Gravity Brings Me Down (16 page)

The temperature in the room immediately drops. Hackit purses his papery lips.

“Where would you like to talk about it?”

“I don’t know… somewhere else.”

“We like to include the patient in the proceedings.”

“The patient’s name is Mabel,” I say.

Hackit’s eyes darken. He’s really hating my guts now. But he continues to edify me, talking in clipped tones. “We haven’t completed the testing, but I’ve been in this business a long time, and I can tell you, people don’t improve much when they’re this far along.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard this all before.”

“She won’t get better, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

“I’m not aiming for anything.”

The mercury dips below freezing.

“This is how it’s going to be,” Hackit says. “Your mother will not be allowed to go home unless you arrange twenty-four-seven care, subject to our approval. I’ve signed the papers designating her incapable. She’s not to be alone for even one minute.”

Mabel turns to me with horror in her eyes. I’m just about to let Dr. Jekyll have it when the nurse walks in.

“It’s a lovely day outside,” she says to Mabel. “Are you and your granddaughter going for a walk?”

This seems to cause a little light bulb to flicker in Mabel’s mind.

“Yes, let’s go for a walk,” she pleads. Then she addresses the doctor, speaking in the snottiest tone I’ve ever heard in my life. “It’s been nice meeting you.”

She loops her arm through mine, urging me through the door.

“You have to sign out before you go,” the nurse says.

I sign the book, Mabel clinging to me like a terrified kid. We move to the door together, waiting for the buzzer. Once outside, Mabel tries to make a run for it.

“Come on!” she says.

“We can’t run away, Mabel. You have to stay here.”

“But why? I’m fine … you can see that!”

I lead her along the path to the stream. We walk through the woods, Mabel talking about how good it will be to get home.

“I have to go to that place I like to go—you know, where they sing.”

“Church?”

“Yes, that’s it. I haven’t been in ages! They must wonder what happened to me.”

“I don’t know about that…”

“How did I get in that place, anyway? I thought I was going to die. Oh well, what does it matter? We’re out now.”

“Yeah.”

After a little while, Mabel seems to have forgotten about being in the Rosewood altogether. She’s looking at trees, gazing at stones, talking to birds and flowers. She seems lucid enough, I guess, remembering some words, forgetting others. It’s like her thoughts and memories are one big tape recording and someone’s erased
parts but left others intact. Eventually, I surreptitiously guide her back, hoping she won’t notice. It’s going fine until we reach the sidewalk.

“We’re not going back, are we?”

“We have to go back.”

Mabel starts to freak. “Oh no, no, no … I can’t I can’t I can’t!”

She bursts into tears and starts begging, the way she did in the hospital. “Please, I just want to go home. I’m fine—really. I just want to see my things again. I want to go sing. That’s not so bad, is it? I don’t deserve to be here. Everything was fine until
they
came. Now it’s awful … just awful. I must be a horrible person.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. God must hate me.”

“Mabel… please.”

“I just want to go home, dear. Can’t you do that for me?”

I stare at the ground. I’m at a total loss. Pushing my fists in my jacket pockets, I feel the sharp edge of Mabel’s keys against my fingers. What harm would it do to take her home, just for a little while? What difference would it really make? I could take her to her apartment for a bit and then bring her right back before anyone noticed…

I
’m about to hail a taxi when this Beemer with tinted glass pulls up to the curb. The driver’s side window rolls down and Steve Ryan smiles out at me.

“Need a ride?”

I gawk stupidly back at him.

But Mabel brightens right up. “Oh, yes, thank you.”

Before I know it, Steve’s opened the door and Mabel’s sitting in the front seat.

Steve opens the rear passenger door next and looks at me. “Are you getting in?”

“Whose car is this?”

“My dad’s. Come on. I’ll drive you and your grandma wherever you want to go.”

“She’s just a friend,” I start to explain, but what’s the point? I climb into the back seat of the car. Steve helps Mabel with her seat belt.

Mabel nods in my direction. “Is she your sweetheart?”

“No, Mabel,” I jump in, but Steve just laughs.

Suddenly, I’m all flustered and self-conscious. Steve buckles up, then adjusts the rearview mirror so he can watch me as he drives. I just hope my hair looks okay.

“Where to?” he asks.

I tell him Mabel’s address and he chauffeurs us there, smiling at me in the mirror every chance he gets. Mabel natters away about this and that. Steve’s so good-natured; he keeps the conversation running along. I’m so freaked, I spend most of the time pretending to look out the window.

When we get to Mabel’s, Steve jumps out and opens Mabel’s door as well as mine.

“Ladies…”

“Thanks,” I say, but he doesn’t stop there. He opens the door to the building and escorts us in like we’re celebrities or something. Mabel is just loving it. She’s batting her eyelashes and acting all coy. But Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s playing right along, making Mabel feel like a million bucks.

When we enter the foyer, the old biddies are there, gossiping as usual. They stop dead when they see Mabel walk in.

“Is she all right?” one of them asks.

“What was wrong with her?”

I give them a tight-lipped smile; I have no intention of telling them anything. Mabel would hate to be gossiped about.

Steve, Mabel and I ride the elevator to the fourteenth floor. Turning the key in the lock, I can hear Mabel’s phone ringing on the other side of the door. It stops as we step inside, then starts ringing again immediately.
I’m thinking it must be the nurses at the hospital, wondering where she is.

“Just ignore it, dear,” Mabel says.

Steve is a total gentleman, even helping Mabel with her coat. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”

“Oh, no, don’t go,” Mabel pouts. “We only just started having fun.”

I rescue Steve. I don’t want him to feel pressured. “He has to go, Mabel. I’m sure he has lots of things to do.”

“Then let’s do things together!” she cheers.

Steve laughs. Mabel reaches for the photo of her kids and hands it to him.

“Here, dear. Take this with you.”

The phone starts ringing again. Mabel becomes more agitated.

“I know,” she says, “let’s go shopping. I have lots of money.” She unearths a fat brown envelope from beneath her couch cushion. She hands it to me. “Here, dear.”

There looks to be about five thousand dollars inside. “This should seriously be in the bank, Mabel.”

“Oh, don’t be angry, dear. Come on. Let’s do something wild!”

“Mabel…”

“Come on …”

“We can’t just spend your money. You’ll need it. Besides, we shouldn’t even be here.”

Mabel waves me off. “Oh, don’t be a party-pooper. This young man will show us a good time.”

I look at Steve in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind.”

“See?” Mabel says.

I shake my head. “No, Mabel, not today.”

Mabel starts to sulk. “You’re just like …
them
. So serious. I need fun. Can’t you see that? What difference does it make? I want to spend my own money. Is that a crime?”

“But it isn’t right. I don’t feel comfortable spending your money. What will people say? What will they think?”

“Who cares what they think? If you really cared about me, you’d do it.”

“Mabel, please …”

“Just this once.”

She’s really working it. I stare at the money. Who am I to deny Mabel anything? I mean, this could be her last big adventure, the last real decision she gets to make for herself before they lock her up forever. She stares back at me so hopefully. I look at Steve. He just smiles. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other.

“Oh, all right.”

“Hurray!” Mabel shouts, clapping her hands together. “You’ll see … we’ll have so much fun!”

I give in, putting the money into Mabel’s purse. She takes Steve’s arm as we make our way to the elevator. He takes it all in stride. But the old biddies in the foyer fall silent when we reappear.

“We’re going out for a good romp,” Mabel gloats as we walk by, which sends them squawking.

“So, where to?” Steve asks as we settle into the car.

I turn to Mabel. “Where would you like to go?”

“Somewhere wonderful,” she says. “Somewhere special.”

“The mall?”

“Is that somewhere special?”

“Not really.”

“Let’s go someplace else, then. Someplace really marvellous.”

“Okay.” I turn to Steve. “The only marvellous place I know that we can get to on short notice is Toronto.”

“Then let’s go.”

“Really? What about your parents? Are they okay with you taking the car?”

“They won’t mind.”

“What are we waiting for?” Mabel says.

Steve hits the gas, zipping around the corner. We careen down the street, Mabel enjoying herself thoroughly. I have to confess, it is kind of fun—until we reach our school.

“Oh, crap.”

Steve shakes his head. “I should have gone the other way.”

The street is filled with students, biding their time as the last minutes of lunch hour count down before the bell. Steve slows to a crawl, careful not to hit anyone. Sharon and the PIBs are smoking on the sidewalk. I slump down in the seat but it’s no good. I’m busted.

“Could we stop for a second?”

“Are we there?” Mabel asks.

Steve rolls down the windows. Sharon’s face darkens when she sees Mabel. But then she sees Steve and her attitude immediately changes.

“Nice car.”

“We’re going to Toronto. Wanna come?” I say.

Tod appears, sticking his head in the window.

“Your name was called over the PA for detention today. Whose car is this?”

Mabel waves a wad of money in Sharon’s direction. “Come on!” she says. “We’re going to spend money!”

Just then, Chocko explodes from the school and rushes up to the car. He must have been watching from inside the building, the freak.

“Get out of the car—now!”

“How dare you talk to my daughter in that manner,” Mabel says.

“Daughter …?” Chocko points at me. “What kind of crap are you trying to pull?”

Mabel becomes incensed. “Just you see here, you big oaf!” She swats at him through the window with her purse, hitting him on the arm.

I turn to Sharon, who’s gaping in shock. “If you’re coming, you’d better get in.”

Sharon yanks Tod out of the way and jumps into the back seat. Chocko shouts as Steve tromps on the gas.

“Chocko’s gonna kill us for this,” Sharon says.

“Isn’t this fun!” Mabel exclaims. She turns and hands Sharon a fistful of bills.

“Geeze, Mabel,” I say, taking the money from Sharon and stuffing it back into Mabel’s purse. “Sharon, meet Mabel… Mabel, Sharon.”

“We’re going somewhere special!” Mabel says.

Sharon gives me a questioning look, pointing furtively toward Steve. “So … what’s going on?”

That’s when I notice a flash of silver on her hand. “What’s that?”

She wiggles her fingers proudly under my nose. “Gus gave me a ring.”

“Oh my God. You guys are really serious.”

“Yes!” she gushes.

“That’s so cool,” I say, and I mean it. Maybe it’s because I’m excited about Steve, I don’t know, but I’m actually genuinely happy for her.

We zoom along the highway, Mabel waving to people as they drive by. Steve, Sharon and I casually discuss school and other unimportant things. None of us mentions Chocko or what we think will happen when we go back.

Normally Toronto seems so far away, but today, it only seems to take minutes before the CN Tower appears through the clouds above the city skyline.

“The Big Smoke,” Steve says as we pull off the expressway. “Where to, ladies?”

First stop: Queen Street West: the fashion district.

Steve finds parking and we tumble out.

“Let’s get our hair done,” Mabel says.

“Didn’t you just get it done?” I ask.

“Don’t be a stick-in-the-mud.”

This makes Sharon laugh.

“Okay, fine.”

We find this alterno-salon where the stylists have attitude on tap. They seem confused by Mabel, but she’s so friendly and nice that one guy practically begs to do her hair. He fusses and preens, giving her a modernized Queen Elizabeth kind of look. Sharon goes retro punk: super short and bleached completely white. I get the usual, except for a couple of red racing stripes down the front. Steve gets this messy chic kind of thing that makes him look totally hot. By the time we’re done, the whole salon is in love with Mabel. I give them an extra-big tip.

“Goodbye,” they call out as we leave, like the munchkins from
The Wizard of Oz
. “Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.”

“What next?” I ask.

“Shopping,” Mabel says.

There isn’t much for Mabel in this neck of the woods, but she’s really patient, giving Sharon and me time to buy complete outfits each, including earrings, purses and matching boots. We’re both reluctant to spend Mabel’s money, but she insists and begins to mope and call us party-poopers again so we concede. In the change room,
we put on a little fashion show, strutting around while Steve and Mabel clap with appreciation. I find the perfect dress: long and black, with feathers along the sleeves.

“You look gorgeous,” Steve says, and I think I’m going to melt. “I’d like to take you dancing.”

Mabel bursts in. “Dancing? You need a suit for that, dear.”

So Mabel forces Steve to get a suit. I try to tell her that we won’t be going dancing but it’s no use. She insists on setting Steve up with the whole “kit and caboodle”: shoes, shirt, tie. By the time he steps out of the change room, I barely recognize him, he looks so amazing. He smiles and does a little stage turn to show off.

“What’s next?” he asks.

“Yorkville,” I say. “We need to find an outfit for Mabel.”

You wouldn’t catch me dead in this part of town under normal circumstances, but the women in the shops are actually nice and very helpful. They treat Mabel like royalty, attending her smallest whim. They think we’re her kids, deferring to us for every decision. What surprises me most is that Sharon doesn’t even seem to mind.

The women set Mabel up with a moss-green suit jacket and skirt, a cream blouse, matching handbag and shoes, all tied together with a sparkly brooch and gold scarf.

“You look beautiful,” I tell her.

“I’m hungry,” she says.

“What are you in the mood for?” Steve asks.

“Something nice.”

“I know a little place,” he says.

So we drive to this fancy restaurant, the kind with an open kitchen and a wine list longer than the menu. Steve explains that his parents take him here all the time. I have to wonder what his parents do to allow their kid to jet around in a Beemer and eat at fancy restaurants, but, quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m having more fun than I’ve ever had in my life, and I’m sure Mabel and Sharon are too.

Steve takes Mabel’s arm, escorting her to the table and helping her with her chair. He orders hors d’oeuvres, and makes dinner suggestions for the rest of us. For me, grilled polenta with mushroom roulade. Sharon gets filet mignon. Mabel, the brisket, complete with seasonal vegetables. To my amazement, Steve also orders polenta. I don’t know if he’s really a vegetarian or if he’s just trying to impress me, but it’s working. Mabel requests wine with her brisket. No one asks how old we are, so Sharon and I have wine as well. Steve doesn’t drink at all because he’s our designated driver, but Mabel does, like a fish.