“Who was she? The opposite of a mother. The opposite of a spouse.”
Lorrie Moore’s long story, Terrific Mother, published by Faber and Faber in the Faber Stories series, follows Adrienne, a woman in her mid-30s who has recently accidentally killed a friend’s baby.
The woman, who is, at first, very comfortable and gentle while handling babies, finds herself becoming increasingly unsure as she gets older. Being around babies begins to “give her stage fright”, and the compliments about her making a “terrific mother” when the time comes do little to alleviate her discomfort. The moments of panic spiral into a fatal accident when, at a party, a bench cracks when Adrienne tries to sit on it while holding a baby, and the infant slips out of her grip, thus smashing its head.
The horrific accident, which occurs in a matter of seconds, discolours everyone’s lives, Adrienne’s especially, who retreats into her apartment for months, refusing all human contact except for her boyfriend Martin’s, who has the wisdom to not leave her entirely alone. Moore’s preface is no more than a few paragraphs long, bringing the reader up to speed at breakneck pace on Adrienne’s present condition.
A matter of survival
The first moments of horror are quickly replaced by the urgency of survival – the baby’s parents assure Adrienne that they have forgiven her but the fugue state now feels like home. Adrienne is not only used to it but also unwilling to come out of it. So when Martin wins a residency in a villa in Italy, it feels like serendipity – an auspicious re-entry for Adrienne into the “normal” way of life. Only spouses are allowed on this retreat, so the couple marries in haste despite Adrienne’s reservations. The newly acquired status as a “spouse” opens up an avenue of opportunities for her – including her own private studio where she can work on her art while her husband goes about his academic pursuits.
The retreat almost shoves her into the normal world, albeit one populated by only academics. She encounters interesting characters from all over the world, including their own quirky spouses who seem as much at ease amidst the snobbery as the academics themselves. Like naughty children on the loose, the spouses at times band together for lighter moments of mischief and gaiety. Adrienne’s visits to a masseuse upon a spouse’s insistence is one such example. Her tender touch and soothing voice unravel Adrienne’s emotional knots, and she’s greatly moved by this short-lived yet intensely intimate connection, despite knowing that there is perhaps nothing real in this intimacy.
Adrienne’s absurd conversations with academics during dinner ceremonies reveal the petty politics and deep insecurity hidden under the veneer of intellectualism and arrogance. The grand lectures, so impressive in halls and classrooms, take on a ridiculous shape at the dinner table, making the academics realise how unsuited they are to regular conversations and friendly banter. Adrienne acts as an antidote to these shortcomings – even in her recuperating state, she proves a sharp presence of mind, preventing the academics from looking down at her just because she’s a “spouse”.
Small steps
Adrienne’s wit is countered by Martin’s comforting presence. He remains immersed in work yet devoted to his wife’s fragile state – and yet, that is not enough. Adrienne’s sanity is put to the test every day, and she realises that she’s acutely affected by others’ opinions of her. She is the only killer in any room she walks in, and there can be no greater failure of the human character than this.
Moore contemplates the painful consequences of the public and private lives being in disharmony. Adrienne’s masochism is worse than any punishment she might have been sentenced to, and the reader is astonished to find themselves more sympathetic to the killer than the dead baby and its parents. One, of course, is also startled by the impact of unthought-of actions – their physical, emotional, and spiritual consequences that can cripple a human being out of all rationality.
“It seemed to her that everything she had ever needed to know in her life she had known at one time or another, but she had just not known all those things at once, at the same time, at a single moment. They were scattered through and she had to leave and forget one in order to get to another.”
Terrific Mother is, most importantly, an insightful study of forgiveness. Not just of others who have wronged us, but also forgiveness of our own selves. The temptations to retreat and isolate are natural, but they must not become a habit – humour, care, and an obligation to life itself must keep the wheels running, even when all you can see are humps on a broken road.
Terrific Mother, Lorrie Moore, Faber and Faber.
