See you in February, and will look forward to your oration—
James
FROM: [email protected]
DATE: Jan 19, 2013 12:04 PM
SUBJECT: Re: RE: Memorial service
Dear James,
You will never stop worrying.
I don’t know how you remember Theodore Lübeck’s rosebushes. (Re: Lübeck, he’s from Germany. I asked right out a few weeks back when he passed on the road—not what I thought—Oregon or Washington or the like. Once he said it, I thought I could detect the accent.)
You ought to let me bring Harry as my plus one.
Warm regards,
Sybil
Rosalie Van Antwerp
33 Orange Lane
Goshen, CT 06756
February 4, 2013
Dear Rosalie,
Fiona called this week to tell me she is pregnant. Apparently it took an awfully long time, a petri dish and more capital than the down payment on a house (it’s astounding how much money she makes, not that I know specifically), none of which she chose to share with me until after the fact. She is going to have the baby over there; dual citizenship is a perk. There were some concerns, but now she’s well into the second trimester. I suppose this makes you its great aunt or/and the ‘godgrandmother.’ I’m sure I won’t know the child, as I only see Fiona once a year at this point.
In other news, Guy’s funeral is two Saturdays hence all the way out in Frederick, so I’ll have to go. The last time I was in Frederick was years ago. It is a lovely part of the state, with the big horse farms, but you know how I loathe to drive highways. Anyway, I was going to see if Bruce would come with me, which I’m certain he would have because Bruce positively loved Guy, but I remembered Bruce will be on vacation skiing in Colorado with his children, so I have asked James Landy to drive me. Do you remember James? He came to clerk for Tom Buggs in the late eighties. James is a little uptight, and married to a real wreck of a woman riddled with nerves from a wealthy family out in California or some far-flung place, but I’ve always liked him and he has a child with whom I correspond. I’m getting into unnecessary weeds here, I’m getting around to this: Liz Donnelly has asked me to speak at the service, and although I do not, like most, relish retracing old paths (better to leave the past in the past where it belongs, if you ask me), I’ve agreed, so I’ll need something to WEAR. I’ve now stood before my closet on three occasions andleafed through what I own, and the only black anything I have anymore is a dress I was probably wearing in the 1990s, which dips down to the uppermost part of what used to be my cleavage, but which now resembles the skin of a raw plucked chicken. That won’t do. I feel I need to present myself with a certain measure of command, some self-respect. I don’t think I told you yet, but I’ve gone fully gray. Fortunately, it’s turning out to have a bit of that luxurious shine some women get, and it’s smooth, but I do look OLD. Do you have any thoughts on this matter? It was always at these sorts of events when I wished for a bit of height—how I loathe my height—and it’s not a miracle I’m asking for! I don’t need to be six feet tall like yourself, but five foot five or six would’ve been nice. Five feet one inch is embarrassing for things like public speaking (which I loathe to begin with) and no self-respecting septuagenarian is going to wear pumps, though I will say I do miss wearing them.
It’s been raining for a week straight and the yard is mud. I am readingMurder on the Orient Express(Agatha Christie; third time). What are you reading? Do you hear from Daan?
Sending love, (WRITE TO ME),
Syb
Sybil Van Antwerp
17 Farney Rd.
Arnold, MD
21012
February 8, 2013
Dear Sybil,
How wonderful for Fiona! She texted me just this morning to say she’s pregnant. I am happy for you, and the fact that you’ll have a grandchild in London means you’ll have to visit. This is the perfect opportunity for you to finally GO, take her shopping for baby things and maternity tops, you know, see Buckingham Palace and the very tall clock which has a man’s name that escapes me. Put down this letter and call the airline, Sybil!
It’s good you can get the funeral out of the way, and lovely Liz asked you to speak. I’ve always wondered if she resented you at all, how close you were to Guy and all the time you spent with him in those years you were with each other more than you were with your spouses. It’s a nice gesture for her to ask. I feel that it shows there isn’t any bad feeling. And if you’re looking like a chicken, imagine how much worse I am, all the baby oil I bathed in every summer until I was forty. I wish I could come down and take you to Nordstrom and help you find something. You’ll think I’m crazy, but I actually sat here considering it, but I can’t leave Paul with anyone overnight. He’s heavy to get in and out of the bed, and he gets agitated when it’s anyone but me. He liked the one day nurse, Olga (she was born in Moscow and lived there until she was eighteen—she was a very interesting person to talk to), and she was willing to do overnights, but she moved to live near her family in Illinois. His new wheelchair is here and it’s really something. It has a button for everything, it practically fixes you a cappuccino, although it’s extremely heavy.
