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her body doesn’t want to. But she’s propped up with her hands on the bars and is stretched like a piece of leather across a frame as the bottom of her nightdress is rolled up in the morning light. They wash her back. She puts up with it. There’s a throbbing and pulsing in her temples. She feels her blood slosh through her bony body and pool at her feet, she is a glass of corked wine balanced precariously high over the emptiness and the white of daylight.
    â€œGood thing Pāvils gave me these yellow rubber gloves. They’re really good, see? Before my hands would smell so badly I couldn’t go to work—piss and shit get under your nails and the smell sticks to your skin no matter how hard you scrub your hands. It’s more hygienic with the gloves. They work! I put a hat on before coming in here, too. Your hair soaks up smells in a second. I can’t talk to anyone at work about any of it. I never dreamed it would be like this. She’s been strong as a horse her whole life—she worked as hard as a horse and was as proud as a horse. Wouldn’t let anyone or anything get to her. And look at her now! How long will it be like this? Could be years. The doctors said her heart was like a horse’s. Strong. Her mind’s gone, she doesn’t think or feel anything, but she’s still got an appetite.”
    Mother hears these doubts about her mental capacity and smirks, then smacks her gums, which are again as dried out as the desert. But right away she winces as a rough towel digs into the skin behind her knees.
    â€œMom, what you’re doing is admirable—you’re great. You amaze me. You’ll feel good about it afterwards, right?”
    â€œWill I feel good about it? I don’t even know how to respond to your little cheer.”
    â€œCheer? Mom!”
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t know about anything anymore. I try not to think at all.”
    They put a new diaper on Mother and sit her back onto the bed with a pile of pillows behind her back. A napkin is tucked in under her chin. A spoon of something red is brought to her mouth. She opens it like a mechanical beak and swallows.
    â€œHave some fruit, Mother!”
    â€œYou should cut it up—she doesn’t have any teeth.”
    Mother nods and swallows the piece of fruit whole.
    â€œShe can mash it up with her gums.”
    â€œMaybe it would be better to put her in a home. You yell at her. And one time when I called you were in tears. Sometimes you drink and cry.”
    â€œI don’t just yell at her, m’dear, I hit her too—with a towel. She’s totally shameless. And yes, I yell. She shits all over the bed and pisses all the time. But she still has an appetite. I stand next to her and watch my life fall apart—or what’s left of it. An hour with her sometimes feels like a year. I’ll drink her medicine, it happens a lot. It’s human nature! Don’t shake your head, that’s life. You don’t believe me and that’s fine, because you don’t know anything about life yet. Think what you want, but I’m not putting her in a home. She’s my mother.”
    â€œNurse supervision, good food. She’s been proud her entire life, remember, Mom? It might be better for both of you if you didn’t yell and hit her with towels. If you didn’t cry and drink her medicine.”
    â€œWhy bother having kids if they just end up putting you in a home?”
    â€œBut let’s at least think about it.”
    â€œYou’re all trying to push this nursing home thing—stop piling on your advice!”
    Â 
    Mother nods and opens her mouth to have her say, but gets a mouthful of chocolate spread instead. That was unnecessary. Mother hates the chocolate. She shudders and shakes her head. But her gums mash up the spread, and it melts and drips heavily into her stomach.
    Mother speaks:
    â€œThe white one.”
    â€œMom, she wants