It’s about my big daughter, Travis. Maureen. She’s practically twenty-six. She’s been married to Tom Pike for three and a half years now. They have no children. She’s had two miscarriages. Maurie is a stunning-looking young woman. When she had her second miscarriage, a year ago, she was quite sick. I would have been able to take care of her, but at about that time I was in the hospital for my first operation-Gad, talk about soap operas!… Bridget had come down to help out, and Biddy is still here, because things are a Godawful mess. You see, I always thought that Maurie was the solid-as-a-rock one, and Biddy-she’s twenty-three now-would be the one who’d manage to mess herself up because she is sort of dreamy and unreal and not in touch. But Biddy has had to hang around not only on account of me but because Maurie has tried three times to kill herself. It seems even more unreal to me when I see my hand write the words on this paper -kill herself-such a stupid and frightening waste. Tom Pike is a darling. He could not be nicer. He and Biddy are trying as hard as they can to bring Maurie out of it, but she just doesn’t seem right to me. As if she can’t really be reached. Tom has tried all kinds of professional care and advice, and they have been trying to make me believe that her troubles are over now. But I can’t believe it. And I certainly can’t get up out of this damned bed and take charge. Let us just say I am not likely to ever get up out of this damned bed.
Remember on our cruise when you told me how you live, what you do? Maybe I am stretching the definition, but in this situation my elder is trying to steal her own life. Do you ever operate on a preventative basis? I want you to try to keep her from stealing her life away. I don’t have any idea how you would go about it, or whether anything you could do would be of any use at all. Certainly fifty percent of Maurie’s life would be worth far more than twenty-five thousand.
I have been thinking of you these past days, finally de-‘ aiding there is no one else I could ask this of, and no one else I would trust to be able to do anything to help. You are so darn shrewd and knowing about people, Travis. I know that you put a raggedy widow-lady back together again with great skill and taste and loving kindness. In my memories of that summer you are two people, you know. One was a young man so much younger than I that at times, when we were having fun and you seemed particularly boyish, you made me feel like a depraved and evil old hag. At other times there was something so… kind of ancient and knowledgeable about you, you made me feel like a dumb young girl. Had it not been for the time we had together, I might have been able to adjust to spending the rest of my life with Teddy Trescot… Anyway, my lasting impression was that there cannot be too many things in this world you would not be able to cope with. And I don’t mean just muscle and reflex… I mean in the gentle art of maneuvering people, as I think Maurie needs to be maneuvered. Can’t she comprehend how valuable life is? I certainly can, right now more than ever.
Believe me, darling, I am very tempted to drop one of those horrid death-bed demands upon you-Save my daughter’s life! But I cannot bring myself to the point of such dramatic corn. You will if you want to and you won’t if you don’t. It is that simple.
I just had a couple of bad ones and couldn’t keep my jaw shut tight enough and so I humiliated myself by squealing loud enough to bring the nurse scuttling in, and so they gave me a shot and things are beginning to get a little vague and swimmy. I will hang on long enough to sign this and seal it, but it might get to sounding a little drunky before I do… I wrote about you being two people to me… I am two people to myself… Do you know how strangely young the heart stays, no matter what? One of me is this wretched husk here in the electric bed, all tubes and bad smells and hurt and the scars that didn’t do much good, except for a little while… the other me is caught back there aboard the Lady in Shroud Cay, and the other me is being your bounding, greedy hoyden, romping and teasing in the nakedy bed, such a shameless widow-wench indeed, totally preoccupied with our finding, over and over, that endless endless little time when it was all like deep hot engines running together… the heart stays young… so damnably yearningly unforgivably young… and O my darling hold that other me back there long ago far away hold her tightly and do not let her fade away, because…