Cathead Crazy

by Rhett DeVane

  He dabbed his eyes, blew his nose, and lifted his gaze to Mae. Something invisible passed between the two. His lips quivered into a brief, shy smile. He fumbled in a bag and donned an MP3 player’s earpieces, closed his eyes, and separated himself from their company.

  Mae resumed her vacant stare.

  “Ma-Mae? How do you feel today?”

  “Tired.”

  “How did therapy go?”

  “All right.”

  Hannah patted one side of her mother’s sprayed coiffure. “I see the lady did your hair.”

  “Yes.”

  “She did a good job.”

  “Yes.”

  Hannah rummaged for a subject. “Looks like spring may come early this year.”

  Her mother grunted in response.

  “The therapist said you might be getting out of here end of next week if you work hard enough.” Hannah waited. Her mother blinked.

  After a few minutes, Mae said, “This is the place I’ve been sent to die.”

  “Only if you choose to do so, Ma-Mae.” Hannah positioned her chair so that she could look directly into her mother’s eyes. “Do you honestly think that I, that any of us, would put you somewhere to die? Do you really?”

  Mae narrowed her gaze. “Well . . .”

  “No Ma-Mae. We wouldn’t. Not even in a full-time nursing home, unless you were so ill that you absolutely needed around-the-clock care. I would never do that to you, nor would Hal or Helen.” Hannah cupped her mother’s chin gently in the palm of one hand. “Part of this facility is a nursing home, but you’re in the acute care wing. They’re doing everything in their power to help you get strong enough to go back home to Rosemont and all of your friends. But you are going to have to pull yourself together and work with them.”

  Hannah sat back and crossed her hands over her chest. “You want to die? You go right ahead. It’s your choice.”

  Immediately, guilt at being harsh with her mother clawed a hole in her conscience. Was this the “tough love” all the therapists were so fond of touting? It didn’t feel so good.

  Mae lifted one white eyebrow. “You might want to take you a little ladies’ pink pill, baby. You get a bit peevish when you need a good cleaning out.”

  Oh yes. Laxatives: Ma-Mae’s cure-all for everything that ails ya. Hannah chuckled. The piss and vinegar still simmered inside of her mother.

  Chapter Six

  “Mm-mmm!” Hal Mathers stomped the dirt from his shoes before entering the kitchen’s back door. “Something surely smells good, Pookie.”

  Hannah smiled as she did practically every time she heard her brother’s nickname for her: Pookie, after a shaggy brown stuffed bear, her constant childhood companion.

  Her brother filled a tablespoon with steaming red sauce and took a tentative taste. “Dang, woman. You make a mean spaghetti sauce for a non-Eye-talian.”

  “Thanks. My sister-in-law’s not feeding you well?”

  Hal rubbed a hand across his spare tire. “Do I look like a man who goes without?”

  “Thought you bragged you wore the same pants size you wore in high school.”

  “Sure I do. Just—they fit a few inches lower down now.”

  Hal tore off a hunk of Italian bread and dunked it into the sauce pot. “I’m starving and Suzanne’s over at her son and daughter-in-law’s. Their baby’s teething and ill as a sprayed hornet.” He chewed. “Speaking of ill, I don’t know what you said to Ma-Mae, but it surely worked a charm. I stopped by to see her when I rode over to Lowes to get some lumber. Ma-Mae met some lady she knew from Greensboro, across the hallway, and she was in that old woman’s room talking up a storm when I got there.”

  “I think we’ve dodged the bullet, this time.” She offered him a napkin.

  “Know what Ma-Mae told me? Don’t know if she shared it with you or not.”

  “Hmm?”

  “She wants us to put her house on the market.” Hal dabbed tomato sauce from the corners of his lips.

  Hannah’s eyebrows shot upward. “Really? What brought that on?”

  “Dunno. Said she doesn’t like the notion of the house sitting there vacant. Said she’s not ever going back there to live, and she knows it. Wants us to sell it and use the money for her expenses.”

  “She doesn’t usually talk to me about big important money things. She saves that heavy stuff for you ’cause—,” Hannah gave him a playful arm slug, “—you’re the boy.” And I’m the lowly daughter who pays all the bills and keeps up with her accounts.

  Hal screwed up his mouth the way he always did when he was being her big goofy older brother. “Slap me on a bun and pass the mustard. I must be something really special.”

  “You’re special all right.” Hannah smiled in spite of herself. “I take it, since you’re over here sponging off your sister, you’re batching it tonight.”

  He nodded. “Suzanne’s gonna be baby-sitting for the entire evening.”

  Hannah ran her tongue over her back teeth. Maybe if I grow some new teeth and get all cranky, someone will come and baby-sit me. What a whiny pain in the butt I’m becoming! She ripped off a wedge of bread, dunked it in the sauce, and joined her brother. Red sauce glistened on their lips.

  “You know the good thing about us doing this?” he asked around a mouthful. “Suzanne assures me it doesn’t have any calories if you eat it standing up.”

  Hannah licked a trickle of sauce from her lips. “I love that woman.”

  “So do I.” His expression softened. “These past two years have been the best of my life.”

  “Suzanne already feels like a sister to me. Your former wife, not so much.” Not that I’d ever admit this to you, but I secretly called Charlene “Attila the Hun with Boobs.”

  Hal hesitated before he spoke. “I hear Charlene’s getting married.”

  Hannah searched her brother’s rugged features. “You okay with that?”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. There were hurt feelings for a while. Anyone tells you divorce is easy is a fool and a liar. And I’m married again, so why should I begrudge her?”

  Hannah thought about the time Charlene had dumped her brother’s belongings in trash bags on Mae’s front lawn in broad daylight. How the whole town had gossiped about the break-up. How their mama had suffered the fall-out. Maybe Hal had forgiven her, but Hannah wasn’t so inclined. “You heard from Natalie?”

  “Nope.” Hal’s gaze dropped. “Maybe one day.”

  “I ought to give her a call.”

  He shot a warning glance. “You’ll do no such thing. She’s a grown woman.”

  “She’s your daughter, Hal. It doesn’t seem right.”

  Hal raked a large work-hardened hand through his graying hair. “She blames me for leaving her mama, Pookie. Heck, there’re still folks in this town who won’t so much as give me the time of day. And I’ve known ’em all of my life.”

  You’re not the only one who has to swallow the bile. People cutting their eyes at me like I’m the sister of the ultimate sinner. I want to scream at them. What of Christian compassion, that whole “judge not lest you be judged” thing? Guess that only applies in theory.

  Hal walked over to the island counter, poured two tall glasses of iced tea, and handed one to his sister. “Takes two to make a marriage, and by God, it takes two to screw it up. I was the one who finally pulled the plug. So . . .” he spread his arms wide. “I’m the bad guy. What folks don’t understand is that it’s as hard to be the one who’s leaving as the one who’s left behind. The one left behind gets all the sympathy.”

  Hannah hugged her brother. “I know what kind of man you are, Hal. The others—”

  “—will just get glad in the same pants they got mad in,” he finished with one of Mae’s favorite sayings.

  “And some of those biddies have some pretty big britches too,” Hannah added.

  “Looks like two pigs fighting in a croaker sack when they’re walking away from you.”

  Hannah pointed upward. “Good
Lord’s going to strike us dead one day for being so mean-spirited.”

  “Nope.” Hal shook his head. “He likes a joke as good as the rest of us. Otherwise, He would never have created our family.”

  “Want to stay for dinner? Both of my kids might actually—miracle of miracles—be here.”

  “Thanks for the invite, Pookie. That half a loaf of bread and sauce will hold me. I’ll root around and find something at the house later. I want to get on home and work on our back deck. I hope to get to the railing before this next weekend, if the weather holds out.”

  “Always tearing up or building something.” Hannah kidded.

  When Hal smiled, his entire face got involved, a feat Hannah found truly amazing. His forehead and ears shifted back slightly, his blue eyes twinkled, and the skin around his eyes and mouth crinkled with deep, twin cheek dimples for punctuation. “I’m thinking about constructing a big dog house next.”

  “You don’t have a dog.”

  “For me.”

  “What did you do?”

  Hal made prayer hands. “Nothing. I’m a perfect angel as always. But if my wife brings home one more pair of shoes, I’ll have a place to stay.”

  When Hannah parked at the rehab facility, sadness washed over her and she allowed herself to cry. Eight years back, she had lost her father. Now her mother’s eventual death loomed. The circular dance between healthcare facilities and assisted living confirmed the fact.

  Mae roamed the halls and sitting rooms of Enable in search of interesting conversation. Since discovering the afternoon Bingo game, she had coaxed the physical therapy staff into scheduling her sessions in the morning. Mrs. Eva, the hair stylist who curled and stiff-sprayed Mae’s white hair once a week, claimed relatives from Chattahoochee. The two women had become fast friends, dissecting the lives, loves, and daily minutiae of small town life. It didn’t hurt that Eva was as passionate as Mae about “The Young and the Restless.”

  Hannah took a shuddering breath and dabbed the mascara from beneath her eyes. Maybe she should wise up and quit wearing any.

  “What the heck are you crying for, you big dope?” she asked her reflection in the vanity mirror. “Ma-Mae’s better and she’ll be back at Rosemont soon. Stop blubbering, blow your nose, and get moving,” Hannah preached to her mirror image. “Hannah, you are like your mama. She’s always giving herself little pep talks.”

  Hannah finally located Ma-Mae in the sun room. “There you are. I was beginning to think you’d taken off.” She sat on the cabbage rose-print love seat beside her mother.

  “Can’t move fast enough to break out. But give me a couple more days.” Mae motioned toward the woman sitting in a wheelchair beside the sofa. “Hannah, this is June McConnick. She took a tumble and ended up here. Broke both her ankles, one in three places.”

  June smiled and extended a hand. “You must be the ‘baby daughter’ Mae has spoken of so often.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Hannah said.

  “June’s getting out of here ’round the same time as me,” Mae added. “She’s been here going on three months. She’s started to use a walker a little each day, haven’t you honey?”

  The younger woman nodded. “Your mother and I have become good friends in the past few days. I feel like I’ve known your family for years, what with Mae’s stories.”

  The television blared. Down one long hallway, someone moaned.

  “She tells me you’re quite the computer expert,” June continued. “That’s a talent, especially these days. I know enough to send a few emails, maybe type a letter.”

  “Don’t believe all of her bragging,” Hannah patted her mother’s hand. Amazing, since she saves a list of things I’ve done wrong.

  “Hannah, if your mother isn’t one of your biggest fans, then you do have a problem.” June chuckled. “I believe my kids hang the moon.”

  Mae swung her cane in cadence with her slow, deliberate stride. They walked the long highly-polished hall leading to her mother’s room. The omnipresent cloud of green apple deodorizer—a smell Hannah had initially liked, but now loathed—did little to cloak the mixture of urine and stale sweat. Hannah willed her stomach to stop rolling and forced a light-hearted tone into her voice. “Gosh, Ma-Mae. You’re making good progress. No more walker!”

  “I parked that baby yesterday and told David—he’s my main therapist—that I was ready for my hikin’ stick. This one here is a loaner. I’ll have one measured to fit before I leave for Rosemont.”

  A petite, elderly female lifted a shaky hand as they neared her wheelchair. Mae said in a loud voice, “Afternoon, Miz Pansy. Glad to see you up and about.” The woman nodded and mumbled a reply, completely understood by Mae but unintelligible to Hannah. “Yeah, sugar. It’s turning early spring. Sure is. You get one of those aides to wheel you outside for a spell. Fresh air’d do you a world of good.” Her mother touched the old woman’s bony shoulder. “I’ll be down later to visit.”

  A thin line of spittle dibbled down one side of Pansy’s paralyzed face.

  “Poor old thing. She’s a throw’d-away,” Mae said when they were a few feet down the hall.

  Hannah glanced back. “Shh, Ma-Mae. She’ll hear you.”

  “She’s deaf as a stump. Couldn’t hear a fart in a jug.” Her mother pointed her index finger for emphasis. “But sweet as the day is long. Though for the life of me, I can’t figure why anyone in their right mind would name a poor gal-child Pansy. Daisy, Rose, Lilly—I can see them—but, Pansy?” Mae stopped mid-hall. “You know what I wish?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I wish I could have a real, soaking-style bath, or a shower: a good washing down. They’re regular with the sponge baths, but I swannee, I just don’t feel all-total clean.”

  “Do they even have showers here?”

  Mae motioned with a tilt of her head. “There’s a big one, end of this hall.”

  Hannah said, “Wait here.”

  “I’ll go sit in my chair if it’s all the same.” Mae shuffled toward her room, two doors down.

  Hannah returned shortly carrying a tall stack of clean white towels and a bottle of liquid soap. “The nurses gave me permission to help you, Ma-Mae, if you’re up for a shower.”

  “Grab my little carry-all. It’s got my body powder and deodorant and such.” Mae rocked twice before she was able to stand. She pushed past Hannah, narrowly missing her daughter’s foot with the rubber tip of the cane. “Lord a-mighty! You’d think I just won a ticket to see the Reverend Billy Graham. That’s how excited I am.”

  The twenty-by-twenty-foot shower room was divided into four areas containing bench seats and hanging privacy curtains. Hannah sat the stack of towels on a slatted bench and glanced around the small room. Do they get some kind of discount on this mint green tile? They must buy it by the boat-load. It’s in every facility I’ve ever visited.

  A nursing assistant stuck her head through the entrance door. “Y’all have everything you need?”

  “Think so!” Hannah called. She helped Mae remove her cotton house robe.

  “I forgot to mention,” the attendant said, “turn the nozzle all the way to the right. It’ll take a couple of spins. It’s a little finicky. When you get hot water, ease it back to the left slightly until the temperature’s where you want it. Hit one of the call buttons if you need help.”

  Mae waved. “Go on about your business, honey. We can manage.” Then to Hannah, “get the water started. I can shuck my clothes. I ain’t that feeble yet.”

  As soon as Hannah twirled the single-handle control, cold water coursed from a hand-held nozzle, soaking one of her shoes.

  “Dad-gum!” No matter how she tried to position the hose, it managed to whip around and wet some part of her lower body. “This thing is possessed!”

  Mae hugged her arms to her naked chest. “Leave it hanging there and help me to the stool. My goose bumps are growing goose bumps.”

  “All right, Ma-Mae.” The second she turned the nozzle loo
se, it whipped around and sprayed her other foot. “Sh—!”

  “Watch that potty mouth, youngun, or I’ll wash it out with some of this squeeze soap.”

  Though she had tried to curtail cursing since becoming a mother (and therefore role model), Hannah often failed. When she stubbed her little toe on Jonas’s leaden equipment duffel, conveniently left in the middle of the living room, the only word she wanted to use wouldn’t have met Mae’s approval. She tried substituting “sugar” or “shoot fire,” but most of the time the intended word blurted out. Norman took a different tack: he mumbled barely audible profanity under his breath.

  After she pulled the privacy curtain shut, Hannah tested the temperature, then held the nozzle so that a stream of warm water coursed down her mother’s back.

  “Lordy be!” Mae closed her eyes and smiled. “That feels so-o-o good.”

  Taking a body part at a time, Hannah gently soaped and scrubbed, rinsing between. Each time she released her hold on the hose, the nozzle swung in wide arcs, spraying the walls, curtains, and the few dry threads of her clothing.

  Hannah laughed. “I’m getting more wet than you.”

  “Here, give it to me.” Mae held out a hand. “I’ll wrestle with it while you finish me up.”

  After washing Mae’s feet and legs, Hannah helped her mother stand, took the spray wand, and handed Mae the wash rag. “You get to clean possible, Ma-Mae. That’s where I draw the line.”

  Mae giggled. “What’s the matter? I washed your bare bottom many a time.”

  “A fact I am well aware of and greatly appreciate you for. I’ll rinse.” Hannah aimed the warm spray in the general direction of her mother’s privates.

  “You’re missing the target all together!”

  “I could use a little direction. I am flying blind.” Hannah adjusted the spray slightly. “Better?”

  “Passable.” Mae flipped blasts of rinse water into the air with each swing of her wash cloth. By the time she finished, Hannah’s pants and the lower half of her shirt glommed to her body.