CHAPTER 6
Cy sticks close by the rest of our stay in Philly, but I just can't shake the leaden feeling extreme disappointment leaves within you. Something in me has shifted toward him, and not for the better. Thankfully, I've been able to ignore the feeling, actually, stow it would be a more accurate expression, to be dealt with at a later date. Directly after the funeral and repass we were busy with family and friends that came back to Bailey St., to support and comfort Audree and the rest of us. Cy and CJ went down South Philly to see his mom, so Nissa and I ride with Dena to take Cameryn back to school. There is an organic buffer between Cy and I and we don't have to deal with the elephant in our relationship. Things have not been right with us for a long time, but life and events keep popping up, allowing us to push our marital problems to the back burner to simmer into a nasty little pot of dysfunctional stew.
Aunt Ena calls early Saturday morning in a panic. Marla has gotten sick and she wants us to hurry and get it together so we can take her home. Shit! I shout in my head, looking over at the time it's not even 8 o'clock.
"You gotta get over here quick, your mom is real sick." Ena informs me.
"What's wrong?" I ask as I get out of the bed.
"What's wrong?" I ask as I get out of the bed.
"She just threw up." Ena says talking fast.
"Shit." I say aloud this time. "Alright, we'll be there shortly."
I am pressed and panicked because Carrie doesn't need to be around anyone sick. Her chemo treatments have her immunocompromised and susceptible as hell, but I can't say that to Ena, because she doesn't know her sister is dying of colon cancer. I'm also worried because both of Marla's heart attacks were preceded by bouts of nausea and vomiting. That, coupled with the way she looked yesterday at the funeral have me really concerned. Audree even pulled me to the side and mentioned that she didn't think Marla was looking well. I was happy when Carrie said she was taking Marla back to 'the house' so she could take it easy and rest.
'The house,' is what we called my Grandmother's house on Montgomery Ave. It has always been the meeting place, the gathering point. Christmas day, Easter, and for me and Dena, every Sunday after church we all gathered there. After a speedy check-out we get to Montgomery Ave. sometime around 10. Sure enough, Marla is not looking well at all, and in typical Marla fashion she refuses to go to the closest emergency room. I was hoping to stay in Philly for a few hours, and leave somewhere around 3pm, but now I think we may be here until tomorrow because I just don't feel good about traveling with her sick like this. My aunts, Cy and I have a pow wow in the breakfast room. We go around and around for about ten minutes, until Marla ends it. She's come downstairs while we were in the breakfast room discussing her.
"I'm not going to no damn hospital." She says. "I just want to go home. I'm fine." Clearly she's not. After a few more minutes of trying to convince her to go to the ER I give in, because I really just want to get her away from Carrie. And for the fourth time in less than two weeks, I'm back on the highway; this time my husband is right with me, as we take our family home.
"We'll ride with Dad so Grandma can stretch out in the back seat."
My kids are a trip. They both decide to ride back to York in their dad's car because if Grandma gets sick again they won't have to deal with it. At least Nissa is clever enough to couch her dread as concern. Mmmhmm, I think to myself. By 3:30 I've got my mom situated on the third floor of my home. She's sleeping comfortably, no more vomiting, and she is looking a lot better. I really need to get out of the house for some 'alone' time, so after making sure everyone has what they need, and that Cy doesn't want to join me for an early dinner, I head out to my favorite little dive bar in York, The Stockade. It sits on Eberts Lane, which should be renamed, Eberts Alley, that's how out of the way it is. They have great wings and cold beer, and no one will bother me for a couple of hours, but you want to make sure you're out of there before 11 o'clock when the younger crowd comes out. Way too much testosterone and estrogen, pissing contests, and cat fights; yeah, I pass on all that. I belly up to the bar, order an ice cold Bud, and the Old Bay wings and relax for the first time in weeks. I wrap my lips around the tip of the bottle, tilt my head back, and let the cold, golden liquid slide effortlessly down my throat, taking with it all thoughts of dead daddies, disappointing husbands, and demented step-mothers. I'm not thinking of anything in particular, just enjoying my beer and waiting for my wings when my cell vibrates against my hip. I contemplate not answering, but remember Marla is not well, and I might be needed at home, so I pull it out of my pocket to see who is disturbing my 'me time.' Holy shit! I'm taken aback, it's Mack! I wasn't expecting to hear from him this soon. When we exchanged numbers at the church I thought it was just a perfunctory gesture; 'yeah, sure, we'll keep in-touch, here's my cell text me,' kinda thing. But I am pleasantly surprised. The phone stops vibrating just as I am about to swipe to answer the call. That's probably for the best, I think to myself, when the phone pings in my hand and a text alert pops on the screen.
Mack: Hey Butter, are you going to be at your dad's later? Would love to see ya before you leave. *
Me: Hi Mack, um, no I won't. I'm already back home..., in York. *
Mack: Damn, you don't waste no time, do ya? *
Me: Lol, my mom got sick and wanted to get back home. I don't waste no time? Neither, do you; I wasn't expecting to hear from you so soon, but it is a very pleasant surprise.*
Mack: Now that I have found you, I'm not letting you get away again.*
I'm grinning so hard my cheeks hurt after a few seconds. The barmaid, Rhonda, sits my wings in front of me and says, "Mmmm, who you sextin,' I mean textin,' got you smilin' like that?"
I roll my eyes, still grinning like a fool. "An old friend from home, that I haven't heard from in years." I answer. "Can I get some bleu cheese?"
"Old friend, mmmhmm," She continues, "Old male friend, from that grin plastered on ya face and the little sparkle in ya eye." She reaches in the bar fridge and stops to give me the duck lips face.
"Bleu cheese, please." Is my only answer.
Mack: You still there? *
What? I scroll the screen up and see I missed a line of text.
Mack: Is your mom ok? *
Me: Sorry. Yes, she's ok now, but I thought I might have to take her to the ED. She wasn't keeping anything down earlier, but she's better. Thanks for asking, very considerate of you, I remember that about you. *
Mack: ED? *
Me: Lol, Emergency Department, the new name for the Emergency Room. I'm getting ready to dig into my wings, so won't be able to talk with my fingers.*
Mack: Ok. It was really good to see you. I was hoping to see you before you left, but I'll be in touch. *
Me: I hope so. It was really good to see you too. Holla at me sometime soon. *
Mack: I will. Happy Valentine's Day, Butter Lips! *
I laugh out loud. Rhonda stops wiping the bar and squints at me.
"That's trouble." She says pointing at me while circling her finger.
"Rhonda, can I have another beer?" I wag my bottle back and forth, grin, give her the duck lips, and an exaggerated. "Thank you." Pick up my phone and scroll to the top of the conversation so I can read it again.
<><><><><><>
All work on this site is the intellectual property of the author Diane Gossett
No comments:
Post a Comment