I WAS SITTING IN a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a Dumpster. It was just after dark. A blustery March wind whipped the steam coming out of the manholes, and people hurried along the sidewalks with their collars turned up. I was stuck in traffic two blocks from the party where I was heading.
Mom stood fifteen feet away. She had tied rags around her shoulders to keep out the spring chill and was picking through the trash while her dog, a black-and-white terrier mix, played at her feet. Mom's gestures were all familiar梩he way she tilted1 her head and thrust out her lower lip when studying items of potential value that she'd hoisted2 out of the Dumpster, the way her eyes widened with childish glee when she found something she liked. Her long hair was streaked3 with gray, tangled4 and matted, and her eyes had sunk deep into their sockets5, but still she reminded me of the mom she'd been when I was a kid, swan-diving off cliffs and painting in the desert and reading Shakespeare aloud. Her cheekbones were still high and strong, but the skin was parched6 and ruddy from all those winters and summers exposed to the elements. To the people walking by, she probably looked like any of the thousands of homeless people in New York City.
It had been months since I laid eyes on Mom, and when she looked up, I was overcome with panic that she'd see me and call out my name, and that someone on the way to the same party would spot us together and Mom would introduce herself and my secret would be out.
I slid down in the seat and asked the driver to turn around and take me home to Park Avenue.
The taxi pulled up in front of my building, the doorman held the door for me, and the elevator man took me up to my floor. My husband was working late, as he did most nights, and the apartment was silent except for the click of my heels on the polished wood floor. I was still rattled7 from seeing Mom, the unexpectedness of coming across her, the sight of her rooting happily through the Dumpster. I put some Vivaldi on, hoping the music would settle me down.
I looked around the room. There were the turn-of-the-century bronze-and-silver vases and the old books with worn leather spines8 that I'd collected at flea9 markets. There were the Georgian maps I'd had framed, the Persian rugs, and the overstuffed leather armchair I liked to sink into at the end of the day. I'd tried to make a home for myself here, tried to turn the apartment into the sort of place where the person I wanted to be would live. But I could never enjoy the room without worrying about Mom and Dad huddled10 on a sidewalk grate somewhere. I fretted11 about them, but I was embarrassed by them, too, and ashamed of myself for wearing pearls and living on Park Avenue while my parents were busy keeping warm and finding something to eat.
What could I do? I'd tried to help them countless12 times, but Dad would insist they didn't need anything, and Mom would ask for something silly, like a perfume atomizer or a membership in a health club. They said that they were living the way they wanted to.
After ducking down in the taxi so Mom wouldn't see me, I hated myself梙ated my antiques, my clothes, and my apartment. I had to do something, so I called a friend of Mom's and left a message. It was our system of staying in touch. It always took Mom a few days to get back to me, but when I heard from her, she sounded, as always, cheerful and casual, as though we'd had lunch the day before. I told her I wanted to see her and suggested she drop by the apartment, but she wanted to go to a restaurant. She loved eating out, so we agreed to meet for lunch at her favorite Chinese restaurant.
Mom was sitting at a booth, studying the menu, when I arrived. She'd made an effort to fix herself up. She wore a bulky gray sweater with only a few light stains, and black leather men's shoes. She'd washed her face, but her neck and temples were still dark with grime.
She waved enthusiastically when she saw me. "It's my baby girl!" she called out. I kissed her cheek. Mom had dumped all the plastic packets of soy sauce and duck sauce and hot-and-spicy mustard from the table into her purse. Now she emptied a wooden bowl of dried noodles into it as well. "A little snack for later on," she explained.
We ordered. Mom chose the Seafood13 Delight. "You know how I love my seafood," she said.
She started talking about Picasso. She'd seen a retrospective of his work and decided14 he was hugely overrated. All the cubist stuff was gimmicky15, as far as she was concerned. He hadn't really done anything worthwhile after his Rose Period.
"I'm worried about you," I said. "Tell me what I can do to help."Her smile faded. "What makes you think I need your help?""I'm not rich," I said. "But I have some money. Tell me what it is you need."She thought for a moment. "I could use an electrolysis treatment.""Be serious.""I am serious. If a woman looks good, she feels good.""Come on, Mom." I felt my shoulders tightening16 up, the way they invariably did during these conversations. "I'm talking about something that could help you change your life, make it better.""You want to help me change my life?" Mom asked. "I'm fine. You're the one who needs help. Your values are all confused.""Mom, I saw you picking through trash in the East Village a few days ago.""Well, people in this country are too wasteful17. It's my way of recycling." She took a bite of her Seafood Delight. "Why didn't you say hello?""I was too ashamed, Mom. I hid."Mom pointed18 her chopsticks at me. "You see?" she said. "Right there. That's exactly what I'm saying. You're way too easily embarrassed. Your father and I are who we are. Accept it.""And what am I supposed to tell people about my parents?""Just tell the truth," Mom said. "That's simple enough."
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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spines
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| n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 )；脊椎；（动植物的）刺；书脊 | |
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flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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seafood
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| n.海产食品，海味，海鲜 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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gimmicky
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| adj.诡计的，骗人的 | |
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tightening
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| 上紧，固定，紧密 | |
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wasteful
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| adj.（造成）浪费的，挥霍的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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