Three Good Things (5 page)

“The park?” says Jake. “Sure. If you say so.”

He waits while I brush my hair and change my shirt before we head out. I feel groggy
after oversleeping. And a lump sits right in the middle of my chest. It could be
hunger. Resentment at all the garbage my mother puts me through.
Or just the same
old fear that has been lodged there for years.

But it helps to have Jake walking next to me, taking a detour behind the mini mall,
ducking into the Laundromat. He checks with me when he sees people who could be her
but aren’t. Others who could only be my mother in another lifetime in which she ate
well, had a decent place to live and stuck to her meds.

When we get to the park, Jake takes a detour to help a kid struggling with a bike
that’s much too big for him. He’s always taking care of someone, it seems.

“There she is,” I tell him with relief. “That’s her.”

“Where?”

Mom is crouched on the top of the jungle gym, surrounded by three kids about my age.
I can’t hear what they are saying. But I don’t like the way they are
all standing
around, staring up at her. “Leave her alone!” I sprint toward them, Jake at my side.

The one girl in the group turns toward me. “You can just butt out.” She pulls back
and frowns at me. “Hey! I know you.”

She’s the one from the corner store. And her boyfriend is with her. His pants are
hitched up a bit higher today.

When all three of them turn toward us, my mother lobs a shoe at them. It hits Dylan
in the back. “Hey!” He grabs a bar as if he’s about to leap at her. Jake hauls him
away by his jacket. “Forget it!”

The other boy takes a step toward Jake. Points. “I know you.”

“Mattie, isn’t it?” Jake nods at him. “From Boy Scouts, right? Or was it Cubs?”

The kid’s face goes bright red.

“Mattie? Cubs?” Dylan smirks.

“It’s Matt, actually,” he tells Jake. His eyes blaze. “That was a long time ago.
When you were a teeny, tiny shrimp,” he says. “Oh. And look at you. Still a shrimp.”

Jake simply stares at Matt, the glimmer of a smile on his face.

Mara snickers.

“I never knew you were a Boy Scout!” jeers Dylan.

“You never asked,” Matt mutters.

Mara snorts again.

All this nonsense about Mattie the Boy Scout seems to fascinate my mother, who is
watching them all. They step away as I sidle up to the jungle gym. “You okay, Mom?
You coming down?”

She shakes her head.

“Come on.”

“I like the view,” says Mom. But she’s still watching the three kids.

They glance at Jake, then skulk off.

“I’ve got your lottery ticket here.” That will get her down.

“Show me.”

“It’s here somewhere.” It’s not in the first pocket. Nor the next.

Dylan, Matt and Mara are now headed back across the park, the two boys roughhousing
as they go.

“Seems that Mattie didn’t want to relive our Boy Scout days,” Jake says.

“Who are you?” Mom asks him.

“This is Jake,” I tell her. “A friend of mine.”

“I don’t want you dating boys I haven’t met.”

“We’re not dating!” I say.

“Nice to meet you,” Jake says to Mom, with no sign in his voice that there’s anything
strange about greeting a grown woman sitting on top of a jungle gym.

“So where’s that ticket?” asks Mom from her perch.

“It’s here somewhere.” I find it tangled up with a tissue in a pocket I just checked.
I hold it out to her.

“Give it to me!” Mom reaches for it.

“Watch out!” cries Jake.

It happens in a flash. And takes forever.

One minute Mom’s up there, yelling at me. The next, she’s leaning, pitching, banging
against the bars as she topples, tumbles and lands in a heap.

I leap forward. Kneel at her side. “Mom. Mom.” She’s very still, her eyes closed.
“Call an ambulance,” I yell. “Someone, please.” Her arm should not look like that.

“Don’t move her.” Jake pulls out his phone.

I pet Mom’s face. Stroke her hair. Like she’s one of Jake’s menagerie. I cover her
with my jacket.

It’s ages before I hear the sirens. Damp creeps through the knees of my
pants. Someone
drops a coat across my shoulders.

A hand falls on my shoulder. “They’re coming, Leni,” says Jake.

The siren is louder now. Mom still hasn’t moved.

The ambulance drives up, and the sirens stop. Two pairs of boots appear on either
side of a set of wheels. “Come away, Leni.” Jake pulls me up.

The men kneel on either side of Mom. Lean over her with stethoscopes, an arm cuff,
an oxygen mask. They put splints on both sides of her head. Two on her arm.

“Is she okay?”

“We’ve got her,” says the paramedic. “We’ll just be a couple of minutes here. Then
we’ll take her in.”

Mom’s eyelids flicker. But her eyes don’t open. Her skin is pale, almost blue. I
grab her purse. Gather her fallen shoe. Take the other off her foot. I wish
I’d left
the stupid ticket where I found it. It’s probably not worth a dime.

I follow a paramedic as he climbs into the ambulance behind my mother. “Where are
we going?” He is too busy to answer.

Just as the doors are about to close, I lean down to Jake. “Here. Take this.” The
lottery ticket is damp from being clenched in my hand the whole time. “I never want
to see it again.”

My mother lies as still and cold as stone.

I think of Jake’s animals. The warm, funky smell of litter, spilled water, warm fur.

The binder thick with everything he knows about them. Everything he does for them.

He can take care of thirty-two animals. I can’t even look after one person. Not
anymore.

I rehearse everything I plan to say to Grand as the paramedics wheel Mom through
Emergency. They direct me to a seat against a wall. They wheel her into a cubicle
and pull the rattling curtains closed. A nurse hurries in, then a doctor. I am still
rehearsing my speech to Grand when the paramedics leave, giving me a quick pat on
the shoulder as they pass.

More people hurry back and forth. A phone rings. A baby cries. Someone moans. Equipment
ticks and hisses and whines.

As I finally pull out my phone, a passing nurse says, “Please make your call in the
waiting room.”

I go through the swinging doors and stand in front of the candy machine. After I
punch in Grand’s number, I wait through eight rings. I’m about to hang up when he
answers.

“Yes.”

“It’s me.”

“I thought you were going to get your mom to call me.”

“She’s in hospital.”

“In hospital? What happened? Is she going to be all right?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

He pulls in a breath. He’s wheezing. Of course he’s wheezing. Who wouldn’t be, smoking
more than a pack a day?

“I’m sorry. But it is a stupid question. She fell off a jungle gym, if you must know.
A jungle gym! She’s broken her elbow or something. And has a concussion. Of course
she’s not going to be all right. At least, not for a while. Maybe never. How do I
know? I don’t know anything. But I know
I’m
not going to be all right. Maybe you
don’t know that mental illness can be genetic—”

When I see all the faces looking my way, I turn my back on them and hold the phone
close. “Right now, I know that I
will
go crazy if someone else doesn’t take care
of her.” I slide down the wall till my butt hits the cold, shiny floor. “I can’t
do it anymore, Grand.” I keep my voice as steady and calm as I can. “Think of Mom.
As your kid, I mean. Not as a grown-up. Think of her as someone who needs more than
clothes and food and shelter. Who needs someone to take over. Take charge. Take notice—”

“Leni…”

“Take an interest. Take steps. Take a moment, just one teeny-tiny moment, to look
at her and see what’s going on with her. And with me.”

“Leni!”

“What?” I guess I’m yelling. A baby lets out a shriek. I smile an apology at its
mother. “What?” I ask Grand more quietly.

“Hang on a minute. I need my hearing aid…” His voice fades.

Has he heard a single thing I’ve said? I drop my head to my knees. I could laugh.
I could cry.

But I don’t have the energy to do either.

“Pet? Are you still there?”

“Grand. Can you do something for me? Please.”

“What is it?”

“Come and get me.” I struggle to keep my voice from shaking. “Me and Mom.
Please
come and get us.” I sound like a six-year-old. “We need you.”

I don’t know what it was I expected. Arguments? A whole bunch of reasons and excuses?
But there’s only silence at the other of the phone. “Grand? Did you hear me?”

“I heard you perfectly well.”

When I get back to Emergency, I find that they have moved Mom to a treatment room.
I can hear her yelling through the door.

Grand said he’d come. As soon as he can. He may not have agreed to take us home.
But he is coming.

I need to see it to believe it.

A woman wearing an id badge edges past gurneys and iv poles. “Helen Bishop?” She
looks at her clipboard, then back at me. “I’m Sarah Smales. A social worker here.”

“Yes? And it’s Leni.”

“All right. Leni. I’ve been asked to talk to you about your mother. It seems she’s
a bit—” She studies her notes. Then looks up again as Mom yells.

“Get me out of here. Someone get me out of here. Where’s Leni? Leni!”

I think I liked her better unconscious.

“I’ll just take a quick look to see how things are going.” The social worker knocks
once, then goes into the room.

I sink back into the chair and rest my head against the wall. I sit up again when
I hear footsteps. “Jake!”

“I thought you might like company.” He digs the ferret out of his coat. Dumps him
in my arms.

“You can’t bring him in here!”

“I didn’t see any sign saying
No ferrets allowed
.”

Bandit is twining himself around my neck, looking for a way into my sweater.
“Put
him away,” I tell Jake. “Before someone sees.”

Jake takes Bandit from my neck and waits for him to settle into his jacket before
he sits down. He tips his chair back against the wall. “That your mom?” He nods toward
the door. “She going to be okay?”

“She broke her elbow. And has a concussion. But no. She’s not going to be okay, if
you mean is she going to suddenly become a model parent dedicated to the well-being
of her child.”

“Stupid question, I guess.”

“I called Grand. He’s on his way.” I look around and blink—anything to keep the tears
back. “I don’t know what he’ll do when he gets here. She’ll still be crazy. I’ll
still be stuck with her. I don’t know that it will change anything.”

Jake leaps up and digs into the pocket of his jeans. “But this might. I checked out
the ticket. Four numbers. She got four winning numbers.”

I grab it. “You’re kidding! You’re sure?”

“Would I kid you?”

I turn the ticket over. Look at the numbers again. They still don’t mean anything
to me. “It really is a winner?”

“Yes. Four numbers. But it’s maybe not the millions your mother told you…”

“That doesn’t matter.”

He hasn’t heard me. “It’s only $763 and change.” He purses his lips and scrunches
up his nose. “Sorry it isn’t better news.” His voice brightens. “But seven hundred
bucks? There’s a lot you can do with that. You must think so too.”

Sure, there’s a lot we could do with seven hundred bucks. Seventy, even. But that’s
not why I’m grinning. What do they say? It’s not about the money?

“It’s not about the money,” I tell Jake.

“It’s not?”

I wave the ticket in his face. “You don’t get it. But why should you?” I laugh at
the baffled look on his face. “Don’t you see? She wasn’t totally delusional. That’s
the point. Maybe she’s not really as crazy as I think she is.”

The words are hardly out of my mouth when the social worker comes back. “It’s a serious
break,” she tells me. “Your mom needs surgery. She will be here overnight at least,
so we’ve got to get you sorted out.” She steers me away with a hand on my arm. “Let’s
go to my office.”

“Jake…”

He is leaning against the wall, holding his chest.

The social worker stops. She looks at him, then back at me. “I’m sorry. Is he with
you?”

Jake moves toward us. “Yes. I am with her.”

I grin at him. He’s with me.

“Can he come too?” I ask.

“I think we better deal with this in private, don’t you?” says the social worker.

“But…” As I move closer to Jake, my elbow collides with his chest.

Bandit sticks his head out of Jake’s jacket.

The social worker shrieks. She drops her clipboard.

Jake and I look at each other and burst out laughing.

Jake and Bandit are banished outside. I can’t tell if the social worker is madder
about the ferret or at Jake and me laughing.

But the look on her face was priceless. And it was the best laugh I’ve had in weeks.

In her cramped office, she talks over me every time I try to speak. “It seems that
your mother needs more help than you can give her.”

“I know that. I called—”

“We need to get hold of her medical records so we can devise a proper treatment
plan. And we need to know her
next of kin. When was the last time she saw a doctor?”

“She’ll be okay. I can make sure she—”

“Your mother is having a psychotic episode, as far as I can tell. We’ll know more
when she sees the psychiatrist tomorrow. And we need to keep an eye on that concussion.
So we’re going to admit her to the ward.”

“She doesn’t like psychiatrists. The last one—”

“How about you let the professionals manage—”

“Let me finish! I know her. You don’t. She doesn’t need another fancy psychiatrist
asking her more stupid questions that she can’t answer. And then giving her prescriptions
for more pills that will make her sleep, or hallucinate, or get into arguments. Don’t
you see?”

“What I see is a mother who needs more help than you alone can—” This
time she’s
the one who is interrupted by a knock on the door. She frowns with impatience. “What
is
it?”

A nurse sticks her head into the room. “There’s a gentleman here who says he’s—”

“I can speak for myself.” One pant leg droops over the top of his boot. His shirt
is untucked. His hair is sticking up, and there are dark patches of stubble on his
cheeks.

“Grand!” I leap up and hug him hard. Sure, I am pleased to see him. But I also want
to protect him from the social worker’s prying eyes. “You came.”

“And about time, don’t you think?” He stares at me for a moment, then turns to the
social worker. “Now that I’m here, you can tell me what’s going on.”

She looks at her notes. “Mr. Kennett, I presume? Do sit down. Leni. How about you
wait outside while your grandfather and I go over a few things?”

Grand grabs my hand. “This girl has brought things this far. She needs to know where
we’re going from here. Sit down, pet.”

While words flow back and forth across the desk, I hold on to the arms of the chair
in case I float away with relief.