Riverside Drive

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And that was only the last year and a half.

Mrs. Goldblum closed her eyes, choosing not to think back any further than that.

Mrs. Goldblum flexed her hands. It was becoming a little more difficult to ignore these days, the arthritis. Particularly on humid days. It made one think in different terms. That is when they want you to go into a home, Mrs. Goldblum thought. When you speak of it taking sixteen and a half twists to open a six-ounce can of cat food.

“What are you talking about, Mother?” Daniel had yelled on the phone.

“About using the can opener, dear. About feeding Missy.”

“Do you think I called all the way from Chicago to talk about a cat?”

“I am simply answering your question, Daniel. You asked me how I am and I’m telling you how I am.”

“You’re talking about can openers and cats!” he had cried.

Rosanne breezed into the living room, breaking Mrs. Goldblum’s train of thought. “Before I forget again,” she said, holding out a large Saks Fifth Avenue shopping bag, “Amanda bought the wrong kind of shower curtain and can’t return it and wondered if you’d like it.” She pulled it out of the bag for Mrs. Goldblum to see.

It was a pale pink. Mrs. Goldblum liked it very much indeed and reached out to touch it. “Wasn’t that thoughtful of her.”

“Well, I don’t know, Mrs. G. Seems to me if Amanda was thoughtful she wouldn’t always be buyin’ the wrong stuff. ‘Member when she gave me the watch? ‘Member?”

“I’m not sure that I do,” Mrs. Goldblum said.

“Aw, sure ya do, Mrs. G,” Rosanne said. “When I told her to get some Windex and she came back with a watch? This one?” She held up her wrist.

“Oh, my, yes, now I recall,” Mrs. Goldblum chuckled.

Rosanne listened to her watch for a moment and then shrugged. “So, ya want me to hang this up?”

“Would you, dear? Is that too much to ask? I do think it would look lovely in the bathroom. Don’t you agree?”