Sweet Tea: A Novel (6 page)

T
he emergency room at Henry Medical Center smelled like cigarette smoke and urine washed over with antiseptic. I’d never been there before, and I didn’t expect to see so many people that resembled those with the symptoms the doctor on the talk show spoke about. Although most needed physical care, many seemed to need mental health care, and this wasn’t a mental hospital.

Some of the people roamed about like zombies in B-movies. Their vacant stares said, “I’m still here, please come find me.” Many of the patients were pacing, as if they were taking part in some kind of weird ritual. Some shouted words at random. One woman seemed to be speaking in a language only she could understand. I was afraid to make eye contact with anyone, for fear someone would approach me. But I knew I had to look around the room.

An old woman with only one-half of her head braided asked me for a cigarette. One already hung from her twisted lips. It felt like we wandered into a secret society meeting and we had better find Mama and get out while we could.

I overheard one of the nurses say to another, “It must be a full moon tonight.”

“My goodness,” the other nurse responded. “I haven’t seen it like this in quite some time. That strong lunar force is drawing them out like vampires to a blood bank.”

CeCe and I approached the desk. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” CeCe said to the desk clerk. “The police told us a woman that fits our mother’s description has been brought here.”

“What’s her name?”

“Cassandra Travis,” I answered, surprised at how faint my voice sounded.

She thumbed through her roster. “The police brought in a Jane Doe. We’ve been asking her name, but she won’t tell us.” The clerk motioned toward a nurse. “They’re here to see Jane Doe in room twelve.”

The nurse nodded and said, “Follow me.”

I thought of Luke and was glad we’d left him at home.

CeCe and I followed the nurse down a long corridor. Blue curtains covered doorways on each side. We approached the last room on the left, and the nurse pulled a chart from a hook on the wall. She opened the curtain. “This is Jane Doe.”

“That’s not Mama,” I said, disappointed and glad at the same time. “This woman is black.”

The nurse tilted her head and glanced at me sympathetically. “She’s not black, Honey, she’s dirty. She won’t let us bathe her.”

The woman lay flat on her stomach as if she were dead. The nurse patted her on the back. “Wake up, Ma’am.”

CeCe and I moved in closer.

“It couldn’t be,” I whispered.

“Look.” CeCe pointed at the triangular-shaped scar on the leg peeking out from beneath the blanket.

Mama had gotten one just like that from the engine of Daddy’s motorcycle years ago. She told us how excited she was to go riding for the first time, but she’d been wearing shorts.

“The muffler got me good,” she’d said. “I should’ve known better.”

Now, it was the only way I could recognize her.

The nurse rolled her over. “Sit up, Ma’am. You have visitors.”

She lifted her head so we could see her face. It
was
Mama. Her once-fair skin was almost as dark as her hair, filthy as a dirty rag on a garage floor. Her vacant eyes moved back and forth between CeCe and me.

“I don’t know these people. Make them leave,” she said, and looked away from us.

Tears streamed down my face. “Why’s she saying she doesn’t know us?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t care. I reached out and clasped her hand. “Mama, it’s us, Olivia and CeCe. We’ve come to take you home.”

She pulled her hand away and didn’t answer, just kept glaring at us like we were bugs on her shoe.

The nurse placed her arm on my shoulder. “Is this your first experience with your mama . . . like this?”

My bottom lip quivered. Words refused to escape my lips. I began picking off my mascara and two eyelashes fell into my hand. I peeled them apart and let them fall to the ground.

“Yes,” CeCe answered. “She’s been doing things. Things she wouldn’t normally do. It’s like she’s on drugs . . . and I know my mama would never take drugs. Maybe someone else drugged her.”

CeCe looked at the nurse for confirmation.

“I’m telling you, CeCe, her mind is sick,” I blurted. “I saw it on TV.”

The nurse cleared her throat and flipped through the medical chart. She looked down slightly, then glanced up and nodded. “Your mama is definitely sick. In her mind, that is. She’s on drugs, now. Drugs the doctor gave her to calm her down. No drugs were in her system when the doctor tested her blood. He believes she’s had a breakdown of sorts. She needs professional care.”

The woman’s voice softened, but her eyes remained firm. “Your mama is refusing the care she needs, and we can’t keep her here. We need you need to sign this form.” She held the page out to CeCe. “If either of you are at least eighteen, you can sign for her.”

CeCe’s eyes bore into me like she wanted me to tell her what to do. More than ever, I wanted Mama to get help; but the thought of CeCe signing those papers scared me to death. I’d seen movies where people signed papers like these and never saw their loved ones again.

CeCe must have been having the same thoughts. “We’ve got to read them first,” she said.

“That’s fine. You can bring them back when you’ve made a decision. I’ll be at the reception station.”

The nurse walked out of the room, leaving us alone with Mama. But still, I couldn’t look at her. Instead, I kept my eyes on CeCe’s face. She closed her eyes for a minute, as if she might have been praying. It made me think of Daddy. I missed him something fierce. Daddy prayed before, during, and after everything. I closed my eyes and prayed too.

“Come on,” CeCe said, and left the room. I followed her to the reception station, where the nurse stood talking to the clerk. CeCe walked up to her. “If I sign these papers, does it mean you can keep her here for good?”
              “Heavens no,” she answered. “We don’t have the . . . special facilities for someone in your mama’s condition. The doctor will determine where she should receive treatment. Does she have medical insurance?”

“Yes,” CeCe said.

She formed a check mark with her pen. “Do you have her medical card with you?”

CeCe looked toward me. I shook my head no.

“We need her insurance information or she’ll be billed,” the nurse said. “In the meantime, I need those papers signed as soon as possible.”

“Why do I have to sign them?” CeCe asked the nurse suspiciously.

“Your mama refused to sign anything.” She gave us a sympathetic nod. “It just states that you are responsible for payment if the insurance doesn’t pay.”

CeCe gasped. “I can’t pay any hospital bills.”

“If she has insurance, they will pay, don’t worry.” The nurse smiled reassuringly.

Though I was not reassured, and I know CeCe wasn’t either.

“In the meantime, we will continue to ask your mama to sign the papers to admit herself.” The nurse covered Mama’s feet with the blanket. “If she doesn’t, we’ll have to bring her medical status before the judge, and he’ll make the final decision.”

“The judge! Why does the judge decide what becomes of my mama? She hasn’t done anything wrong,” I said.

“It’s complicated,” the nurse replied. “Do you have an older family member?”

CeCe and I both turned away, ashamed no one in our family was available to help us.

“No, ma’am, it’s just us,” I said, turning back around.

The nurse handed CeCe a pen. “Well, I suggest you read these papers and sign them so your mama can get the proper help.”

There was a small table and chairs nearby. CeCe sat down and read the papers. She handed them to me. I glanced over them, but I didn’t have the mindset to comprehend all the words floating on the pages. “Just do what you think is best,” I said.

“But what Mama’s insurance doesn’t pay, I’ll be responsible for payment!” CeCe’s eyes widened. “I can’t pay Mama’s medical bills,” CeCe said in a loud whisper.

“Don’t worry. Her insurance will pay,” I reassured her. “They paid for your tonsillectomy. They paid for Luke’s broken ankle. And they paid for my root canal. They’ll pay.”

CeCe held the pen near the signature line, about to sign, but stopped and took the papers back to the nurse. “I can’t sign these. I need time to think.”

The nurse nodded and tilted her head in an understanding motion. “Bring them home. When you’ve made a decision, come back with the medical card and the forms and drop them off with the desk clerk at the entrance.”

“What’s gonna happen now?” CeCe asked.

“The doctor will evaluate your mama and someone will call you,” she said. “There’s nothing more we can do tonight.” She cocked her head to the side and the kindness in her eyes made me wish she was
my
family member and I almost burst out in sobs.

The world spun around me, and I couldn’t find a safe place to jump off. I glanced at CeCe, saw the dazed look on her face, and figured she felt the same. We staggered back to the car and made our way home.

CeCe went inside while I checked the mailbox. Bubbles Clayton and Miss Ruth waved hello from their front porch.
Don’t they ever go anywhere?

“Where’s your mama these days?” Miss Ruth called out. “Haven’t seen her around lately. She on vacation?”

If I could’ve shot laser beams from my eyes and knocked them both on their butts, I would’ve sent them flying ‘cross Landon. Instead, I answered like all was fine. “No, Ma’am, she’s not on vacation. I guess y’all are like two ships passin’ in the night. Bye now.”
You nosy old biddy.

We hadn’t eaten since lunch, and it was past 9:00. CeCe boiled up hot dogs, and we ate them smothered in ketchup on sliced bread. Afterward, I cleaned the table and CeCe laid the medical papers out. She kept tapping her nails on the table while she stared down at them. It made the moment more dramatic with each tap sounding like time was of the essence and we’d better make a decision quick.

“I can’t do it,” she blurted out. “I’m afraid.” She stopped tapping and banged her fist on the kitchen table.   

I didn’t disagree. Mama needed help. I knew if it were me, I would have felt just as scared, but how could I not sign the papers if that’s what needed to be done to help Mama? CeCe had done all she could. I felt bad she had to make so many decisions.

“It’s okay,” I said and sat down on the living room floor and alphabetized my cassette collection, which I had mixed together with the ones daddy had left behind. I listened to all of them except for the Beatles. I couldn’t bear to play those tapes. I grabbed a copy of
Black and Blue
by The Rolling Stones and shoved it into my purse. I felt like listening to something that reflected my mood.

* * *

The next morning, the three of us trekked back to the hospital and parked the car. Luke had fallen asleep in the back seat.

“Should we leave him?” CeCe whispered to me.

I glanced back at Luke. “What’s the sense in waking him?” 

“We can’t just leave him sleeping like this. What if he wakes up, he’ll be scared.” CeCe reached over the seat and rubbed Luke’s back. “Luke. We’re going inside the hospital. Do you want to come, or stay here ’til we come back?”

He grunted. “Sleep.”

“Fine,” CeCe said. “I’m too tired to force him. Let him be.”

“He’ll be all right,” I said. 

We locked the car doors and left Luke behind. I hadn’t checked myself in the mirror all day, and I don’t think CeCe had either. Strands of dark hair had fallen loose from the rubber band that tied her hair back. Now it fell past her shoulders, wavy and tangled. Pale-faced like Mama, with no make-up and her clothes wrinkled, she still could turn any guy’s head.

I wanted so badly to go to school, see my friends, and wrap my arms around Matt’s neck and hide my face in his soft dark hair. But every time I felt sorry for myself, I felt immediate guilt about Mama afterwards.   

Once we got out of the car, we went inside and approached the front desk. This time, a different clerk sat behind it, forcing CeCe to share our story all over again. She did so calmly, but the tired and defeated expression on her face spoke volumes.

“Hold on,” the clerk said. “I’ll check her status.”

We sat down, both crossing our right leg over our left knee. When the clerk returned, her sympathetic look told us we didn’t want to hear what she had to say.

“I’m sorry, but your mama’s been transferred.” The desk clerk fumbled nervously with the papers in her hand.

CeCe’s jaw dropped. “Transferred? But we were just here last night.”

“A room became available, and the doctor saw fit your mama should have it.”

CeCe jumped up from the chair. “I thought someone was going to call us! And the night nurse told us she needed my mama’s medical card—”

“We still need her card, but the doctor already petitioned the court, and the judge committed her.”

“Where is she?” CeCe asked.

“Central State Hospital in Milledgeville.” The nurse faced the floor afraid to meet our eyes.