13

The hospital admissions clerk moved the telephone receiver a little farther from her ear.

Even across the wide expanse of the desk, Muriel could hear Stan’s voice on the other end of the line. “Natalie. Natalie! Pick up the phone. It’s about your mother.”

“Oh, my goodness, Stan. Have they found her? Is she OK? Can I talk to her?”

Natalie! Oh, thank You, Lord. It was the first time Natalie had shown any concern for her since…since…well, Muriel couldn’t even remember when. Maybe since Natalie bought that mirror.

Is this what God was up to all along?

The admissions clerk gave a brief update and the address of the hospital.

“Where? That’s not anywhere near where she lives. Well, of course. We’ll have to come get her, won’t we?”

So much for Natalie’s concern. Muriel’s turning up seemed an imposition. An inconvenience. A matter of bad timing. Muriel’s moment of joy plummeted back to a sense of emptiness. If being carjacked was not enough to make Natalie appreciate her, nothing was. Muriel would have to settle for a superficial relationship with her only child. Thank goodness for Chloe. Thank goodness for the baby she was carrying.

Stan should have been happy there was no ransom note. There were lots of ransom notes on the police dramas Muriel watched. People were told to drop off unmarked bills at obscure locations where they might or might not get ambushed. Stan would not be happy about any of that.

The admissions clerk hung up the phone and gave Muriel an encouraging smile. “Your daughter and son-in-law are on their way.”

Muriel looked surreptitiously behind her. Kevin slouched in a navy chair at the back wall, his heron-like legs spread out to each side. His right knee shook up and down.

A security guard sat two chairs over, leafing through a magazine. Other than the gun in his holster and a hospital ID pinned to his uniform, he looked just like any other visitor to the waiting room.

Muriel cleared her throat. “He’s the one who’s sick, you know.”

The clerk looked up. “Who?”

“The young man who came in with me. He had a seizure. That’s how I ended up falling out of the truck. It’s a long story. But you should be admitting him, not me.”

“Is that the first seizure he’s ever had?” the clerk asked.

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.”

The clerk raised her eyebrows in apparent disbelief.

“It’s true. He didn’t say. I didn’t ask.”

“His own grandmother doesn’t know if he ever had a seizure before?”

The clerk must not have watched the news lately.

Kevin, the dutiful grandson. Except he wasn’t a grandson at all. And he might not even be a Kevin. Was it only yesterday he had threatened her with a gun and made her drive? It seemed a lifetime ago. And to think there had never been a gun at all.

“I’m not his grandmother.” How could she categorize him? A friend? Incredibly, she had enjoyed his company. But no. A person of interest in a carjacking? No, definitely not. She didn’t want to get him in trouble. Their relationship was hard to explain. He had carjacked her, threatened her, covered her up in the middle of the night with his own leather jacket because he thought she might be cold, gave her two eggs for breakfast after throwing his own two away. He was a mixture of contradictions. Typical teen.

Somehow, in spite of all he had done, she cared for him. Perhaps because she really missed working with teenagers. Perhaps because his lopsided smile reminded her of Patrick, one of her all-time favorite students. Perhaps because her relationship with Natalie left a lot to be desired. Perhaps because, deep down, she was incredibly lonely.

Muriel had felt mixed emotions about her own mother while she was still alive. Impatience, anger, irritation. Now that her mother was gone, an occasional negative thought sometimes popped into her head. But mostly Muriel recalled how much her mother had loved her. How she had done her best in circumstances that were often not easy. How her death created a vacuum in Muriel’s life that no one else could fill. Not even Howard. Don’t wait until I’m dead, Natalie. You’ll be sorry for the rest of your life. I know.

Muriel looked at the wall across from her. The reflection of flashing lights brought her back to the present. The sliding doors opened, letting in a blast of cooler air. But there was no sound of a gurney being wheeled in. Two deep voices behind her seemed purposely low. She only caught an occasional word.

“Newspaper.”

“Kidnapping.”

She focused on the clerk. If she ignored the voices, maybe the men would go away.

They didn’t. Their footsteps were coming in her direction.

She couldn’t run. She had nowhere to go except back to her empty house where she could eat her lonely meals at six, noon, and six and watch police dramas and news shows until God realized she was never going to accomplish anything on earth, and He called her home.

Muriel turned to look at Kevin. He half rose from his chair then sat back down. There was no lopsided smile now. Only a glazed look in his eyes, an apparent realization that his life might never be the same.

As one of the policemen approached Kevin, the other ambled over to Muriel. His methodical walk made it clear he was in control.

“So you’re the woman who was carjacked. We looked all over for you.” The policeman’s eyes seemed like laser beams.

“Thank you, officer. I appreciate your efforts. But I wasn’t exactly carjacked.”

The policeman raised his eyebrows. “Not exactly? What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“Well, I was kind of carjacked, I guess. But I’m fine now. I don’t want to get anyone into trouble.”

“After all you’ve been through?”

“That young man never harmed me. You think he hurt my foot, don’t you? But he didn’t. You have it all wrong. I’m only hurt because he had a seizure, and I got him a ride in a truck, and the step was too high, and I fell out and twisted my ankle.”

The policeman’s eyes were glazing over. Howard’s eyes used to glaze over the exact same way.

Just as she started what she hoped would be a more coherent explanation, the sliding doors opened again. A couple entered the emergency room.

“Mother!”

Muriel turned.

Natalie was hurrying toward her, Stan following a few steps behind.

Muriel patted the chair next to her in invitation. “Thank you for coming, dears.”

Natalie stood behind Muriel and put one hand on each of her shoulders. “Oh, Mother. Thank goodness you’re OK.”

That was the nicest thing Natalie had said to her since she’d turned sixteen.

The policeman turned to Natalie. “I just need a few more minutes. Then your mother can be examined and hopefully released.”

Natalie sank into the chair Muriel patted. “Honestly, Mother. I’ve been so worried. I couldn’t even sleep last night. All I did was toss and turn and imagine the most horrible scenarios. How could you have gotten carjacked? You don’t even drive.”

The policeman was speaking to Muriel again. “I assume you’re pressing charges?”

“Pressing charges, officer?” Muriel looked up, confused.

“Against this young man. For carjacking and kidnapping. Maybe assault? It seems you have a very strong case.”

“I hadn’t even thought about pressing charges, officer.”

“Well, of course she’s pressing charges.” Stan’s voice rang out with a tone of authority. “She’ll sue the pants off this young punk. His parents, too. Why in the world would she not want to press charges? She’s been through too much to think clearly right now. That’s the problem.”

Natalie nodded. “What would we have done if something had happened to you, Mother? You have no idea how much anguish we’ve suffered since we learned you were missing. Kidnapped! And to think we had to learn about it from the TV news! It was so impersonal.”

“We can’t let this young punk get away with criminal activities,” Stan spoke again. “It’s our civic duty to see that justice is done. Of course, we−I mean, our dear mother−needs to be adequately compensated for all her pain and suffering.”

Muriel could sense Kevin’s uneasiness, even though she didn’t turn to look at him. “Kevin’s not a bad kid. He just made a mistake. We all make mistakes, Stan. Even you must make a mistake once in a great while. I don’t think…”

“Well, of course you can’t think straight right now, Mother. You’ve just been through a nerve-wracking ordeal.”

Mother? Muriel stared at Stan. He had never called her Mother before. The use of the word made him sound almost…human.

Stan patted Muriel on the shoulder as if she were a small child. “You’re too upset after all you’ve been through. That’s perfectly understandable. But don’t worry. Natalie and I plan to help you squeeze this punk’s parents for all they’re worth.” Stan smiled, the corners of his lips twisting upward while his eyes remained unaffected.

Muriel couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Stan smile. He must have smiled at least once since she met him. Maybe when Natalie first brought him home, twenty-five years ago, an intense young man just starting a career in an investment firm. He must have been smiling as he stood at the altar waiting for Natalie to walk down the aisle on Howard’s arm. There were no smiles when she came for a holiday meal. He always held the front door open for her while simultaneously blocking her way with the girth of his own body. Sending a mixed message. As if he had no desire to let her into his house at all.

Why, he looks like one of those baboons with the big, red butts. The ones who bare their teeth as a form of aggression. It was on some nature program Howard had watched. Stan’s teeth looked just the same. No wonder he never smiles.

The second policeman was talking to Kevin. “We called your parents, son. They’ll be here soon. They can decide where you’ll be spending the night.”

Muriel turned to look.

“What do you mean—where I’ll be spending the night?” Kevin’s Adam’s apple protruded as he swallowed.

“Maybe they’ll want to take custody of you and take you home. Or maybe they’ll want us to put you up for the night.” The policeman raised his eyebrows and gave Kevin a look full of meaning. “Do you understand, son?”

“Oh, geez, not my parents,” Kevin said. “My father’s going to kill me.”

Two bikers came through the emergency room entrance, one male and one female, sporting identical black leather jackets, carrying shiny helmets in their hands. The man had a red bandanna tied around his neck and the kind of glasses that seemed only a mirror to any stranger foolish enough to attempt eye contact.

Those must be Kevin’s parents. They were wearing the same type of leather jacket.

But the bikers didn’t even acknowledge Kevin. They just talked to the receptionist and then sat in front of the TV set that hung from the ceiling. The man put his hand to his chest. The woman patted his shoulder as if she were afraid he was so fragile he’d break.

The admissions clerk droned on. Did Muriel have her insurance card with her?

“Well, it’s in here somewhere.” Muriel picked up the purse she had placed by the side of her chair and dug into it. Why, there was her lipstick after all. And there was Natalie’s mirror.

Thank goodness she hadn’t lost that mirror. Thirty-seven years ago, Natalie had been quite insistent that she wanted to go to the yard sale down the street all by herself. Minutes later she came running back, thick blond braids flapping around her shoulders, a look of triumph on her rosebud lips. Her smile lit up Muriel’s world. Natalie’s two upper front teeth were missing then. The moment had blazed like a comet, and then had gone forever. Muriel could close her eyes and see the whole scene just as it had happened thirty-seven years ago. She took the mirror out and turned it over, forgetting for a minute where she was.

“Your insurance card?” The clerk repeated her question, not even a hint of irritation in her voice.

Natalie reached over and grabbed Muriel’s purse off her lap. “Honestly, Mother. You still cart around that silly old mirror? You should have tossed it in the garbage years ago. Here. Give me your purse. I’ll find your card.”

Muriel restrained herself from grabbing her purse back. There were two Natalies in her life. The real Natalie who missed her mother and was relieved she was back. And the ersatz Natalie, a high-society snob who looked down on her own mother.

If she said anything like that out loud, the admissions clerk would think she was crazy. “Poor woman,” the clerk might say. “Doesn’t recognize her own daughter any more. We’d better put her somewhere with a lock and key.”

“Honestly, Mother, don’t you ever clean out your purse? This is a mess. But here’s your insurance card.” Natalie handed it to Muriel and shut the purse with a decisive snap. “Now can we please get this over with?”

Once again, a blast of cool night air swept into the reception area as the emergency room doors opened.

“Kevin!” A voice rang out with a sigh of−what? Relief? Exasperation? Maybe a bit of both.

Everyone turned to look.

Kevin’s parents were not at all what Muriel expected. How could two perfectly normal people raise a carjacker son with a dragon tattoo? It made no sense.

Kevin’s mother, dressed in a navy suit and half-inch heels, looked as if she had just come from an office job. A dark pink scarf with white roses cascaded down the front of her light pink blouse, the kind of scarf a woman wore to add a little color to her complexion.

Natalie should try adding a scarf to her outfit sometime. She would look so much prettier with something colorful around her face. It would soften her expression. But a scarf wasn’t her style. Not even a silk one. Diamonds were her style. Natural pearls were her style. Anything that shouted wealth and privilege.

Kevin’s mother was hugging him now, tousling his hair as if he were five, not fifteen. Or was he fifteen? There were so many questions Muriel hadn’t gotten around to asking. So many details she’d still like to learn. She’d probably never see him again. The thought struck her like a slap in the face. Her heart sank.

“Paraphernalia.” She had taught him one word. He had taught her so many things. The beauty of sunsets, and the joy of birds singing, and the pleasure of car rides that went nowhere in particular. How could she go back to her lonely house? Eat cold cereal every morning at six after eating eggs cooked over a campfire? Listen to the tick, tick, tick of the analog clock in her living room?

She would throw the clock in the garbage. It didn’t matter that Howard had bought it. She loved Howard. She always would. But he was no longer there. She didn’t need to keep holding on to remnants of the past.

Kevin’s father didn’t look at all like the unfeeling monster Kevin had hinted at. He was standing off to the side in a two-piece suit, jacket unbuttoned, white shirt cuffs showing a half inch below the end of his suit sleeves. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Kevin.” His tone was genteel, non-confrontational, as though he were pointing out that the way to the elevators was down the corridor and one turn to the right.

Kevin sputtered. Once again he looked like the young punk who had jerked Roxanne’s car door open, demanded Muriel drive, and threatened to shoot her. Some teenagers tried personalities on for size, looking for the perfect fit. She had learned that when she taught.

“Oh, give it a rest, Kevin.” The father turned to the nearest policeman. “Is there any reason for us to stay here, officer? Or anything we can do for this poor woman? We’d like to take our son home. Don’t worry. He’ll be facing appropriate consequences.”

Kevin scowled and folded his arms angrily across his chest.

The policeman pulled out a pen and a small pad of paper. “We’ll need to take down your personal information, sir. In case this lady wants to press charges.”

“But I don’t…”

“Yes, she does want to press charges,” Stan said. “She’s just too stressed to think clearly now.” His bushy black eyebrows rose like two caterpillars on a collision course, each contesting the right of way. He spoke directly to the policeman, ignoring Muriel altogether.

“You have a while to decide, ma’am.” The policeman looked at Muriel. “And we’ll need you to confirm your personal information, too. Name, address, phone number.”

Kevin’s father was taking out his wallet now, opening it up, drawing from it the requisite ID. He handed it to the policeman. “May I speak to this woman, officer?”

“Make it short. She’s been through a lot.”

Kevin’s father bent close to Muriel. “Just one thing, ma’am. Did my son hurt you in any way? I want you to tell me the truth. I need to know.” The look on his face was one of sadness and concern.

Kevin’s father loved his son. Muriel was sure of it. All teenagers thought their parents were unreasonable. Kevin would be OK.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Your son didn’t hurt me. In fact, he was quite…” Muriel paused. The events of the past several hours flashed through her mind.

“Yes, Mother.” Stan leaned forward eagerly. “Tell him all the horrors you had to undergo. Tell him about the hours and hours of pain and suffering you were forced to endure.”

Muriel continued as if she hadn’t heard Stan. She looked directly at Kevin’s father. “In fact, Kevin was quite responsible.”

“Responsible? My son?” Kevin’s father raised his eyebrows.

“Yes. Your son made sure I was warm when we camped out last night. He got breakfast for me this morning. He walked to get gas for the car because I forgot to check the fuel gauge. His quick thinking saved me from a threatening old man. Responsible. That’s the word I’d use to describe Kevin. Even responsible people make mistakes sometimes.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Muriel could see Kevin beaming.

“Mother! What are you saying? A carjacker? Responsible? What is wrong with you? You should be pressing charges.” Stan’s voice was a stage whisper, loud enough for everyone to hear.