In the Neighborhood of Normal

by Cindy Maddox

  Mish grimaced. She knew who it was, of course. She just preferred to think of him as he-who-must-not-be-named. And that took too much energy to explain.

  The woman asked her a few more questions as EMTs checked to make sure she could move her fingers and toes. She wasn’t sure she could. Something felt weird on her left side. As they worked on her, her mind cleared a little. She could answer their questions but she still felt a little hazy, slow, like her brain was underwater. She also remembered what had caused her fall. “Didn’t fall,” she suddenly announced. The EMT stopped and looked at her. “I didn’t fall,” she repeated. “I was pushed.”

  “All right, Mrs. Atkinson,” the EMT responded. “The police will want to talk to you when you get to the hospital. And is this your dog?”

  Mish smiled. She had a dog. “Honeybear,” she whispered.

  “You can thank her for helping you. She may have saved your life.”

  “Honeybear?” she repeated.

  “She kept barking until someone found you. Other people in the park said she never left your side.”

  “Can she come—” Mish began.

  “I’m sorry, she can’t come in the ambulance. The police will take her for now.”

  “Mrs. Atkinson.” A new voice spoke somewhere above her head. “I’ll take her with me back to the station. We’ll be in touch with you so you can get her back.”

  “So scared,” Mish whispered. She just knew the little dog would be terrified without her.

  “I know you’re scared,” the EMT began, “but we’ll take good care of you. Don’t worry.”

  Mish didn’t have the energy to argue and was quiet as they moved her onto a board and finally put her up on a stretcher. When they set her purse on the stretcher she suddenly remembered. “My phone,” she said as she tried to sit up.

  The EMT put a hand on her shoulder. “Lie still, ma’am. We’ve got your belongings right here. They’re fine.”

  “Gotta call.”

  “The hospital will take care of calling your family. But if you tell me who you want them to call, I can relay that message.”

  “Juliann,” she said at once. “Number’s in my…”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll tell them. Now lie back and rest. We’ll be at the hospital in no time.”

  ***

  Let her be okay, Juliann prayed silently as her mother drove to the hospital. Please, God, let her be okay.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed. Oh, wait, yes she could. When she waited for the pregnancy test results. God hadn’t answered that one, but then again, she wasn’t sure she deserved a miracle, especially since she was pretty sure she didn’t believe in God.

  But Mish does, she pleaded. She’s such a good person. Please. Let her be okay.

  Juliann and her mom didn’t know much. The call from the hospital just said there had been an accident, and Mish had asked for her to come. They wouldn’t tell her any more than that. But if Mish was speaking, that was a good sign, right? She was conscious. Juliann told herself she was over-reacting. It could be just a sprained ankle or something. But then Mish would have made the call herself. Maybe a broken hip. Old people got those, and they were bad, but not life-threatening. Should she hope for a broken hip?

  Her mother reached over and squeezed her hand. “She’s going to be fine,” her mother said. “Everything will be fine.”

  Juliann started to argue with her mom, to remind her that there’s no way she could know that. But she didn’t have any fight left in her. She just squeezed her mother’s hand and hoped she was right.

  They found a parking space and hurried into the emergency room. Juliann reached the desk first but suddenly felt uncertain. She had never been to the hospital before and wasn’t sure how the process worked. She turned to look back at her mom, who immediately stepped up. “We’re here to see Mish Atkinson,” she told the receptionist.

  The woman studied her computer screen, her brows furrowed. “Mish?”

  “Artemisia,” Juliann supplied. “Artemisia Atkinson.”

  “Got it,” the receptionist said. “Are you family?”

  “Yes,” Juliann said quickly before her mother could respond. “I’m her granddaughter.” She saw her mother look sideways at her and Juliann hoped her surprise wasn’t a giveaway, but the receptionist didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’ll buzz you through these doors, then turn to your left. She’s in bay 112.”

  They heard the lock mechanism as they approached, then the door opened with a whoosh. Once again Juliann took the lead, her mother trailing behind. But when she reached the glassed off partition with 112 above it, she stopped, suddenly nervous. The curtain was pulled on the other side of the glass. What if Mish was in really bad shape? What if she had tubes coming out all over? What if she was already…No! That was not going to happen. Mish was not going to leave her like her grandmother had. It was just an accident. No big deal. Just open the door, she told herself. But her hand didn’t move. It’s just a sliding glass door. Just open the damn door.

  Suddenly the door opened without her help. The doctor leaving the room almost bumped into her, muttered “sorry,” and rushed away. She exchanged another look with her mom, then walked through the door he’d left ajar.

  “Hey, hon, thanks for coming.”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding. It came out sounding like a laugh. She was at Mish’s side in three steps. “Of course I’d come. I’ve been so worried. What happened? All they told us is that there’d been an accident. Was it a car accident? Are you okay? Where did you—”

  “Ssshhh,” Mish whispered, and Juliann stopped at once. “Gotta give me time…”

  Juliann laughed and took Mish’s hand. “Okay, go!”

  Mish took a deep breath but didn’t speak right away. She put a hand up to the bandage on her head. “I fell.” Juliann nodded. “They ran some…some tests. Waiting.”

  “We’re waiting for the results?” Juliann supplied helpfully. Mish nodded. Juliann started to speak, but Mish raised her hand and Juliann fell silent again.

  “Might be just a—a—” Her voice trailed off.

  “A concussion?” Nicole suggested.

  “Right,” Mish said. “If it’s more—well?” She shrugged. “We wait and see.”

  “But—how did you hit your head? Did you fall?” Juliann stroked Mish’s hand absently as she tried to figure out what happened.

  “No.” She paused again.

  “I don’t understand,” Juliann begin.

  “Hon, please…my brain and my mouth…not working together.”

  Juliann swallowed hard and nodded. She didn’t know what was going on, but she was starting to get scared again. And now that she looked closer, something about Mish’s face didn’t look quite right.

  “I was pushed,” Mish said at last. “Police will be coming. I have to give a—a—I have to tell them. But I wanted you to know…” Her voice trailed away

  Mish looked up at Juliann’s mom, and a horrible thought suddenly occurred to Juliann. “Oh, God! It wasn’t Dad, was it?”

  “No, no,” Mish assured her. She took another deep breath. “It was the dick pic guy.”

  “What? But how did—?”

  Mish shook her head again, then winced. “Long story. Don’t want to tell it twice.” She paused again. “I need you here. Help me fill in…fill in…blanks. All right?”

  Juliann nodded. Her throat was so tight she wasn’t sure she could speak if she tried.

  “Nicole, I need your help, too.”

  “Of course, Mish, anything!” her mother said quickly, stepping forward.

  Mish smiled her thanks. “Get my dog.”

  The surprise made Juliann find her voice again. “You have a dog?”

  “Got her today. Police took her to station. Name is Honey…Honey
…”

  “Don’t worry, Mish. I’ll go get Honey.”

  Mish shook her head and the frustration evident on her face told Juliann they’d gotten something wrong. But Mish apparently decided it wasn’t worth correcting at the moment.

  “Call my son,” she continued. “Bobby. Tell him I’m in the hospital with a possible—concussion.” Juliann noticed that she seemed pleased she had remembered the word this time. “Number in my phone.” She waved absently to her phone, which was on the table next to her gurney.

  “Juliann, I also need…” Her voice trailed away and Juliann had to prompt her to continue. “Call Pastor Jeff. Same message. Then come back and sit with me?”

  Tears filled Juliann’s eyes as she remembered how much it had meant to see Mish waiting for her after her procedure. “Of course,” she choked out. “Where else would I be? You’re my best-grand.” She leaned down, placed a kiss on Mish’s cheek, then took Mish’s phone and stepped out of the cubicle. Cell reception was terrible and she had to get back near the entrance to get enough bars to place a call.

  She found Bobby’s number and sent it to her mom, who gave her a quick hug, then left to do as Mish requested. She found the number for Mish’s pastor, too—there weren’t very many in Mish’s contact list—but hesitated before placing the call. She didn’t actually talk on the phone very often, and especially not to adults. Texting was so much easier. But she figured this wasn’t the kind of news an adult would want to get by text. She took a deep breath and placed the call.

  “Hello?”

  Juliann paused, realizing she should have rehearsed this beforehand.

  “Hello?” the voice repeated.

  “Um, hi, is this Pastor Jeff?” Juliann asked.

  “Yes, and who is calling?”

  “My name is Juliann. I’m a friend of Mish Atkinson.” She heard a sharp intake of breath. “She asked me to call you.”

  “What happened? Is she okay?”

  “Yes, she’s—I mean no, she’s not fine. She’s in the hospital. She had a fall and—well, not really a fall. She was pushed, actually, and she hit her head. We’re waiting on test results.”

  “She was pushed,” the pastor repeated.

  “Yes, sir,” Juliann responded.

  “By whom?”

  Juliann wasn’t sure how to answer, or how much to say. “Well, by a guy in a park. It’s a long story. But she wanted me to call and tell you she’s in the hospital.”

  “I’ll get there as soon as I can,” the man promised. “Wait—what did you say your name was? Juliann?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did you recently go away with Mish?”

  Juliann winced. She wasn’t about to tell a minister about their trip. “Yeah, but I don’t think that’s really—”

  “I’m sorry, Juliann,” the man said kindly. “I’m really not just being nosy. I’ve been trying to solve a mystery, and to keep Mish safe. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Will you still be there then? I’d really like to talk with you.”

  Juliann assured the pastor she would be here, and they said their goodbyes. She would talk to Mish before she talked to the pastor. She wasn’t about to talk to the man without Mish saying it was okay.

  When Juliann walked back to Mish’s cubicle, she found that a police officer had just arrived. Juliann helped Mish tell the story of the guy who sent the picture and explained what she had sent back in return. He was disappointed that Juliann had deleted the original message, but was thrilled Mish had his most recent text. After taking down all the details, he assured Mish that catching the guy would be easy. They’d probably have him in custody within twenty-four hours.

  After the officer left, Mish looked up at Juliann. “Hon, I’m awful tired. Is it okay with you if I nap?”

  “Of course,” Juliann said as she patted her arm. “I’ll just sit here with you.”

  Mish gave a smile and a slight nod as she closed her eyes. Juliann went back to her seat, disappointed that she would have to wait to ask about the pastor. She wasn’t sure why talking to him made her so nervous. It was probably just the abortion thing.

  More out of habit than anything else, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and scrolled through her social media accounts. But her friends’ pictures were silly and their complaints were petty, and it all seemed so irrelevant and meaningless compared to Juliann’s situation. She remembered it had been like this when her grandmother died. It had felt so weird that everybody else’s life went on the same, while her heart had a hole in it. Some of her friends had lost grandparents, but they weren’t close like Juliann and her grandmother were, so they didn’t really understand. They all said they were sorry and everything, but the next minute acted like nothing had happened. She had never felt so invisible.

  The worst had been the funeral procession from the church to the cemetery. Most people had recognized the funeral procession for what it was and showed respect, but some of the people had been assholes. They honked and yelled when the procession turned left in front of them, blocking their path. Now she thinks that when the guy in the big SUV gave them the finger, she should’ve given it right back. But the thought never occurred to her in the moment. All she’d been thinking was that if her grief didn’t stop the world, it should at least stop traffic.

  Now there was Mish to worry about. This is different. Mish just has a concussion. She isn’t going to die. She repeated the words, hoping that if she said them enough, they would be true. But something nagged at her, warning her that this was wishful thinking. It was partly Mish’s speech. She kept pausing, like she was losing her train of thought. Plus, she had trouble finding words. Juliann thought she’d seen an episode of Grey’s Anatomy where that had happened, and it wasn’t good.

  When the sliding door to their cubicle opened, Juliann looked up expecting to see her mother, or maybe another hospital employee. Instead a middle-aged couple came rushing in and went straight to Mish’s bedside.

  “Mom?” the man asked nervously. Mish stirred but didn’t answer.

  The woman looked at Juliann. “Is she okay?” The man turned and seemed to notice her for the first time.

  “She’s just asleep,” Juliann assured them both. “We’re waiting on the test results.”

  The man looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I’m—” She paused. She had started to say she was Mish’s granddaughter, but obviously she couldn’t say that to Mish’s own son. “I’m Juliann. I’m just—”

  “My friend,” the soft voice from the bed explained. They all turned to look at Mish. “Juliann, this is my son Bobby and…and Claudia.”

  Juliann tried to smile. She thought maybe she was supposed to shake their hands, but since they didn’t reach out, she didn’t either. She put her hands in her pockets as they both turned their attention back to Mish.

  “What happened, Mom?” Bobby asked. “We got a call from some woman who told us there’d been an accident and you were in the hospital with a possible concussion. That’s all we know.”

  Mish reached up and Bobby took her hand. “I was talking to a young man, and…” She paused. “He pushed me and I fell.”

  “He pushed you?” Bobby repeated. “That’s assault! Have you notified the police?”

  Mish nodded, then winced again. “They’ll catch him.”

  The door slid open again, and another man entered the room. Juliann thought it was the same one who almost ran her over when she arrived. He introduced himself as Dr. Campbell, then got straight to business. “Mrs. Atkinson, I got the results of your MRI. Do you want me to share the news with you privately or—” His voice trailed off as he motioned to those gathered around, and Claudia and Bobby both looked at Juliann.

  She dropped her gaze and nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

  Claudia started to thank her but Mish interrup
ted. “Stay. Please. You are family, too.”

  “I’m afraid the news isn’t good,” Dr. Campbell began, addressing Mish’s son. “When she arrived, she was conscious and responsive, which are very good signs. But her speech aphasia and numbness in her extremities caused us to do the MRI. The scan showed a subdural hematoma—a brain bleed.”

  “How bad is it?” Bobby asked.

  “It’s pretty severe. If she were younger, I would recommend a craniotomy—which creates a large opening in the skull so that the clot can be evacuated. But at her age, I don’t know if she is strong enough for the surgery. So I recommend we take a more conservative approach, inserting a catheter through a small hole drilled into the skull.”

  “Will that be as effective?” Bobby asked.

  The doctor kept talking, but Juliann had stopped paying attention. Cranial this and hematoma that, and although she would normally be interested in learning about the brain, this was not science class. This was real life. This was Mish. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It wasn’t fair. Not so soon after she lost her grandmother.

  “Excuse me,” Mish said.

  Juliann looked at Mish. Clearly the doctor hadn’t heard her because he kept talking to Mish’s son.

  “Excuse me,” Mish repeated, louder. This time they fell silent.

  “This sub—sub—”

  “Subdural hematoma,” the doctor supplied.

  “Yes, that,” Mish agreed. “Does my son have one?”

  They all looked at each other, confused by the question. Finally the doctor said, “No, ma’am, you’re the one with the brain bleed.”

  “So why are you talking to him about my brain?”

  Bob reached out and patted her arm. “Now, Mother, don’t get too excited. The doctor is only trying to—”

  But Mish pulled her hand away, put her first finger and thumb together, then ran them over her own mouth. The message was clear: zip it! To Juliann’s shock, her son suddenly looked like a ten-year-old—well, a ten-year-old with a receding hairline—and Juliann had to fight the urge to laugh.

  “So doctor,” Mish began again. “You can’t decide whether to…” she paused again. “Whether to cut my head open or drill into it?”