I rehearse everything I plan to say to Grand as the paramedics wheel Mom through Emergency. They direct me to a seat against a wall. They wheel her into a cubicle and pull the rattling curtains closed. A nurse hurries in, then a doctor. I am still rehearsing my speech to Grand when the paramedics leave, giving me a quick pat on the shoulder as they pass.
More people hurry back and forth. A phone rings. A baby cries. Someone moans. Equipment ticks and hisses and whines.
As I finally pull out my phone, a passing nurse says, “Please make your call in the waiting room.”
I go through the swinging doors and stand in front of the candy machine. After I punch in Grand’s number, I wait through eight rings. I’m about to hang up when he answers.
“Yes.”
“It’s me.”
“I thought you were going to get your mom to call me.”
“She’s in hospital.”
“In hospital? What happened? Is she going to be all right?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
He pulls in a breath. He’s wheezing. Of course he’s wheezing. Who wouldn’t be, smoking more than a pack a day?
“I’m sorry. But it is a stupid question. She fell off a jungle gym, if you must know. A jungle gym! She’s broken her elbow or something. And has a concussion. Of course she’s not going to be all right. At least, not for a while. Maybe never. How do I know? I don’t know anything. But I know I’m not going to be all right. Maybe you don’t know that mental illness can be genetic—”
When I see all the faces looking my way, I turn my back on them and hold the phone close. “Right now, I know that I will go crazy if someone else doesn’t take care of her.” I slide down the wall till my butt hits the cold, shiny floor. “I can’t do it anymore, Grand.” I keep my voice as steady and calm as I can. “Think of Mom. As your kid, I mean. Not as a grown-up. Think of her as someone who needs more than clothes and food and shelter. Who needs someone to take over. Take charge. Take notice—”
“Leni…”
“Take an interest. Take steps. Take a moment, just one teeny-tiny moment, to look at her and see what’s going on with her. And with me.”
“Leni!”
“What?” I guess I’m yelling. A baby lets out a shriek. I smile an apology at its mother. “What?” I ask Grand more quietly.
“Hang on a minute. I need my hearing aid…” His voice fades.
Has he heard a single thing I’ve said? I drop my head to my knees. I could laugh. I could cry.
But I don’t have the energy to do either.
“Pet? Are you still there?”
“Grand. Can you do something for me? Please.”
“What is it?”
“Come and get me.” I struggle to keep my voice from shaking. “Me and Mom. Please come and get us.” I sound like a six-year-old. “We need you.”
I don’t know what it was I expected. Arguments? A whole bunch of reasons and excuses? But there’s only silence at the other of the phone. “Grand? Did you hear me?”
“I heard you perfectly well.”
When I get back to Emergency, I find that they have moved Mom to a treatment room. I can hear her yelling through the door.
Grand said he’d come. As soon as he can. He may not have agreed to take us home. But he is coming.
I need to see it to believe it.
A woman wearing an id badge edges past gurneys and iv poles. “Helen Bishop?” She looks at her clipboard, then back at me. “I’m Sarah Smales. A social worker here.”
“Yes? And it’s Leni.”
“All right. Leni. I’ve been asked to talk to you about your mother. It seems she’s a bit—” She studies her notes. Then looks up again as Mom yells.
“Get me out of here. Someone get me out of here. Where’s Leni? Leni!”
I think I liked her better unconscious.
“I’ll just take a quick look to see how things are going.” The social worker knocks once, then goes into the room.
I sink back into the chair and rest my head against the wall. I sit up again when I hear footsteps. “Jake!”
“I thought you might like company.” He digs the ferret out of his coat. Dumps him in my arms.
“You can’t bring him in here!”
“I didn’t see any sign saying No ferrets allowed.”
Bandit is twining himself around my neck, looking for a way into my sweater. “Put him away,” I tell Jake. “Before someone sees.”
Jake takes Bandit from my neck and waits for him to settle into his jacket before he sits down. He tips his chair back against the wall. “That your mom?” He nods toward the door. “She going to be okay?”
“She broke her elbow. And has a concussion. But no. She’s not going to be okay, if you mean is she going to suddenly become a model parent dedicated to the well-being of her child.”
“Stupid question, I guess.”
“I called Grand. He’s on his way.” I look around and blink—anything to keep the tears back. “I don’t know what he’ll do when he gets here. She’ll still be crazy. I’ll still be stuck with her. I don’t know that it will change anything.”