I am a fool to have thought Dr. Drimble would leave us alone. In reality, he left Mama’s room only long enough to sign discharge orders for her to be transferred to East. Now he and his partner have returned with a wheelchair and a syringe, and I am overcome by the terrifying fact that they really are going to take Mama away from me. “Where’s Diana?” I say. “I need to see Diana.”
The doctor ignores me and injects Mama with another drug. “We’ll take her to East and give her time to heal. You need to go on home now.”
“Home? Home?” I raise my voice. “All I have is Mama. If you take her, I won’t have a home! We’ve got to plan Jack’s funeral. I can’t do that by myself. All she needs is some sleep. She does this sometimes. It’s no big deal. She’ll be back to normal in a day or two. I know her. I can do this. Let us go.”
But no one will listen. They keep going through the motions, ignoring everything I am saying, determined to haul Mama off in their ratty black car, like in my nightmares.
The young blonde nurse with the slow stutter reappears. “It’ll … it’ll be okay, Millie,” she says. “They’ll keep her safe there. Make sure she c-can’t hurt herself. Then, when she’s all better, she’ll come back home. It won’t be long. I p-promise.”
“They don’t ever let anybody out of that place,” I say.
“No, Millie. It’s not like that. People understand your mother’s just very sad right now. She needs t-time to feel better.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say!” I yell even louder, “She’s not nuts. She’s grieving.” But before I can stop them, they are strapping Mama’s arms down on the stretcher and wheeling her out the door.
I scream. “Mama! Mama!” But no one listens. They just keep right on rolling Mama down the hall.
I stand helpless in the hospital entrance as they take Mama away from me. I have been ordered to keep a fair distance from the car. I don’t cry. I am too angry for that. The young nurse, her arm clamped tightly around my waist, says, “Who can I c-call to get you?”
“I told you. There’s only Mama and me.”
“There must be someone. A c-cousin? A friend?” she persists, blinking heavy when her words get stuck. She hugs me tighter and says, “Things will work out, honey. They always do.”
Things always work out? I can’t believe people say such things. Nothing has worked out for me my entire life, and I am sure things aren’t going to change, with Jack dead and Mama gone and River nowhere near.
The nurse helps me pack up the last of Jack’s and Mama’s things in a sack. The staff can’t allow me to leave the hospital alone since I am, in their eyes, still a child, so the receptionist calls around to the local churches. They think someone should be kind enough to give me a place to stay. I find this absurd. If my own grandparents don’t care, why would any other family want to take me in?
In the meantime, I use the hospital phone and ask the operator to connect me to the number written on Mr. Tucker’s business card. A secretary answers, “Cauy Tucker Rodeo, this is Janine. May I help you?” Her voice sounds phony. I don’t trust her. But when she tells me Mr. Tucker isn’t available, I have to leave her more information than I had planned. “This is Millie Reynolds. Jack’s daughter.”
She squeals, “I’m so sorry about your loss, Millie. We’ll all miss Jack around here.” She says it with a little too much drama, her voice cracking with tears.
I roll my eyes, tired of hearing how everyone loved Jack. “Mr. Tucker said to call him if I need anything, and, well, I kind of do.”
“Sure, Millie,” she peeps again. “What can we help you with, honey?”
Her mousy voice annoys me. I’m tired of people treating me like a child. “Well,” I say, “Mama’s not going to be able to help me plan Jack’s funeral. And I don’t really know where to start. So I was wondering if, maybe, if it’s not too much to ask, if maybe Mr. Tucker could please help arrange the services.”
I keep talking, quickly. “I know it’s not his responsibility or anything. But I figure he knew Jack a lot better than I ever did, and with him saying how much he cared about Jack and all, well, I guess I thought maybe he might actually be glad for the chance to plan things. The way Jack would have liked them. I know it will cost some money, so I was thinking maybe he could just have Jack’s truck, you know, to cover expenses.”
Janine doesn’t make a peep.
“Ma’am?” I ask, worried she may have hung up on me.
“Yes, Millie,” her voice quivers. “Of course. I’ll give your message to Mr. Tucker. I’m sure he’ll give Jack the best funeral you can imagine. It’ll all be taken care of, honey. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
I wish she would stop calling me honey.
“But sweetie, do you need us to do anything else for you now? Does your mother need help? I’m sure Jack wouldn’t want you having any trouble.”
I laugh. “Oh, no, ma’am. Jack would never want us to have any trouble.” Each syllable a bitter crunch.
“We’ll take care of the arrangements, Millie. And if you need anything else, anything at all, you be sure and call us back. I mean that, sweetie. I really, really do. Okay, hon?”
“’Kay,” I answer, imitating her sweet tone. Then I hang up.
I have never in my life spoken disrespectfully to adults, other than Jack. But in the last few days I have yelled at many. I kick the wall and my foot stings with pain, but I kick it again. I keep thinking how Janine and Mr. Tucker think so highly of Jack. I am sick of hearing how much everybody admires him. For once, I wish somebody would stand up and admit that Jack may have won the big prizes at the rodeo, but when it came to being a father and a husband, he was nothing but a loser. “Put your hands together now for the legendary Mr. Jack Reynolds of Iti Taloa, Mississippi! Local hero. Prized bull rider. King of the Rodeo. Wife abuser! Alcoholic! Worthless father!” And the crowd goes wild!
But everyone will just go on believing Mama was the problem. And Jack the hero. And me? Just some ignorant little girl, in need of a fine Christian family to take care of me.
But I am too tired to convince them otherwise. Tired of trying to figure out all this medical information and how to plan a funeral and how to get Mama home and how to pay the rent. Tired of nurse Hilda and the overanxious psychiatrist with his spineless sidekick. Tired of people like Diana who promise to be available and then conveniently disappear. Tired of Jack causing problems and then leaving me behind to clean up his mess. So I sit back down in the nurse’s chair and wait for my new “family” to arrive.
What I never saw coming was that my new “family” would be my grandparents.