Chasing the Milky Way (17 page)

The nurses and doctors came in, pushing me up and out of there, and I stayed in the waiting room the rest of the time, holding on to Izzy. Mama went out and then in, over and over. The last time she came out, she held Gram's sweater. I took the soft fabric between my fingers and looked at her for answers. But her eyes were blind to me. We were further apart than we'd ever been before.

T
HE FEELING OF THE SWEATER BETWEEN
my fingers dissolves into a rough sheet and I blink my eyes open.

Beeeeeebabeep.

Beeeeeebabeep.

The monitor and the distinct sounds of the Cartoon Network fill my ears. I'm in a hospital bed now, an IV in the top of my right hand. I look down to see Izzy lying in the crook of one of my arms, watching the screen on the opposite wall. Cam and Ms. Linda are sitting in chairs underneath the TV monitor. Cam is looking toward the ocean. I follow his gaze out the window. It's getting to be sunset again. I squeeze Izzy's hand and she looks up at me.

“Hey,” I whisper. “How long was I out?”

“Just a little while,” Izzy says, hugging me tight. I try to sit up.

“Take it easy,” Ms. Linda says, getting out of her chair. “You have gone through a great deal of trauma.”

But I don't want rest. Not now.

“Where's my mama?” I ask Ms. Linda as she steps toward the door.

“Nurse!” she calls. The nurse comes down the hall and she and Ms. Linda start talking about something. Linda gestures toward me and speaks in a low voice.

Cam gets up from the chair on the opposite wall and comes over, climbing onto the end of the bed. He places Mama's journal down on my lap.

“Thought you might like that,” he says.

I pick it up and flip through the pages. I flip from oldest to most recent, looking at the dates and headings. Sometimes they're there, sometimes they're not. Sometimes her writing is neat and organized, sometimes it is sloppy and fast.

January 24th

The winter feels longer than ever this year. Thought of Mom today. Think of her every day. It's like the snow. The missing is here to stay.

I flip to the next page. It's about Robert Frost. Then to the next.

February 28th

Lucy is working on a robot. The summers at Seahook with Mom really mean something to her. She and Cam, from next door, have written down all of their plans in a notebook. Sounds like something that would be a good birthday surprise. Something I know she would like. No money for it, though.

I flip the page and scan.

I looked into it. Birthday surprise would only be three hundred sixty dollars. Think I can find a way to get her the money. Have been feeling a little numbed out, anyway. Dr. Vincent said we could maybe lower the lithium, but that doesn't exactly add up. I could wean myself off of the antipsychotic and save more quickly. Who wants to be on meds forever, anyway? There is a time to face reality, you know? Even if the sadness comes again for a while.

. . . Did it ever really leave?

My throat starts to close in on itself, wondering what is coming next, but thinking I already know the answer. Thinking I already know how this ends.

April 1st

Day one off clozapine, lithium, and Celexa. I have been taking half a dose of each for a month and it's going great. Now they're all gone, but I filled the bottle with beans. Rattles all the same.
:)

April 5th

Still thinking of Mom every day. In a way she's here with us. I sense her presence in all the quiet corners.

April 6th

Feeling great today. Forgot what it was like to feel so alive.

April 12th

Everything seems so much clearer to me now. The grass is brighter. I'm connected to everything. Have been doing a lot, feeling really productive. Almost ready to register Lucy for the BotBlock Challenge! Also making new work plans. We'll be out of Sunnyside and back on our feet before we know it.

How many months of missed medication would be enough to pay the registration?

May 1st

I know I should go back on my medication, but I just feel so much more alive without it. My writing is back. I can feel the muse. I'm onto some fantastic ideas. Universal energy has favored me.

I flip the page so fast that it gets a little tear in the corner.

May 15th

Yesterday I could swear I was Robert Frost reincarnated. I know that sounds silly, of course. I mean my imagination got away with me for a moment. It was like I was him. Having the words flow from my pen.

The nurse is next to me and she puts a squeezy device on my arm.

May?

Feeling foggy today. Forgot my appointment twice. Have a lot to do. Starting with the oleander seeds.

Oleander seeds the breaded deeds

Watched the clock that supersedes

Bringing forth the mighty fight

That rang through hills dark nights

A one-in-a-million idea only comes around once. What if someone else catches it out of the stratosphere? Someone would steal your words. Happens all the time. Have to be very careful of them

I look up at Cam.

“She went off her medication to pay for the BotBlock registration.”

He nods.

“Then lost it.” I close the book.

Izzy moves to the bottom of the bed next to Cam as the nurse puts the stethoscope in her ears and places it in the crook of my arm.

“Do they know?” I say, nodding toward Ms. Linda, who comes back into the room with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“I tried to explain,” he says.

“Listen,” I say, looking around the nurse's head, as she leans to look at the gauge pressed against my arm. “This is a big misunderstanding.”

Something pinches as I shift, and I notice the IV needle in the back of my hand. I pull it out. The nurse's eyes go wide.

“Hold on, now, you can't do that.” She pulls the stethoscope from her ears and takes hold of my hand. I stay still for just a second as she pushes the plastic into a little tube. It stings the teensiest bit and I pull my hand away.

“You need to let us go see Mama,” I say.

Izzy jumps off the bed.

“You have to stay hooked up,” Ms. Linda says. “Sit back and relax, please.”

How can I possibly relax? Mama sacrificed her health for me and I screamed at her and left her. I called her crazy. I called her a waste.

“I need to talk to the officer. It's all a big mistake—”

“Lucille, your mother took someone else's child across state lines, stole an RV, and ran from the law. The police are looking into it, but we're looking at kidnapping.” She gestures to Cam.

“For the last time, I ran away, I wasn't kidnapped,” Cam says, getting up off the bed. He crosses his arms. “Mom knew I was going. I told her a thousand times and it's not my fault she doesn't pay any attention.”

Ms. Linda raises her eyebrows, and I see her eyes drift to the bump and bruises on my arm from where I hit the couch. “There's also possible child abuse and neglect.”

My heart starts to kick my chest, hits the back of my ribs. This isn't right.

“She didn't hit me. I fell. Anyway, she wasn't herself,” I say. “She didn't have her medication.”

Ms. Linda closes her hands together and takes a deep breath in. “There are policies and procedures to take care of this sort of situation. If your mother is deemed incompetent at the time of these incidents, then that will be taken under consideration and the charges may be dropped. I'm not saying they will or they won't be. But right now, the most important thing is for you, your sister, and Camrin to get to a safe place and heal.”

“Yes, I know. You already said that!” My chest constricts. Ms. Linda must see me flinch.

“Please rest. You need time to come to terms with what has happened,” the nurse says, adjusting my pillow.

“I know what happened!” I say. “I know exactly what happened. I don't need rest.”

The pillow isn't fitting right behind me and I flatten down on it hard. The nurse looks at Ms. Linda like I smacked her across the face instead of sat back.

Ms. Linda comes around to stand next to the nurse. “I fully understand your pain, here, Lucille, but unfortunately, you have no choice in the matter. How about this—”

I feel my jaw tightening and my teeth pressing together so hard they might crack. I rub my hands over my face.

“—I'll speak with the psychiatric ward and see about a good time for you to talk to your mother. I'll see if we can get a date range so that you will feel better about this. How does that sound.”

A date range? Weeks? Months? I pull the covers off my lap. I don't need a date to see my mama.

“I want to see her now.”

“Sit back, please,” the nurse says, pulling a cart to her side.

“Get out of my way,” I say, scooting to the edge of the bed.

“Absolutely not,” she says. “Please listen, you need to sit down.”

“Lucille,” Ms. Linda says. Officer Doogan appears in the doorway and I can see he's coming to detain me just like they did to Mama. Even without the blankets it's too hot. I have fireworks going off in my brain.

I try to stand up and the nurse comes toward me. I push at her and then the officer is there holding me back. I kick out, but the nurse quickly switches something in the needle in my hand and all of a sudden, I don't have use of my muscles anymore. I see Cam jump at Officer Doogan, who turns and puts his hand on Cam's shoulder. Here's my chance, but as I try to rise up again, the fireworks start to fade away, and I relax down even though I'm trying to go up. Izzy starts to scream. I see her mouth open, but her voice is low like it is coming through a conch shell. I drop back. Out of fuel. Ms. Linda's face waffles in front of me and I see her brow coming together into a long, wobbly line. Her lips move but her voice is so low and slow I can't make out what she is saying. I feel like I'm filling up with cotton. I want to tell them that they need to let me up, but when I try my tongue gets fat in my mouth. Everything is soft and foggy and slow. And then gone.

T
HE TILES AND THE SMELLS OF
the hospital trick me into believing that I'm back with Gram. Making promises I can't keep. But as soon as I notice I'm the one in the bed, everything tumbles back to me. I wonder if Gram knows how hard I tried. If she's disappointed in me just the same.

I glance around the room. Cam and Izzy are curled up in the empty bed beside me. I'm not surprised Mrs. McKinney isn't here yet. I'll be surprised if she shows up at all. Ms. Linda is sound asleep across the room. Her head lolled back, neck out.

I look at the light of the fluorescent streetlamps, spilling into the black and blue hospital room. I hear the sound of the ocean. A steady hum in the distance.

“You're back?” Cam says real quiet. So quiet it fades into the roll of the waves and I wonder if I'm imagining things. I turn toward the bed on the other side and he climbs out as quiet as he can.

“I overheard a doctor saying they're waiting for a bed to open up in psych for your mom,” Cam says.

The darkness seems to wrap around my shoulders and arms. It's got weight and it's pushing down on me from every angle.

“The psych ward,” I say. “Basically the same as Kensington.”

Cam crosses his arms and leans them onto the bed rail. “Yeah. A lot of us going to places we don't want to go,” he says.

“Yeah,” I say, running my fingers along the edge of the blanket.

“Mission not accomplished,” Cam says.

I put my hand on his shoulder, breathing deep. “I'm so sorry, Cam,” I say. “To get you wrapped up in this stupid g—”

He pushes my hand off. “You can't always take all the credit, Juniper Ray. You know I wanted to be here.”

It's dark out the window and I instinctively look to my watch, but it's not there. “What time is it?”

“About three thirty in the morning,” he says. “My mom is late, go figure.” I hear his voice constrict.

“That's okay. At least we're all still together.”

“For the moment,” he says.

I sit back feeling the defeat slip in. I see us out in deep space. Me, Mama, Izzy, and Cam in our astronaut suits. No pilot and no ship. Just floating away from each other into the endless universe. Cam climbs onto the bed, pressing his back up against the bar at the bottom. He folds his hands together and we sit quietly for a minute. I feel a tickle at my armpit and when I reach to scratch it, my fingertips find the foil wrapped around Mama's journal. I pull it out and think about how Mama clutches it. How she scribbles all her thoughts and worries and new ideas into it.

“It wasn't all bad,” Cam says.

I look up to see his eyes fade into memory. “The way D-Wayne screamed when I put that bike helmet on my head.”

For a second I'm back at Sunnyside. A blaze of dust flying out behind us as we made our exit. “The way we flew out of that carport and Chuck ran alongside,” I say.

“I was hoping he would make it.” Cam grins.

“The look on Mr. Blinks's face. Like he never saw anything so good in his whole life. Thinking we were going to make our own destiny,” I say, fiddling with the tube that's reaching down into the back of my hand.

Tears burn my eyes and I think of Mama. I look from Ms. Linda, dozing in the chair, over to Izzy on the bed, to Cam, and then outside. The moon hangs there, heavy in the arms of the sky. It soaks the world beyond the window in blue. And off in the distance, I can see the Milky Way, and below it, a beach filled with the glowing blue moon shells. I push myself up and as I do, Mama's journal tumbles from my hand. A long slip of paper slides out onto the sheet. I pick it up. Run my hand along a rough edge. I see the lettering at the top:
Acquainted with the Night.

“It's that poem that Mama's been stuck on,” I say, seeing her take it out of the anthology. It's creased and worn and faded in spots, like it has soaked up a lot of tears. And I wonder if she'd feel better telling it to the moon. I think of her journal, the most important thing to her besides us. Just like our Mission Control notebook. Plans of a different kind. My insides twinge together, like my wires are running to all the wrong places.

I pull the IV from my hand.

Cam looks up at me “Wha—”

I shake my head and put my index finger to my mouth. “We have to go find Mama. I want to bring her journal to her. She'll feel better if she has it,” I say.

Cam points to Ms. Linda. “We're still going to have to sneak out without her noticing,” he hisses. “We'll need some sort of distraction.”

All of a sudden there's a clatter in the hallway and Ms. Linda's head snaps up. I drop onto the pillow, pretending sleep. Then I yawn and raise my arms in the air. Cam gets it right away because he jumps in.

“How'd you sleep?”

I stretch. “Pretty good,” I say, looking at him. But just then I see his face freeze like a squirrel when a big dog is nearby. I follow his gaze out to the hallway. There, through the window, is the ugliest thing on the planet: D-Wayne.