The Reckless Oath We Made(35)

“This is your daughter?” he said.

“One of my daughters,” Mrs. Trego said. “The one who made me come to the hospital even though I told her it was just heartburn.”

“The hell you did,” Zee said. “You were clutching your chest and saying I can’t breathe.”

“So melodramatic. And I told you. I told you it wasn’t LaReigne. A mother knows.”

“I know. You were right.”

I could see they were both exhausted, but Mrs. Trego had a fierceness in her eyes. Something like anger and triumph. I thought they might hug each other, but Zee went to get her purse from Gentry. Mrs. Trego put her hands on the chair arms and made a motion like she intended to stand up, but I don’t think she could without assistance. Of course, Gentry hadn’t told me how big she was, because it didn’t occur to him. Like it hadn’t occurred to him to tell Elana that Zee had pretty hair. Elana had asked and he’d answered, Is her hair pretty? Yea, ’tis pretty. If I had asked about Zee’s mother, he would have answered, but he wouldn’t think to offer the information on his own.

“I can walk from here,” Mrs. Trego said.

“No, ma’am, you cannot,” the nurse said. “Hospital policy requires you to get a ride out the front doors.”

“I’ve got to make a call,” Zee said, looking at her phone. “She’s eligible for paratransit, but I didn’t know she’d be ready to go so soon, or I would have called them already.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Mrs. Trego said. “I’m not a charity case!”

“It’s not charity, Mom. It’s fucking social services, okay?”

“Excuse me,” someone said behind me. I turned around to find a white man frowning at me. “Could she please watch her language?”

“Everyone deals with stress in their own way,” I said. “And I know the Lord didn’t send you here today to lecture her about her language.”

“It’s just that we have children here.”

“Maybe this is not the best place for children then.” Before he could answer, I turned back to Zee. “If it helps at all, I’m here in our van. It has a lift and a ramp for Elana’s chair so it’s more than equipped. It’s no trouble.”

“And who are you?” Mrs. Trego said.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” Zee stuffed her phone back in her purse and made a little gesture between me and her mother. “This is Charlene Frank. This is Gentry’s mother. This is my mother, Dorothy Trego.”

“Gentry’s mother?” For a moment I thought maybe Mrs. Trego had met Miranda, too, but no, her confusion was the usual sort. But you’re black and he’s white! Or when I met Trang’s friends: But you’re black and he’s Asian!

“I’ll get the van and meet you out front.” I gave the nurse’s arm a pat, and he nodded.

“Thank you,” Zee said. I was proud of her for not prefacing it with an apology.





CHAPTER 17





Zee



All I wanted was five goddamn minutes to feel something about LaReigne not being dead in Nebraska, but I couldn’t get them. Instead, I got a free lecture from the ER doctor about how it wasn’t too late for me to lose weight, and some dick in the waiting room asking me to watch my language. Then Mom had to sign a bunch of discharge paperwork for things I was going to spend the rest of my life paying for. Medicaid would cover some of it, but not all of it, and Mom didn’t have a dime. Just one more boulder on top of my mountain of debt.

When we got Mom home, the police van was still parked in the drive, and Mansur and Smith were on the front porch talking to the cop in the paper jumpsuit. Pure rage was pretty much the only thing that got Mom out of the van under her own power. While she went shuffling across the lawn, I turned to Charlene, feeling that old desperate itch. The need to get rid of people once they’ve witnessed my mother and her house.

“Thank you so much for all your help,” I said. I was ashamed of myself for being ashamed.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, we’re fine. I don’t want to keep you any longer. I doubt this was how you planned to spend your afternoon. But thank you.”

Thank-yous were a superpower. They moved people along with the sheer force of gratitude. While I was getting Charlene back into her van, I could hear Mom shouting at the cops.

“Are you done tearing up my house and breaking my things and piling them out on the lawn for the whole world to look at?” She bent over to dig through one of the boxes, somewhere between crying and cursing. With all my heart, I wanted to beg Charlene to take me with her. Just get in her van like a stray dog, and leave my mother behind. I made myself say one last thank you, and then I walked over to where Mom was. Gentry stood a few feet away from her with his arms crossed, standing guard over the whole mess.

“My lady,” he said, when I got there.

Mansur and Smith came down the front steps as Charlene pulled away. For a couple minutes, they watched Mom and talked to each other. Then they put on their sunglasses and walked toward us.

“Everything okay, Mrs. Trego?” Mansur said.

“Does it look like everything is okay?” Mom said.

“I meant healthwise. Are you okay?”