“The park?” says Jake. “Sure. If you say so.”
He waits while I brush my hair and change my shirt before we head out. I feel groggy after oversleeping. And a lump sits right in the middle of my chest. It could be hunger. Resentment at all the garbage my mother puts me through. Or just the same old fear that has been lodged there for years.
But it helps to have Jake walking next to me, taking a detour behind the mini mall, ducking into the Laundromat. He checks with me when he sees people who could be her but aren’t. Others who could only be my mother in another lifetime in which she ate well, had a decent place to live and stuck to her meds.
When we get to the park, Jake takes a detour to help a kid struggling with a bike that’s much too big for him. He’s always taking care of someone, it seems.
“There she is,” I tell him with relief. “That’s her.”
“Where?”
Mom is crouched on the top of the jungle gym, surrounded by three kids about my age. I can’t hear what they are saying. But I don’t like the way they are all standing around, staring up at her. “Leave her alone!” I sprint toward them, Jake at my side.
The one girl in the group turns toward me. “You can just butt out.” She pulls back and frowns at me. “Hey! I know you.”
She’s the one from the corner store. And her boyfriend is with her. His pants are hitched up a bit higher today.
When all three of them turn toward us, my mother lobs a shoe at them. It hits Dylan in the back. “Hey!” He grabs a bar as if he’s about to leap at her. Jake hauls him away by his jacket. “Forget it!”
The other boy takes a step toward Jake. Points. “I know you.”
“Mattie, isn’t it?” Jake nods at him. “From Boy Scouts, right? Or was it Cubs?”
The kid’s face goes bright red.
“Mattie? Cubs?” Dylan smirks.
“It’s Matt, actually,” he tells Jake. His eyes blaze. “That was a long time ago. When you were a teeny, tiny shrimp,” he says. “Oh. And look at you. Still a shrimp.”
Jake simply stares at Matt, the glimmer of a smile on his face.
Mara snickers.
“I never knew you were a Boy Scout!” jeers Dylan.
“You never asked,” Matt mutters.
Mara snorts again.
All this nonsense about Mattie the Boy Scout seems to fascinate my mother, who is watching them all. They step away as I sidle up to the jungle gym. “You okay, Mom? You coming down?”
She shakes her head.
“Come on.”
“I like the view,” says Mom. But she’s still watching the three kids.
They glance at Jake, then skulk off.
“I’ve got your lottery ticket here.” That will get her down.
“Show me.”
“It’s here somewhere.” It’s not in the first pocket. Nor the next.
Dylan, Matt and Mara are now headed back across the park, the two boys roughhousing as they go.
“Seems that Mattie didn’t want to relive our Boy Scout days,” Jake says.
“Who are you?” Mom asks him.
“This is Jake,” I tell her. “A friend of mine.”
“I don’t want you dating boys I haven’t met.”
“We’re not dating!” I say.
“Nice to meet you,” Jake says to Mom, with no sign in his voice that there’s anything strange about greeting a grown woman sitting on top of a jungle gym.
“So where’s that ticket?” asks Mom from her perch.
“It’s here somewhere.” I find it tangled up with a tissue in a pocket I just checked. I hold it out to her.
“Give it to me!” Mom reaches for it.
“Watch out!” cries Jake.
It happens in a flash. And takes forever.
One minute Mom’s up there, yelling at me. The next, she’s leaning, pitching, banging against the bars as she topples, tumbles and lands in a heap.
I leap forward. Kneel at her side. “Mom. Mom.” She’s very still, her eyes closed. “Call an ambulance,” I yell. “Someone, please.” Her arm should not look like that.
“Don’t move her.” Jake pulls out his phone.
I pet Mom’s face. Stroke her hair. Like she’s one of Jake’s menagerie. I cover her with my jacket.
It’s ages before I hear the sirens. Damp creeps through the knees of my pants. Someone drops a coat across my shoulders.
A hand falls on my shoulder. “They’re coming, Leni,” says Jake.
The siren is louder now. Mom still hasn’t moved.
The ambulance drives up, and the sirens stop. Two pairs of boots appear on either side of a set of wheels. “Come away, Leni.” Jake pulls me up.
The men kneel on either side of Mom. Lean over her with stethoscopes, an arm cuff, an oxygen mask. They put splints on both sides of her head. Two on her arm.
“Is she okay?”
“We’ve got her,” says the paramedic. “We’ll just be a couple of minutes here. Then we’ll take her in.”
Mom’s eyelids flicker. But her eyes don’t open. Her skin is pale, almost blue. I grab her purse. Gather her fallen shoe. Take the other off her foot. I wish I’d left the stupid ticket where I found it. It’s probably not worth a dime.
I follow a paramedic as he climbs into the ambulance behind my mother. “Where are we going?” He is too busy to answer.
Just as the doors are about to close, I lean down to Jake. “Here. Take this.” The lottery ticket is damp from being clenched in my hand the whole time. “I never want to see it again.”
My mother lies as still and cold as stone.
I think of Jake’s animals. The warm, funky smell of litter, spilled water, warm fur.
The binder thick with everything he knows about them. Everything he does for them.
He can take care of thirty-two animals. I can’t even look after one person. Not anymore.