Bettye Griffin - A New Kind of Bliss

They dont call him Big Sid because hes six foot three, you know.

Billie Holiday, admiring a musician boyfriend

I love Clark [Gable], but hes a lousy lay.

Carole Lombard, on her matinee idol husband

M aybe I just imagined the huge cloud of doom and gloom over New York City as the jet headed toward the runway at LaGuardia. It might have been one of those symbolic things, a metaphor, I think its called. But I was feeling pretty damn low, so it seemed appropriate.

Anything could have happened while I was in the air. I didnt know if my father was still clinging on to life or if he would be dead by the time I got to the hospital. Even if he pulled through this respiratory failure, there would probably be another one waiting next week or next month. Thats how emphysema works. It doesnt go away; it just keeps getting worse until it kills you.

Pops health was my first concern. My mother, Ruby Yancy, was my second. She was seventy-eight years old and had never lived alone in her life. Shed been a wife for most of her adult life, always seeing to it that the cupboards and refrigerator were stocked, serving a hot meal at six P.M . every night, keeping the apartment tidy, and notifying the building superintendent whenever repairs were needed. She could work within the confines of a budget, too, but she had never put gas in the car, never taken it in for maintenance or repairs, never even written a check to pay a bill. My dad, Earl Yancy Sr. has always been the real take-charge type who always insisted on handling all the household business. He continued to do so even after his breathing difficulties got worse.

The bottom line was that after the inevitable happened, Mom wouldnt be able to live alone unless someone taught her how to balance a checkbook and check the oil. But neither I nor my siblings lived in our hometown of Euliss, a city along the Hudson River, just north of the New York City limits. Id moved to Indianapolis after college, because thats where Al Davis, my ex, whom Id met at Cheyney University, lived. Two years later we got married, and I remained in the city after we got divorced six years after that. My sister, Priscillawe call her Cissylived in Pittsburgh, and my brother, Earl Jr., lived upstate. The three of us had never sat down and discussed what was going to happen when Pops gone. We may be separated geographically, but we could have done it easily with that marvelous innovation known as three-way calling.

Still, I didnt feel too guilty about not having initiated that conversation. I suspected that one of them would suggest that I be the one to spend three or four months in Euliss getting Mom settled. Let Emily take care of it, they would say. She doesnt have a husband. She doesnt have kids.

Bullshit. Sonnymy brothers nickname from childhood, which I thought was silly, considering he was now fifty-five years old and a grandfatherand Cissy were eleven and thirteen years my senior, respectively. They both had kids, most of whom were grown and out of the house. Sonny taught mathematics at SUNY New Paltz, but it was only early June and there wouldnt be classes until the fall. Cissy was general manager of a big convention hotel in Pittsburgh, but it wasnt like they couldnt find someone to fill in for her, somebody like, if I had to guess off the top of my head, the assistant general manager. I saw no reason for me to be the one to have to make a major sacrifice. Being divorced meant the only household income was the one I brought home, and in my opinion that made me the least likely candidatethat is, unless Sonny and Cissy planned on paying my mortgage, car note, and other bills.

The plane was really low now, and all I could see out of my window was water. I heard a loud clicking sound as the landing gear dropped into place. Just when I was certain we were headed for the bottom of Long Island Sound, the runway appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. I knew the pilot had been able to see it the whole time. Still, I held my breath until I felt us touch down with that familiar thump. Landings under ordinary circumstances werent as dangerous as take-offs, but they make me uneasy just the same.

The engines roared now as the jet barreled down the runway, and I didnt truly relax until it slowed to taxiing speed.

I sat out the mad rush to deplane, most of which was spent standing up, holding carry-on luggage in hand, and grumbling about what was taking so damn long. Some of the passengers held packages of cigarettes, and one especially impatient man already had an unlit Salem in his mouth. Hed probably make a mad dash for the exit so he could get in a few puffs before claiming his luggage. But I wasnt about to let the people standing in the aisles behind me get off before I did. I put my foot in the aisle to block it as I got to my feet and retrieved my garment bag from the overhead bin.

Cissy stood waiting, an impatient scowl on her face, when I emerged at the baggage claim area downstairs. Instead of a standard greeting, the first words out of her mouth were, Look at all the people already waiting at the belt for the bags to come out. Did you have to be the last one off the plane?

Lighten up, Cissy; theres a good forty people behind me. I was sitting in the back, I said calmly. But even if I was the last, we cant leave until I get my bag, and nothing has come out yet, I pointed out as we stopped in front of the silent carousel. I grasped her forearm. Whats the latest on Pop?

Hes hanging in, but he could go any minute. He already went into respiratory arrest at four oclock this morning, but they revived him. Weve been at the hospital ever since.

Did anyone at the hospital talk to Mom about a DNR order, do not resuscitate?

Yes. We made him a full code for the time being, so youd be able to see him. Now that youre here, I guess we can reverse it, although its a hard topic to discuss. Id be hesitant to bring up the subject to Mom. Cissy looked a little embarrassed. Howve you been, Em?

I was wondering how long it would take my sister to get around to basic civilities. Im fine. Then I asked about Cissys family. She and her husband, who was waiting in the cell phone lot, were staying with their daughter, son-in-law, and two-year-old grandson. Everyone was well, but anxious about Pop.

The crowd at the carousel was the same people who were practically knocking each other over to get off the plane. Now the gripe had changed from why isnt this line moving to wheres my damn luggage. I got lucky. When the buzzer finally sounded and the belt started moving, my bag was the third one to come out. Cissy promptly called her husband, and five minutes later we were in the car and on our way to Euliss.