Sneaking Out for Lunch with Don Delillo

There is a great scene in Don Delillo's book, "Whitenoise:" there are passengers on a crashing plane and the pilot is vividly describing what is happening, a blow by blow account: the intensity of the flames, the fact most of the passengers are saying or praying their last words, when, all of a sudden, he says, "Lance, I love you" and the plane becomes a fiery ball of flame. The point of the scene is that, at the last moment of their lives, the passengers are not thinking of their loved ones or saying their prayers, but they all are wondering who this Lance is. It is hilarious. I think it is the best comedic scene in literature I have ever read. It illustrates that no matter how devout we think we are, no matter how atheistic, curiousity, really, governs humanity. This brings me to the point of today's post: lunch out with my children--sans grandma.

It should not be a big deal to have a hamburger. But, if one is a regular reader, one knows the matriarch's preference is Swiss Chalet; the food is great. However, it is chicken. And, while I know the restaurant is connected to Harvey's, an hamburger joint, also great food, going there means we have to take the matriarch who will want chicken, wonder why we aren't eating in the proper restaurant--as opposed to the fast food joint--probably spit out half her lunch and want hot chocolate. I have children. Now and again, it shouldn't be so unfair to have lunch with them at a burger joint without the inconveniences of taking a really elderly senior, who cannot eat hamburgers, out. My husband understands; his solution is to not tell his mother. But I still have to give her lunch.

Am I the only one eating?

The children ate breakfast late and are not hungry.

Well, I could have waited. I'm not that hungry myself.

The soup is made anyhow.

I don't really like tomato. What are the children having?

I don't know yet. They are going to come shopping with me and we'll have lunch when we come back, I guess. (lie, lie,lie)

Do you want me to come? I want my chips.

No, I think it is too snowy for you now. (lie, lie, lie)

Will you pick up my chips?

Of course, I'll pick up my mother-in-law's chips; every week, I now buy her two packages of Lays' Supersized chips. She's 99. I'll get her the chips, I always do. I should not feel guilty for wanting to be with my children. It is almost as though the matriarch knows what we are going to do. I swear sometimes, she is psychic. Often when my husband comes home from work in the mornings and we are about to enjoy a cup of tea together, the two of us, she comes down the stairs, china dishes in hand (from her previous evening's strawberries and tea), clinking away.

My husband says it is one way to know she is still alive. I think it a terrible thing to say; the woman is his mother. But we are rarely ever alone. Ever. And, I think the matriarch always wants to be with her son--which is understandable, but highly, highly annoying. Sometimes, I'd like to talk to him with no one listening. Do all seniors get like this?

Where are you going shopping?

I don't know. The children want to get a DVD; I have to go to the bank. (I hate this.)

The matriarch knows she cannot come with us and is in her own fiery ball of flame of not being able to go out and wanting to know where we are going and why we will not take her with us. Her curiousity is silent, but, she is not being taken out and she wants to know why I am being mean. Hamburgers with my children should not be so costly. Lance, what would you think of this?