The Row(13)
“Wait! Wait! My wife fell. Is she okay? Amy!” His voice floats to me from far away and I open my eyes even as tears burn them. Tucking my head low so no one can see, I blink frantically until the traitorous drops fall away and then shove my dark sunglasses back onto my face.
“She’ll be okay, Daddy,” I yell out, loud enough for him to hear me. “We’ve got her.”
Newspaper reporters crowd around us and start taking pictures. I can’t hide myself from them. Stacia goes out to meet the paramedics. Mr. Masters keeps his head down and pretends the cameras aren’t there. I do the same, but now that Daddy is gone I’ve lost my strength. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the tears that pour down my cheeks.
One of the bailiffs makes his way through the crowd and crouches next to me. He looks from me to Mama and asks, “Do you need medical assistance?”
I shake my head hard and try to wipe the tears beneath my sunglasses away. “We already called for help.”
His expression is tainted with disdain as he stands up, and I realize he thinks my mother is faking it. I look at the crowd around me, wishing the bailiff would at least make them go away, but he doesn’t, and I’m sure from the look on his face that he won’t.
After all the things I’ve experienced in places of so-called justice in the last eleven years, I would be shocked if he did anything at all. The paramedics come in, and Mr. Masters tugs me back, forcing me to drop Mama’s hand as he pulls me into a tight hug, muttering against my head that everything is going to be okay.
Mama is always so tough and strong. All of my worry has been so consumed by Daddy for my entire life that worrying about Mama feels strange. Wrong.
The tears have stopped, or I can’t feel the heat from them anymore. For the first time ever, I wish this court was even more of a circus. Because then at least the lights would fade, the crowds would leave, and I could slink away into the darkness.
6
DR. BILLINGS FROWNS AS HE PACES slowly around Mama’s hospital bed. Mama sits completely forward with her legs crossed, like the pillow she’s supposed to be resting against might burn her. It’s a standoff of epic proportions. If we were in the Old West, I’d expect tumbleweeds to come blowing through, and they’d be drawing pistols at any moment.
“I don’t think you’re hearing me.” The doctor speaks slowly. “Your blood pressure is very high, and your blood-test results indicate areas for concern that put you at a significantly increased risk for a heart attack. The medications we’ve prescribed will help with this, but everything we’ve seen suggests your stress level is far too high.”
“I heard you just fine.” Mama crosses her arms to match her legs. “And I don’t need to be in the hospital, or resting, or running around picking up medications. I need to be at work.”
Dr. Billings drags one hand through his hair and turns his eyes on me. “How many hours does your mom work per week?”
I open my mouth to answer, but Mama shushes me with a single stern glance.
“I work a full-time job just like everybody else, and I’ll thank you to address your questions to me instead of my daughter.”
“You collapsed. Your body can’t take the strain and pressure you’re subjecting it to. If you don’t change things, it could be much worse next time. You need to, at the very least, be on medication to manage this.”
Mama’s cheeks flush, and from her reaction he might as well have told her she was weak and utterly useless to humanity. She opens her mouth to respond but I reach out and grab the doctor’s elbow before she has the chance.
“I’ll take the prescription and pick it up.” I speak softly as I urge him toward the door. “Thank you.”
The doctor’s steps are quicker than mine and it’s clear that not only is he relieved I let him off the hook, he’s happy to escape this hospital room as fast as humanly possible. I close the door behind me and lean against it.
When I lift my eyes to Mama, I try to imitate the same reproachful look she’s given me a million times. “If you want me to take medicine the next time a doctor tells me I need it, you better at least do the same for me here.”
For a moment, it looks like she’s ready to keep arguing, but then the fight drains out of her and she eases herself back against the pillow. The blood drains from her face, and she suddenly looks extremely frail and small.
I pull a chair over next to her bed.
“I really do need to get back to work,” she says softly.
“I know, Mama.” Reaching out, I take her hand. Everything that happened in the courtroom seems to settle like invisible rubble around us. “But right now or twenty minutes from now won’t make much difference, will it?”
Her eyes settle on mine and the utter despair I see in them squeezes my chest.
“What are we going to do?” We both know what I’m referring to.
She grasps my hand tight before answering. “We’ll do what we always do.”
“Wait?” I sigh and lower my head onto her bed.
“No, darling.” Mama releases my hand and runs her fingers through my dark hair. “We always survive.”
Then she moves away. I lift my head to see her pulling her work slacks on under her hospital gown. Something about her getting up and ready for work right now when the doctor just told us she shouldn’t feels so wrong. Especially when Daddy just lost his last appeal. When I so desperately need her, and she’s leaving me like she always does, leaving me all alone.