One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(66)
Chapter 4
Frankie
I sit on the edge of the bed and hold Mama's hand. She’s trying to smile at me through the tears glistening in her eyes. Only one side of her mouth is turned up; the other won't move, but I'm able to see through the tears at the sheer happiness in her bright blue eyes.
"Frankie," she mumbles, her speech slurred. It's hard to see my mom like this, but it's even harder to see how much she's aged in the last five years since I've seen her. I give her soft hand a gentle squeeze.
"I'm here. I'll be here to help Judy and Melinda as long as they need me." I offer her a reassuring smile. "And Faith and the kids are home now, too. We're all here."
She visibly relaxes and nods, closing her eyes and laying her head back against her pillow. I rub her hand softly as it sits in mine, but I swallow hard as I feel how frail her fingers have become.
There's a soft knock on the door and Melinda, the day nurse, peeks inside. "I've got breakfast if she's ready." Mom opens her eyes at the sound of Melinda's voice.
"Yes, please come in." I raise the back of Mom's bed slowly so that she sits more upright, and Melinda sets a tray of food on the side table.
"Morning, Martha," Melinda greets Mom with a friendly smile. I'm so thankful to see the relationship between my mom and Melinda is so comfortable. "We've got oatmeal and blueberries for breakfast…and of course, your coffee." She laughs softly. Turning to me, she tells me how Mom demands coffee before any other food or beverage. That sounds exactly like my mom, and it brings me comfort that the stroke hasn’t changed who she is.
For the next twenty minutes, Melinda feeds her and talks me through what to do and how to do it. The key is small bites and smashing the blueberries gently before feeding her. Mom struggles but manages to eat without choking, which is the goal.
"When Faith gets here, I'll show you how to help her clean up."
"I can do it," Mom mumbles and rolls her eyes. While difficult to understand, she still does pretty well.
"Martha, we know you can." Melinda smiles at her, but shoots me an unnerving look. "But your left side is still very weak and your balance is off. One of us has to be in the bathroom with you to help you wash up and also wash your hair."
Mom rolls her eyes again, and I can't help but giggle under my breath. She's still feisty and fighting for her independence.
"Where is everyone?" I hear Faith holler before the front porch door slams. Some things never change.
"I'll go get her," Melinda says kindly, patting me on the shoulder. She takes the empty food tray with her, disappearing down the hallway.
"There you are," Faith huffs as she steps inside Mom's room, dropping her purse to the floor. "Oh, Mama!" Faith says, covering her mouth with both hands. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here." Mom shakes her head slowly and Faith leans over her, pulling her into a firm hug. "I'm so sorry, Mama," she whispers.
"Franny," Faith says quietly, letting go of Mom and walking over to me. "God, I've missed you." She hugs me tightly and rubs my back. Tears prick the back of my eyes as we embrace. Aside from Cole, Faith was my best friend growing up and still is even though she is older than me. We survived our fair share of sisterly fights and came out stronger than ever.
"Well, now that I have all three of you in one place, I hope we can go over care plans," Melinda says, cutting off my reunion with Faith as she comes back to the room carrying a large binder.
I pat my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt and Faith smiles at me.
"Judy and I have been doing this for years. This binder here," Melinda taps the top of the thick white binder with her pointer finger, "is your new bible. Study it. Learn it." She looks over the top of her glasses that are perched on the end of her nose. "I guarantee you, ninety-nine percent of what you'll need to know is in this binder."
For the next hour, Melinda schools us in Mom's care. She even has daily, weekly, and monthly schedules in the binder with the days and times of the various physical and occupational therapists that will be coming to help Mom. Faith looks at me from where she sits at the end of Mom's bed. Her wide eyes have a panicked look, and I can tell she's completely overwhelmed.
"Now let's get her cleaned up!" Melinda slams the binder shut, and Faith gets Mom's walker from the corner. We all follow her slowly but closely as Mom struggles to walk. Her left leg has extremely limited movement, so she kind of hops on her right leg and balances herself with her walker, which scares the hell out of me.
With four of us squeezed into a bathroom made to fit one, we help Mom get cleaned up, much to her frustration. Once she’s settled back into bed to rest for the afternoon, Melinda shoos Faith and I out of the house. I assume she's had enough of me asking a million questions and Faith gasping and getting emotional every two minutes.
"I've got that neighbor girl, Jenny, watching the kids, do you want to go to the diner and get some coffee?" Faith asks, grabbing her purse. "I'm sure everyone there wants an update on Mom, anyway. We can kill two birds with one stone." She shrugs.
"Do they still make that apple pie?" I ask as my mouth begins to water, remembering the warm apples and perfectly sugared crust I used to eat as a young girl. Mom used to bring a slice home every now and then when her tips were good, and Faith and I would devour it.