Thursday, April 19, 2018

Breakfast At Tiffany's

I sit on the side of the bed next to my 85 year-old mother-in-law.

I read:
"I am always drawn back to places where I have lived, the houses and their neighborhoods. For instance, there is a brownstone in the East Seventies where, during the early years of the war, I had my first New York apartment. It was one room crowded with attic furniture, a sofa and fat chairs upholstered in that itchy, particular red velvet that one associates with hot days on a train. The walls were stucco, and a color rather like tobacco-spit."

Do you remember when the subways had seat with fabric?

She stirs and shakes her head. No.

I read more. Her stoke left her right-side debilitated, she cannot swallow and a PEG was installed in her stomach for feeding. 

"Do you want me to continue reading?"
"Sure."

Her mouth is crusty but her eyes open. Blue and unfocused. She is attentive.

"It never occurred to me in those days to write about Holly Golightly, and probably it would not now except for a conversation I had with Joe Bell that set the whole memory of her in motion again."

Do you remember Holly Golightly? 
No.
Audrey Hepburn?
Head shakes. No.

"Holly Golightly had been a tenant in the old brownstone; she occupied the apartment below mine. As for Joe Bell, he ran a bar around the corner on Lexington Avenue. He still does."

The  nursing facility is in the same neighborhood as Holly Golightly. I visualize the brownstones I passed on the way here as I sit next to Gramms. On the bed with the feeding tube and wish I was in the movie with Audrey. Truman is here with us. I am nostalgic for this.

In a deep voice I am Mr. Yunioshi:
"Miss Golightly! I must protest!
High voice:
"Oh darling, I am sorry. I lost the goddamn key."

I look to see if the curse word stirred Gramms. Nothing.

"You cannot go on ringing my bell. You must please, please have a key made."
"But I lost them all."
"I work, I have to sleep, Mr. Yunioshi shouted. "But always you are ringing my bell..."
"Oh, don't be angry, you dear little man: I won't do it again."

She is asleep. I am sitting with her. With Truman, Holly and Gramms in the Seventies near Lexington.