593 Riverside Drive - 7. Chapter 7

At dinner, Ella explained to my father – and to Uncle Herbert and Aunt Essie, who happened to be there – why she was leaving Joe. Hearing it again also made it clearer to me.

“It’s not even that I’m used to being obeyed,” she began, “but I’m used to being heard... to being listened to. I expect that what I say will at least be considered, but that’s not what’s been happening for the last two years. Laurette and her grandfather simply ignore me. And worse, she says the most awful things to me, especially, “You’re not my mother,” when I try to give her any advice, let alone try to correct her behavior. That makes me feel terrible and reminds us both that her mother has died. At least, Laurie can’t do that and only partly because he’s only eight. Because I am his mother – legally. After Joe and I were married, I adopted him. We considered my adopting Laurette, too, but decided she was already too old.”

“Laurette’s my age,” I put in, “and neither of is twenty-one,yet. And I still listen to Mama and Papa,”

Mama smiled at that, and Papa just laughed.

“Well, Laurette doesn’t act like she’s almost twenty-one,” Ella went on. “If she were nearly as thoughtful as you are, I’d have one fewer problem – and a big one.”

“What does she do?” Essie asked.

“For one thing, she’s the sloppiest person I’ve ever met. You wouldn’t know it when you meet her because she’s always well dressed. But as soon as she walks into the apartment, she leaves her clothes wherever she wants. You can tell that she doesn’t even think about it. And it isn’t just clothes – it’s anything she touches. She’ll pick something up and leave it where it doesn’t belong – and where it can get broken or get in the way. It seems she’s never heard of, ‘There’s a place for everything, and everything in its place.’ Rosa is constantly picking up and then turning around and encouraging me to be stern. She says, ‘She hasn’t had a mother since she was twelve, so she’s never learned good manners – or forgotten those she knew – and I was never allowed to tell her. Mr. Spingarn is always saying, ‘Poor Daughtie. She doesn’t have my wife or an older sister to tell her all the things a man simply doesn’t know.’ Well, I do.”

“Does Joe says anything? Or do anything?” Essie asked.

“Yes,” Ella said smiling. “He works very hard, and he spoils us all.” She laughed. “But he’s sometimes doesn’t think. We didn’t need an apartment that large. We didn’t need to move to the city. And I didn’t need to have my own car, though it was nice to learn how to drive. And I certainly didn’t need a chauffeur and a second maid. The cook is nice, but Rosa and I could have managed our meals and the shopping – and some of the light housekeeping, too. I know I couldn’t give up Rosa, but that’s never been a question – she’s been with the Spingarn family for over forty years. She’s older than Joe.”

“What about his father?” Herbert asked. “You said he causes trouble.”

“You’ve been there for dinners,” Ella replied. “You’ve seen him. He walks around like he’s a little king... like he owns the place, and he’s as new to it as I am. Still, I’d gladly defer to him because he’s more than twice my age. And from everything Joe’s told me – often – his father was once a very smart man. But now, to say he’s drooling isn’t even being rude. It’s just what everyone sees.”

“What does Joe say to that?” Papa asked.

“He chooses to pretend it’s not there. When I ask if we should take his father to a doctor – or bring in a full-time nurse, since Joe is so comfortable about bringing in help – and as I’ve said, I’d gladly give up our second maid – Joe says, ‘Why? He’s not sick, and he’s a grown man.’ But he is sick – his mind isn’t there anymore. And he’s impolite, and he intrudes on my company, saying anything he pleases to anyone he who’s there, especially the women.”

“I’ve seen that,” my mother quietly admitted, “though he’s never done it to with me. He must know I wouldn’t stand for it. Still, because he’s your father-in-law, and because of his age, I’ve let it pass.”

“So have I,” Ella acknowledged. “But it doesn’t really help. It’s like giving him permission.”

“And Uncle Joe won’t do anything?” I asked. “That doesn’t seem like him.”

“There are a lot of things that don’t seem like Joe anymore. And I know everyone learns a lot after they’re married, maybe especially when they’ve had an engagement as short as ours.”

“You’ve known each other for years,” my father objected.

“Socially,” Ella clarified. “Politely. But so much can change when you’re living with somebody – and when you move in with someone’s family.”

No one could deny anything Ella was saying. But none of us really understood why she felt she needed to leave.

“Because it’s a strain,” she finally finished up. “I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic. I’m no Sarah Bernhardt. But at times, I think I’m going a little mad.”

She smiled at that, too, so we all laughed – lightly. But none of us really knew what we’d do.