, and gave her spending money and
whatever money she needed for school. He’d been the
one who bought her every stitch of clothing she’d ever
worn.

In spite of this, the judge decided that, since
Gene hadn’t saved receipts, he was in default and
ordered him to pay the contested amount. It took a big
chunk out of his savings.

There was one good outcome of the hearing.
When we stopped for a meal on the way home from
court, he picked at his food, shoving it around his
plate. “I guess you were right about her all these years,
Mom. I finally saw Evelyn through your eyes. I always
hoped I could make her love me, but I know now that
she never did, not one single day.”

Gene had finally stopped loving the woman he’d
cherished and pursued for almost twenty years. He
could now think about finding a woman who would
love him for himself. I breathed a sigh of relief and
thought, “Let Evelyn enjoy the money. We’re finally
rid of her.”

When she was nineteen, Donna married Lonnie
Mabry, a young man who’d courted her off and on
throughout their teens. Gene never liked him, but he
never liked any of the boys Donna knew. Lonnie was
in the Army, just out of basic training. They had a
small wedding at the Baptist church, and he left for his
advanced training class. Donna went on living with her
grandmother Mayse.

In the middle of her first year of marriage, Donna
was overjoyed to tell me she was expecting her first
child. We’d always loved children, and all of us, even
Paul, looked forward to the baby coming.

Gene came to see me every afternoon for the first few
weeks after George and Betty Sue died. I knew he was
grieving, and being with me seemed to comfort him.

One afternoon he drove up in a 1958 cream and
tan Pontiac Bonneville. I went out to admire it. Gene
was proud of the car. It was the first one he ever
owned. He drove me around the block, and when we
got back to my house, he parked it out front and told
me, “If I’d had a car the day dad fell, I could have
picked him up and driven him to the hospital myself
instead of waiting all that time for the ambulance. I
don’t ever want to be in that position again.”

I understood. “I know, but don’t go punishing
yourself. Your dad was in pretty bad shape from the
fall. I don’t think he would have made it anyway.”

“Still, I have one now.”
“That’s good, Gene.”
We went inside, and he sat at the kitchen table. I

I brought it up carefully. “Do you ever think
about moving back in with us, now that your dad’s
gone?”

Gene took a deep breath. I think he’d been
expecting me to ask exactly this. “No, Mom. That
wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“I just thought I’d ask.”
“You know how I feel about Paul. I don’t think I
could live under the same roof with him. You don’t
have enough rooms here anyway. You would have to
ask Doug or Mr. Crider to move, and I know how good
they’ve been to you and how much you like them.”
“I could always find a bigger place.”
“Well, the truth is, I’ve been seeing someone
pretty regular. Her name is Loretta. I like her a lot,
Mom. I want to maybe have a life with her.”
He’d said that he
liked
this Loretta, not that he
loved her. Maybe that was all for the better. He’d loved
Evelyn so much that she’d made his life miserable for
a long time.
I sat next to him and put my hand on his. “You
deserve to be happy. I hope it works out for you.”

Evelyn gave birth to another little girl and named
her Linda. Donna was delighted with the baby and
brought pictures of her to show to me. Linda was a
pretty little thing, with tight blonde curls. She was one
more thing that widened the permanent gulf between
Evelyn and Gene, and that was fine with me.

In September of 1962, Donna still worked at the
telephone company. She would have to quit soon
because the company policy was that she couldn’t
work past her sixth month. She visited me about once
a week.

She would be leaving soon for Fort Riley,
Kansas. Lonnie had found an apartment in Manhattan,
a town a few miles from the Army base. Gene and I
hated to see her go, but at the same time, we were
proud of her and the life she lived.

Loretta called to tell me that Gene was having
trouble with his kidneys and was in the Harper
Hospital for treatment. I called Donna to let her know.
She had her own car, so she stopped by and picked me
up, and the two of us went to see him together.

Gene’s face lit up when Donna came in the room.
She’d had morning sickness for a long time but had
finally been able to keep down enough food that she’d
put on some weight. In her sixth month, her
being in a family way was finally beginning to show.

Gene gave her a big smile. “I’m fine. I’m only in
here for some tests. Don’t let it worry you. You go
ahead out to Kansas. I’ll be out of the hospital in a few
days and back to work on Monday.”

I was cheered a little by his behavior and the pink
on his cheeks.
Lonnie came home on leave, and after a final
visit to the hospital, he and Donna left on their trip to
Kansas.
Donna wrote home to me right away with her
address and phone number, and we wrote letters to one
another about every two weeks.
Donna’s daughter Melanie was born at Erwin
Army Hospital at Fort Riley in November of 1962.
Donna called to say it was a quick and easy delivery.
Gene and I treasured the pictures of the pretty
little girl Donna sent home with her next letter.

I’d lost one son and both my daughters. George died,
and Donna lived half way across the country. Soon, my
life changed even more, and for the worse. Mr. Crider,
who was one of my last two boarders, became ill and
went to live with his son and daughter-in-law. The
other boarder, Doug, married and moved away. I was
left alone in the house with Paul, who still hadn’t
found a job to his liking.

I was often tempted to turn him out, but my
weakness kept me from doing it. He passed his days
sleeping late, sitting in front of the window, watching
television, and going back to bed.

I kept my house clean, as always. I lived for the
few minutes Gene spent with me when he came to
visit. He stopped by twice a week and drove me to the
market. Most other days if I needed something I had to
buy it at the corner store, which was more expensive.
I couldn’t carry home more than one bag, and Paul
wouldn’t go with me to help.

When Gene offered to give me money, I usually
refused it, saying I was making out all right…but I
wasn’t telling him the truth. The truth was my lifetime
savings were getting used up fast, and what I drew
from Social Security wasn’t enough to support one
person, much less two.

Gene brought his girlfriend Loretta to meet me.
When they pulled up in front of the house, I noticed
she was driving his car and it struck me as odd. I
worried about the way he looked. His skin had a
greenish color to it that worried me, and he walked
slower than he normally did. I wondered if she drove
because he wasn’t well enough.

We were polite to one another, but I didn’t care
for her, and I thought it must be some flaw in my own
character. Maybe I would never like a woman my son
picked, but I would do my best to make Loretta feel
comfortable for Gene’s sake.

He’d given up his apartment and moved in with
Loretta, but they hadn’t married. That didn’t sit well
with me. Gene still wasn’t well enough to go to work.
He told me that as soon as he was back on his feet, they
would have a wedding. As much as I didn’t want him
living with a woman who wasn’t his wife, I didn’t care
for the idea of Gene marrying Loretta.

Gene was in and out of the hospital for months.
His kidneys, injured in the fall from a roof all those
years before, were shutting down on him.

Loretta worked day shift, so on weekdays I
walked over to their apartment and made lunch for
him. I was surprised at what she kept in the
refrigerator. I’d seen the list of foods Gene’s doctor
recommended, and there was too much in there that
wasn’t on the list.

He was still able to get up and eat at the table. I
set his plate in front of him. One particular day, I’d
carried over some homemade chicken soup. It had
always been one of his favorites. I stewed a big hen,
added wide noodles, carrots, celery, and onions, the
way he always loved.

I bought salt substitute especially for the things I
made him because his doctor had put him on a salt-free
diet. What I made for myself and Paul had regular salt
and black pepper.

He ate a good amount. I sat next to him. “I saw
cucumbers in the refrigerator. Are you supposed to be
eating things like that?”

“I guess it’s all right. The doctor gave Loretta a
list of what I could have.”
“What about the other things…radishes,
olives?”
Gene smiled at me. “I’m fine, Mom, don’t worry
so much.”
I did worry. He looked worse every day. I didn’t
know if Loretta was helping him or hurting him.

I think now God gives each one of us a measure of
happiness for our lives, and some are allowed more
than others. It’s like the ration stamps that were handed
out during the war, so much butter, so much sugar, and
then no more. I also think that sometimes the good
stretches are so good that it must count for double
time, like the two years when I was married to James.

The rest of my own happiness was strung out
through my life in dribs and drabs, and most of that
revolved around Betty Sue and Gene. It tapered off as
I lost the ones I loved, first my mother and father, then
James, Lulu, then Betty Sue. Now, I was sure I was
facing the loss of Gene. It would seem I’d used up my
share of happiness.

Every time I left him, my head ached for hours,
sometimes the pain was so sharp I had to take aspirins
and lie down in the dark all afternoon before it went
away.

One morning in April of 1963, Loretta called the
house to tell me that Gene had been taken to the Harper
Hospital in an ambulance. Riding the bus downtown
and transferring, it took me two hours to reach the
hospital. The whole time, I had to keep myself from
running to the front and pounding on the driver so he
would drive faster.

When I got there he was in intensive care. The
sight of him scared me half to death. He was lying
totally still, with no color in his face. There were two
IV tubes in his arms and wires from different monitors
attached to him. I held his hand and tried to talk to him.
He opened his eyes and managed a weak smile, then
closed them again.

I sat in the chair next to the bed. After several
hours, his doctor came in and examined him. When he
finished, he took my hand and led me out into the
hallway.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Foley. There isn’t a lot we can do
for kidney failure of this sort. I’m going to try
transfusing him again. Sometimes it does help quite a
lot.”

“Should I call his daughter? She’s in Kansas. Her
husband is in the Army.”
He hesitated. “Yes, I think you’d better call her.”
Donna got a flight home with Melanie, and Mr.
Crider’s son met them at the airport. They came to my
house and picked me up, then drove directly to the
hospital. Donna brought the baby into Gene’s hospital
room. It was the day after a transfusion, and Gene was
better. He was so excited. He sat up on the edge of the
bed and held his granddaughter, rocking her in his
arms.
“She’s so beautiful,” he said. “She’s like a big
doll, isn’t she?”
He looked at me. “She looks just like Donna,
doesn’t she, Mom?”
He held Melanie’s face up to his cheek and
closed his eyes while he rocked her back and forth for
several minutes. We stayed as long as the nursing staff
would let us and came back the next day and the day
after, staying as long as we could.
The doctor was amazed at Gene’s improvement,
and said that he could probably go home in a few days.
He was sitting up, even walking a few steps.
Donna left Michigan, but I knew she felt uneasy
about it.
Amonth later, Gene was back in the hospital, this time
worse than ever. He slipped in and out of
consciousness. I was desperate. I felt so alone, felt as
if the whole world were falling in on me. I called
Donna again.
There wasn’t enough money for an airplane, so
Donna took the train. It was a long trip, and she had to
change trains in Chicago with a layover of three hours.
She got home too late. Gene passed away during the
night.
Donna stayed with me while she was in Detroit.
We pulled out a drawer from the dresser and put in a
pillow to make a bed for Melanie. Donna shared my
bed again, the way she had as a young girl.
I had given birth to five children, and I lost four.
It was terrible for me when Lulu died, but there were
Bud and Gene to be cared for, and it eased the grief.
When Bud died, I had others to look after. Then I lost
Betty Sue, and it broke my heart. Now, I’d lost Gene,
and it was a thousand times beyond a broken heart.
What did I have left to live for?