Song of Renewal (23 page)

“Yeah,” Liza’s lips curved into a wobbly, grateful smile. “I hear you.”

Charlcy blinked back moistness, cutting her gaze to the door. “Hi, Dr. Abrams.”

The doctor halted just inside the room, obviously on the run. “Angel will be brought back to the room shortly. I want to encourage you to be patient. This HBOT is the most upto-date treatment used in cases such as Angel’s. Even so, these things take time. Research has shown evidence that brain neurons may dwell in an idling state for years. With restored oxygen levels, the idle – or sleepy – brain cells can become normal once again and regain electrical activity. There’s a reported fifty percent success rate in the treatment of a long term coma.”

He smiled and disappeared.

“That’s supposed to be encouraging?” Liza looked at Charlcy, whose eyes reflected her own qualms. “Years? Did I hear him say years? And long-term?” Liza muttered hoarsely. “God!” She rolled her eyes heavenward and whispered, “Please?”

Charlcy, looking uncommonly shaken, took a deep breath, blew it out, and then squared her shoulders. “She’s gonna come back, sis.”

Liza nodded, her eyes closed for long moments, absorbing the impact of possibilities. Would she see her glass half full or half empty?

Suddenly it was a major decision. A choice. Yes, by George, it was a choice.

Liza opened her eyes and smiled tremulously at Charlcy. “You betcha.”

She had no form...was a weightless untethered thing. Her world was one of darkness and shadows broken only by interludes of disconnected light and images and sound…they floated about her like cosmic entities from sci-fi realms. The current she felt sporadically lasted for but a short span…the awareness in bits and snatches…being lifted and moved…warm swabbing on her face and limbs…a young, vibrant voice floated in and out…Penny’s voice.

The cheerleaders’ formation was daringly tiered… “Come on, Angel!” they chorused…seven girls and two guys, in vibrant colors…navy blue and gray. They gestured, beckoning to her, pointing to her flygirl spot at the top, the apex. Peggy’s grin and challenge pulled at her to a forward-hand-flip to the group but when Angel took a deep breath to flex and push off on her toes, her breath cut off…her body turned to concrete...she could not move…she struggled to breathe past the painful thing jammed in her throat…pain…nooo!…life!..Shadows.

Another voice…Aunt Charlcy’s…. “Come on, baby girl. You’re gonna do this thing or I’ll kick your skinny butt. Y’hear me?”…What thing? Somebody please help me!

Mama’s voice…. “I love you, Angel. Everything’s gonna be okay, y’hear? Keep fighting.”…Fight!...
Help! Please help me! Blasted nothingness!

But she knew, somehow she knew. No one could help her. She was on her own…that’s what Aunt Charlcy meant… shadows began to close in….

Angel’s hands curled into fists…fight...“keep fighting!”... blackness.

“I remember when you were tiny, Liza.” Charlcy had come home with Liza that night for a while and she was in a rare reminiscent mood. “Your feet, even then, danced to the music inside you. You leaped and twirled like a fairy, soared like a great bird, face as serious as could be. You used to put on cute performances for the family.”

Liza snorted softly, enjoying every drop of it. “For everybody who’d watch me. I was a little ham. And you were my greatest fan.

“Guilty.” Charlcy rolled her eyes and shrugged.

Liza sighed contentedly. “Then there was Dad.” She smiled. “And Mama, too. That is, sometimes.” Her smile faded when she saw Charlcy’s expression flatten. “She did love us, you know, Charlcy.” Her declaration fell just a hair short of a reprimand. Gentle but firm.

Charlcy’s features relaxed a bit, but the robin’s-egg blue eyes still sparked. “I know, I know. Wish I had your grace and forgiveness, sis.” She shrugged elaborately. “But I don’t.” Liza’s chest felt tight from the frustration this always heaped upon her. “I don’t get it,” she said. “You were always my savior, Charlcy. You brought light and safety to me when I could have gone under and drowned.” She frowned and spread her hands in dismay. “But you yourself haven’t brought the light with you. You’re still walking in that darkness. I can’t seem – ”

“I wish I could leave it behind, honey.” Charlcy had gone limp, plastered to the easy chair like a half-alive sea creature out of its habitat. “I’ve tried. Lordy, how I’ve tried. And I kept a lot of her stuff from you. And Dad.” Her smile was bitter and her gaze tormented, faraway. “Her little sexual escapades? Too many to count. I got rid of the string of brainless idiots as quickly and brutally as I could manage. Needless to say, I couldn’t always stop her from screwing up everything Pops,
we
– treasured.”

She stopped for a moment, clamping her teeth shut and blinking back tears. Conviction blazed in her eyes. “Our mother reverenced nothing, Liza. At least I saw little of it. It was a day-to-day, sometimes hour-to-hour battlefield of her mind raging before my eyes. I learned to live a life of vigilance, tried to ward off the worst of the onslaught – tried to help you and Pops have just a little peace.”

“Aah, Charlcy,” Liza groaned. “You didn’t have much of a childhood, did you?”

Charlcy snorted and shifted her body into what Liza recognized as her I’m-A-OK stance. “Heck, I probably fared as well as Pops. The adultery was the least of his worries. He had his work cut out keeping the checkbook and credit cards stashed away from her. I think that – like me – the poor guy was thrilled when she collapsed into bed during her depressive states. It gave him a few moments’ reprieve.”

“I know.” Liza slid Charlcy an understanding look. “I hate to admit that I sometimes enjoyed the time she was actually there. Yet, her suicidal talk always upset me. And Daddy went into overdrive at those times, hiding razors – ”

“Not always in time,” Charlcy huffed stingingly. “How many times did I have to clean up blood in the bathroom or kitchen? The
kitchen
for gosh sake – where we ate! Huh? Six? Eight? Hell, it coulda been a dozen.

“Pop’s knee-jerk labors to get her help in time. All those nights when she couldn’t sleep, talking, talking
, talking
nonstop, paranoia eating her alive, waking me up to accuse me of gosh-awful outlandish things like putting poison in her tea, or – or stealing one of her gross spike-heeled shoes that I wouldn’t have been caught in a casket wearing. She would’ve shot me had she found a gun. Or Pops, if he got in the way. Gawd!” She sprang to her feet and strode to the window and glared out into the
dusky evening. “Why don’t you remember anything bad?” She sounded truly mystified. “Though I’m glad you don’t.”

Liza sighed, then shrugged limply. “Because one chooses to remember or not to remember. I think I was young enough to refuse to have a memory. There’s something to that adage about the resilience of children.”

Charlcy snorted. “Sure didn’t come my way.”

“I prayed a lot, Charlcy.”

“Y’know, honey? So did I. But God must’ve been real busy elsewhere during those years.”

“C’mon,” Liza said gently, her mind reeling anew at her sister’s revelations. “Sit down, Charlcy. It’s all over. Don’t you see?” Charlcy continued to stare outside, memories fairly parading before her. Liza knew because she saw the familiar body language that came with the nightmares. The squared shoulders, clenched fists, ramrod straight back, tight lips, brittle, searing eyes.

“No, sis,” Charlcy muttered hoarsely. “I’m still furious that she allowed herself to go crazy over and over by not taking her medicine. She was allowed to check into lunacyville almost at will, while I was required to remain sane and in control. I got to where I hated her for that fact. She controlled it all, to my way of thinking. It was always her script – I just learned the lines.” She ran out of breath for a moment, then began shaking her head. “No, it’s not all over, Liza. Never will be.”

“But it will. I pray and believe it will,” Liza insisted desperately, knowing that Charlcy’s faith had gone south a while back. Would it ever return? Liza hoped with everything within her that it would.

“No.” The statement was flat. Implacable. “No, it won’t.” Charlcy turned slowly and gazed unwaveringly into Liza’s eyes. “Because she was totally selfish. She knew what would happen if she didn’t take the blasted medicine. She knew, Liza.”

“She was sick, Charlcy,” Liza tried again, knowing the futility.

“She enjoyed the
high
, sweetheart.” Charlcy plopped back in the chair, sprawled and in piss-mode again, causing the band in Liza’s chest to tighten, building pressure until it was near to imploding.

“That’s why she refused to take the medicine. Period. That was the depth of our sweet mama. I’m sorry I can’t paint a more pleasant picture for you.”

The realist in Charlcy was Liza’s nemesis. Again, it sunk its teeth into her and gnawed mercilessly. “I know. Let’s let it rest for now,” Liza said, sucking in and exhaling a deep, cleansing breath.

“Right.” Charlcy’s flat, over-bright eyes slid into civility again as Liza watched her pull her heavy denial-cloak tightly about her. Liza knew how difficult it was for Charlcy to stomp down those memories deep inside her, where dark things hibernate. Wished like crazy she didn’t have to, that she could work them out of her mind and soul, totally rid herself of them.

“I’m sorry, honey,” Liza said. “I shouldn’t talk about her. But sometimes, I just need to – ”

“You don’t need to apologize – nor explain,” Charlcy, the champion, the danged Nyoka of the Jungle now spoke. “She was your mama. Remember, I have kids in my special ed classes who need an ear from time to time? And I listen to them and encourage them.” She shrugged. “I just feel like leftover potty because I can’t do the same for you, my little sister.”

“Hey!” Liza threw up her hands, palms out. “I’m not so little. I’m good. You take care of yourself now. It’s time for you to retire. You’ve sacrificed enough for two lifetimes.”

Then she rushed to Charlcy, pulled her to her feet, and embraced her soundly, rocking back and forth. “I love you, sis,” Liza whispered.

Charlcy could not speak but Liza saw her blinking back moisture. Knew she would not cry. That would be totally at odds with the safety-net paragon, Charlcy.

Liza gently released her and they spent the next hour laughing and ruminating on Liza’s early ballet and dance exploits and Charlcy’s boyfriends.

“Raymond was so cute. And sexy.” Liza couldn’t help but include him, regretting it the moment the words were out of her mouth, seeing the tightening of Charlcy’s expression.

Then quite unexpectedly, Charlcy guffawed. “God, child! Look at you. Am I that transparent?”

At Liza’s solid nod, Charlcy’s face gentled. “It’s okay, honey. I still love Raymond. I hate him, too. The – the
plague
.” The words were halfhearted. “It’s really hard to talk about him right now. Give me some time. It might help.” She skewered Liza with a sharp gaze. “Then again, it might not.”

Liza burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. Charlcy’s survival, as well as her own, had ridden upon her big sister’s ability to stand up and fight battles. It depended upon her grit. She had to respect that combative strain.

Charlcy left shortly thereafter for home. Garrison was upstairs, painting. Liza remained on the sofa, letting the memories slide through her mind and warm her anew. She lingered in days gone by, childhood times when she couldn’t distinguish where she ended and dance began.

Angel probably felt the same way. The thought triggered a ravaging hunger to see her daughter dance again. It might somehow assuage this gnawing craving for the continuity that no longer was.

Liza bounded to her feet and plundered through the entertainment cabinet for Angel’s ballet videos. She and Garrison had recorded them all through the years, from the time Angel was five. She found them and plopped one in the player.

Returning to the sofa with the remote, she flicked on the video. The first was
The Nutcracker,
in which Angel was one of a flock of tiny birds. Liza watched, transfixed by the innocent, somewhat fierce expressions on the cherubic faces of budding ballerinas who flitted about in a splendid riot of regalia.