I’m not worried, Mom, she says, I’m just calling to say hi. There’s no use pointing out that she never used to call me every day, it’s a new thing, there’s no point saying it. She’ll find another answer, another reason to say why she’s calling. So I’ve stopped protesting.

This time she arrived on Friday evening, and she went home on Tuesday morning. Again I was alarmed, or let’s say uncomfortable, when she called to tell me her plan. But why for so long, Helena, I said. Doesn’t Mark need you at home? I felt ridiculous as I said this, I knew it sounded ridiculous. She laughed. Well, who can blame her.

And then she said: d’you still have jars of the bone broth in your freezer? And the truth is, I realized with a start, I had forgotten the jars in the freezer. She had left other things in the freezer too: bags of chicken she had cooked; rice in meal-size portions, that kind of thing. I’ve said before: I’ve never eaten much, and I eat less now. And then I thought: yes, she’s worried I don’t eat. But I said then, in a sharp tone which I remember now, Helena, don’t be silly, I’m not talking about food with you, I’m just not. She sighed.

She moved on to tell me, a little distantly, which train she was taking. And then she said goodbye, and I found myself standing alone in my hallway, the cell phone’s small weight in my hand.

And I remembered then Helena as a teenager, and the conversations I’d have with her, the arguing about small things, her slamming doors and stamping off to her room. I didn’t ask for your opinion, it’s my outfit, she’d say, door slamming. It felt like that now, except that I was acting like a teenager, and she, the mother. I felt ashamed, and I suddenly wished Howard was here. Howard who could always calm me down; Howard who could defuse any argument in our house.

And there’s something else Helena’s worried about. She’s worried that I don’t carry my cell phone, or that I’ll lose my cell phone, or that I don’t charge my cell phone.

The truth is, I have forgotten to charge the cell phone on occasion, the charger is plugged in next to my bed, but I forget, I forget to check it and charge it. Helena has got very angry about that.

And I should mention Stephen, Stephen harasses me about that too. Once when I forgot to charge my phone, Stephen had to come here, he had to get a cab from across the park, because Helena called him from Waterbury and said, where’s Mom, I can’t reach her. Stephen arrived at my door looking distracted and upset. Mom, no one can reach you, this is insane. Even Marie was called at work by Helena, he said. He marched into my bedroom, to where my charger was, pulled it out of its socket and brought it to me. You have to charge your phone, I can’t do this in the middle of a work day, he said. And of course I felt guilty then, and ashamed.