Sherry’s face dropped.
“What?”
“Do you not see all these dresses? I’ll be here for a week! Why didn’t you stagger the orders?”
Leon closed the door. “Did you forget what’s comin’ next week?” His foot tapped impatiently on the linoleum.
“I guess I did.” Sherry’s face turned red as recognition hit.
“I was wonderin’ why you hadn’t ordered any dresses.” Leon licked his lips. “The Annual Charity Dance is next weekend. You always help out with that. Did anyone mention it to you?”
“Reverend Telly mentioned it durin’ service last Sunday, but I guess it slipped my mind,” she explained. “I guess I’ve been so pre-occupied worryin’ about the damn therapist’s appointment tomorrow.”
“Listen. Don’t sweat it,” Leon said. “We’ll get through it even if you go out there and serve Lina the Mean-a.”
Sherry’s face softened. “I’ll be right back.”
Perusing the meager summer dress collection Lina glimpsed Sherry coming out of the storage room. “This all the dresses you’ve got? I may have to go out of town to get somethin’ decent.”
“No worries, Lina,” Sherry said impassively. “We just received a large shipment today. They should be on the racks later today or tomorrow.”
“I’ve been lookin’ forward to takin’ a trip, maybe I’ll do that instead.” Her nose was in the air.
“Sounds like fun.”
Lina scoffed but said nothing.
“So I guess our county fire starter is outta business,” Lina added conversationally, still perusing the rack. “Seems he’s lost his touch. Ain’t been no fires in a coupla weeks now.”
Sherry tried for positive. “Well maybe our prayers have been answered.”
Lina ignored the comment, changing the subject. “So Greg sold Jinny Marx’s house.”
“Oh yeah? Who to?” Sherry checked herself. “Sorry, you probably can’t tell me that.”
Lina waved. “Oh, please! Greg don’t care who I tell things to. Hell, he’ll prolly be happy I told you.”
Sherry’s hands rose in defeat. “It’s your choice.”
“Ah, never mind,” Lina teased. “I’ll be back in a coupla days to take a look at them dresses.” She walked out the door, knocking over a few pajamas on hangers, seemingly by accident.
Sherry sprinted over to the rack, replacing the clothing. Leon heard the bell ring when Lina left. He popped his head out.
“She gone?” he asked. “I ain’t in the mood for her today.”
“Coffee?” Sherry offered, placing the last garment back on the rack.
“Yes, please,” Leon pleaded, handing her the money.
Sherry waved to Wade Thomas in the barber shop, who was sweeping up after a client. He came to the door as Sherry walked past on her way to the coffee shop. “Hey, Sherry, how ya doin’ today?”
“I’m doin’ fine, Wade, thanks.”
“Hey, tell Kenny to come on over for a buzz. I ain’t seen him in a while. Saw you guys at church last week but the wife run me on out right quick to get to some linen sale.”
“Sure. I’ll tell him.” Sherry waved. “Take care.”
Wade winked, heading back into the barber shop.
Vern’s Café was desolate as Sherry opened the door, activating the overhead bell. Jenny Martin was behind the counter. “Hey Sherry, what can I get ya?”
“Two coffees to go, please.” She placed the money on the counter.
“You guys busy over there today?” Jenny asked. “We ain’t had hardly anyone in here today aside from about a half hour ago.”
“Not today so far, but we’ll be busier tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah? Havin’ a sale?”
“Not exactly.” Sherry explained as Jenny poured the coffee into Styrofoam cups. “Everyone’ll be shopping for dresses for the dance next weekend. Stock just arrived.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Jenny smiled. “Lucky my sister got married last summer and I still got the dress.” She placed plastic lids on the cups. “Are ya goin’ to the dance?”
“Yeah,” Sherry shifted her weight uncomfortably. “I usually help out at those, chaperonin’, sellin’ tickets at the door, stuff like that.”
“I could help out,” Jenny offered, handing the cups to Sherry. “I’m bringin’ Steven, but he and Leon are helpin’ with the raffle.”
“Really?” Sherry asked cautiously. “I thought you’d have a date.”
“Why’s that?” Jenny placed the money into the till.
“No reason. I just heard somethin’, but you know this town, gotta be careful what ya listen to.”
“That Lina flappin’ her lips again? Or is it Martha?” Jenny flushed, raising her hand in defense. “No offense.”
Sherry chuckled. “None taken. I’ve had my share of rumors spread about me.”
Jenny laughed, lifting a brow and leaning in. “So who am I datin’?”
“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but word is yer datin’ the new fireman.”
Jenny’s neck craned back. “You mean Lee?” She guffawed. “Oh, that Lina! She’s the devil!” She shook her head. “He comes in here sometimes and grabs snacks for the guys, that’s all. We ain’t never been on a date!” she waved. “Hell, I ain’t even interested in datin’ anyway, after the low-down pig I just got rid of,” Jenny added. “He’s half the reason I left Idaho and come here!”
Sherry was surprised by her candor. “Well, good luck to ya, sweetie. I hope ya find someone nice here.”
“Hell, I already did,” Jenny insisted proudly. “He’s a fine gay man. Steven’s everythin’ I need in a man.” She counted on her fingers. “He don’t think with his penis, he ain’t interested in my money or my body and he’s a fine role model for my Kevin.”
“Leon sure thinks highly of him,” Sherry added.
“Leon’s a good egg, too.”
“That he is,” Sherry agreed. “I’ll see you later.”
“Later, sweetie.”
…
Sherry and Denise sat in the waiting room at Dr. Malcolm’s office. Denise was reading a picture book while Sherry thumbed through a home décor magazine. “Now, I’m gonna go in first and talk to Dr. Malcolm and then you’ll go in and have your session with him, okay?”
Dr. Malcolm had a special room partitioned off for children, connected to the receptionist’s area. It had closed-circuit security where one television was in Dr. Malcolm’s office and another at reception. This way the kids could play virtually unattended while parents had private discussions about the children, all safely.
Sherry was called in while Denise was left in the room filled with various toys, electronics and all things kids love.
Dr. Malcolm welcomed her in and gestured her to sit on the guest chair in front of his antique desk. His office was well-organized with carefully placed books on a bookcase off to one side of the room, and a small table with four chairs on the other wall. The wall facing his desk had a picture window with a view of the other professional buildings in the area.
Dr. Malcolm was in his early forties with a full head of slightly graying hair. His light brown eyes matched the color of his skin and most of his hair. He was slim, tall, and very soft spoken. “How’s Denise gettin’ on these days?” He opened her file. “I see she broke a blood vessel in her eye a coupla weeks ago.”
“Yes,” Sherry admitted. “She had another episode.”
The doctor frowned. “That’s the first in a while. What brought it on?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. We was just at the grocery store and she wanted to bring home pastries, but I said no. That’s when it started.”
“And how did it begin? Was it the standard flight response?”
“No. She threw the platter on the floor and held her breath.”
Dr. Malcolm nodded, blinking. “And then what happened?”
“I tried to calm her the way ya taught me and nothin’ worked at first.” Sherry re
counted the incident, trying to keep her emotions at bay by squishing the bottom of her purse and letting go, like a stress ball. “She held her breath and pushed until I saw the blood vessel pop.”
“Um hmm.”
“It scared the hell outta me.” She choked, allowing a tear to fall down her cheek. “She pulled a coupla handfuls of hair out, and then when it was over, she let out a scream.”
He handed her the tissue box at the edge of his desk. “Tell me what stopped her.”
Sherry sniffed. “First I tried givin’ her the bear, but what calmed her was an old picture I had of Chris in my purse.”
“And then what happened?”
“Well, after she screamed, she focused on the picture of Chris.” Sherry wiped another tear. “And then, what seemed like minutes later, she smiled.”
“So she screamed? And then smiled.” Dr. Malcolm confirmed.
“That’s right. She’s never screamed after one, and she’s definitely never smiled. It usually takes days.”
Dr. Malcolm rifled through Denise’s file, looking at an old sheet of paper. “She’s goin’ to be eight soon, right?”
Sherry nodded. “October.”
He walked over and picked up a book from the bookcase. Bringing it over to the desk, he adjusted his tie and sat back down. As he thumbed through, he looked at the calendar tucked into the blotter on his desk.
“Sherry.” He looked at her directly but spoke softly. “I’m glad to see the change in behavior, where she’s able to express herself vocally and then fully recover. But what I’m concerned about is that she got so angry so fast, seemingly over something innocuous.”
Sherry watched him cautiously. He placed his hand flat on the desk, as if to comfort her.
“What my concern is is that the self-injurin’ is startin’ to escalate.” Dr. Malcolm’s tone was reassuring. “The hair pullin’ is common, but should have subsided by this age, and now the exertion. She hasn’t tried to injure herself in a long time, and now it seems to be comin’ back.”
He searched her face as she listened intently. “Now, I don’t want to jump to any conclusions. Sometimes children with PTSD get worse one day and then the next day they start to improve. It’s somewhat of a slidin’ scale, but Denise is showin’ a lot of strength in her studies and her teachers report that she’s extremely intelligent.”
Sherry shook her head as if to say ‘so what’s the problem?’
Dr. Malcolm cut to the chase. “What I want to recommend is takin’ her to a children’s hospital that specializes in cases like this.” He cleared his throat softly. “It’s summertime and she can go and have an evaluation and treatment before classes start up again.”
“Why haven’t you mentioned this before?” Sherry’s brow knitted.
“Because it’s a new program. It just became available a coupla months ago.”
“So it’s not been tested or researched? Will my daughter be a guinea pig?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Sherry, I would never place Denise in harm’s way.” His voice was even. “There are no drugs involved, it’s simply evaluation, treatment and research.”
Sherry was silent.
Dr. Malcolm gave her a moment to digest the information. “What I’ll do is give you the contact number for the head physician on staff in that department.” He wrote down a number on the scratch pad beside the phone. “I recommend you callin’ him. Write down any questions ya have beforehand and ask him whatever you like. Then take a coupla days to think about it.”
He handed her the number and she recognized the area code. “This is in Texas.”
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “There is no pressure here, Sherry. The decision is yers.”
“And if I decide I don’t want to pursue this?”
The doctor smiled warmly. “Then we’ll continue Denise’s treatment as though we never had this conversation.”
“And what do you think will happen to her if we don’t get her this treatment?”
Dr. Malcolm nodded. “I think she’s comin’ along fine, but we’ll have to monitor the episodes closer. We may have to consider medication to keep things at bay if she injures herself again.” He stopped, flattening his hands on the desk. “But let me have my session with her today and see what comes of it. The episode may be a precursor to a breakthrough, or it could be that she’s not copin’ as well as before. I’ll know more after I’ve evaluated her.”
Chapter 11
Kenny and Gertrude were sitting on the porch when the girls arrived home. The doctor, after evaluating Denise, decided to encourage Sherry to make the call to Texas, as she was not progressing as well as he’d hoped. Assuring her not to worry unless she had another notable episode, he encouraged her that it was best just to consider all alternatives.
Gertrude had a tray of milk and cookies waiting for Denise. “Go see gramma,” Sherry instructed. “She’s got treats for ya.”
Kenny grunted, lifting up from the rocking chair. “How’d it go? What’d he have to say about her?”
Sherry watched Gertrude take Denise out of earshot. “He advised me to contact a children’s hospital in Dallas,” she explained reluctantly. “Apparently they have a new program for kids suffering from PTSD, and he recommends Denise be checked out by them.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “In Dallas, ya say? How do ya feel about it?”
Gertrude joined them on the porch and Sherry filled her in.
“Does he think she’s gettin’ worse?” Gertrude asked worriedly.
“No, not exactly,” Sherry sighed. “But not as well as he’d hoped. He’s scared she’ll continue hurtin’ herself. He might want to put her on some drugs.”
Kenny stepped back, shaking his head. “I heard about some of ‘em drugs they give to kids. They’re no good, Sherry. Too experimental.”
Sherry agreed. “I’m not puttin’ her on anything unless it’s life or death. I don’t believe in it.”
“Are you gonna talk to the doctor in Dallas?” Gertrude asked.
“I guess there’s no harm in talkin’ to ‘em.” Sherry looked down at the ground. “I don’t wanna take her away, though.”
Kenny placed his arm over Sherry’s shoulders. “If it scares ya, love, don’t do it. Do only what feels right.”
“Oh, Daddy, I’m just afraid she’ll have an episode right there and they’ll commit her or something,” she choked. “I know it sounds irrational, and that kinda stuff only happens in the movies. But it still scares the hell outta me. She’s all I’ve got.”
Kenny rubbed her back. “Now, ya trust this Dr. Malcolm, right?”
Sherry wiped away a tear. “He’s been great to her…and me.”
“Then there’s nothin’ to worry about, dear. Call Dallas when yer ready. Don’t fret over it. There’s no need.”
“Yer right, daddy.” She leaned into him. “Thanks.”
Gertrude took Sherry’s hand. “Come. I’ve got a surprise for ya.”
“What is it?” Sherry sniffled.
“Follow me.”
Leading Sherry into the spare room where Kenny and Gertrude slept, Sherry glanced on the bed, noticing the most timeless home-spun dress she’d ever seen. “Oh, momma, it’s beautiful,” she gushed. “Is it for me?”
Gertrude observed her daughter and lifted a brow. “I’m flattered, but do ya think that’ll fit me?” Taking her daughter’s hand, Gertrude used it to grab a handful of blubber from her side. Sherry blushed as Gertrude gestured towards the dress. “I made it for ya for the dance next weekend.”
“Oh, momma, I love it!” Sherry beamed, admiring it against her body.
“I figured since you work in a clothin’ store an’ all, the last thing you’d wanna wear is somethin’ you gotta look at every day, ‘specially if it’s somethin’ you’ve fitted onto two dozen or so women already.”
“That’s so thoughtful! Thank you so much!” Sherry kissed her mother on the cheek.
“Well, try it on,”
Gertrude suggested. “I gotta make sure it fits ya proper.”
Sherry wiggled out of the summer dress she was wearing and pulled the new dress over her head. The soft baby-blue material matched her eyes. It had spaghetti straps, a sweetheart neckline and a knee-length flowing skirt. The print was subtle, tiny flower blossoms flecked throughout, like someone flicked a wet paintbrush on it in strategic areas. The dress fit her like a glove.
“This is wonderful!” Sherry turned in every direction in the stand-up mirror by the door. “My pearl necklace and earrings will go perfect with this.”
“You should wear yer hair swept up in the back,” Gertrude advised. “That’ll make yer neck look longer.”
“And my blue satin pumps will match.” Sherry added excitedly. “Thanks, momma. You’re the best.” Gertrude received an appreciative kiss on the cheek as she reached to unzip the dress.
“You and daddy are comin’ too, right?”
“Oh yes, Sarah came by while you two were out and brought us all tickets.”
“It’s strange how she didn’t bring it up, it completely slipped my mind.” Sherry wiggled her other dress back on. “Leon was upset that I didn’t order dresses on time.”
Gertrude leaned into Sherry like she was going to tell her a secret. “I think she’s got a case of the mum-dums.” Her eyes bulged as she feigned shock. “Either that or she ate the flyers.”
Sherry burst out laughing. Gertrude followed. Every time they looked at each other, they fell into another fit of laughter, until Sherry started wiping her eyes, begging her mother to stop.
“What’s so funny?” Kenny asked, coming in with Denise, who was sporting a milk-moustache.
“Oh, gramma is just the silliest,” Sherry sniffed, composing herself.
Thank God for gramma. Sherry would need her more in the days to come.
…
The church was packed as people sat in the pews, fanning themselves with their programs and hymnals. Reverend Telly had all the electric fans running, both on the floor and ceiling. Despite the heat, the men wore three-piece Sunday suits, and the women were adorned with big hats, stockings and wedge heels.
She Only Speaks to Butterflies Page 9