by Jenna Rae
Am I really this person? This liar? This cheat? Like Daddy? Momma was always accusing him of cheating, and Del knew that he was probably guilty of it, maybe dozens of times over. Was his cheating the reason they were so unhappy? Was his guilt the reason he was so ornery and mean?
Del closed her eyes and saw Daddy standing over Momma, his hands fisted, his face twisted with blind rage.
Is that who I am? Is that how I end up? I ran as far and as fast away from them as I could and they followed me here. They were always here inside me. Their poison is my poison. Their weakness is my weakness. All I ever wanted was not to be like them, and now, here I am, and it’s just like Daddy in that trailer all those years ago.
She felt the bile rising in her throat and vomited all over herself, helpless to stop the poison from staining the white sheets and white blanket and white hospital gown.
Chapter Fourteen
“Vicodin! I want Vicodin! I neeeeed it! God damn you, I’ll fucking kill you! Give me my Vicodin, you lazy bitches! Vicodin! Stat, motherfuckers!”
It was a young patient several rooms down the hall, and her screeching broke the pre-dawn stillness. The chain reaction was fast and widespread. Lights went on, televisions started blatting and the nurses’ station was emptied. No one came to see Del, though, and she slept through the disturbance, as the screamer went on and on, demanding the drug and cursing. Lola shook Del’s shoulder, but she didn’t react.
“Hey, wake up. Del, come on, wake up!”
Someone in a white coat came in and asked if there was a problem. Lola waved her arm around to indicate the bedlam and then pointed at Del’s sleeping form.
“Shouldn’t this wake her up?”
The doctor took one look and pressed the back of her hand to Del’s forehead. She frowned and repeated the action, and Lola shook her head. She wanted to ask a question, but her voice wouldn’t work. She tried on what she thought might be Olivia’s voice. It was slightly patrician but still warm and approachable.
“Years of training and millions of dollars’ worth of technology and you’re feeling her forehead?”
Olivia has a good sense of humor and she calls on it in what may be a crisis—this is what Lola was thinking. She wasn’t focused on Del at all, she realized after a moment. She was still lost in the world of Olivia, a nicer place by far than the real world in which Del was asleep and maybe really, really sick and wouldn’t wake up.
It was when the doctor ignored her and hit a button on the wall, muttering rapid-fire instructions at some invisible listener that Lola snapped back into reality.
“What’s wrong?”
The doctor asked, “Any other symptoms you’ve noticed?”
“She threw up,” Lola stammered. “That was a few hours ago. She didn’t have a fever then, so the nurse wasn’t too worried about it.”
They kicked her out, and it was hours later that a different doctor came out to the waiting area and explained that Del’s blood was infected. He explained this at length, but Lola couldn’t process what he was saying. Del was in danger, she understood that much. The blood in her own body whooshed through her ears, stopping them up with pressure and thumping. All she could think was that she’d been sitting there checked out and thinking about herself and her silly story instead of really watching Del.
“I should have realized,” she whispered at the doctor’s back when he finally stopped talking at her and walked away. “I should have been paying attention.”
For most of the next several days, Lola sat immobilized in a plastic chair. Tom came and went. Other cops came, too. Marco and Phil, Tess and Lin, Rachel and Lee. Other people Lola didn’t know or didn’t remember. She remembered none of it with any clarity.
“Del’s going to die,” she heard herself say. “She’s going to die, and the last thing she’ll remember is that I was so lazy I didn’t want to go get her a sweatshirt. Why didn’t I wonder why she was so cold? She never gets cold.”
Someone held her hand and told her Del would be all right, and Lola pulled her hand away.
“She just has to live. She can stop loving me. She can go back to Janet. I don’t care. I just want her to live.”
Lola found herself saying thank you over and over. A doctor updated her. A nurse stopped by to see how Del was doing. Someone wished Del a speedy recovery. Someone sent flowers. Someone brought her coffee, food, a toothbrush, clean clothes. Someone took notes when she asked questions of the doctors and asked questions when she couldn’t think of what to ask.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Thank you so much.”
“You’re very kind, thank you.”
Did she sound sincere? She barely knew whom she was thanking or what she was thanking them for. It didn’t matter, really, did it? It was all a carefully choreographed set of interactions, a kind of script one had to follow. She began to think of it as a play of manners. Someone goes in the hospital, and everyone has to say nice things and bring coffee and flowers and offer kind wishes, and the sick person or her representative says thank you, thank you so much. Like every play of manners, it began to feel meaningless after too many repetitions.
Lola was only allowed to see Del for a few minutes at a time and only a few times a day. This too became a choreographed dance. Lola would kiss Del on the forehead and ask the same question every time.
“How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” Del answered every time. They followed their script like good little actors. Did Del even see Lola? It didn’t seem like it. There were doors closed inside Del now, inside Lola too. They were very far apart where it mattered, and Lola felt her heart clawing up, trying to get air, drowning in grief and fear and uncertainty. Do you love me? That’s what she wanted to ask and couldn’t. Or wouldn’t, maybe. There was a very real possibility Del’s answer would be a gentle, regretful, carefully couched no. Worse, it would be a lie that they both knew was untrue.
Every day, Lola would finish the act by offering to go get Del whatever she needed. She would try to talk about how much she loved Del, would try to fluff her pillow or adjust her blankets, and Del would get irritated and say she was tired.
“I love you,” Lola would say in a bright voice, with what she hoped was a warm smile, and Del would nod and repeat it back. It was strange, the way she felt so close to Del when in the waiting room and so far away from her when they were together. Did Del feel that? Did it matter to her?
After some days, Lola wasn’t sure exactly how many, Del was released. Marco drove them home and Lola couldn’t stop worrying. She was supposed to take Del home and care for her and keep her happy. During the car ride, Lola tried not to chatter at Del, but the uneasy silence between them made her edgy and scared. She blathered on and on about nothing, not even listening to her own words. Marco finally put his hand on her arm and shook his head, and she shut up. He drove on and she sat watching the traffic as they wove through the crowded streets. How did people go on living? It was such a terrible business, living—tiring and confusing and painful and scary.
By the time Del had been home for a week, Lola was too tired and brittle to think clearly. She hadn’t managed more than an hour or two of sleep since that first night and felt like her brain was disconnected from the rest of her. She stood a few feet away from Del, who lounged on the couch and goggled at the blaring television.
“Want a sandwich?”
Del shook her head.
“What would you like? You have to eat something to take the next pill.”
Del shrugged.
“Del, I’m sorry to pester you, but—”
Del finally pulled her gaze from the blatting screen and glared at Lola. “You don’t have to treat me like an idiot.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I just want to help you.”
Del shrugged again and looked back at the TV. “Hmm.”
It was Lola’s turn to shrug. For the last week, she’d been tiptoeing around Del’s moods, and she was exhausted. W
hen the phone shrilled a few seconds later, Lola almost fell over her feet trying to answer before its ringing annoyed Del.
“Hello?”
“Grab your purse and put on your coat,” Tess’s voice came through like a beacon in a storm, strong and clear and sweet. “You and Lin are going shopping, and I’m babysitting the world’s worst patient. Two minutes.” And she was gone.
Lola stood staring at the phone.
“Hello?” She knew Tess had hung up, but her brain was stuck.
Tess was true to her word. Two minutes on the dot, and she was hollering from the front porch.
“Helloooo! Come out with your hands up. We’ve got the place surrounded!”
Lola rushed to yank open the door, cheered in an instant by the sight of Tess’s bright, dark eyes and warm smile. She was the picture of health and goodwill and vitality, and Lola let herself soak that in for a moment before stepping back. She mouthed a soundless thank you, and Tess winked and nodded before whistling at Del.
“Still sitting around in your jammies, you big baby?” Tess’s voice seemed to rouse Del, who turned her head and frowned.
“What do you want?” But Del was excited to see Tess, Lola could tell, and she took in the way Del’s smile won over her mock severity in an instant.
Why can’t I cheer her up like that? She shook the thought aside.
“My girl wants to go shoe shopping and I’m not up for that, so I’m having her kidnap Lola. Plus, I figured you’d be too damn rude to invite me for a visit, so I had to invite myself. Also, in case you forgot, you haven’t been to my book club or my basketball practices in months. So, you suck. I’m gonna punish you. I haven’t decided how yet. Maybe I’ll sing to you.”
Del’s gaze bounced to Lola’s face, but she seemed to see nothing suspicious. A grudging smile stole across her pale, haggard face. “Well, if you’re gonna barge in, you could at least shut the door.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tess set down a six-pack of non-alcoholic beer and a mountain of snacks on the coffee table. “You’re not paying to heat the sidewalk. I know, cheapskate. Blow your girl a kiss and turn on the game. Nice furniture, by the way. I assume Lola picked it out. Your old couch was an ugly-ass piece of shit.”
“Go to hell.” Del actually smiled, and Lola tried to catch her eye.
But Del ignored her, so she sketched a wave and slipped out to where Lin waited in her SUV. Tess would tease and joke with Del and keep her spirits up, and she was, as an RN, better qualified to take care of Del than Lola, anyway.
“Oh, Lin!” Lola was breathless with excitement. “Thank you, both of you, so much! What made you think of it?”
Lin zipped along, shaking her head and laughing. “Are you kidding? I’ve known Del half my life! I know how grouchy she gets when she’s sick, and I figured you might want a break from getting your head bitten off every two seconds.”
Lola echoed Lin’s lighthearted laughter, though Del’s moodiness was anything but amusing to her. Why couldn’t she just laugh off Del’s grousing like everyone else did? Why was she such a big baby? Maybe Del wasn’t the problem at all. Maybe Lola was the problem.
She feigned interest in Lin’s chatter over dinner at a cute Italian bistro near the marina, and she forced herself to show enthusiasm when Lin suggested they window-shop for a while. They strolled down a crowded section of Union Street, and Lola managed to keep Lin talking about her job and Tess and her vacation plans long enough to keep her from asking about Del. She was glad to get a break but too tired to enjoy the outing.
“Thanks again for thinking of this,” she murmured to Lin, who smiled and shook her arm.
“You make Del happy,” Lin chirped. “I don’t want her to scare you off.”
Lola laughed, trying not to sound like she was agreeing and detecting a distinct note of hysteria.
“Listen.” Lin stopped her, staring into her eyes. “She loves you. She’s an amazing woman and she’s incredible in a thousand ways.” She shrugged. “But she’s a lousy patient.”
“Well, I guess it’s hard being helpless when you’re so used to being independent. Anyway you’re a lifesaver.” She eased Lin back into the flow of foot traffic, distracting her by asking about how she and Tess had met. The story was considerably more detailed than the one Del had told Lola months before, and it was easy to show surprise and interest.
Lin squealed in protest when a light mist started following, and Lola steered her under an awning. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Lola noticed that Lin had stopped talking and was watching her.
“Sorry. Woolgathering is a bad habit of mine.”
“Are you ready to kill her?”
“Well, it’s not her fault.” Lola didn’t want to say too much. “She’s been in a lot of pain.”
Lin searched her eyes. “She loves you, you know.”
Lola nodded. “I love her.”
“But she’s wearing you down.”
Lola shook her head. “No, I can’t take it personally. She’s in pain and she’s frustrated. I understand.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I promise not to smother her in her sleep.”
Lin’s laughter was hearty and made Lola smile.
“Come on,” Lin said. “You need a pick-me-up. Let’s go in and look around. We can find you a new purse.” They were in front of an upscale boutique, and Lin beamed at the array of colorful purses, scarves and sunglasses displayed in the window.
“I’ll be happy to keep you company until it dries up a little out here, but I’m too much of a cheapskate for a place like that.”
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, Lola, but that,” she pointed, “is the ugliest bag I’ve ever seen. Let’s just take a look, okay?” Lin eyed Lola cautiously, clearly worried that she’d given offense.
Lola didn’t have to feign agreement. “To be honest, I’ve always hated it.”
Lin made a face. “Should I ask why you’re still using it?”
Lola shrugged. “I don’t know. I just never got a new one. It’s definitely time, but I’m more of a thrift store girl.”
“Don’t you use your purse every single day?”
Lola waggled her head. “Still.”
Lin looked at the purse like it was a hideous ghoul. “I think you should reconsider. If you see something you like, you can either buy it or look for something like it at a discount store later. As far as this monstrosity is concerned, maybe we should burn it. Have a ceremony.”
Lola tried to laugh but couldn’t. “Yeah, maybe.”
“I’ve hurt your feelings.”
“No, not at all.”
Lin shook her head. “I have and I’m sorry.” She put her hand on Lola’s arm. “I didn’t mean to be obnoxious, honestly.”
It was Lola’s turn to shake her head. “No, you’re not obnoxious.” She exhaled, trying to shake her dark mood. “It’s just that I’m upset with myself. I feel like I don’t know how to do anything right, not even replace a stupid purse. I can’t figure out anything. I can’t make Del feel better; I can’t make her happy for even one minute. I can’t do anything right.” She chewed her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to turn mopey on you like that. Maybe we should just go home.”
Lin pulled her into the boutique. “Come on, you. There’s no point in getting away from your problems if you don’t get to vent a little. Now let’s get you a pretty new purse and grab some coffee. As I recall, you’re as much of a caffeine and sugar addict as I am.”
For a second, Lola felt like a normal person, a real person, out with a friend for dinner and shopping and chatting. But the minute they were inside, she looked around and felt like an imposter and an intruder all over again. Everyone in the store was wearing designer clothes and a lot of makeup and fancy purses. Lola clutched her ugly old bag tighter. She was a mess in jeans and a sweatshirt, with her hair in a sloppy ponytail. She wasn’t even wearing lipstick. She fought the urge to run right out of the store. She hadn’t noticed until then how styl
ishly Lin was dressed, in high heels and a beautiful coat and suit and full makeup.
Suddenly, Lola realized someone was looking at her, a saleswoman, and she forced a smile onto her face, working to meet the stranger’s eyes. The saleswoman offered a warm greeting to a woman behind Lola. Lola turned and saw a blonde vision in a lovely cashmere dress. The salesclerk hadn’t been smiling at her. Why would she bother? Lola was clearly out of place in a fancy shop like this one.
“I should have changed,” Lola muttered lamely.
“What? You’re fine,” Lin reassured her. “You’ve been stuck taking care of Oscar the Grouch. You look great.”
Lola rolled her eyes. “I look homeless.”
“Lola, the only thing you need to change is that ugly purse.” Lin whispered. “Don’t you think you deserve a nice bag at least as much as these snobby bitches?”
Laughter burst from Lola. “You’re crazy!”
“No,” Lin averred, suddenly serious. “Your bag tells people who you are, how they should treat you. Your bag says, kick me, I’m a doormat with low self-esteem.”
Lola giggled helplessly. “Lin!”
Lin continued in a low voice. “I mean it. You need a bag that says you deserve to be treated with respect.”
“Is there something I can do for you?” The saleswoman’s tone suggested that calling security to have Lola removed would be her preferred course of action.
“My friend needs a day bag. I’m thinking maybe a satchel. Something functional rather than decorative.” Lin smiled sweetly at the saleslady. “She’s very practical, so think Chloe, not Fendi.”
The saleswoman—her nametag read “Cookee”—defrosted only slightly. “Any specific features?”
“A single flat strap—she’s narrow in the shoulders. Zippered top, not a flap. She’s impatient. No clutches, no crossovers. Oh! And no distinctive patterns or ornamentation. Updated, classic. She’s in desperate need of a signature bag, and I’m thinking clean lines, but not too geometric. What else? Definitely a short drop, no beading or bangles and nothing too formal.”