by Caleb James
Kevin’s expression brightened. He pulled his pen from behind his ear. “Do you have her current med list?”
It was going well. Almost like taking an oral exam—I had all the answers. I gave him Lorraine’s card. He called her and then tried to get through to Mom’s most recent psychiatrist—Norman Katz—at the Mental Health Center where Lorraine also worked. All the while, Mom dozed in and out. They’d given her a stiff helping of the tranquilizers Haldol and Ativan. As we zipped through Kevin’s many paged forms, I had the growing hope that Marilyn would come home with me.
And then the doctor entered. She wore a starched lab coat and an eager expression. “So who have we got?” she asked.
Kevin glanced at his clipboard. “Marilyn Nevus, thirty-eight-year-old single woman—mother of two, brought by EMS on a police hold.” He glanced up…. “This is her son, Alex.”
“Alex.” The doctor extended her hand. Her dark eyes were bright. “Doctor Cynthia Goodman, Nice to meet you.”
I shook her hand and wondered what made her so happy.
She smiled at Kevin. “And?”
“And she was at her DSS hearing and apparently lost it. The police paper says: ‘Became threatening and assaultive.’”
“Really?” the doctor said. “That’s not good.”
“It’s not true,” I said. “I was there. She got loud. She banged her fist on the table, and they freaked out. Her social worker was there, she’ll tell you the same thing. People who don’t know my mom misinterpret when she gets loud. She’s not violent.”
“Okay,” the doctor said. “Did she hit anyone down at DSS? Push? Any putting her hands on someone else?”
“No, she doesn’t… ever.”
“Good.” She looked at Mom, whose mouth was mashed into the pillow. She was snoring. “Marilyn… Ms. Nevus.” She touched Mom’s shoulder. “Ms. Nevus.” She gently shook her. “Marilyn. Marilyn. I need you to open your eyes… Marilyn.”
My heart sank; they’d overmedicated her. I knew from experience that even if they thought she was okay to leave, they wouldn’t let her out the door until she was awake. Before I could ask the obvious question, Doctor Goodman beat me to it.
“How much did they give her?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you in a second.” And Kevin left.
“You think she’s good to go home?” the doctor asked me.
“This is nothing. People push her buttons and then they act surprised when she reacts. She’ll be okay.”
“You take care of her, don’t you?”
“It is what it is. She’s an okay mom, just has some problems.”
The doctor smiled. “You’re a smart kid. What grade you in?”
“Junior.” I regretted saying it the moment it was out of my mouth, but she probably knew my age from the DSS paperwork. It would have been a stupid lie.
“Which school?”
“Stuy.”
“Really? That’s where I went. I loved it. Absolutely loved it!” Her face lit up further, and I wondered what could make someone so upbeat in a place like this.
“You like your work, don’t you?” I asked.
“Love it! It’s always different, interesting people… like you and your mom.”
Kevin returned. “Ten and two,” he said, indicating the number of milligrams of the two medications the ED nurse had injected into Mom. “But there’s something else you need to know.” He glanced at the doctor and then at me.
“What?” the doctor asked.
Kevin hesitated. “She’s pregnant.”
Doctor Goodman stared at him and then at Marilyn. She shook Mom’s shoulder, a bit more aggressively this time. “Ms. Nevus… Marilyn.”
Mom rolled onto her back, her eyes were glazed, and saliva had caked in the corners of her mouth. “Wha?”
Dr. Goodman’s smile brightened further. “Ms. Nevus, did you know you were pregnant?”
“That’s nice,” Mom said. “You’re a nice doctor.”
She was stoned on the meds. Crap! There was no way they’d let her out this sedated. I also couldn’t predict how her being pregnant would complicate things.
“Marilyn,” the doctor continued, “how far along are you?”
“All the way,” Mom muttered, and she closed her eyes and rolled back to the wall.
My cell strummed.
“What a pretty ringtone,” Doctor Goodman commented.
I looked at the readout. At first wondering who J. Haynes was. I felt a flutter in my stomach—Jerod. I picked up.
“Alex, you okay?” he started.
I looked at the smiley doctor, Kevin with his clipboard and forms, and my pregnant and overmedicated mother snoring in the background. Okay? Not so much. But hearing Jerod’s voice. “Things are kind of crazy right now.”
“You’re not in school.”
“Duh,” I said.
“Fine, that was stupid to say. Are you sick?”
Something flitted over my right shoulder. Nimby’s high-pitched voice was in my ear. “Alex has a crush.” She giggled and kissed me on the ear. Reflexively, I threw down several mental bricks and blocked out her chatter. If she’d offer me some useful information—like whether or not Jerod… was gay or straight—I’d be willing to listen. But then I thought of his girlfriend Ashley and the prom.… He’s just a nice guy who’s being friendly. “I’m not sick,” I admitted as I watched the doctor put her stethoscope on Mom’s back and then on her chest.
“Okay.” He didn’t press for more. “I can pick up your schoolwork if you want and bring it over to you?”
“Thanks… but I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.”
“And that would be… where?”
“You don’t want to know,” I said. More importantly, he’d already seen my crazy mom. On the off chance that maybe this boy liked me… even if just to be friends… did I really want him to know how messed up my life was?
“I do want to know,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me, though. I’ll pick up your school stuff. Call me when you’re done with whatever secret thing you’re doing. I like a mystery. I’ll figure it out. You’re probably not really sixteen but some kind of undercover cop. You’re a nark, right? OMG,” he said, mimicking his girlfriend’s Valley-girl routine.
“Yeah… that’s it.”
“Call me when you can. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
And he hung up.
“Has she seen her gynecologist?”
I looked up at Dr. Goodman. “I doubt it.”
“What about her… boyfriend?”
I didn’t know how to respond. These were normal questions. But in that moment I couldn’t figure out the lies I’d need to get Mom released. Was I supposed to create an imaginary boyfriend, or go with the Prince Valiant hallucination she was waltzing with at the Fairy Ball? Like a bullet piercing my mental brick wall, Nimby shot out and shouted, “Ta da!”
I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from screaming at her to go away. That would be all I needed, to let this happy, smiley doctor know I had a little bare-breasted fairy chattering in my ear—like mother, like son. “I doubt he knows.”
“So she’s seeing somebody regular?”
I pictured the two of them waltzing—apparently, there was more than dancing going on. “I’m not sure how serious they are… or if she’d want him to know.” Or if he even exists… although a pregnancy would indicate there was someone with a penis.
“Got it,” Dr. Goodman said. I saw her struggle. “She’s really out of it. Alex, I hate to say it, she’s going to have to stay the night. I can’t let her go like this.”
And that was that. From the doctor’s tone, I knew this was not up for discussion. I had no power here. Although even with crazy May I had some. So I made the attempt. “What if she woke up?”
“Sorry.” Her smile replaced by a look of concern. “It’s not just that. I’ll need to have OB take a look at her, make sure she has a follow-up appointment with someone when she leav
es.”
I shrugged, not wanting her to see the depth of my fears… it would only make things worse. “Will you be here in the morning?” I asked, knowing there was every likelihood I’d have to go through this whole thing tomorrow with a different doctor, who might not be so willing to let my crazy mom out.
“All day.” Her smile returned. “I come on at eight thirty.”
“Great,” I said, realizing I’d have to skip another day of school. If it went any longer, I’d need a doctor’s note. I glanced at the clock over the nurse’s station. It was just after one. The DSS worker’s report would have gone in to the Office of Children and Family Services, and based on experience, I could expect a caseworker at our apartment by the end of the afternoon. This could play out a number of ways—none of them good--including calls to my school and Alice’s to check up on us. My going AWOL would look bad, and staying here was pointless. Dr. Goodman’s decision was made. She was giving Kevin instructions, and that was that.
“I can pick her up in the morning?” I asked.
“Hopefully,” Dr. Goodman said. “But you know I can’t promise anything. It’ll be based on how she’s doing.”
“Right.” I stuffed my emotions back. It did no good to let people see how bad you were hurt. And I was. Mad at Mom for… just about everything, mad at myself for screwing this up. More than anything, I was scared. I thought of Alice, and of what could happen… had happened, in the past. Shit!
Eleven
FEELING like I might puke, I wandered out of the hospital. I had to stop thinking about all the “what ifs?” and just do whatever I could to get us through this. It was still too early to pick up Alice from school, so I got on the subway and headed home. Nimby chattered constantly. “May wants to rule the world, but she can’t. She needs a bridge… or she’ll go mad, really mad, like your mom. Whole creatures can’t cross the divide without getting split.”
It was interesting, and for once I resisted the urge to wall her out and listened. The subway was packed, so as much as I wanted to ask questions, one Nevus family member in the psych ward was enough for the day.
Out on the street, I whispered, “Is that what happened to Mom?”
“Oh yes!” Nimby said. “Like a wishbone, the big half is in Fey and the short end… barking mad.”
“And is that why you didn’t follow me?”
“Yes, yes, yes. You don’t need a crazy fairy. No, no, no. Bad, bad, bad.”
“So maybe it can be undone,” I said. “Like maybe put Mom back together.”
“No, no, no,” Nimby said. “Once broken, never mended. Alex has two mommies. Or he could.” She giggled.
“That makes no sense,” I spat back, looking at the fairy on my shoulder. “What did you mean by that?”
I caught a worried glance from a woman on the street as I ducked into the grocery on Fourth. Interesting as Nimby’s revelations were, I had to focus on the immediate danger. I used the rest of the food stamps to make certain we had staples in the fridge—milk, butter, eggs, OJ, a loaf of bread. It was a food pantry day, so I figured Alice and I could get a bag of whatever they were giving away, which usually included a block of decent cheese and some fruits and vegetables. In my not-extensive range of cooking, I could make a respectable mac and cheese, and depending on the choice of vegetables—hopefully there’d be some turnips and sweet potatoes—I could make a stew. From experience, when the OCFS people dropped by, the first place they looked was the fridge.
“No Mommy,” Nimby sang. “Two little children, all alone. Ain’t got no Mommy. No Mommy.” I briefly listened and realized she was using the tune “Just a Gigolo.” “You ain’t got no Mommy. No Mommy… cares for you.”
“Shut up,” I murmured as I wheeled toward the checkout.
My cell vibrated against my leg, and then the harp strummed. I pulled it out. The caller ID showed STATE OF NEW YORK. So it began, wondering if I’d at least have time to run home and vacuum. What if they were already at Alice’s school? What if they’d already hauled her off to some emergency foster home? I took the call.
“Alex?”
“Lorraine,” I said, not expecting my mother’s caseworker.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Gristede’s.”
“They’re keeping your mom overnight,” she said.
“I know.”
“I couldn’t stop that woman from reporting to OCFS.”
“I figured.”
“I think I bought you a reprieve.”
“What?” I fished out my wallet and handed over the last of the food stamps.
“I’m at your place. Do you mind if I let myself in?”
“Go ahead. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.” Her words had ignited that most dangerous of emotions—hope. I hung up, grabbed my bags, and sprinted home.
WHEN I made it up the stairs and keyed in, Lorraine was in Mom’s room. She was pulling a blouse and skirt out of the closet and packing them into a knapsack.
“You want some tea?” I asked.
“That’d be great.” She emerged from Mom’s room, her hand on the knob. She looked at the deadlock I’d put on the door. “You need to ditch that.”
“Good point. So….” I put away the groceries and got out mugs and tea bags. “What kind of reprieve?”
“I called OCFS right after that woman from DSS. If it were just you, this wouldn’t be a big thing.”
In spite of my funk, I cracked a smile. I looked down at Lorraine, who stood maybe five feet tall. “I know, after fifteen they don’t care.”
“They have too many cases,” Lorraine said. “It’s the younger kids.”
“Alice,” I said, realizing Lorraine’s good news wasn’t that good.
“Yeah. Eleven-year-olds are another story. I talked to the woman who got your case—her name’s Lydia Green.”
I poured hot water into the mugs. “Got it. When should I expect her?”
“By statute, she can come any time,” Lorraine said. “I don’t think she will, at least not till your mom’s out of the hospital. I told her that you had a responsible adult in the house.”
I put Lorraine’s tea on the table and looked at her. Her hazel eyes met mine.
“Thank you.”
“She will come, Alex. You need to make sure everything is the way it’s supposed to be. I’ll do what I can with your mom, see if I can twist her arm into taking the meds.”
“She’s pregnant.”
“So it’s true?” Lorraine’s eyes bugged.
“They tested her at the hospital.”
“I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. What’s been going on?”
“Don’t know. She hasn’t brought anyone home.” I wasn’t about to mention my visit to the enchanted kingdom.
“She’ll keep it, won’t she?” Lorraine sipped her tea, her eyes roaming over the small kitchen.
“Yup,” I said. My mom’s views on reproduction were in lockstep with her Irish Catholic upbringing. Abortion was not an option.
“Wow… that’s a game changer. I’ll have to tell Dr. Katz.”
“Will they try to keep her on meds?” I asked.
“Probably. But they change them around if someone’s pregnant. Not that she’s been taking much of anything anyway.”
“She’ll refuse.” I sipped my tea. My thoughts ran in half a different directions. “If OCFS gets involved will they take the baby?”
“It depends on how she’s doing. On how you’re all doing. For starters, this apartment is too small. I’ll see what I can do with the housing people.” Lorraine shook her head. “This really complicates things.” Her lips curved into a half smile. “I wouldn’t mention this to the OCFS people.”
“It’s going to get bad, isn’t it?”
“Probably. Once she starts going to the OB clinic, they’ll watch her closely. When she delivers, they’ll either let her take home the baby… or not. At the very least they’re going to want in-home visits. Your mom is erratic. Even a few yea
rs back, they’d never let her keep the baby. Now, they’ll at least make the effort. But a lot of people want babies. If they think your mom’s a risk, they’ll yank him or her fast and have no trouble terminating her rights and getting the kid adopted.”
“She did okay with Alice and me.”
“She wasn’t psychotic back then. She changed. That’s the whole problem.”
“I know. She’s schizophrenic.” But was that really it? Nimby’s weird explanation about Mom’s craziness ran through my head. But what did it mean? And why had Mom gone into Fey in the first place? And…. “She wasn’t always schizophrenic,” I said. “I can still remember her being normal. Artsy, but now… she doesn’t make sense.”
“And you never knew your father?”
“No.” I felt Lorraine’s gentle prodding. Much as I wanted to have someone… like her, to unload to, it wasn’t safe. You tell people too much and they’ll turn around and hurt you. “The line for father is blank on my birth certificate. Same with Alice’s. So what do I do if this Lydia Green shows up?”
“I’ll stay till five,” Lorraine said. “I’ll go through your mom’s room and try to neutralize the crazy. I don’t know what the hell to do with all those pill pictures. We have to get them out of here.”
“She’ll go ballistic.”
“I know, but if any caseworker catches a glimpse of those….”
“Right.”
“It’s unlikely anyone will come off shift. My guess is she’ll come tomorrow. Both you and Alice should be in school then.” She looked me dead on. “Skipping is not in your best interest. She could show up there.”
“Got it.” I was torn between relief at having an adult step in and make some decisions, and wondering if I could trust her.
“My plan is to try and get your mom released in the morning, and then do an end run around OCFS and get them to close the case.”
“What are the chances of pulling that off?” I asked.
“Fifty-fifty, as long as they don’t know she’s pregnant.” She gave me a searching look. “The OCFS people don’t want to take your case, you know that, don’t you?”