You were good with men. I don’t think you had a lot of female friends.

I think you wanted me to be good with men too. It bothered you that I ended up with my college sweetheart—that I didn’t play the field. When we got engaged, you took one look at the ring and you said, “Well, at least he doesn’t have to overcompensate.”

MARJORIE: What did I mean by that?

TESS: You were making a joke—about his penis.

MARJORIE: I wasn’t.

TESS: But also the ring.

(They both look at her ring.)

MARJORIE (Matter-of-fact): Small.

TESS: You and Dad fought, but you loved each other. Neither of you seemed to be more in love than the other, which is always lucky.

(Beat.)

Maybe he loved you a little more.

(Beat.)

Towards the end, we sometimes had to remind you he was dead. Sometimes every day—“Where’s Walter?” You’d make us kill him all over again.

And then, after we reminded you, you would say, “How nice that I could love somebody.”

And I wasn’t sure that you really felt that . . . at peace, but it was a nice way of putting it.

MARJORIE (Committing to memory): “How nice that I could love somebody.”

(Tess regards her.)

TESS: It’s funny, it’s not so different.

MARJORIE: What?

TESS: This, from what we used to do for you—the last year or two. We’d sit there and tell you what you were like.

Near the end you were so, almost, guilty? To still be here? You felt so useless. I wondered, if you could have pushed a button, if you could have just pressed “Off,” would you have stuck around the last couple years. I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have that button. Nobody would last very long.

(Beat.)

What else. You got along with animals. Toni liked you the best of all of us. Well, second best.

MARJORIE: Second best? Who did she like better?

TESS: We should save that for another day. That’s a whole other story.

MARJORIE: I have all the time in the world.

(Pause.)

TESS: Why is this the Marjorie for me?

MARJORIE: I don’t understand.

TESS: Why is this the way I want to remember her.

MARJORIE: Me.

TESS: Yes, god, sorry. You’d think I’d see you the way you were when I was a girl, but no.

MARJORIE: I wish I could tell you, sweetheart.

TESS: You wouldn’t say sweetheart.

(Short pause.)

MARJORIE: How am I with you?

TESS: —

MARJORIE: You haven’t said much about me and you. Are we close?

(Pause. Then, with great difficulty:)

TESS: You weren’t a bad mom.

But we didn’t tell each other things, secret things, not really.