Twelve Steps to Normal(88)

Peach and Saylor go in first and when they come back forty minutes later, Peach’s eyes are red. Saylor looks like he’s having a hard time holding it together.

“Just be prepared,” Peach tells us softly. She has her arm around Saylor. “I’m going to drive him home to get a change of clothes. He wants to stay here tonight.”

My dad nods. “We’ll see you soon.”

I follow my dad down the long hallway until we reach her room in the ICU. My heart clenches as we step inside. This isn’t Nonnie. She’s dressed in a drab gray gown. No glasses. No chunky turquoise jewelry. Her hair is flat, so unlike her typical robust curls. Worse, the left side of her face isn’t even. Her mouth is pulled down in a terribly unnatural way, almost like a Picasso painting.

My throat tightens into a knot. I swallow, but it refuses to dissolve.

My dad speaks first. “Nonnie,” he says gently. “You gave us all quite a scare.”

Nonnie blinks, like she’s struggling to put the pieces of my father’s words together. She looks tired. Exhausted. Finally, she simply nods.

“Saylor and Peach will be back,” he continues, walking over to her and taking her hand. “Saylor’s bringing your Queen CD and a few changes of clothes for you. But you have to rest up so we can bring you back home, okay?”

Nonnie blinks. Several minutes pass before she says, “Freddie.”

My tears are falling freely now. “We’ll blast Freddie so hard we’ll annoy everyone in here.”

Nonnie’s eyes fall on me, as if she’s just now recognizing that I’m here.

“Ma,” she says.

I look to my dad, but he only squeezes my hand.

She continues to stare at me, as if wanting reassurance that I’m her. “Mama?”

My emotional barrier collapses. The doctor warned us she would be confused, but I didn’t expect it to hurt this much.

Nonnie’s crying now. It’s hard to understand what she’s saying. She struggles to enunciate. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I break into a thousand shattered pieces. Nonnie never cries. Not strong, beautiful, confident Nonnie. An uncontrolled sob bursts from my lips. She’s not there. This isn’t her.

My dad puts an arm around me. I can tell I’m upsetting her. More tears fall down her face.

“I forgive you,” I say, trying to make my words even. I don’t know why she thinks I’m her mother, but I hope giving her closure will help. “Don’t worry, I forgive you.”

Her mouth tries to smile. She reaches for me, but it’s a struggle for her. I step closer and clasp her hand. It’s so cold.

My dad and I leave when Saylor and Peach come back. Saylor’s brought Nonnie’s favorite neon cheetah scarf and her worn kitten slippers, but I can’t tell if Nonnie recognizes them. I hope Freddie Mercury will be a comfort for her tonight.

I don’t feel like driving back home alone, so my dad tells me we can swing by and get my car in the morning.

My dad takes a deep breath. “Nonnie’s parents died several years ago. She was still drinking at the time. One of her biggest regrets was not asking them for forgiveness.”

I think of what she told me a while back. You always have to forgive your own mistakes. Otherwise they’ll eat you alive. I didn’t think of it then, but I know now. She was speaking from experience. Nonnie never forgave herself for not making peace with her parents. It breaks my heart knowing it broke her.

“She talked about them a lot in Sober Living,” my dad continues. “Her counselors told her over and over that her parents would be proud of who she’s become.”

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “There’s no one else like her.”

My dad gives me a sad smile. “No one.”

We’re quiet the rest of the way home. I wish I’d taken the time to get to know her better. When she gets out of the hospital, I promise myself I will. I’ve been so self-centered with my own problems, but she was always there to comfort me. Even after I said all those horrible things, she still forgave me. I didn’t think it meant much before, but I was wrong.

It means everything.





FORTY


TWO DAYS LATER, NONNIE PASSES away in her sleep. The doctor warned there was a chance this could occur, but I thought Nonnie was stronger than the odds.

Saylor and Peach were with her. Peach explained she’d been wearing her favorite headscarf, listening to her favorite music with some of her favorite people—that she really believed she was finally content. I believed that, too, but it isn’t enough to repair the slow ache of her loss.

I don’t go to school on Friday. Saylor holes himself up in the guest room with Wallis, and nobody disturbs him. I sleep on and off, hoping to wake up into a different world where I’ll see Nonnie and her sky-high hair rollers and with her red Freddie Mercury cape wrapped around her. I have to believe she’s somewhere good now. I hope she’s met the real Freddie Mercury. I hope he’s everything she imagined.

My dad and Peach make funeral arrangements over the weekend. I can’t seem to be in the same room with them without crying. Saylor quits his job and continues to isolate himself, not wanting to contribute to the funeral. He’s still in denial. We all are, I think.

Wallis keeps Saylor company, but he knows something’s wrong. I find him whining in front of the guest bedroom door, Nonnie’s room. When I open the door, I wish I hadn’t. I wasn’t ready for her familiar scent of rose and patchouli. It’s another aching reminder that she was here, and now she’s not.