Heart to Heart

by Layce Gardner

  Her heart immediately jackhammered inside her chest. Had something horrible happened to her mother? She didn’t speed, but she definitely pressed the limit. She quickly parked her car and fast-walked to the reception. The moment she entered the lobby, she heard it—her mother’s high pitched screams. She bypassed signing in and ran directly to her mother’s room. She found two orderlies holding her mother down while Susan prepared a hypodermic needle.

  Susan looked up as Amy flew into the room. “I was hoping you’d get here soon. We might be able to avoid this,” she said, meaning the needle.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Amy shouted over her mother’s hysterics.

  “She’s disoriented and angry. I think she’s realized this isn’t a fancy hotel,” one of the orderlies said. His name tag read Brian. The other orderly was named Phil. They were both large, but their sweet, concerned faces made them look like oversized teddy bears.

  “Let me go!” her mother screamed and thrashed.

  “We need to sedate her, Doc,” Phil said.

  “Give Amy a chance to talk to her. She might be able to calm her down,” Susan said.

  Amy approached the bed tentatively. “Mom, it’s Amy. Everything’s all right. It’s going to be all right.”

  “Jean! Call John. He’ll make them let me out. I didn’t kill my poor baby. I know I didn’t. I just want to go home. I won’t do anything. I promise,” Mary said.

  “What should I do?” Amy asked. She didn’t want to make things worse, but should she actually lie to her mother?

  “Just soothe her,” Susan said, “any way you can.”

  Amy sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of things,” she said. She stroked her mother’s forehead. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll stay here with you.”

  Her mother stopped thrashing. Phil stepped away from her but was watchful.

  “Jeannie, why am I here? It was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it,” Mary said, tears streaming down her face.

  “I know. It’s okay. You should rest now. These nice people will take care of you. No one will hurt you here,” Amy said. “I promise.”

  “You won’t leave me?” Mary asked, clutching Amy’s hand.

  “I won’t leave,” Amy said.

  Mary closed her eyes and drifted off almost instantly. Amy sat beside her mother until she was sure she was deeply asleep. When Amy looked up, the room was empty except for Susan.

  “That was intense,” Amy said. “Will it happen again when she wakes up?”

  Susan pulled a chair up next to her mother’s bed and sat. “Most likely not. It’s their short-term memory that’s damaged. Your mother recalled a period in her life that caused her a lot of pain. I’m thinking she was in an institution?” Susan crossed her legs. “Why don’t you tell me about it? The more I know about her past, the better I can handle these episodes. We try to avoid sedatives if at all possible.”

  Amy told her about the death of her baby brother and her mother’s subsequent suicide attempt.

  “That’s a painful memory to visit. It’s no wonder she had the reaction she did to our interference,” Susan said.

  “Will she have good memories or just all bad ones?”

  “They’re not all bad. The patients have good days when they remember happy times,” Susan said.

  Amy stared down at her mother. She looked peaceful. She had missed so much of her mother’s life and now it was too late.

  “Amy, regrets can kill you. You have a life too, you know. Your mother wants you to live your own life.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because all mothers want their children to be happy.”

  Amy sighed deeply. “You don’t know my mother.”

  ***

  Amy pulled up in her mother’s driveway alongside Parker’s van. Her phone dinged. It was a text message from Millie saying that she was taking the afternoon off to play Bingo.

  Amy texted back, “Make sure you win.”

  “I always do,” Millie texted back.

  Amy put her phone in her pocket and got out of the car. She looked at her mother’s house. The Dumpster was already full and the pick-up wouldn’t be until Monday. Amy walked around the side of the house and saw that Parker had torn away all the burnt timbers. The back of the house was nothing but a big, gaping, black hole.

  The whole thing was depressing. Amy leaned on the hood of the car. How could she possibly survive this big mess her mother had put her in? Up to this point in her life, she’d done what she wanted when she wanted. All this weight of things—the house, her mother, all the paperwork, not to mention she needed to write two articles over the weekend or she’d be out of money—was too much to handle. If her apartment didn’t get sublet she’d be liable for next month’s rent. Ugh, it was all too much for a woman whose biggest decision used to be what restaurant to eat dinner at that night.

  Parker came around the van. “Hey. You okay?”

  Before she had time to register what she was doing, Amy was sobbing in Parker’s arms. Parker held her tight. They fit together perfectly. For once her embarrassment at being soft and exposed didn’t surface. She needed strong arms and she wanted them to be Parker’s. She let herself cry. When her sobs subsided, she gently pulled away. “I’m so sorry. I think I had a delayed reaction from my mother this morning.”

  “Want to go Frisbee golfing?” Parker asked.

  Amy was confused. She thought they’d had a special moment and here Parker was suggesting Frisbee golf? She backed away.

  Parker said, “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing. I want to help you feel better. Frisbee golf helps me feel better.”

  Amy snuffled. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Trust me. It works. Exercise helps. Then you should come to dinner at my place. I’m a proficient griller. We’ll have steak and you can tell me all about it. How about that?”

  Amy nodded. “I need a tissue.”

  “So that’s a yes?” Parker asked, pulling out a pocket-sized pack of Kleenex. She handed them to Amy.

  Amy pulled out one tissue and dabbed at her eyes and nose. “Yes.” She handed Parker back her packet of Kleenex.

  “You should keep it,” Parker said.

  “You think I’m going to cry more?”

  “Probably. In fact, I may buy some stock in Kleenex.”

  Amy chuckled.

  “See? You feel better all ready. Now, go put on some shorts and a T-shirt. I’ll pack up my tools and then we’ll go.”

  “But what about working on this mess?” Amy asked, gesturing toward her mother’s house.

  “It’ll still be here tomorrow,” Parker said.

  ***

  While Amy was changing, her cell phone rang. She picked up. It was her friend, Elsie, calling from New York City.

  “I’ve got you all set. A gay guy and his very well behaved cat. It’s one of those Tuxedo cats. Super awesome. I even met the cat. He’s cool. You wanna do it?”

  “How long will he take it for?”

  “For as long as you want. He just moved to the city and is desperate,” Elsie said.

  “Perfect. Rent it to him. Get the money up front. First and last.”

  “I already did,” Elsie said.

  “I miss you,” Amy said. She really did.

  “I miss you too. You doing okay there?” Elsie asked.

  “As well as can be expected.”

  “Call me if you want to talk…you know, about stuff. I need to run. The group is meeting at Gibbon’s house. She misses your spirited conversation.”

  “Yeah, right. Last time Gibbon was furious with me because I thought her piece on garbage barges was boring and unsuitable for Good Housekeeping magazine. I thought that was the purpose of the group—to drum up more business so we could consolidate our work and sell more articles. We’re defeating our purpose if she writes unsellable crap.” Thinking about it made her blood pressure go up. She felt a tightness in her chest. Gibbon was an ass.

&nb
sp; “You always were all about the credo. Love ya, girl. Kiss, kiss.” Elsie clicked off.

  Amy sighed. Did she really miss the city that much? At night when Fenton rolled up its sidewalks, she thought of the noise, the confusion, the carnival-like atmosphere, and the energy of New York City. It buzzed with the promise of fulfilled dreams. Had her dream been there? She was all right with the quiet of Fenton. It was the kind of place people came to when they wanted a slower-paced, more mindful existence. It was a place where time didn’t dash past you, but walked along beside you.

  She could now cross off the worry of her apartment. She was rent free. She could write her two articles and she’d be flush. She took a deep breath and let her stress dissolve. She changed into a lightweight pair of shorts and a white T-shirt. She grabbed her sunglasses. A hat would be nice but she didn’t have one. Did Millie have sunscreen? She poked around in the bathroom but didn’t find any. Crap. Her pale skin was going to fry.

  Amy dashed outside. Parker was leaning against her van, holding a hat and a tube of sunscreen SPF 40.

  “Thought you might need these,” Parker said, handing the items over.

  “You’re amazing,” Amy said, putting the hat on and taking the sunscreen.

  “That’s a refreshing change,” Parker said.

  “What is?” Amy asked.

  “My last unfortunate relationship person did not appreciate my attentiveness. She found it bossy. She said I took away her ‘autonomy of personhood.’”

  “Because you wanted to give her what she needed?”

  “And do things for her,” Parker said.

  “Well, I like it,” Amy declared.

  “Good,” Parker said with a big grin. “Hop in. The course is in Griffin Lake Park. It runs the entire length of the east corridor. It’s a nice course. One of the city council members used to hang out with some of the big guns from the early days of disc golf and he had stock in Wham-O,” Parker said.

  “I had no idea,” Amy said. She got in the van. She looked over at Parker as she started the engine. “You do remember that I don’t know anything about Frisbee golf, including how to play it?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m a good teacher. I taught Tess and she’ll probably teach Susan,” Parker said. She watched her mirrors as she backed out of the driveway.

  A good skill to have, Amy thought. She couldn’t back herself out of a football field using her mirrors. She also could not parallel park. Millie, despite her advanced age, was a better driver than she was. NYC atrophied one’s driving skills. How many other skills had she lost during her stay in the city that never slept? Fenton was so different. She’d wanted to get as far away as possible from home only to discover it still had a hold on her. And then there was Parker. Should she even be thinking of starting a romance while so many other things were happening in her life?

  They took Dorset Street toward the park. Amy watched people strolling down the paved brick sidewalks. It looked like a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting. It was the polar opposite of the city—no hookers, no drug dealers, no jeering teenagers, and no homeless people.

  “I can’t believe towns like this really exist,” Amy said.

  Parker glanced over at her. “Suffering from culture shock?”

  “Yes, it’s all so clean and wholesome looking.”

  “I stopped looking at it a long time ago. You’ll have to be my new eyes.”

  Amy smiled. She decided to tell Parker about her plans. “I sublet my apartment today. He can stay as long as I need.”

  “Now that is good news.”

  “You think so?” Amy asked. She knew she was being coquettish, but couldn’t stop herself.

  Parker found a parking spot under a tree. She shut off the engine and looked over at Amy. “I’m glad you’re staying. I enjoy your company.” She took Amy’s hand in her own and gently squeezed it.

  Amy’s heart danced a little jig. Now to learn golf. She truly hoped she wasn’t terrible at it. The entire reason she’d shown interest in Frisbee golf was because she wanted to spend time with Parker. She looked around while Parker opened up the van and rummaged for the sporting equipment.

  Griffin Lake Park was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Its large oak and maple trees provided ample shade and gave the park an air of quiet seclusion. The park was several hundred acres, not including the lake. Amy could see the water shimmering in the distance. Griffin Park had the same lamppost-lined paths as Central Park. Alongside the paths were small, informal gardens full of flowers, low-lying bushes, and benches.

  Parker caught Amy taking the park in. “It’s a wonderful place, right?”

  Amy turned to her. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Most of my life. I came to live with my grandmamma when I was eight. My parents were biologists. They were on an expedition in the Amazon when they disappeared.”

  “Really?” Amy said.

  “No, silly. They got a divorce and I was too much work so they shipped me off to live with my grandma.”

  “Oh, that’s sad,” Amy said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, actually it wasn’t sad. My mother is selfish. My father is a philanderer. Grandma was my everything. She passed three years ago. I miss her every day.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “She was an incredible woman.” Parker shouldered the bag containing the discs.

  “So, if you grew up here, how come we never met? I went to school here the whole time.”

  “Homeschooled. I got bullied a lot in school, so Grandma kept me home.” Parker pulled two water bottles out of a cooler and added them to the disc bag.

  “I can help carry,” Amy offered.

  “Yes, I’m sure you can, but you won’t be. You’ve carried enough stuff this week.”

  Amy took a quick peek of the inside the back of the van. It was as she suspected—neat and organized. Every tool had its place, there were racks for lumber, a shelf designed to hold all sorts of nails, screws and bolts, extension cords neatly wound up, and other items that Amy couldn’t readily identify.

  “Okay, the course begins over there,” Parker said, pointing. Amy saw a basket with a number one figured prominently at the top the pole.

  “Here’s your brief history. It’s part of my intro to disc golf. Bear with me.”

  Amy nodded.

  “Frisbee golf was first known in Canada in 1926. College students in the 1960s used trees as targets,” Parker said. “They used trees before the baskets were invented.”

  They walked under several large oak trees. The shade from their canopies felt refreshing after the bright sunlight. Amy was glad she’d put on sunscreen and a hat. The golf course was mostly in the open space.

  Parker continued, “The pioneer of the sport was Kevin Donnelly. He called it Street Frisbee Golf. Then ‘Steady Ed’ Hendricks who worked at Wham-O redesigned the Frisbee. He changed the rim height, disc shape, and the diameter and weights.” She pulled out a disc. “This is a driver. You’ll get distance with it off the tee. The game basically follows the rules of golf. You tee off and try to get close to the basket and each throw it takes to get your disc in the basket counts against you.”

  Amy exhaled a long breath. “I hope I don’t embarrass you.”

  “You won’t. You should’ve seen me when I started. It’s all about practice.”

  They got to the first cement slab that was the tee off. “I’m going to start you off light until you get the hang of it.” Parker pulled out a bright red disc. “See, these numbers here,” she said, pointing to a spot on the disc. “These numbers tell you the speed, glide, turn, and fade rating.”

  Amy worked on registering all the information that Parker told her. She didn’t want Parker to think she wasn’t serious about this. Frisbee golf was important to Parker and Amy wanted to be important to Parker, too.

  “I’m going to give you a demonstration. Put four fingers under the disc with your thumb on top. Follow through is essential. Did you ever play softball?” />
  “Doesn’t every lesbian play softball? It’s like a rite of passage,” Amy said.

  “You’re going to pretend the disc is a bat. We’re going to use the reach back method. Just lower your arms from the batting position, step forward, throw, and follow through.” She handed Amy the disc.

  Amy positioned her fingers, did a few warm-up swings with Parker fine tuning it. She threw the disc. It flopped ten feet from the tee-off.

  Parker fetched the disc. “Again.”

  After six “agains” Amy had the basic idea down. “See, I knew you’d get the hang of it,” Parker said.

  They maneuvered their way through the course and Amy fell in love—with disc golf. They played nine holes. “We’ll do nine a few more times then we’ll go for the whole enchilada. Let me warn you, your arm is going to be sore tomorrow.”

  “This was so fun,” Amy said. She felt like a little kid discovering a new game. She barely refrained herself from jumping up and down.

  Parker smiled. “We’ve got another convert. And I’ve got a new golfing partner.”

  Amy wanted to be that…and much more.

  Chapter Twelve

  After golf, Parker dropped Amy off at Millie’s house. Millie, already back from her afternoon bingo game, found Amy in the kitchen.

  “You’re looking surprisingly good, considering this morning’s drama with your mother,” Millie said.

  “How’d…” Amy stopped. “You have Brookside contacts.”

  “Mrs. Branson and I are old friends. Did Parker help get you past it?” Millie poured them both an iced tea and handed a glass to Amy.

  Amy’s cheeks warmed at the mention of Parker’s name. “We went Frisbee golfing. It was a blast. I’m not half bad at it.”

  Millie raised one eyebrow.

  “We’re having dinner together tonight. At her house,” Amy said.

  “I admire you young people. Going all afternoon and still up for the night.” Millie sat at the kitchen chair. “Bingo wears me thin.”

  Amy sat down across from Millie. “I have a problem, Millie. I have no idea what to wear. Well, more like I don’t have anything to wear.”