“I don’t know why you stayed as long as you did,” Amanda says, unpacking a box of coffee cups. Nina is sitting on the couch, supervising, “Oh hush child, the heart will do what the heart wants.” All three of us are a hoot together. My heart is happy to be able to spend time with them now that Jake is not in the picture. We spend the rest of the afternoon unpacking all of my stuff, talking shit about anything and everything. Nina walks back to the house to get us some iced tea. “Have you noticed anything weird going on with Nina?” I ask. Amanda looks at me, “Not really, I mean she is a bit forgetful. She called me her daughter’s name the other day and asked me how my dog was. We don’t even have a dog.” This causes me to let out a small chuckle. I have noticed that Nina has been a bit off here lately. She has been sick off and on for the past month and a half.
8
After about three months of living in the guest house, I moved into the big house with Nina. One day, Nina was cooking breakfast. She was cooking bacon and walked off. I was sitting on the porch drinking coffee when I heard the fire alarm. I raced into the kitchen and put the fire out. I found Nina in the living room confused. She had no idea where she was. Yesterday, I got a call from the police, saying they found her wandering down the street, again confused. According to the officer, she was talking all sorts of nonsense.
I made a phone call to her son, Derrick. I told him I had concerns about his mother. We made a plan to get her to the doctor. I told him that I would take care of her. That he had nothing to worry about. I had an uncle that had Alzheimer's. I was familiar with it. She is having signs that she may have developed the disease. Derrick and I agree on this. A few days later, I was able to get her to her doctor. They run all sorts of tests. She is not a happy camper. The bad days are terrible. The good days are few and far between. I call Amanda while Nina naps, “I’m so lost. I have no idea what to do. I can’t leave Nina at home by herself. I can’t get any work done at the Gallery. Her son and daughter want her in a nursing home. Nina refuses.”
“Maybe try to catch her on a good day when she is lucid. Talk to her about it. She may have to close the gallery,” Amanda says. That makes me sad. That gallery is her pride and joy. I try to think of ways that we can avoid that. To be honest though, The Gallery hasn’t been doing well, and it has been losing money. “At this point, I think that may be the only option we have. Nina is a full-time job now,” I say, “It’s getting worse every day.” We finish our call, and I finish fixing tea for Nina and me. I walk slowly down the hall to the living room, careful not to drop the tray.
Nina isn't in the living room where I left her. I set the tray down and call her name. When I do not get a response, I start searching the house. I know I locked the doors, so she has to be somewhere in this house. I make a loop around the house. When I reach the kitchen again, I see Nina laying on the ground. “Oh my God!” I scream and rush to her side. She is unresponsive, I can’t tell if she is breathing or not. I run and grab the phone and dial 911. I start chest compressions and follow the dispatcher’s instructions. My face is hot and soaked with tears. This is all my fault for not watching her. When the paramedics arrive, they take over. I’m sobbing hard at this point. I rode in the ambulance with Nina. She doesn't look good. The paramedics think she may have had a stroke.
I rushed to the waiting room. My hands are shaking as I make the call to her son. It was one of the hardest phone calls to make. He says it will be a few days before he and his sister can make it down. I tell him that’s ok and I will update him with any news I hear. Amanda has come to sit with me. “Everything is going to be ok. She is strong,” she says, pulling me in for a hug. We’ve been sitting here for three hours. Not one person has come to talk to us. When Derrick calls for an update, I tell him I haven’t heard anything, and I will call him as soon as possible. I pace the waiting room. Finally, about an hour later, the doctor comes in. It looks like the news isn't good. Are you Nina Tenney’s family?” The doctor asks. “Yes, I’m Lottie,” I walked over to him.
“Mrs. Tenney suffered a major stroke. She also experienced a mild heart attack. We also noticed some pneumonia setting up in one of her lungs. The prognosis is not good. Has she shown any signs of a stroke or heart attack?”
“Not that I am aware of. I have been her caregiver for the past few months. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer's about a month ago. The doctor says he was pretty much healthy other than that.”
“Sometimes, these things can come on quickly. Sometimes it is slow. Right now, she is on a vent. We need to speak to one of her immediate family members. She is on a ventilator and is in the ICU. We will let you back to see her when the next round of visitation starts, should be in about an hour.”
I give the doctor Derrick’s number. I text Derrick to let him know to expect a call from the doctor. Amanda leaves to pick up Nate. I am by myself in the waiting room. My heart is heavy, and I don’t know what is going to happen. When I walk into her room, I am overcome with emotions. She is hooked up to monitors and has tubes and lines going every which way. How did she get so sick so quickly? She hasn’t felt well the past two days, but then again, it’s hard to tell with her. I sit next to her bed and hold her hand. I can’t seem to stop the tears from falling. I kiss her cheek and tell her that everything is going to be ok. I leave when visiting hours are over. I go back home. I make some tea and call Derrick. He has been very kind and helpful over the past months when it has come to Nina. Both he and his sister have come to visit at least once. They both plan on coming down in the next few days. I finally fell asleep around midnight, It’s the worst sleep ever. I keep tossing and turning.
Her daughter, son, and their families came down two days later. I moved back into the guest house because there is more room in the big house for them. I feel like everything is falling apart. I call my momma. Through sobbing and being choked up, I tell her everything. “Oh, my little chicken, you have to go through the storm sometimes. I know this is all very hard. You will make it through. I promise,” she said. That makes me feel a little better but not by much. I finally got some much-needed sleep thanks to the bottle of wine I picked up on the way home from the hospital.
I have worked at the gallery all week. It has been unusually busy this week. I’m not complaining. I keep busy with cleaning and putting out new things. I want to keep my mind busy since I don’t want a breakdown, especially if a customer comes in. I have ignored my phone pretty much all week. All I have done is go to work and come home. I like it that way. The only person I have talked to is my momma. Amanda checks in, but she knows how I deal with things. I tend to shut down. On the way home I get some take-out and make plans to catch up on my reading.
At about eight-thirty, there is a knock at my door. It’s Derrick. “Hi, come in,” I say as I open the door. He doesn’t look so well. “I just thought I would stop by and tell you in person,” he says, taking a seat. I get him a cup of tea and sit down on the couch opposite him. I have an idea of what he is about to tell me, but I don’t interrupt him. “Mom has taken a turn for the worse,” he says. I sit still for a moment, trying to ignore the lump in my chest.
“The doctors say that Mom is deteriorating quickly. Even though the machine is breathing for her, she is just sick. Her heart is not working as it should. Her kidneys are shutting down. Her lungs are weak. We have decided after a lot of thought, that we are going to make her a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ and take her off the ventilation in the morning. I know this is hard to hear. I know you guys were close. We consider you family and would like for you to be with us” he says. I’m having a hard time comprehending all of this. I mean I know what it means. He lets me know what time they are going to the hospital tomorrow. I thank him and tell him I will be there.
I am up and ready. I followed the family to the hospital. We stand quietly around her hospital bed. I sort of stand to the side so that the family can be closer. No one speaks. After some time, the nurses come in along with Respiratory. The nurse explains the process. “Wi
ll it hurt?” I ask. Derrick’s wife takes my hand and squeezes it. “We are going to give her some medication to keep her comfortable. It may be quick, and it may take a while. You guys are welcome to stay as long as you like,” she says. The priest gives Nina her last rights, and we all bow our heads to pray.
The nurses start the process of turning off the machines and removing tubes and lines. I realize I am holding my breath. The nurse gives her another dose of morphine and lets us know that she will fall into a deep sleep. Tears are streaming down my face. Nina’s breathing becomes slow and shallow. Her time is nearing. Peace settles around the room. I know she will not be in any more pain. She will be whole, wherever she goes. The heart monitor indicates her heart is slowing. We surround her bed and hold each other. A few minutes pass, and her heart monitor goes silent. The family leaves after arrangements are made. I stayed a few minutes longer. I hold Nina’s hand. I say a silent prayer and promise to keep things going as long as I can. That I loved her and missed her already.
The funeral is beautiful. She was a well-loved lady. Most of the community is here. A lot of them are local artists. I sat with the family. This is an honor. I am more than blessed and thankful for her family accepting me. After the funeral, Nina’s church serves the family lunch. My phone vibrates with a text. I don’t recognize the number.
I am sorry to hear of Nina’s passing.
L: Who is this?
J: Jake
L: Thanks.
I know he means well, but it sends hatred through my veins. He is the last person I want to hear from. Derrick walks over to me, “Can I talk to you for a minute Lottie?” We walked into the hall outside the fellowship hall. “Are you holding up ok?” He asks.
“About as good as I can be, she was like a grandmother to me.”
“We will all miss her. Thank you for taking care of her and keeping The Gallery tended to.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“I know this is probably a weird time to have this conversation. But Marie and I have decided to keep the Gallery open as long as we can, and we want you to run it full time for us.”
“Is that something your mother would want?”
“Of course, it is. That Gallery was her pride and joy. I did want to mention that we are going to sell her home. We will help you with another place to live.”
“I understand and I appreciate that. I will do my best to keep The Gallery alive.”
I hug Derrick and his family. I decided to go take a walk down at the park near the house. I think about Nina and how I hope her last days were filled with joy and love, despite having Alzheimer's. I miss her and love her so much. I have some big shoes to fill.
9
It’s been a full year since Nina’s death. The past year has been a difficult one. Amanda’s husband took a new job in Texas. They moved a month after Nina’s death. So, I’ve been alone. I keep to myself. Just home and The Gallery. I talk to Amanda, but no one else. Derrick checks in from time to time. I have fallen into a depression that I can’t seem to shake. The Gallery isn't doing well at all. I am unable to keep workers, and the art we have is not selling. Not even Nina’s work. Which is sad really. Her artwork is beautiful. After speaking to the Tenney family, the decision is made to shut down The Gallery. We have to sell everything including the building. I hope whoever moves in here has as much success as The Gallery did, even though it's failed now. It doesn't take long to sell the remaining paintings we have. Some of Nina’s friends stop by. I take time to chat with each one. I hear stories about Nina I’ve never heard before. My heart swells.
I have been toying with the option of staying in Birmingham or moving back home. Honestly, I have nothing left here. My best friend has moved, and my other best friend is six feet under. The choice seems obvious since there is nothing left for me here. I made enough to keep my bills paid and also save. I call my momma. “Momma, can I come home?” I ask. “Honey, you never have to ask to come back home,” she says. I hate everything about this, but I need my parents more now than ever. Thomasville may be the hell I ran away from, but it's the same place that is going to be my blessing. I pack what few things I want to take with me and sell everything else. For the first time in ten years, I'm headed home.
10
Mr. Curly is a mean old rooster that belongs to Samantha. It’s five in the morning, and he decides it's time to start crowing. I woke up with a jolt and looked at the clock. I groan and lay back down, covering my head with the pillow. After about an hour of listening to that damn rooster, I got up. I take a shower and get dressed.
“Momma, I thought we were going to kill that bird and eat him for dinner,” I say, coming down the stairs into the kitchen. “Lottie Mae, you know we can’t do that, it would shatter your sister to pieces. Want some coffee?” she asks as she pours herself a cup, “And the problem with that is? I say. Momma rolls her eyes, “You better go out to the coop and get some eggs for breakfast before your father comes down.” The eggs our chickens produce are the best in the county. Momma sells them to the local café and the small Farmers Market.
Daddy is sitting in his usual spot at the table reading the paper. He usually is up before Mr. Curly’s ungodly crowing. “Sugar, you look tired,” he says, stirring his coffee. “Yeah well, you can think that wretched rooster for that,” I responded. Daddy has a smile on his face, “Oh no, don’t be upset with that rooster. He is old and dead set in his ways. Best alarm clock around.” I snort. “You know if he mysteriously disappears, you can just tell Samantha something ate him.”
After breakfast, I help Daddy feed the horses. I lay on the couch and watch tv till the library opens. Momma and Daddy don’t own a computer or have the internet (They are old school.) I plan on filling applications out for some places in Huntsville and Chattanooga. I miss working around art. “You want a ride to town? I can drop you off and pick you up after I get my errands done,” Momma asks me. “You know you don’t have to drive me everywhere, I have my car,” I say. Daddy kisses Momma, “Now you let your momma drive you to town, she is excited to have you home.” I agree and wash up.
Thomasville still looks the same except for a few new stores and a diner. I stare out the window as Momma drones on about what’s been happening in the town. Who married who, who had kids, who got caught streaking through town. I manage a chuckle. “Well, here is your stop. I will be back at about 10,” she reaches over and plants a kiss on my forehead. I have a flashback of my childhood. This was one of my favorite places. When I walk in, the place hasn’t changed much.
“Lottie May Haywood, as I live and breathe,” The woman at the counter yells across the room. “I'm sorry?” I ask. I have no idea who this person is. “Girl it's me, Natalie Spears, remember?”
“Oh, Hey. I didn't recognize you.” Yeah, still no clue.
“We used to run wild together when we were younger.” Then it dawns on me who she is. She had a nose job. I stifle a giggle. We stand and talk for a good fifteen minutes. She tells me all about her life since school. I look at my watch, “Well friend I need to get some stuff done online before my mother comes back.” Natalie goes over the rules for the computers. They haven't changed in years. I just go with the flow. I nod and agree and take a seat at one near the back of the area. I set to work and apply at galleries in Huntsville and Chattanooga. I need a job while I’m here, so I looked up the number for the bar out on 411.
Momma pulls up exactly at ten o’clock. She chats on and on. “Memorial Day is next week, and we need to start planning the BBQ. We’ll get a list at church Wednesday night. Your Daddy is going to pick a few cattle to take to the Butcher on Tuesday.” This makes my stomach heave. I know it's the way of life, but I could have done without that detail. “How morbid,” I say. “Now Lottie, don't start any of that crap. Daddy wants you to make the banana pudding. He doesn't like anyone else's,” she says.
When we get home, I help Momma most of the day. I follow her around with a little notebook and make a list of everything she
needs to do and get from the store. We have a big BBQ every year. Daddy says the whole town is coming this year. He says everyone is happy to have me home and they all want to see me. This is kind of funny to me, because I stayed in trouble, and I’m pretty sure half the town doesn't care for me. The thought makes me smile.
I decided to get a job at the local bar. I could work at the café or diner, but the bar sounds more fun to me. The bar doesn’t open 'til four. I decided to take a nap. Momma knocks at the door, “Child, are you going to sleep the day away? It’s time for supper.” I raise up and look at the clock. I slept 'til 6. I jump out of bed and change clothes then head downstairs.
The Broken Wagon Saloon is a honky-tonk that has been around for as long as I can remember. Duke Riley has been its owner for the past twenty years. His great grandfather opened it up in 1952 and ran it till his passing. It was passed down from father to son. When I was a teenager, my friends and I would come here to two-step, and, depending on the bartender, we would drink one or two beers. Not much has changed about the place aside from a few upgrades. After four generations it’s still the dusty old honkytonk it has always been. People seem to like it that way.
The place isn’t busy yet, and I am thankful I don’t see anyone I know. I want to make this as short and sweet as possible. I want to get back home and relax. I’ve been so exhausted the last few months, exhaustion is hitting me all at once. “Excuse me, is Duke in?” I ask, walking up to the bar. The bartender turns around. He is tall and handsome, and I can say his ass looks good in those jeans. “Evan Riley?” I ask, shock across my face. “Lottie Mae Haywood. Damn you filled out,” he says with a smile on his face. I feel my face turn red, “You grew into your ears,” I say, letting out a chuckle. Evan wiggles his ears.
Steel Hearts Page 4