| |
TWO YEARS AGO, I RAN for my life. I couldn’t take it anymore. The beatings almost killed me one too many times. I didn’t know where to go, but my neighbors, Jenny and Kristi, helped me get into a woman’s shelter. There, I healed both physically and mentally. I spent almost an entire year in that shelter. It was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. The staff and volunteers were amazing and helped me realize Patrick was the problem; not me. It wasn’t my fault.
When it was time to move out of the shelter, the counselors helped me find a place of my own and get a job. It’s not what I want to do as a career, but it’s paying the bills. Barely. Working at Ralph’s Countrytime Grocery store isn’t my dream job, but Ralph and his wife treat me well, and that’s all anyone can ask for.
I’m living in Riviera Beach, which sounds lovely, but it’s definitely not the Riviera or the beach. I have a small one-room apartment that overlooks the railroad tracks and skid row. Most days, when I’m walking home from work, I’m left alone, but there are days when I need to walk with my can of mace clearly displayed to ward off anyone thinking they can mess with me.
Yeah, not the best neighborhood, but I’m doing it on my own and by myself. I’m proud of myself for all I’ve accomplished in the last two years.
I strategically chose a neighborhood where Patrick would never look for me. He won’t even sell his guns or drugs to people that live in this type of neighborhood. He’d never go driving down these streets looking for me walking home from work. Even so, I keep my head down and keep to myself. I even wear a hat everywhere I go to hide my bright red hair. Some days, it feels like a beacon, alerting everyone to who I am. It sounds silly, but sometimes I just don’t feel like the badass I want to be.
Hopefully, Patrick has moved on to other things. Or even better yet, he finally gets arrested by the ATF for weapons trafficking. My leaving and going to the shelter drew attention to him and his activities. He hasn’t forgiven me for that. Or the hundred thousand dollars I took when I left. But he has bigger fish to fry; at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Why would he care about little ‘ol me? He has plenty of money and connections to get out of the country before being arrested. And I’m sure he did just that once he realized I was nowhere to be found.
I don’t believe any of it, though. Knowing Patrick, I know it bruised his ego when I left. Robbing him wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I needed the money for mom. The nursing home she’s in for her Alzheimer's is very expensive. It’s where all of that money goes. I haven’t used a dime for myself. But Patrick won’t see it that way. If he ever comes looking for me, he’ll want his pound of flesh. I just hope I survive it.
“Thank you for shopping at Ralph’s. Have a nice day.” I say to my customer as I hand him his change and his bag of groceries. He ignores me, which is fine. He’s the last customer for the day.
“You going to see your mama tomorrow, Mallory?” Edie, Ralph’s wife, asks me as she closed and locks the front door while simultaneously pulling the bars closed, security the store.
“Every Sunday.”
“You’re a wonderful daughter. How’s she doing?”
I pull the cash register drawer out of the register and follow her to the back of the store. “Not good. The prognosis isn’t good. They had to put a feeding tube in her this week because she stopped eating on her own.”
“I’m sorry, dear. It’s a rough disease to watch someone go through.”
I don’t answer her because she’s right. I know I’m on borrowed time with my mom. She stopped recognizing me about a year ago, stopped talking about six months ago, and stopped doing anything for herself about a month ago. It’s rapidly progressing and the nurses and doctors tell me it’s only a matter of time.
Even so, she’s my mom and I love her, so I make sure to go see her at least once a week. It’s pretty risky going any more than that because Patrick knows my mom is sick. He doesn’t know where I placed her, but he has resources if he truly wanted to find out.
I put the cash register in the vault in the back of the store and grab my things to leave when Edie hands me a bag of day old baked goods. “Here. Take these. I’ll just have to throw them away if you don’t.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” If it wasn’t for Edie and Ralph, I’d be eating noodles for every meal.
“You know we appreciate you, Mallory. I just wish we could afford to pay you more.”
Shaking my head, “Don’t. You and Ralph already do so much for me already.” I smile at her and then pull her into a hug. “You guys are the best.”
Edie pulls away while wiping a tear from her cheek. “Can I give you a ride home?”
“Nope. I’m good. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Give your mama my love.” Edie waves at me as she lets me out the back door of the grocery store. I hear her secure the three different locks that are on the door. I’m by myself in the alley. Not the best place to be as a woman all alone.
I quickly make my way out of the alley and onto the main road that leads to my apartment. I do my best not to make eye contact with anyone on my way home. It’s best not to in this neighborhood. Along the way, there are a few stray dogs that I recognize and pet if they come up to me. But they’re mostly apprehensive of people. My apartment is about two blocks from the store. I pass a few boarded up former businesses that have been empty for years, a mechanic shop with a lot of broken-down cars parked haphazardly, and an empty lot of land with garbage strewn about and weeds taller than my knees.
As I walk in the door, I immediately jump in the shower to wash off the day. There’s barely any water pressure in my building, but it’s better than nothing. Once done, I make a cheese sandwich for dinner using the bread Edie gave me today and I settle in to read. I don’t have the funds for a television or a cell phone, but the library is free and I have my library card. Tonight, it’s all about romance.
A girl can dream, can’t she?
~~~
Today, I read to mom all day. We are currently going through the Nancy Drew series. The nurses say she’s not really responding to any of their commands anymore. She just lays there. I helped them change and bath her in the morning and then at lunchtime, the kind nurses brought me a meal so that I could eat with mom. Actually, the nurses just injected food into her feeding tube, but I’m trying to see the bright side of things. Mom and I had lunch together.
At some point after lunch, mom fell asleep. I take that as a sign that it is time to go home. I brush her hair back from her forehead and kiss her goodnight. “I love you, mom.” I whisper to her, hoping she at least hears me.
I collect my things and make my way to the exit when a nurse stops me. “Miss Gordon? The doctor would like to talk to you. Do you have a few minutes?”
“He’s here?” He’s never here on Sundays.
She nods, “Yes. He was on vacation last week, so he’s in checking on his patients. Follow me.”
The young nurse leads me to another wing of the nursing home and into a small conference room. “Have a seat here and I’ll send him in for you.”
“Thanks.” I take a seat and nervously tap my foot. I have no idea what mom’s doctor would want to see me about, but I can feel the dread creep into my chest. It can’t be good.
“Miss Gordon? So nice to see you again.” Dr. Roberts comes in and shakes my hand. “May I?” he points to the chair at the head of the conference table.
“Please. Is my mother all right?” The concern clear in my voice.
He takes a deep breath. “Well, she’s as well as she can be at this stage of the disease. As we’ve talked about in the past, Alzheimer’s is always fatal.”
I nod, “I know.” I hate hearing it, though.
“With the need to insert the feeding tube, I think it’s time to consider hospice care for your mother.”
Dr. Roberts warned me when I had my mother transferred here, after I left Patrick, that eventually we would need to talk about hospice care. I just didn’t realize we were there yet. “Already?”
“Well, it’s been almost two years since she’s been here, and although she had some good days at the beginning, she’s declining quicker now. The disease is starting to affect her autonomic system. She’s stopped eating and drinking. Next could be her heart or her lungs. Or both.”
I feel the tears fall down my cheeks. My mom is all I have in this world. When she goes, I’ll be all alone. “What’s entailed in getting her into hospice?”
Dr. Roberts hands me a box of tissues. “I’ll fill out the paperwork and we’ll move her to another wing of the nursing home. Since your mom didn’t fill out any end-of-life documents, you’ll need to decide what end-of-life measures you want done for her.” He hands me a pamphlet. “Read this and write down your questions. We can talk later in the week.”
I take the pamphlet and nod at him. “Is she in any pain?”
He shakes his head, “No. None. But as you can see from your visit today, she’s not connecting with anyone. The disease is wreaking havoc in her brain. It’s a terrible disease.”
I nod in agreement.
“Do you have any questions for me now?”
“Um... yeah. How long can someone live in hospice care?” I’m basically asking him how much longer I have with my mom. When will she die? But I can’t ask that question out loud.
“Some of the younger patients can live up to six months in hospice.”
“And for a woman in her sixties?” My mother had me late in life.
In typical doctor fashion, he doesn’t actually answer my question. “She’s got less than that.”
I take a deep breath and nod at him as his pager goes off. He pulls it off the waistband of his scrubs and looks at it. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to get this. Are you okay? I can send one of the nurses in to sit with you, if you’d like.”
I shake my head, “No. It’s fine. Thank you for talking to me today. I appreciate your time.”
He smiles at me, pats me on the shoulder, and then leaves me all alone in the conference room to cry.