Wouldn’t Change a Thing (15 page)

“Doctors,” Aunt Mavis says.

“There are also dorms on the grounds for employees who don't want to drive home throughout the week,” he adds.

I approach a speed bump and Aunt Mavis makes me stop. “Pull over there.” She points from the backseat.

The three of us get out and face a hulking pecan tree. The tree sits across from an impressive, four-columned chapel that commands my attention.

“The chapel is beautiful,” I tell them.

Uncle Raymond's voice grows solemn. “Your mother prays in there from time to time.”

This revelation describes her to a tee. Church filled a lot of her time during our childhood. On the third Saturday of every month, Daddy and a few other men in the church mowed the lawn and cleaned the areas around the cemetery. Mama made Willa and me to clean the inside of the sanctuary. We'd sweep the floors, douse our rags with Murphy's oil, and polish the altar wood to a high gleam. We replaced the hymnals left on the velvety pews by Sunday parishioners and always left the sanctuary smelling like Pine-Sol.

Aunt Mavis grazes my arm. “This is your mother's favorite place on the grounds. When the pecans fall around October or November, she and Annalease come down with a few other residents and pick nuts.”

Several people in scrubs walk the grounds and a few animals roam about on leashes with their owners. My stomach is in knots as we start our journey again to her building.

Uncle Raymond speaks to me as if I'm one of his soldiers. “Don't treat her differently.”

“Act as if time hasn't passed, and if she says something unusual, which she will, go along with it,” Aunt Mavis says.

Uncle Raymond points. “To the right. The Cooper building.”

We park in front of her building and I take deep breaths before getting out. Mama's face is pressed against the front window as we walk up the steps. She points at me and I wave to her. A woman standing next to her leans into her ear and says something, and she steps away from the window. She runs to me once we're inside the building.

“I knew you would come, Toni. I knew you would come.”

She holds me in a tight embrace and I gently release her strong hands from the rigid, boa constrictor-grip she's wrapped me in. I put her at arm's length and look at her. Time has been good to her. Her hair is still a mass of flowing curls and a few gray hairs kiss her temple. A semi-permanent rinse could remedy this look, since she said she never wanted to turn gray. Her skin is still taut and golden brown with a few moles. I turn her face sideways and see the McCallister ear hole. She wears black slacks, a mint-green silk blouse, and black polished Naturalizer clogs. The outfit is a throwback from her teaching days. Aunt Mavis said she rarely wore the jeans, T-shirts, and athletic shoes she'd brought to her throughout the years. A woman in smiley face scrubs introduces herself.

“I'm Anna Whipple. I'm Greta's charge nurse. Her doctor, dietitian, and social worker will also be present today. This meeting is two-fold, as we'll be discussing her treatment and preliminary discharge.”

“Discharge?” Mama's eyes light up and she practically does a jig.

“Nothing's been finalized, Greta. We have to assess your support system and make our decision based on our findings.” Anna knocks the wind from Mama's sails and her shoulders slouch.

Mama holds my hand as Anna guides us to a room on the first floor. The team members introduce themselves and Mama sidles next to me. Self-pity rears its ugly head. My eyes are immediately drawn to everyone's wedding rings as they sit at an oblong table in front of the room. For the first time, I notice Mama's wearing her anniversary gold band from Daddy. I trace the small Anhk symbols he had engraved on the ring. Inside the ring, he carved
G&P4EVER.
I whip out the notepad Aunt Mavis gave me and scribble Mama's progress as each team member speaks.

A woman at the far end of the table stands. “I'm Mara Groves, and I'm Mrs. Williamson's dietitian. She has eaten well this past month. With the exception of being fed in her room a few days, her appetite is healthy.”

Mama whispers in my ear, “They fed me in my room after they say I hit Annalease.”

I pat her hand to quiet her.

Aunt Mavis addresses her doctor. “Dr. Wells, has her lab work changed since stopping the Clozaril?”

“Yes. Switching her back to Zyprexa worked. The monthly labs were tedious and she didn't respond well to the medication.”

She whispers in my ear again. “Felt like a woman stranded in the middle of the sea when I was on that medication.”

“Shhhhh.”

The roles have reversed and I'm uneasy. As she whispers in my ear, I feel as if I'm parenting her. I put two fingers on her lips to quiet her. She sucks in her lips and sulks.

“In a letter you wrote two weeks ago, you mentioned taking Mrs. Willamson home. As her power-of-attorney, what are your plans?” Dr. Wells asks Aunt Mavis.

She stands with confidence. “We've worked hard to ensure a safe haven for Greta in our hometown. Her daughter, Toni, has taken a leave of absence from her job to care for Greta, and we've reached out to several community organizations to make sure we engage her once she's out. Also, the probate court has designated Toni guardianship over Greta since she'll care for her daily needs. Her case manager has contacted us about accessing SSI.”

“I don't want a check.”

“Shhhh.”

Aunt Mavis looks at Mama then continues. “We've ironed out all the details to ensure a smooth transition.”

“Where will she stay?”

“In her house.”

“Thought the house was gone.”

“Be quiet, Mama.”

I lock eyes with her social worker, Ethan, as he twists his wedding band. Damn, he's handsome. And fine. The electricity I feel right now requires a drink later tonight. I'm aching for Lamonte.

Ethan is everything I love in a man—tall, mysterious, and bald. I watched him stroll into the meeting, muscular and assured. When he introduced himself, I caught a whiff of Lamonte's cologne and almost swooned. His dark eyes cast a spell as we shook hands. It's been four months since the Blue Willow Inn debacle and four months since I've felt the touch of a man, experienced intimacy, or been close enough to a man to flirt. I miss it. Damnit, I miss it! I should be paying attention in this meeting, but I'm lusting after a stranger. Lamonte always complained about making love in the dark and never seeing my body. I had taken all the light bulbs from my lamps and ceiling in my bedroom so he would never see the full Monty. We were never intimate in the Conyers' house. I promised he'd see it all on our wedding night. So much for that dream.

“What social activities have you planned?” Ethan asks.

I shake off my lustful desires. “Bingo, shopping, and visits to Lake Sinclair. Mama can wet a hook like a man.” Ethan's eyebrows shoot up. “She enjoys fishing.”

He relaxes, gives a soft chuckle, and holds my gaze.

“Well now, this concludes the meeting,” Nurse Whipple says. “When do you plan on picking your mother up, Toni?”

I eye today's date on my cell—October 15, 2007. “In two weeks.”

“That should be fine. We'll have discharge papers ready when you arrive.”

“May I come to the Pine Tree Festival?” Mama asks.

“I'll be here Monday after the festival. That's too many people and too much activity for you.”

“I haven't been in years.”

“Maybe next year. We'll see how things go this year.”

After Nurse Whipple adjourns the meeting, May, Ray, Ms. Groves, and Dr. Wells stand in the hallway and chat. Ethan trails Mama and me. I assume he is leaving for the day until he says, “Toni, may I speak with you a moment?”

Flushed, I ask Mama to step aside. Nurse Whipple witnesses the exchange and takes Mama near a set of chairs in the lobby. Ethan directs me to a small corner on the opposite side of the building and leans against the wall as he speaks.

“It's wonderful meeting you face-to-face. I've worked with your mother the last four years, and you're all she talks about.”

“Oh.”
I was hoping you'd flirt with me.

“My heart went out to you after the
AJC
article ran. I hope this is a new start for you and your mom. She has a scrapbook of articles about you she's collected over the years.”

“I hope this is a fresh start as well. Thank you for all you've done for her. Aunt Mavis and Uncle Raymond are the only connections to family she's had over the years.”

“I know. Every year at Christmas, they gift the Cooper residents with fruit and goodies. They are a godsend.”

We stare and smile at each other a few moments. He looks at his watch. “Gotta run. My wife is at the hair salon for her standing appointment, and I have to pick the kids up from soccer and piano practice. Take care, Toni.”

Mama and Anna come over again. I watch Ethan leave, longing for the day someone will have my back and love me for me.

I
awake in Aunt Mavis's house with Whiplash licking my face. Why she hasn't bothered Willa or McKenna is a mystery. Maybe the tears, or the invitations strewn about on the bed, or the half-nursed bottle of brandy I tossed in the corner is an indication I need something. Someone.

I punch the pillow and turn on my side. Today would have been my wedding day. I curl in bed in my pajamas and fondle my engagement ring. It's six in the morning. I'd crafted a handwritten message on a scroll for Lamonte. My flower girl was to deliver the scroll at four-twenty p.m., forty minutes before the ceremony. So many tender moments were planned that I'll never see.

I have to pull myself together for the Pine Tree Festival. This event is Sparta's homecoming. Residents from near and far fellowship and visit each other. They sample wares, signify, and talk about how things used to be in their heyday. May and Ray's street team will be in full force today. For the last three days and nights, we've been labeling jars, assembling the floating pantry, and taking a few preorders for sales. Donald, Willa, and McKenna arrived from Birmingham last night, and we all went to dinner in Milledgeville at Applebee's. Willa refused to visit Mama, and I didn't press the matter.

A light tap on the door interrupts my pity-party. “Toni, breakfast is ready,” Aunt Mavis says.

“I'm not hungry.”

My back is still turned, but I hear a slight creak of the door. “You okay?”

I sit up and press my back into the pillows. Aunt Mavis's face is glowing and she holds a cup of coffee. Whiplash runs to her feet as she walks toward the bed.

“You sure you want to come to the festival?” she asks. “We can manage the booth if you want to stay here.”

“It's the only thing to get my mind off the big day that will never be.”

“Big day with Lamonte. There's another man out there for you. Mark my words.”

“Not in this lifetime. Not that I want another man.”

“You'll change your mind.”

“May I ask you a personal question?”

“Go right ahead.”

“How have you and Uncle Raymond managed to stay married so long?”

“Three things—compromise, compromise, and compromise. You can't have a good relationship with two people running in opposite directions. We've had lots of issues over the years. We were separated early on in our relationship.”

I spring up. “When?”

“You were small. We had a little tiff because I didn't want to join Ray when he was stationed in Virginia. He went to Norfolk; I stayed in Sparta. Then there was the time I got a wild hair up my butt and decided I didn't need him or any other man to make it. I was a bonafide nurse practitioner and I didn't need
his
money.”

“No way!”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Money problems, family issues, petty disagreements, you name it, we've been through it. I vowed to stick with him, though. I meant it when I said for better or worse. People don't take their vows as seriously today. They run at the first sign of trouble and wonder why marriage after marriage keeps failing.” I hug my knees at her revelations. “I never said anything to you, Toni, but I'm glad Lamonte dipped out. I understand it takes a special man to accept a woman with mental illness in the family, but he was too big of a coward to give you a chance. You deserve better.”

Willa sticks her head in the door. “You all right, Gumdrop?”

“Yeah, Willadean.”

“Willa.”

“If I'm Gumdrop, you're Willadean.”

“Sounds like old times,” Aunt Mavis says. She pats a spot on the bed and beckons Willa to join us. Willa sips her mug of coffee.

I can't believe Aunt Mavis and Willa. “You two are still coffee drinkers. I never got into all that caffeine, creamer, and sugar.”

Willa looks at my bottle of brandy in the corner. “Mmm-hmmm,” she says, and takes a longer sip. She turns to Aunt Mavis. “So what's today's street team plan?”