A Mother Would Know (54)
18
Bowie wakes me with a nudge and a light bark. I blink a few times, my eyelids heavy, and roll over. The room is light. Sunny.
What time is it?
I squint against the blurriness, colors blending like an impressionist painting. I blink a few more times, home in on my alarm clock.
10:00 a.m.?
I never sleep this late.
A dull ache spreads across my forehead and pokes at my temples.
I hope I’m not getting sick again.
In my bare feet, I shuffle out of my room and down the stairs. Hudson’s bedroom door is open, his room empty. I try to remember where he is and can’t. Panic washes over me at the realization that my mind is completely blank. I rack my brain for what I did last night or what day it even is, and nothing.
Nada.
A blank piece of paper with no words.
Mouth drying out, I continue past his room. Bowie follows me as I clamber down the stairs, my feet thudding like a horse on a track. When I reach the kitchen, I check the calendar, follow the x-ed out days to the new fresh one. Wednesday. That’s what day it is. Hudson is working. I have one appointment later.
I grab a glass, fill it with water and take a sip. Down my vitamins.
It’s nothing, I tell myself. I’ve just woken up, and it took a few minutes to get my bearings. It happens.
I’ll never forget how delirious Hudson used to be when he woke up from his naps. What time is it, Mommy? Is it tomorrow?
As the panic subsides, the water helping my headache, last night comes flooding back. Nothing earth-shattering. A quiet dinner at home. Turkey sandwich and a can of soup. Hudson didn’t join me for dinner, said he’d eaten a late lunch at the job site. Before he’d headed out to meet his friends, I’d asked him if he’d called Detective Daniels and he said, “Nah, I don’t think I need to.”
“I really think you should. We have no idea what Leslie said to him. You know what a gossip she is.”
He touched my arm lightly before heading out the door. “It’s okay, Mom. You don’t need to worry about Leslie.”
I hardly agreed, but he seemed so at ease and confident that I wanted to believe him. Perhaps my chat with her had made a difference. But how would he know that?
After dinner, I binge-watched Unsolved Mysteries until going to bed. Maybe that’s why I’m so on edge. I knew better than to watch those kinds of shows late at night, especially when I was home by myself.
I put some food out for Bowie and change the water in his bowl. Then I pull a carton of eggs out of the fridge. As I crack them, I have the strange feeling I’m forgetting something. Something important.
Washing my hands in the sink, I glance out the window. Leslie’s front porch is empty again, envelopes stuffed in the mailbox, the blinds still closed. It’s so odd. If she’s not out of town, what’s going on?
Maybe she’s sick. It’s that time of year. Honestly, I’m not feeling great this morning. Also, my allergies are worse in the fall, and Leslie’s constantly surrounded by all those damn plants. Yeah, that’s probably it. She’s probably inside lying in bed and drinking tea, nursing an illness.
Illness.
Doctor.
Maybe...do I have an appointment today?
I walk to the calendar, and search for today’s date.
11:30 a.m., MRI.
I have a sense, like a dream that escapes you upon waking up, that I’ve looked at this already. How could that have slipped my mind?
Thank god I checked the calendar when I did, while there’s still plenty of time to eat breakfast and get ready.
I can’t wait to get some answers, and hopefully meds that actually work. I know Kendra means well, but I’m not sure her vitamins and probiotics help at all. If anything, I feel worse since I started taking them. Then again, I guess that is the way the disease works.
As I whisk the eggs, I spot Beth walking across her yard and into Leslie’s. I watch curiously as she goes up the front steps and knocks on Leslie’s door. A few seconds go by, and then she knocks again. As she waits, she runs a hand through her hair, paces back and forth a few times. Then she pulls a phone out of her pocket and dials before pressing it to her ear.
I continue watching as I pour the egg batter into a sizzling skillet. As I push the spatula around, Beth hangs up her phone, shoves it back into her pocket and then walks slowly back to her own house. I can’t tell if she actually got a hold of her or not.
After eating breakfast, I head upstairs to get ready. I take a shower, dry my hair and apply minimal makeup. Then I put on a pair of jeans, a long sweater and my favorite brown booties. I pick out dangly earrings and a long necklace, and then realize they’re going to make me take them off for the MRI, so I hang them back on my jewelry rack. It’s rare that I go anywhere without jewelry on, and I feel naked without it.
In the entryway, I snatch up my purse and keys. After flinging open my front door, I freeze, my blood running cold.
An ambulance is parked in Leslie’s driveway. Déjà vu strikes me as I watch the paramedics rolling a stretcher into the back.
It has to be Leslie. She’s the only person who lives there.
In a daze, I watch the paramedics close the doors to the ambulance and drive off.
Many neighbors are outside, standing on their front lawns, staring at Leslie’s house. Gaping, I stand in the middle of my doorway, as if I’m a tree planted here, unsure of what to do. Beth notices me. Her mouth moves, and then her husband Alex’s head bounces up in my direction. I shrink back momentarily, but then lift my chin.