Amanda stood for a second, but started walking back to him before she had even made up her mind to watch TV with him. She was going to sit on the floor, but he rubbed the cushion next to him motioning her to sit there. She moved to sit by him without a thought. Jake put a cushion on his lap and gently had her lie down with her head on the pillow on his lap. He rubbed her back and played with her hair until she finally let down her guard enough to drift off to sleep.
Chapter Four
Things seemed to move back into their summer routine after that night. Jake took his finals and was done with classes for several weeks so he was around home a lot more. Jake’s sisters—minus their significant others—visited for a long, fun weekend during which they played Trivial Pursuit, hearts, and Cranium until after midnight every night. Amanda insisted on sleeping downstairs on the couch while they were there, and no one argued with her.
Amanda worked most days, visiting her mom for an hour or so every day in the mornings. Amanda hadn’t spoken with her mom’s doctors for at least a month, so it startled her when the nurse on duty one morning pulled her aside and asked her to stay a while longer so the doctor could talk to her when she finished her rounds.
“Why does the doctor want to talk to me?” Amanda was frustrated because Trix had invited her to go to lunch at a restaurant on the lake just outside of town.
“She needs to discuss your mother’s condition with you.” The nurse was not a day over twenty-two, pretty, and snotty as hell. Amanda had seen her a few times this summer, but it was obvious she was new.
“I need to meet someone in an hour.”
“I’m sure you have things that feel like a priority to you, but it’s imperative to talk to your mother’s doctor today.” The nurse glared at her, and it was clear she thought Amanda was a selfish brat, too busy to be bothered with her mother in the hospital.
“Fine.” Amanda wanted to tell her off, but she wasn’t sure what she could say in her own defense. Amanda used to live at the hospital, but that had changed this summer after she had met Jake and his family. Her reality used to be dictated by her mother’s condition minute by minute, but Amanda had reached the point where she couldn’t stand to live her life around a sick person, even if that sick person was her mother.
Amanda went back into her mother’s room and sat in the rocking chair. She looked closely at her mother, and realized for the first time that her mother had changed drastically in the last week. It looked like her body had dried in the sun like a prune. Her skin was gray and looked thin as paper. Her lips were pulled away from her mouth, and her hands looked like they belonged to a one-hundred-year-old woman. Amanda usually came around 9:00 a.m. so she was not troubled that her mom was usually asleep when she got there and slept through most of the visit. But then Amanda realized she hadn’t seen her mother fully conscious for days.
The doctor walked in, another young, new face. She was Asian with long black hair in a low ponytail. She wore small, rectangular wire-rimmed glasses, and no make up. She looked businesslike.
“Hi, Amanda. I’m Dr. Sam. I don’t think we’ve met before.” Dr. Sam shook Amanda’s hand, and Amanda searched her face for signs of judgment on her absence. “Amanda, I want to inform you about your mom’s situation. I’m sure you’ve recognized that she’s slipping.” She paused, waiting for Amanda to respond, but there was nothing Amanda could say because she hadn’t really noticed the difference until today. “Your mom has an advance directive that she changed about two weeks ago. Her former orders stated that she wanted tube feedings and many other measures taken to prolong her life. Recently, she changed her orders to state almost the opposite. She wants no heroic measures other than minimal morphine for pain.”
Amanda couldn’t absorb what the doctor was trying to tell her. “My mom always wants lots of medicine, especially for pain. She’s always bugging the nurses about her pain and asking for something to help her sleep or make her more comfortable.”
“She receives morphine every three hours, and otherwise takes nothing. I’m sure you can see that your mother hasn’t been able to communicate clearly for at least ten days.”
Ten days? Amanda thought. Had she been so wrapped up in herself that she didn’t even notice that her mother had been unresponsive for over a week? Apparently, this was what the doctor was trying to tell her.
“I don’t understand why you’re telling me all this.” Amanda stared at her mom, snoring quietly in her same hospital bed, wearing her same Harley Davidson t-shirt.
“I’m telling you this because the nurses feel that you don’t realize that it’s almost the end.” Dr. Sam looked at her intently but with kindness in her eyes and her voice. Amanda just nodded blankly. “She hasn’t eaten since Sunday, and even then she was only taking a few sips of broth at every meal. Today on rounds it appeared she had slipped further into a coma-like state. My best guess is that it will only be a few more days.” She reached out and patted Amanda’s leg. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do? Do you have any questions?”
Questions? Definitely she had questions. How had her mother changed her advance directive without talking to her? How had she been unconscious for ten days without Amanda’s knowledge? What were the last words she had said to her mother? Have they had a real conversation in days? Amanda didn’t know the answer to any of this. What kind of daughter wouldn’t have noticed these things? She knew the answer to that.
Dr. Sam was still looking at her closely. “Is there someone I should call for you?”
Amanda knew she didn’t deserve any support. She shook her head no and sunk back into her chair.
* * *
That day passed in a fog. Feeling that she needed to be punished, Amanda sat by her mother’s bedside, watching the nurses come and go. She excused herself a few times when they needed to do the intimate cares that Amanda never wanted to observe. Her mother always preferred to have Amanda help her use the bathroom or bathe, but Amanda hated doing these things for her.
When April came home after her first hospitalization, she refused home health care and relied on Amanda for everything. Amanda was fourteen-years old and had to help her mom get to the bathroom to vomit, or even worse, dump out her buckets of vomit when she was too weak to get to the bathroom. She shaved her mother’s head. She managed her pills, and picked up her prescriptions. During one horrible spell, Amanda held cigarettes to her mother’s lips so she could get rid of her nicotine fits right after the surgery.
Amanda’s life was always about cancer. Her mom asked about Amanda’s high school career when it suited her, but Amanda had learned long before that the pleasure that April took in Amanda’s life was always related to how it impacted April. She watched Amanda’s softball games when it seemed like fun, like on parent’s day when Amanda would give her a rose and a hug in front of a crowd. But when Amanda was pitching in the state tournament in previous years, April didn’t go because she hated driving in the Cities, or she didn’t like to sit with the other parents, or she had something more interesting going on at home. Amanda and April had always lived like sisters or girlfriends. Amanda figured out early, before she had words for the feeling, that she had never really been mothered.
But seeing her mother being cared for by others stirred up a new emotion that she didn’t have words for either. It was like the feeling that she had a few weeks before when she had let herself be preyed upon by a swarm of mosquitoes. It was the sense that she didn’t even exist at all. It was the knowledge that when everyone else in the world had a family tree, she had a dandelion with two blooms and no roots.
“Mama had a baby and her head popped off.”
The childhood rhyme rang in her head as she remembered how she and the other kids in the trailer court used to pick dandelions, sing the rhyme and pop the dandelion flower off with a flick of the thumb.
She was totally, utterly alone.
* * *
By early evening, Amanda was starving so she ate a bag of chips, a granola bar, a
nd two bags of peanut M&Ms from the candy machine in the basement of the hospital, not allowing herself to leave the hospital to get money for anything more substantial. She was drifting off into a bored sleep when Trix and Jake walked in.
“Hi, sweetie.” Trix said, squeezing her shoulders. Jake hung back in the entryway, obviously uncomfortable.
“What … what are you doing here?” Amanda stood up and stretched, surprised to see anyone other than nurses.
“When you didn’t show up for lunch, we figured something had happened with your mom,” Trix said. Amanda had completely forgotten about lunch.
“Sorry, I, um …” She motioned to her mom and her voice trailed off.
Trix got tears in her eyes and nodded. “I know, sweetie.”
Jake had not looked up from the floor since he entered the room. Amanda wanted him to leave, knowing how hard it was for him to be back in this hospital watching someone die.
She walked them into the hallway. “The doctor said she’s not going to make it much longer, so I thought I should stay …” Her throat tightened. She hadn’t said the words out loud yet.
Trix pulled her into a tight hug. A sob came up from the bottom of Amanda’s stomach, and she actually thought she might vomit she sucked it back so hard. Amanda pulled away stiffly, but Trix wouldn’t let go of her hands. Trix was crying, and she wiped her eyes with her shoulder sleeve and let out a big sigh.
“Since we’re going to be here for a while, let’s grab some of those nice soft chairs from the family visiting room.” She squeezed Amanda’s hands tight, and then let go and grabbed Jake. “Help me carry, will you, Jakey?”
Amanda was stunned. “What are you doing?” she asked, following them down the hall.
Trix opened the door to the family room and popped the door stand down with her foot. “Let’s take both chairs and that big ottoman. They’re all vinyl, but we can grab those nice blankets from the ladies auxiliary.” Jake picked up a chair that was surprisingly light, and carried it into the hallway and into her mother’s room. Trix picked up the ottoman and headed down the hall.
Amanda went back into the hallway and found Trix digging in a large cabinet behind the nurses’ station. The nurse on duty was gone, but Trix made herself at home. She came up with a pile of folded quilts and knitted blankets.
“Aren’t these homey?” Trix said as she passed Amanda. Jake was carrying another chair out of the visiting room, and Trix went back into her mom’s room. Amanda followed them slowly, not realizing her mouth was hanging open.
Trix was tucking blankets into the chairs. Amanda realized then that she had brought a book bag with crossword puzzles, magazines, snacks, and bottles of water. “Can you track down some spare pillows, Jakey?”
Jacob left, and Amanda turned to Trix. “I don’t get it,” Amanda said. “Who are all these chairs for? It’s just me. I don’t have any other family.”
“Sweetheart, did you really think we were going to let you be here alone?” Trix asked with a watery smile.
Amanda sat on the ottoman with a thump. This family’s kindness was never ending, but Amanda felt so unworthy. She shook her head and tried to tell her that she didn’t have to stay. Trix sat on the chair next to her and grabbed her hands again. Amanda’s tears were dangerously close this time, and she dug her fingernails in her hands to push the feelings away. “But this has to be too hard for you,” Amanda finally said in a shuddery voice, April’s soft breathing and the beeping of the machines in the background. “You and Jake have spent enough time in the hospital.”
“So have you,” Jake said from the doorway, a pile of pillows in his arms. “I’m staying. But, mom, you should go.” Jake dropped the pillows on the chair and put his hands on his hips.
Amanda nodded at her.
“Okay, kids. We all know we’re worried about each other. No more arguing. We’re all staying.” Trix reached into her bag and pulled out a newspaper, ending the conversation. Amanda and Jake settled into their chairs.
When the next shift of nurses arrived, Amanda was asleep on a soft chair. Trix and Jake had pushed the ottoman under her legs and tried to get her to stretch out so she could sleep more comfortably. Jake turned on the TV without volume and watched music videos. Trix went into the hallway with one of the nurses after midnight to ask what April’s situation was.
Amanda awoke at 4:17 a.m. It was still dark outside. Trix was curled in a soft chair with her head resting on two pillows, looking surprisingly comfortable. Amanda saw that Jake was staring blankly at MTV with no sound.
“How can you stand to watch TV without sound?” Amanda asked softly.
Jake jumped a little at her voice, and then turned to smile at her. “Do you really think infomercials are any better with the sound on?”
Amanda stretched, and realized she must look and smell awful. She could taste peanut M&Ms in her teeth. She reached for a bottle of water and swished before she swallowed.
“I don’t ever sleep here,” Jake said, “so I’ve always gotten acquainted with the overnight TV schedule on my hospital stays.” Jake flipped to Nick at Nite broadcasting and an episode of The Cosby Show was on.
“I always did homework,” Amanda said, scrunching down under a mismatched quilt with yarn ties that smelled like Rosemilk lotion and antiseptic cleaner. “This is so pathetic, but I actually used to do extra reading, or work ahead in math, or even write papers that weren’t assigned because I needed something to keep me occupied.”
“Geez, Amanda, let’s not play ‘Who’s the most pathetic?’ because you always win this game … Couldn’t you just have read a magazine?” Jake rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and yawned.
“They don’t make ‘Harley Daughter’ magazine, and I just have never been able to relate to anything else. Seventeen and all those magazines talked about prom and boyfriends and celebrity crushes, and those things were always light years away from chemotherapy and hospitals.” As always, Amanda’s attempt at sounding light and funny came out harsh and awful.
Jake reacted.
“Amanda!” Jake said suddenly and loudly, causing Trix to jump in her sleep. “Don’t you think you might have had a more normal life if you would have tried to have one? It’s like the second any typical life experience presented itself, you said ‘piss on that’ and went the other way.”
“Jacob!” Trix sat up in her chair and glared at him. Amanda didn’t understand his anger, but she did understand her own.
“You have no idea what I tried or didn’t try to do. You have no idea what anything was like for me, Mr. Perfect Family, so go to hell!” Amanda jumped up and ran out of her mother’s room into the neon lights of the hallway. She went into the family lounge and threw herself on the vinyl couch. He could never understand the lonely Thanksgivings they spent at a café, and the Christmases with the fuschia tinsel tree with eight ornaments and three gifts under it. He would never know the feeling of not being able to get too close to friends because eventually she would have to invite them to her house, and she could never let people into that part of her world. Teachers were usually lukewarm, coaches loved her for her ability, and everyone else ignored her. Jake would never know that reading a magazine or a book or watching a sitcom just reinforced how alone she was.
Amanda knew that Trix would come in the room in a few minutes and try to explain to her why Jake was so upset. She didn’t want to hear it. With all their kindness and perfection, the Mann family also brought baggage that wore Amanda out. She was even more frustrated because they were in her mother’s hospital room, one of the few places she could claim as her own. She wished they would just leave her alone. Connections had their price.
An older nurse named Bonnie passed the family room and saw that Amanda was sprawled on the vinyl sofa. Bonnie had worked a lot with April the first time she had cancer, but had cut back on her hours since her husband was diagnosed with cancer around the first time April went home. Amanda had only seen her a few times since her mom returned to the
hospital.
“Hi, Amanda,” Bonnie said warmly, sitting next to her on the couch. “I’ve been wondering about you. I heard you graduated.” Bonnie was small and plump with short, graying hair and glasses that she wore on a chain around her neck.
“Yep. I’m off to the U in a couple weeks,” Amanda said. She enjoyed talking to nurses like Bonnie because they never felt like they had to try to make her feel better, and they never felt awkward around her. “No idea what I’ll major in, but I guess I have a few years to decide.”
“Good for you. My daughter is going there too, totally undecided about her life.”
“Is this her first year too?” Amanda asked, not remembering that Bonnie had a daughter her age.
“No, she’s actually almost twenty-one,” Bonnie said. “She’s been working the last two years, but suddenly realized her mother is right and she won’t get far without a degree. Let me give you her number in case you want to look her up.” She pulled a receipt from her pocket and wrote her daughter’s address and phone number on the back and gave it to Amanda.
“Thanks,” Amanda said, taking the paper but knowing she would never call.
“Who’s that in your mom’s room,” Bonnie asked. “Is that her sister or something?”
Amanda sunk back on the couch. “Long story.” She looked away and hoped Bonnie would take the hint that she didn’t want to talk about them.
“Do you want them to go? I can ask them to leave if you want.”
Now there was a question, Amanda thought. She wanted them to leave in a way, but only so she didn’t have to deal with them face to face. It had made a difference to have them sitting with her. She and Trix had played several hands of gin, which made the time pass faster. Jake had barely spoken, but his presence was comforting. Comfort was another new concept in her world.
“No, they can stay,” Amanda finally said. “They’re just some people I met recently who are trying to help me out. I’m the local charity case, you know.”
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