Call Me Crazy

by Quinn Loftis

  “Candy, please, what is going on?”

  “Trey’s mother is gone.” She finally says.

  “Gone? You mean she’s left?” I ask, nervously.

  “No, Tally, I’m sorry to have to tell you, but we need you to get Trey. His mother committed suicide.”

  The last word is like a hammer blow to my head, and I have to tighten my grip around the phone to keep from dropping it. I grab the window sill and lower myself slowly to the floor. I’m trying to take in breaths, but like many times before, I can’t get anything in. Suicide, Lolotea had taken her own life. I feel myself begin to shake, and I can barely hear Candy speaking over the sound of blood pulsing through my ears. I can’t decipher what she’s saying. The world around me suddenly seems dark and I know that at any moment I’m going to suffocate, I’m going to die right here on my bedroom floor.

  “Tally please get a hold of Trey, and tell him to come to Mercy. Tally!” Her sharp tone breaks through the utter shock.

  “Okay,” I murmur, and hit the end button.

  The phone falls from my hand and I jump up to run for the bathroom. I feel the bile rising quickly in my throat, and my eyes begin to water. I barely see my mom out of the corner of my eye and hear her ask me something, but I have to get to the toilet before I puke all over the carpet.

  I feel a cool cloth on the back of my neck, and then my mom is helping me sit down on the edge of the tub.

  “Tally what’s going on?” She asks me calmly.

  “I need you to take me to Trey, please.” I tell her with shaky breath. My hands feel clammy and I begin to nervously rub them against my jeans.

  “Okay, can you tell me why?”

  I look up at her and feel my eyes fill with tears again. I can’t imagine losing my mother, and especially not by her own hand. I know it’s going to devastate Trey, and I wish there was something I could do to spare him the pain, that is bound to bring him to his knees.

  “His mother has committed suicide, and the hospital can’t get a hold of him.” My mother’s mouth drops open, and her hand comes up to cover it. Her eyes are wide and immediately fill with tears. I know why, I know it’s more because she is imaging that it’s me, that I am the one who has given up on life and chosen to end it.

  “Please mom we must hurry,” I stand up on shaky legs, and grab the hand towel to wipe my mouth. I quickly turn on the faucet and get a handful of water to wash out the vomit taste. Then I grab my mom’s hand, and pull her behind me.

  I’m having a hard time remembering the way to the Taggert’s house. My brain is such a mess and my chest is tight with anguish. I have to keep wiping my eyes so I can see to direct my mother to turn in the right places. I keep trying to go over the words to say, how to say them, and what to do once they are said. I’ve never had to tell anyone that a family member is dead, let alone that they took their own life. When we finally turn down the road that leads us to the Taggert’s ranch, I realize that I’m not ready. I’m not ready to bring Trey’s world to a cold, soul–stealing halt, but then I don’t have a choice. I see Trey’s battered truck, tires replaced, but the windshield is still shattered and it’s in need of a new paint job. It seems so trivial now, so irrelevant compared to the coming news.

  My mom puts the car in park, and I ask her to wait for me. As I climb out of the car, I have to reach out and grab for the roof to keep my legs steady. I walk slowly, almost in a haze towards the horse stalls, and the burden I carry feels as though it will push me into the earth at any moment.

  I step around the corner and into the entryway of the stable. I see him across the way in front of the tack room. He’s sweaty, shirtless, and magnificent, and I’m about to crush him.

  His head turns and when his eyes land on me they light up and a smile stretches across his face. It lasts only a second, and then he registers the look on my face, which I imagine is terribly pale and tear streaked.

  He walks quickly to me covering the distance in a matter of seconds.

  “Tally, baby, what’s wrong?” His hands come up to cup my face and I choke back a sob. How am I going to do this? I groan inwardly.

  “Trey,” my voice is hoarse and I have to clear it before I can go on. “Trey, Candy called me. The hospital has been trying to get in touch with you.”

  I watch his face, see a shadow fall across it, and his eyes glaze over with fear.

  “Your mom, she,” my hand shakes as I bring it up to lay it on his chest, “she’s gone. She, oh god, I don’t know how to say this,” I know I need to pull myself together, but the more I try, the more I feel my resolve crashing to the ground, “she killed herself.” The words fall from my lips, with the weight of a thousand pounds.

  Trey’s hands fall to his sides, and he seems frozen. His eyes are narrowed, and his face is still as stone.

  “I need to get to Mercy,” he says, finally. I nod and take his hand.

  “My mom can drive you.”

  He clings tightly to my hand, and when we get to the car, he tugs me to the back seat with him. Once settled he wraps his arms around me and pulls me as close as the seat belt will allow him to. He doesn’t speak. He just holds me, and stares straight ahead.

  ~

  I call Dr. Stacey on our way to the hospital, so as soon as we walk into the building she is there waiting for us.

  “Trey,” she says his name with such compassion that tears fill my eyes again. “Come with me.”

  Trey begins to follow her and, to my surprise, he glances back and grabs my hand.

  “I need you,” he tells me bluntly.

  I squeeze his hand reassuring him that I’m here .

  Dr. Stacey leads us to a door on the same hall as the quiet rooms. She stops and turns back to look at Trey.

  “I’m so sorry that this has happened Trey, and I honestly can’t tell you how it happened. We had your mother on suicide watch, but she slipped out at some point. She went to the pond.”

  I look up at Trey when I feel his hand tighten around mine.

  “She can’t,” he pauses and seems to gather himself, “she couldn’t swim.”

  Dr. Stacey nods, “It was too late by the time we got to her. We tried to do CPR.” She looks down at the ground before finally turning the door knob and pushing the door open. I feel bile rising again as I remember the night I saved Candy from the pond and an image of Trey’s mother, flailing, eyes wide as her head bobs up and down in an attempt to stay above the water. I grit my teeth and push the image away. Trey needs me now. I can’t fall apart, not here.

  As we step into the room, I see Lolotea lying, still on the bed. It feels as though the temperature in the room drops several degrees. I shiver as I stare down at her still form. Her eyes are closed and except for the pale pallor of her skin, she appears to be sleeping.

  Her face is peaceful and all the fretting and fear that had once marred her beauty is now gone. How wonderful it must be to be free of the pain, of the guilt, and humiliation of a disease that was incurable, and in her case, untreatable.

  I watch as Trey steps up next to the bed and kneels down next to it. His large frame seems to dwarf the bed and her body. He reaches up and gently strokes her cheek. I know he sees the same peace that I do, but that does not make the pain any less severe.

  He leans forward and lays his head against her arm and his shoulders begin to shake as he lets reality set in. He makes no noise, but I can almost feel the grief pulsing off of him in waves as it drenches me. I feel as though I’m imposing, standing there watching him grieve for his mother, but I can’t move.

  My body tenses as I see her move. I take a step back and my breathing becomes erratic. Her head, it’s turning and then she’s looking at me. Her eyes are wide, but devoid of emotion. Her mouth opens and my steps freeze.

  “He should not have to endure this a second time,” her voice is as dry and lifeless as her decaying body and sounds nothing like it once did. “He needs peace, he needs hope. Can you give him either?” I know it’s not real. It can�
��t be real, and yet I’m shaking as if I have just seen a dead person talk. I blink several times, and when I look again, she is lying as still as when I first entered, no sign that she had ever moved or spoken.

  Her words reverberate through my mind and I know she is right, whether it was real or not I know what it is. It’s my conscious speaking, and I know that I can’t give him peace I can’t give him hope. How can I, when on my own I have neither of those things? I wanted Trey and I to work so badly, I wanted to believe that we could be together, but this is a wakeup call. The reality is, I will live with this disease for the rest of my life. I will have times when I want to die, because the grief inside of me will be too much, and if I stay with Trey, every time I get that low it will be a reminder of what his mother did. He will live in fear of the possibility that he will come home to find my body, lifeless, and limp.

  In that moment I want to turn and run. I want to run as fast and as far as I can from the room. As I watch the man I love weep over his mother, I know that I can’t walk away just yet. He’s been through so much and though breaking up with him now might seem cruel, in the long run he will thank me. It may take a while, but he will see that he needs so much more than I will ever be able to give him.

  When Trey is ready to leave Dr. Stacey tells him to just let her know when the funeral arrangements have been made and when the funeral home will be coming to get her.

  “Will you step out for a moment?” Trey asks me as my mom pulls into his driveway. I nod and scoot out after him. He pulls me into a hug and I hold him tight knowing that I only have a limited number of these moments left.

  “Are you going to be alright?” I ask, gently.

  He pulls back and looks down at me. How someone can still look so beautiful after crying is beyond me, but he does.

  “Can you stay with me?” He asks me quietly, as he brushes his thumb across my lips.

  I feel the battle inside me as I consider what I should do. Part of me doesn’t want to make this any harder than it’s going to be, but the other part of me is selfish and wants to be with him as much as possible. As I stare up into his dark eyes, I see the pain, the devastation, and I know I can’t leave him like this.

  I nod and then walk around to the driver’s side of the car my mom rolls down her window, and is nodding before I ask. “Stay with him.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her. She reaches for my hand and her lips pinch together as she holds back tears.

  “I love you Tally.”

  “I know mom,” I hold tight to her hand, and meet her eyes, “I love you too.” I step away quickly, because I don’t have the energy to deal with her emotions, mine, and Trey’s.

  Trey takes my hand and leads me to his front door. He hadn’t called his grandmother. He had wanted to wait to tell her face to face. My gut tightens as I imagine sweet Bly having to hear that her daughter is gone, dead before her.

  “Grandmother,” Trey calls out as soon as we step over the threshold.

  She comes around the corner into the living room and looks at both of us. Her shoulders slump forward and a single tear drops from her eye.

  “She’s gone,” the old woman says, before Trey can even speak.

  He releases my hand and walks over to her, gathering her into his strong arms. When they finally part, Bly walks over to me, and hugs me tight. When she releases me she looks into my eyes, and I fear she will see my plans, see my determination to let Trey go.

  “You are not her,” she whispers to me. I feel tears rush to my eyes and I bite my cheek to keep them from falling. I wish it was enough to change my mind, but when I look up at Trey and see his pain, I know that I can’t stay.

  ~

  We spend the rest of the evening just talking. Bly tells me stories about Lolotea and her son and how they met and the joy on her face testifies to the love she felt for her daughter-in law.

  “She’s at peace,” Trey tells me, as he holds me on his couch.

  “Yes,” I agree.

  “Part of me is angry at her, but another part of me is relieved that she is no longer suffering.” He admits to me.

  I look up at him and hope that my smile is reassuring, “It’s okay to be angry, and it’s okay to be relieved. You love her and both of those emotions convey that love.”

  He leans his head forward and presses it to mine. I feel the warmth of his breath against my face and my heart feels as though it’s going to beat out of my chest and jump into his in an effort to stay with him forever.

  “Tally,” he whispers my name and the reverence in his voice takes my breath away. “Thank you for staying with me, for being here. I know this has to be difficult for you. I don’t think I could get through this without you.”

  I squeeze my eyes close and try to hold back the shutter of agony that rushes through my body as I realize that my heart will not be the only one breaking when I tell Trey it’s over.

  Chapter 25

  “When my father died I was twelve and I thought it was the greatest pain I would ever endure. I was wrong, so, so very wrong.” ~Trey

  I can feel her pulling away, and there is nothing I can do about it. The past two days have been hell and I haven’t had time to think, let alone talk to Tally about what is going on with her. The funeral is in an hour and though I considered taking my mother back to our people, I decided to bury her here in Broken Arrow because I have no plans of leaving. My life is here now, with Tally so it just didn’t make sense for me to bury my mom far from me.

  My grandmother is holding up much better than I thought, and I think like me, she has found some comfort in knowing that my mom is no longer enduring the fear and pain of what she lived with. I’m angry for the way that she left this world, but at the same time, I can’t judge, because I was not in her shoes. I have no idea what it was like to live in a world that no one else could see, one that obviously terrified her. I grieved for her, but I know that she would rather I celebrate the life she had, the one where she was happy and whole rather than wallow in the tragedy of her death. So today as I watch my mother’s body be laid to rest, I will be sad at losing her, but I will remember the life she lived. I will honor her as my mother and remember her, before her mind was taken by schizophrenia.

  As I help my grandmother out of my truck, I see Tally walking towards us. I had wanted her to ride with me, but she had insisted on driving herself. She wore a simple black dress and black gloves, and as she walks towards us, slowly, regally, she is the picture of grace.

  “She’s a beauty,” my grandmother murmurs to me.

  “I agree,” I smile down at her, and then look up to see Tally standing next to my grandmother.

  “Hi,” she says with a small, apprehensive smile. She always seems to greet me this way, and I always find it necessary to remind her that she is mine, and that she doesn’t have to wonder if it has somehow changed since the last time I saw her.

  I step towards her and cup the side of her face as I lean down and kiss her. She feels tense and it reminds me of when I first dared to touch her. Gradually she has come to welcome my touch and kisses, but this feels different and it angers me. I pull back and look down at her. I search her face, hoping that she will give something away, but I can’t tell if she is being so distant because of my mother’s death, or if there is something else. I do know that I’ve had enough of her holding herself back from me, and that it would end today.

  The only people at the graveside are me, my grandmother, and Tally. Among my people, the burial process is very private and usually only relatives and very close friends would attend. My grandmother, being very traditional, has gone through a purification process for the past twenty–four hours. She is the one presiding over the funeral since my mother was not a Christian and we are not doing a Christian burial. It is a short ceremony in which my grandmother praises the joys and sacrifices of my mother’s life. She then asks the spirits of those who have gone before her to guide her to the place of our ancestors so that she may be at peace. It i
s a healing process for me, to lay my mother to rest, and to know that she is united with my father now.

  “You will be missed Lolotea, and though we are thankful that your suffering is over, we will never forget you just as we remember those who have gone on before you. I will see you soon daughter, save a place for me at the feast.”

  As my grandmother closes with a final prayer to our ancestors, I take Tally’s hand in mine, and lift it to my lips, giving it a gentle kiss. Her scent is comforting to me, and I long to pull her into my arms and hold her. She brings me a measure of peace, it is a balm to my heart, and I want to have her all to myself for a little while.

  “Thank you grandmother,” I tell her, as she turns from my mother’s grave. She will not look back, it is forbidden to look back at the grave for worry that the spirit will not move on. So I turn as well, and force myself not to watch as they begin to lower her into the ground.

  “Her spirit is at peace, that always makes a ceremony much easier,” she tells me.

  After I help my grandmother up into my truck, I turn to see Tally standing a few steps away.

  “Will you follow me home?” I ask her.

  “Yeah, okay,” she says, but there is no smile on her face now, and her eyes are guarded. She turns to walk towards her car, I take two quick strides, and catch her around the waist. I pull her back to my chest and lean my mouth down next to her ear. “You would walk away from your man without so much as a kiss?” I feel her body shiver and I want to scream in victory at finally getting a reaction from her.

  She turns slowly, and looks up at me. Her hand slips around the back of my head and pulls me down until our lips touch. Her lips are hesitant at first, but then quickly become more confident in their assault on my mouth. I pull her tight against me and attempt to drown in her taste. Having her in my arms, her mouth against mine is right, she is where she belongs, and I am where I belong as well. And even as right as it is, as fervently as she kisses me, there is still a part of herself that she is holding back from me. It’s unacceptable. I want all of her. I have given her every bit of myself, and I will have every bit of her as well.