by Cat Connor
The old diner stood at the far edge of town, smack in the middle of an industrial zone. I took a deep breath and planted a synthetic grin on my face. We walked into the narrow building. Its tattered red and black d飯r spoke volumes about its age and clientele, as did the menu, written in now-chipped paint above the long narrow counter.
No need to update the menu, they were still serving the same high-cholesterol food. Only now, it had moved to the realms of comfort food.
I scanned the room. My eyes searched for a familiar beehive hairdo which matched the distinctive nasal voice I heard. I checked my plastic smile as I spotted the woman four tables away. Her bleached-to-a-crisp blonde hair piled on top of her head, as it had been since the sixties, bright-red lipstick bled into deep crevices around her lips. Her faded, blue eyes, accentuated by more eyeliner than Michael Jackson wore.
The woman had stuffed her well-padded body into a pale-pink uniform that may have fitted thirty years ago, complete with frilly apron that was, amazingly, still white. The whale of a woman spun around almost as if she sensed new blood. Her pudgy hand clasped a coffee pot for all it was worth as the contents sloshed and threatened to spill.
“Saints be praised!” she shrieked and moved at surprising speed us. “Ellie!”
“Hey, Cindy.” My smile became real. Okay, I liked her in small doses and it had been a while.
Cindy pulled herself up. She set the coffee pot on the counter, adjusted her hair-do and smoothed her rumpled clothing. It didn’t help.
Her plump, manicured hand extended to Mac. “Your mama said there was a new man.”
I watched her eye Mac with expertise that came from years of dealing with men of all types. “Well, no wonder you ain’t been home, doll.” Cindy winked at me. Her long, fake, eyelashes seemed to make the wink last longer.
Yep, that’s the reason. I got a man, no need to go home ever again. I did an internal eye roll. Of course, it has nothing to do with some psycho-bastard-Unsub, or not wanting to see my psychotic mother. Dah me! Boy, I am stupid. As if she would know whether I had a man or not. Her daydreaming had created a life for me, again.
At least she didn’t invent a lesbian life this time.
I felt the need to keep a tighter rein on my thoughts for fear they’d pop out. I knew from experience that my mother didn’t cope well with the truth. Such a shame because I was a champion at dishing it out in vast quantities, especially around her.
Mac grinned and charming as ever, said, “Pleased to meet you, Cindy”
“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” She fluttered her long black eyelashes for all she was worth. For a brief moment, they appeared to be spiders trying desperately to run away. What I needed was a giant-size can of Raid.
“Have you seen Mom?” I watched with amusement as Mac tried to extract his hand from Cindy’s dumpy grasp.
“Ohhh, you wanna introduce your man.” She gave yet another wink with her frightening lashes.
“Sure do,” I replied. I controlled the urge to set those spiders free, and run like hell.
“Mama is out back, Ellie. She’s been staying with me a few days.”
“Do you mind?” I indicated that Mac and I would like to go through the kitchen to find her. I would’ve been fine just walking out and going back to see Dad.
“Of course not, doll. You go show off that fine specimen of manhood. She’ll be delighted.” Cindy winked again.
I shuddered.
“She’s the life and soul, that woman.”
Cindy’s eyes fixed on Mac’s shoulders. I couldn’t fault her awed gaze; his shoulders were fine indeed.
“I just bet she is.” I bit my lip to stop myself adding anything else. She always was the life and soul of any party just total shit at the family stuff.
I grabbed Mac’s hand and led him back behind the counter and through the kitchen to a red door. The paint, peeling in patches, showed a pink undercoat. It seemed fitting.
Everything had seen better days, the clientele, staff, the building, the menu, all worn and tired. I knocked, then opened the door. Much to my surprise it didn’t squeak. “Mom?”
The dingy interior smelled of stale tobacco and gin. The diner d飯r spilled over into here. It was pleasant enough, almost comforting, in some weird way.
“Mama, you here?” From across the room I heard a muffled sound. “Mama?” I edged closer to the origin of the noise. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
A head popped over the top of the sofa almost giving me a heart attack.
“Ellie!” Mom squealed, and leapt to her feet rearranging her clothing. She paused and threw a blanket onto the sofa.
I moved closer but she headed me off, rushing at me with her arms wide open. Mama caught me in a hug then turned her attention to Mac. With her occupied, I peeked over the top of the sofa. A male face peered back at me. He’d seen way better days. I glared at him.
Yuck.
“Mama, we have to go. Daddy’s sick.”
Mom clamped onto Mac’s arm fluttering her old eyelashes and patting his hand. I wanted to slap her and scream “Remember Dad, you know, your husband?”
“We can sit for a bit and catch up, Ellie,” she crooned.
I think not. Not here, with her latest conquest hiding on the sofa. “We will, Mama. We can catch up in the car. We’ll go get coffee and catch up all you want.” I trotted out my patient, smooth, unruffled voice.
“Would be nice to chat with you, Mrs. Connelly,” Mac added.
“We can have coffee out in the diner with Cindy.” Her eyes roamed. The more flustered she became, the wilder her gaze appeared. “I don’t want to leave, Ellie.”
I don’t want a crazed woman as a mother. We don’t always get what we want. I adjusted my tone to pacify the insanity I felt building.
“We’ll bring you back, I promise.” Too late to cross my finger, the lie was already out there. “I promise.”
Mom smiled at me almost serenely. “You’ve never broken a promise to me, Ellie, not ever.”
I did a double take, who was this woman? She sure had an odd grasp on reality. We managed to steer her toward the door and out into the diner. We even made it to the parking lot with little drama.
When we reached the car, she backed away. “It’s red, Ellie, you know you shouldn’t have a red car,” she squealed, “red cars are bad!”
This is more like it. I remember this woman.
“Oh, this is very bad, Ellie. I see blood, blood all over the road.” Her arm waved frantically in no particular direction. “Red is bad, there’ll be tears before bed tonight.”
I glanced at Mac. He produced the black case and passed it to me from behind his back all the while talking to my deranged and distressed mother, “It’s not red. It’s that funny orange color.” His voice stayed soft and gentle.
I smiled as I loaded the syringe. He was almost colorblind, and the car was cherry red. Mom argued. Mac became more patient. Without fuss, I pulled up her sleeve and pressed the needle against the skin inside her elbow. Mom had great veins, they were always easy to find and today was no exception. She was still upset about the red car and took a few seconds to register the needle.
I kept her focus on her perceived problem so she didn’t pull away. “It’s just a color, Mama,”
“What was that, Ellie?” she asked.
“Just something to help you relax.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.”
“It’s red.”
“It’s just a car.”
Mac helped her into the back seat.
“Put the child lock on, babe, just in case,” I whispered. Something pinged like old elastic in my mind, and I knew without a doubt, that children were not an option in my life. There she was, my mother, proving to me once again that her gene pool needed serious cleaning.
“Okay.” He locked her in.
I twisted around in my seat to talk to Mom, “How’re you feeling?”
“A bit sleepy.” Her head bobbed a
s the car moved.
“You can sleep soon.”
I took Mac’s cell phone from the glove compartment and looked up her doctor’s phone number. The exercise reminded me to transfer my address book to my new phone. I mentally added that to my list.
“Doctor Dunn, this is Gabrielle Conway. Mom’s off her meds again.”
“How far away are you, Gabrielle?”
I looked out the window and then at my watch. “Ten minutes, give or take.”
“I’ll have an orderly meet you at the emergency department.”
“Thank you.” I dropped the phone back into the glove compartment and chewed my lip. I hated what was going to happen next.
A whisper from Mac broke into my thoughts, “What happens now?”
“She’ll stay in the medium-security psychiatric wing for a few weeks until her meds have her stable again.” Then, in a month or so, she’ll go off her meds because she thinks it’s a conspiracy to keep her quiet and stop her having fun. It’ll start all over again.
“Are you okay?” His hand reached out and touched my leg. “How’re your arm and your head?”
“I’m okay. I just want to get back to Dad.”
“All right.”
“What?” I watched him check the rear view mirror then adjust it and look at Mom. I turned to see, she was asleep. He readjusted the mirror.
“She never mentioned your arm? It’s a bright-yellow cast and she never said anything.”
“Ohhh that ...” I chuckled. “Mom doesn’t see me, never really has.”
“Never?” This surprised Mac.
“Okay, so that was a slight exaggeration. She notices enough to criticize, blah blah ... you’re too thin. You’ve lost weight. Why do you hide behind your hair?”
Mac chuckled. My hand flipped out and smacked his leg. “I have weighed the same since I was fifteen-years-old. That was also the year I decided on a fringe.”
“You are just fine the way you are.”
Mac pulled up in front of the emergency department where two orderlies waited with a wheelchair. They assisted Mom from the car with relative ease.
Mac and I followed behind as they wheeled her off to the elevator. We exited on the fourth floor and found Doctor Dunn waiting at the admissions desk. He passed me a clipboard and a pen. “You know the drill, Gabrielle.”
I filled in the relevant areas of the form and signed it, leaving blank the section that related to the length of stay. Would be nice if, this time, it could be forever. I knew it wouldn’t be, but a girl can dream.
I passed him back the clipboard. “Thank you, Doctor Dunn.”
He spoke to Mom, “Nice to have you back, Jenny, let’s get you settled.”
She didn’t respond.
“What did you give her?” he asked me.
“IV valium, one full vial.”
“Good girl,” he replied.
I bent down and kissed her cheek. Mac and I walked away and as always I never looked back.
Mac broke the silence as we made our way back to the car, “How many times have you done that?”
I shrugged. “Too many to count. It’s a lot easier when she’s doped up.”
We moved the car to a more suitable parking space close to the main hospital building and covered the short walk back inside and up to Dad’s room in the Coronary Care Unit.
I paused at the window. “Does he look worse to you?”
“About the same, about the same,” Mac replied with one of his comforting smiles.
“Hey, Daddy,” I whispered taking his hand.
The whiteness of the hospital pillows and sheets added to the frailty I now saw in my father, a stark reminder that he wasn’t superhuman after all.
His eyes opened. “Hiya, Ellie, everything okay?”
“Yes, Mom’s back in hospital, she’ll be fine. You seen Aidan yet?”
I still had concerns about Aidan and didn’t want to have to worry Dad any further.
“Not yet, he’ll show.” Dad’s eyes partly closed. “Sorry you had to see Jenny like that, Mac.”
Mac smiled and replied in typical Mac fashion, “Not a problem.”
There were two chairs in the room this time. We dragged them close together and closer to the bed.
“You two look tired,” Dad commented. Even sick, his eyes missed nothing.
“It’s been a rough few days,” Mac replied.
“This old ticker of mine sure picked a fine time to fall apart.”
“At least we got away from Caine for a bit.” I glanced around the room. We’ve seen way too many hospital rooms. “We should be safe here.”
Mac squeezed my hand. It was a don’t-speak-too-soon squeeze, and he was right, I had forgotten about the mascara in my jacket pocket. I had to find out who liberated the bug from the designated destruction path it was on. A big part of me wanted everything to go away so I could concentrate on Dad.
I’m okay. He’ll be okay. We’ll all be okay.
My internal pep talk had a hint of wishful thinking.
The warmth of Mac’s touch made me smile as I willed the tears of frustration, and fear for my father, to remain hidden.
Twenty-Three
We Are Family
Iscanned the window by the door for the hundredth time since we’d returned, this time Aidan stared back at me. I smiled, and beckoned to him to come in, relieved to see him. He may not have been home for a few days, but he wasn’t dead.
He opened the door and entered with trepidation, his eyes pained and demeanor sullen.
“Hey, Aidan,” Mac said. His voice cut the air.
“Hey.” A somber response as he approached the bed.
“Aidan?” Dad’s voice sounded stronger than it had been all day, as he tried to show him that he was okay.
“I’m here, Dad,” he replied.
“Where have you been?” The strain of keeping his voice even and strong evident, but he did it.
“Had a bit of a tidy up and dropped some old clothes into the Salvation Army.” he replied with a touch more confidence, “Busy at work.”
Aidan had edged closer to me. I stood up then sat on Mac’s knee, letting Aidan sit down. I noticed three almost-healed scratches on his neck.
“You been tormenting that old cat again?” I resisted the temptation to ask if he’d killed anyone lately. I still didn’t believe he was capable of it and asking, even in fun, would be in rather poor taste considering the circumstances.
Aidan appeared confused; his hand sought the marks on his neck. “Oh, yeah. He hates the flea powder, even though fleas make him cranky.”
“He always was a mean creature,” Dad commented, “I don’t know why you keep him around.”
Aidan shrugged. “He likes me as much as he likes anyone, I guess.” He looked from Dad to me, “Where’s Mom?”
“Up on the psych floor.”
“Did you do it?”
“Yes.”
Dad reached a tube-pierced hand out to Aidan. I knew it was a struggle for my brother, a stubborn idiot at times, to touch his hand, a pride thing. I felt unexpectedly pleased when Aidan held the hand that reached out to him. I caught his eye and winked, he smiled back.
Aidan’s scratches unsettled me, even though I knew they shouldn’t because his cat was evil, nor was it unusual for Aidan to have deep scratches. We never saw the cat, or any sign of the cat whilst at Aidan’s house.
“Where’s the cat?”
“What?”
“I dropped by your place, but I just realized I never saw that evil monster.”
“He’s in a cattery.”
I watched Dad breathe. His eyes closed, he still looked gray, and his lips tinged with blue. Cat’s in the cattery: If he were my cat he’d live in one permanently.
I touched Dad’s shoulder and asked, “Daddy, do you need anything?”
He opened his eyes and looked into mine. “What else could I possibly need?”
I smiled. “Not bad for someone as ill as you seem to
be.”
He held my gaze. “Appearances can be deceiving, Ellie, my girl. Don’t take for granted what’s smack in front of your face.”
I digested Dad’s words with difficulty. My internal screen saver scrolled familiar words through my mind, “it’s not always as it seems.” I could hear Mac talking to Dad but wasn’t listening. The need for coffee crashed my thoughts. I rejoined the conversation when I heard Dad speak to Aidan.
“I wish I’d known you were going to the Sally Army, Aidan. I have several boxes to drop off myself.” Dad mumbled.
“So you were out when I called,” I said to Aidan, “the traffic noises – you weren’t even at home.”
He looked at me as though I’d lost my mind before replying. “I forward calls to my cell whenever I’m out. You were the one who suggested I do that.”
“When?”
“Must’ve been a good whack to your head. All your brains fell out.”
“Tell me when,” I asked again, ignoring his retort.
“I didn’t know I had to retain information from six months ago, Ellie. If you’d told me I was going to be interrogated I would’ve made sure to remember the details.”
“You are such a dick sometimes. Six months ago?”
Aidan grinned. “Approximately six months ago.”
“Simon, we can drop off the boxes for you,” Mac offered, successfully interrupting my conversation with Aidan. I knew by the fidgeting he was doing that he, too, needed coffee.
“That would be great,” Dad replied, his voice rasped a little more than it had earlier.
“Maybe you should sleep a while, Dad. We’ll be back this evening,” I told him. “We need to sort out where we are staying.”
“There’s nobody in the house, Ellie, and you know you are always welcome.”
“We’ll drop our stuff back home then.”
I nudged Aidan. “You staying?” I used a tone that left little doubt that it was an order, not a question. I bent down and whispered in his ear, “I need you to stay with Dad.” That was the clincher. He would never turn me down once I said I needed him to do something.
“I’ll stay here with Dad till you get back,” he agreed.
“We’ll be back soon. We’ll bring sandwiches and coffee. Do you need anything, Aidan?”