three hours south, aunt barbara falls in the bathroom, and is stuck on the floor all day. her youger neighbor finds her and takes her to emergecy. too bossy for the hospital, refuses to eat, she calls me, and tells me where they put her enema.

nana is eating this week, so i drive south and go sit in the wheelchair by aunt barbara's bed. message from god: she must submit to the orderlies. at my age, she says, she was a bride of christ. am i listening to god's will in my life? i don't have to answer her, she does not pause in talking except to breathe. it's like a loop, after two hours she has cycles back to her neighbor again: 'very attractive, she says, male model, genius level iq. very attractive. too forceful, we butt heads, i send him out, married in spirit, no sex yet, like husband and wife, no sex, i don't know men, bride to christ when i was twenty three, all the bishops and fathers, the father wanted his business card, he looks out for me, eighty four years old and these men telling me what do! very successful, forty two years old, took confession in my kitchen, came out smiling, said he felt lighter, his mother calls me and says 'i never thought he'd take that off a woman,' bosses me around, marriage of the souls, rosemary, aunt zaley, used to boss me around. mother got old and they had failure of the spirit, too weak in spirit, i came back and took over the affairs, the burial. my sisters, too weak in spirit, rosemary was always mentally deficient, i never sing, toot my own horn in front of her. it would make her feel bad. blessed with many gifts. went to the convent, many gifts. i suffer for others, i took my mother's purgatory, suffered for others, suffer for others in my life, suffer in christ. have to submit, they want me to eat, you get old and your throat gets small, i'm not hungry! but i have to be submissive. men, men take off my clothes, roll me over, give me a bath, at all hours, they change my depends. it's like i'm a doll. it's not me, it's a little doll here! naked in front of men, i'm not used to it! you just have to laugh! they clean me, i just have to laugh! what can you do? i won't cry. their hands on me, i don't know men, bride of christ, married in spirit, but no sex yet, i remember, i was out by the car and god turned my head, there was a man, looking at me, he jumped the fence, that's how we met, mitch, very intelligent, husband and wife, do you live in christ? do you live in the will of christ?' breath. her response to haiti: 'will of god. voodoo, the hand of god like in the old testament. i have a prayer group on the phone, they are very talented, they get the message from god, marianne, all the angels and saints, our holy benedictine sisters...sex, sex addicts, voodoo, will of god. we have wrath too, when i get upset i wish them god's damnation...'

her voice trails off, her bottom lip trembles slightly, the four o'clock light comes in through the window and casts deep yellow light on her thin hair, the thin skin over her skull. this, too, is hereditary.

the nurse comes in and barbara takes the pills, but refuses the rotein. i tell her to try, she tells me she'll vomit. i ask the nurse to mix it in something, she smiles, leaves. the nurse is a beautiful fat woman, one of those women who just looks good fat. she has dark freckles. when she comes back, barbara drinks the protein, then bosses the nurse. we shuffle her few belongings on the table, move the table, move the bed. it's easier now, to be here, rather than the hollow wait when you know, you just know. and nothing else really matters, this is what i do. the woman in the other bed is deaf and the orderlies yell questions at her: HERE'S YOUR XANAX, BETH. AR YOU DONE WITH YOUR MEAT LOAF? she moans. OKAY, I'LL TAKE IT. the curtain hisses shut. the room is quiet except beth's rattle breath. i kiss aunt barbara and leave.

a series of small deaths: the garage in redding, leaning against the cool cement wall in the dark with the freezer full of old venison humming. in the shower, realizing the water has gone cold and staying until the icy bite of it has completely saturated me. in bed: dream of heart failure, big iv tubes of someone else's blood, but it won't go in, some hands are squeezing them, it doesn't work, there is clear fluid mixing with the blood, its bright behind the hands and the sacs of red and translucent fluid. and now in the parking lot as it gets dark in front of the rehabilitation center, which has been painted yellow and each building has a pretentious name, a sick effort to evoke the charm or prestige of other places. windsor house, full of wheelchairs, full of hopeless art, 3d posters of long-haired dogs, toungues lolling, salivating plasticly down on the decrepit dying old in the suburbs outside the capital of this state, known for the beach boys and the golden gate bridge. i have no plans for the future, so this dusk stretches only into night, stretches only into forever.

nana calls, 'i don't want to do this anymore' 'i know' 'you and your grandfather don't listen to me' 'yes we do, we just don't care' 'i know, she laughs, heartless' 'did you drink a carnation shake yet?' 'you little poop.' she tells me she loves me and hangs up. its forty minute drive back to my parents house and i spend the whole thing thinking i might have been better off in a convent, where i could go quietly insane when the time comes.