Mrs. Wright
Created | Updated Aug 31, 2005
The baby screamed and screamed when Mrs. Wright arrived late in the evening at her daughter Clara’s house. Robert, her son in law, walked up and down the living-room with the baby in his arms, trying to make it stop screaming. He was not successful and passed the baby on to Clara, but the screams continued. It made it impossible for Mrs. Wright to tell them about her flight and how unpleasant it had been. She was also bursting to tell them that she had lost her job. She was not going to tell them that she hoped they would ask her to stay with them indefinitely.
As she looked at the baby’s tightly closed red eyes, its wet cheeks and open mouth, she wondered how a little thing like that could make so much noise. With an expression she hoped conveyed sympathy, she gave her daughter to understand that she would go and unpack.
Robert picked up her suitcase and carried it to the guest room. He closed the door as he left and she started to hang up her clothes in the wardrobe. The presents she had seleceted with such care she put aside on a little table. When she finished unpacking, she went into the bathroom to freshen up and ventured into the living-room from where for the last five minutes no more screams had issued. She found Clara sitting exhausted on the sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her. Her kicked-off shoes lay on their sides on either side of her feet. Mrs. Wright gave a sigh and sat down next to her daughter, took her hand, patted it and said with warm comprehension, “Poor girl. Is it always like this in the evenings?” Clara gave a little laugh and answered, “Oh, mother! This does not happen often. It is just that your arrival upset the baby’s routine.”
Robert came into the room, told them the baby had dropped off to sleep and asked his mother-in-law if she would like one of his special Martinis. They sipped their drinks and talked mainly about Clara and Robert’s experience when the baby was born four months ago, about the hospital and the nice pediatrician they had found. Mrs. Wright did not get a chance to talk about herself. They went to bed late and Robert promised her a tour of the city for the next day.
Mrs. Wright woke up late and found Clara and Robert preparing milk for the baby in the kitchen. A radio was playing softly. There was a delicious aroma of coffee. The baby looked content and Mrs. Wright asked to hold her grandson. She had dreamed of a smiling baby in her arms. As soon as Robert placed the little boy in Mrs. Wright’s arms, he began to cry and stretched out his arms to his mother. Clara finished preparing the bottle, tested it for temperature on the back of her hand and Robert took the baby from Mrs. Wright to feed it. Clara looked on and Robert smiled up at her.
Mrs. Wright felt left out and walked into the garden. She looked around her and started wandering down the path. Over the hedge to her right she saw the neighbours having breakfast on their terrace amongst flowers and greenery and the silence of the Sunday morning. As she looked at them absentmindedly, one of their children spotted her, said something to the others at the table and all looked up from their plates to stare at Mrs. Wright. She walked on slowly, pretending to be looking at the hedge. She felt like an intruder and did not quite know how to behave. She wished she were uninhibited enough to shout, “Hi, I am Clara’s mother!” After a while she walked back into the house.
At breakfast, Robert and Clara told her about their new life in the city, about his job, the nice neighbours and how they loved it there. They looked happy together, smiled a lot at each other and often touched hands. Mrs. Wright was happy for them. Once or twice she tried to talk about herself, but the conversation always went back to other things.
After breakfast, Mrs. Wright offered to wash the dishes, but found there was a dishwasher. She asked if she could sweep the house and Clara told her that she had read somewhere that the dust, whirled into the air by sweeping, stayed around for three days before settling again and that she used a vacuum cleaner only. Mrs. Wright hated to be inactive, she liked to have something to occupy her and she wanted to make herself useful.
Aimlessly she wandered about the house, leafed through some magazines, knitted a bit and waited for lunch. Lunch was a nice moment for Mrs. Wright. The baby was sleeping and she was able to talk a little about herself and her anxiety about finding a new job. Clara and Robert listened politely, but Mrs. Wright did not feel as well after unburdening some of her problems as she had thought she would. She did not get the good warm feeling of being understood and she did not feel they were really interested in her problems. One time when she started talking about her age and the difficulty of finding a new job, she caught Clara looking a little exasperatedly at Robert.
Mrs. Wright felt very lonely. She had not felt loved since her husband died some years ago. She did not feel attractive any more without her husband telling her how lovely she looked. She had come to visit her daughter because she had hoped for love from her.
As she sat in her room after lunch, she thought about the time before Clara got married. They were great friends then. They used to go to the movies together and Clara shared with her everything that happened at her job. Mrs. Wright was very proud of each promotion Clara conquered at work. Clara had given her love then. Mrs. Wright wondered if she had given enough love to Clara.
In the afternoon, Robert took Mrs. Wright with him in the car to show her the ciy. The city was smaller than the one Mrs. Wright lived in and it was much cleaner too. The beach was beautiful with a broad stretch of white sand and no reefs close to the shore, so the waves with their little crowns of white foam came in to break on the sand. The light was different too. Everything seemed white and blue, much whiter than anywhere Mrs. Wright had been and the blue was a soft light blue. The sky was blue, the sea was blue and the clouds, the foam and the buildings were white.
Robert was very nice to her and explained everything. They stopped to have some icecream at the beach and when it was getting dark they drove back to the house.
The next day in the evening, Clara was bathing the baby. The baby splashed in the water and gave gurgling laughs. When Robert came home from work, he went directly into the bathroom and stood near Clara watching with delight. After the bath, smelling fresh and clean of baby cream, powder and milk, Mrs. Wright’s grandson was placed in her arms and this time he did not scream, but looked at her with his big brown eyes.
Mrs. Wright remembered her own little baby, Clara, many years ago and how she had bathed and fed her and how she had been happy with her husband. She wished she could have stopped the clock then and continued living at that time for always.
She wondered if she would have liked her husband’s mother to come live with them and if she could have been so very happy with her husband and baby if there had been present an older woman who was not happy, but sad and bitter most of the time.
When the baby had been put to bed, they had dinner and talked about the city, the baby and many other things in their new life. Mrs. Wright commented that she liked the city very much and could imagine how good it was to live in it. Clara said impulsively, “Why don’t you come and live with us?”
Mrs. Wright ansered, “Perhaps in a few years...” and tears welled up inside her.
