My Mother's Keeper

by Evelyn Guy

  On the way home Mrs. Mabry carried the burden of the conversation. Christine was just too tired to talk. Also, she was still hurt at the things her mother had said. All she wanted to do was help her mother, and it seemed nothing she did was right.

  “Honey, you mustn’t be too hard on yourself,” Mrs. Mabry consoled her. “Your mother has a disease that is so very difficult to control. You are just a very young girl, with a burden way too great for you. I wish . . . ” Mrs. Mabry let her voice trail off.

  “I just wish I could help Mom. I do everything wrong. I never know how to make her take her medicine. That is what is wrong with her. It is all my fault. If I made her take her medicine, she would be all right.”

  “Not really, sweetheart. Don’t beat yourself up over it. Your mother has an illness that is hard for an adult to deal with, much less a young teen like you. Don’t feel so guilty. Even adults often have trouble making people like your mother take their medicine.”

  Christine was lost in thought about what Mrs. Mabry said. She remembered the day so long ago when the doctor had told her that her mom had something called schizophrenia. He had tried to explain to her what it was, but Christine couldn’t understand. All she knew was that her mom was sick, and she was going to live with total strangers while her mother received treatment. She would not be able to live with her mother for a very long time. The doctor did say that her mother could be like her old self if she took her medicine. He stressed that it was very important for her mother to take her medicine.

  “But,” he told her, “Most people with schizophrenia don’t like how the medicine makes them feel. As soon as they get to feeling a little better, they refuse to take it. Then, they get bad again. It is a very bad cycle they go through. They really need a responsible person to supervise them at times.”

  I really failed at that, Christine thought. Christine had gone to live in a foster home for a time. She didn’t really know how long it had been. She was so young that she didn’t really understand about time. She just knew she thought she would never get to go back home.

  For a while after her mother got her back, they had a lady come in every day and help them learn how to live with her mother’s illness. She was a special type of caretaker and housekeeper combination. She would make her mom get up and bathe and take her medicine, then eat breakfast and lunch. She would go home after Christine got home from school. She always left something easy to warm up for dinner.

  Christine was so glad to be home after being in foster care that it didn’t matter that she had a lot to do once the lady left. She gladly did it all, just to be home with her mother. After some time, though, Christine found herself wishing the lady would stay at night, too. Her mother would go into her own room, watching TV in there. She let Christine do whatever she wanted. But, it was so lonely that Christine just wished for anyone to talk to. Then, after a while her mom fired the lady, because, she said, they couldn’t afford it and she didn’t need a caretaker.

  Life really got bad after that. Christine had to do all the housework, cooking, laundry, and cleaning up. Her mother couldn’t stay awake for any of it. Then, her mom started refusing to take her medicine. She said she didn’t need it any longer since she was cured. Christine so much wanted to believe that. But, she saw how her mother got worse without it. She could sometimes talk her mother into taking it again. But, as soon as her mother started feeling so sleepy again, she would refuse to take it.

  That was when the cycle started. Christine knew the pattern by heart. It went like this. First, her mother went to the hospital and started taking her medicine. Then, when she got out, they had a few months of good times. Christine loved this time. She saw how it could be if her mother was not sick. Christine would get to spend time with her friends.

  After a while, though, her mother would start getting angry all the time. Christine knew by this that she wasn’t taking her medicine on her own. She would start trying to insist that her mother take it, but she would refuse. Then, she would get so bad that Christine had to call Mrs. Mabry for help, and they would put her mother back into the hospital. After several cycles, Christine just called the ambulance for herself, without bothering Mrs. Mabry.

  Ms. Mabry broke into her thoughts. She insisted that Christine stay with her overnight. Christine, however, just wanted to be alone and think about what all was going on. She knew that eventually she would have to go stay with Ms. Mabry until her mom got home. But, she wanted to just relax all by herself tonight. She had a major book project due that week. Ms. Grey said they could type it at school, but they needed to have the rough draft done ahead of time. Christine had read her book and had planned on doing the rest of the rough draft last night. But, her mom had been so agitated that it had been impossible. She had spent that night trying, at first, to get her mother to just take her medicine. Finally, she gave up and just sat with her mother, trying to reason with her about what was reality and what was not. Her mother finally fell asleep after midnight. Christine was so tired that she went to bed, planning on gettingup early and finishing the rough draft. But, her mother had fallen apart this morning, so Christine hadn’t gottento do any of it.

  Mrs. Grey had fussed at her today because she didn’t have it done. She threatened to give her a bad grade. The project was for a major grade, and Christine was going to do all she could to finish on time. She needed tonight alone to finish it. She convinced Ms. Mabry that she would be fine by herself for one night.

  Christine got up early the next morning so she could reassure Ms. Mabry that she was all right. She had gone to bed after midnight again, the second night in a row. She was really tired, but knew she had to go to school. Staying home would only make things worse, both for her and for her mother as well. The school would report her to the truant officer and her mother would be upset.

  “Ms. Mabry,” Christine said on the phone, a few minutes later. “I am up and dressed for school. I will be ready when you come. I am working on an assignment while I wait.”

  “Have you had breakfast?” Ms. Mabry asked.

  “Yes. I had some cereal. I am fine.”

  “I wish you would come over here to stay so I can look after you,” Ms. Mabry pleaded with her.

  “I will stay with you tonight. I just needed to do some stuff last night.”

  “Fine. You know you can stay home today if you want to spend the day with your mother.”

  “No, I’ve missed too much school already. I have to go. Anyway, I have a major project due.” Christine didn’t tell Ms. Mabry the real reason she didn’t want to spend the day with her mother. Her mother was always so angry and hateful when she first went into the hospital. The less time Christine had to spend with her the better until she got on her medicine and mellowed out.

  When Christine got to school, things were no better. Mrs. Grey was angry at her for being behind on her project. She started fussing at her about it.

  “Christine, you know you are way behind on your book project, don’t you? You should have the typed rough draft done and be revising it by now. You haven’t even finished your handwritten copy yet. At this rate, you will make a bad grade, and you know it is for a major grade.” Mrs. Grey meant well, but she just didn’t know what Christine was going through or she wouldn’t keep on fussing at her about it. Christine felt like she was going to explode. She was doing all she could, but she couldn’t do all the housework, keep up her school work, and take care of her mother. Any one of those was a full time undertaking by itself.

  “I will get it done. I know I’m behind, but I will catch up. I promise.” Christine didn’t dare tell Mrs. Grey why she was so far behind. Mrs. Grey wouldn’t understand. She would probably think it was just a cop out. Christine didn’t want anyone to think she was using her mother’s illness as an excuse for anything.

  “Your work looks great. At least, the part you have finished does. I just don’t think you can get finished. You need to apply yourself more. You could have an A easily if you tried.�
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  Christine felt like crying. She had so much to do. She didn’t see any way to get it all done. She began to mentally list what all she had to do. She had to go see her mother after school. Then, she had to clean the house. It had gotten sort of out of control.

  It wouldn’t be any better tonight. Ms. Mabry would make her go to bed at 9:30. She never let her stay up and study. “A young lady needs her rest,” she always told Christine. “It won’t do you any good to stay up late and study. If you don’t get enough rest, you can’t do your best.”

  Life was just too hard for Christine. She didn’t know if she could cope or not. Maybe she was sick like her mother. Her mother always said she got bad because things in life got too hard to handle. And, Christine thought, they were certainly too had to handle for her right now.

  When the bell rang for the next period, Mrs. Grey called Christine to her desk. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “You look sort of down. Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Christine answered, wanting to tell Mrs. Grey what was going on, but not daring to do so. “I am just tired. I was up late last night.”

  “Well, you need to get to bed on time. Turn the TV off and get to bed. You can’t do your best work when you are tired.”

  Christine felt a quick rising of anger. Mrs. Grey had no idea what she was going through. She thought that since she was the teacher she knew it all. She didn’t know anything. She didn’t know what it was like to live with schizophrenia in the family. She probably didn’t even know what it was.

  Christine stewed in anger for the rest of the day. She just felt so out of sorts, and didn’t really know why. Maybe she had “it” too. She often wondered if she would be like her mother.

  Her mother had been perfectly normal until age twenty, then she had her first break with reality. At that time, she thought she was Mary, the mother of Jesus, and that she was about to give birth to the Messiah. Of course, Christine didn’t remember anything about it. She was just a couple of months old at the time.

  Christine knew that kids were rarely diagnosed with schizophrenia. Usually it wasn’t diagnosed until they were at least eighteen. But, that didn’t mean she didn’t have it deep inside her. She often felt this great blackness inside herself. She was sometimes sure it was the same thing her mother had. She was scared to think about it, but she wanted to plan how to deal with it if she did develop it at age eighteen or so. She knew she would never just not take her medicine. She saw what that did, from watching her mother. She would always be diligent in taking whatever the doctor prescribed. And, she would never get married or have kids. It wouldn’t be fair to her husband or kids. No way would she put a child through what she had to go through. No, she just wouldn’t get married. At least, not until she was old enough to be sure she wouldn’t get it. She had read somewhere that it usually happened before theage of thirty. So, if she made it to age thirty without getting sick, then she would think about getting married.

  That afternoon Christine slammed her book bag on the couch. Its contents spilled all over the floor. Christine kicked her English book under the coffee table. She wished it was Mrs. Grey instead

  of the book. Why couldn’t Mrs. Grey tell something

  was wrong? She always bragged that she was

  there to help them. Well, why didn’t she help

  Christine, instead of just nagging at her all the

  time? Christine had gotten the courage to tell

  Heather where her mother was, and Mrs. Grey

  caught them talking. She told them they lost a

  behavior point. They only got five every day, so

  that meant Christine had an eighty for class

  participation that day. It was stupid to base their

  grade on paying attention in class. Although,

  Christine, thought, it was necessary with that class.

  The whole ninth grade was horrible. This class

  was the most out of control in all other subjects.

  Mrs. Grey was the only one who had any control. Christine was in a smaller class for kids with behavior or emotional difficulties. She didn’t have behavior problems, like some to the kids, but she did have emotional problems. She often worried that she had what her mother had. Also, her mother had indicated that her father had bipolar disorder. Maybe that was what she had. Something was wrong with her, she thought. She was so depressed most of the time that she couldn’t do her school work. That was why she was placed in the smaller class. Of course, the whole school knew that it was a special class. She had been in this class since sixth grade.

  In the earlier grades, kids really teased her.

  Now, however, no one seemed to care that it was a

  special class. The whole ninth grade had different

  classes, depending on what they wanted to take,

  so it was less obvious. No one seemed to notice.

  All the kids were treated pretty much the same

  way. It was not like it was earlier, when kids in

  special classes were not included in the main

  social stream of things.

  Christine threw the refrigerator door open.

  She wanted a snack, but mom hadn’t given her any

  money for groceries this week. They only had stuff

  that they didn’t like so hadn’t fixed yet. Christine

  stuffed a limp stalk of celery in her mouth, then

  went to clean her room and do a little homework.

  After she finished her room, Christine sat at her desk trying to do her homework. She just couldn’t think. She kept running it through her mind about all the things her mom had said. Her mom had been extra hostile tonight. She had screamed at Christine to get her out of there now. Of course, Christine didn’t have any choice and her mother knew it. She just needed to let off steam to someone, and Christine was it. She kept blaming Christine, naming all the things that she had done wrong, things that supposedly caused her mother to end up in the hospital. Christine knew her mother wasn’t thinking objectively, but still, much of what she complained of was something that Christine struggled with all the time, wondering if she was doing right.

  Christine’s eyes watered, and she gasped out a little sob. It wasn’t just that her mother was angry with her, it was the heavy feeling of guilt, and everything she had to be responsible for, and had been for years. She couldn’t take any more. She just wanted to be a little girl. She was only sixteen, after all. Other kids worried about boys, going to the mall, etc. They didn’t have to care for a house, care for a sick mother, and then become such a failure because they weren’t up to the task.

  Whenever anyone asked Christine to go somewhere with them, she had to say no. She couldn’t leave her mother at night. Her mother got worse at night, it seemed. Also, her mother made her feel really guilty if she tried to go anywhere after school. Besides, how could she ever let anyone come to her house? They wouldn’t understand. And, what if her mother happened to be having one of her episodes of hallucination? That was scary to Christine, and she had seen her mother experience it many times. How would it seem to someone who had no idea of what was happening? No, Christine had given up all hopes of any sort of social life.

  She guessed she wouldn’t ever get married. She couldn’t date, and what boy would want to marry her, knowing they would have to, in effect, marry her mother, too? Christine would never be free of her mother and the responsibilities of caring for her. Any man who married her would be burdened with her mother as well. No, it would never work. It was best to just appear to be an unsociable person. She was considered having severe depression, thus the lack of desire for social contacts. That was not entirely true, though she was depressed most of the time. But, she really did want a social life. She just didn’t see any way to have it.

  “Christine, are you ready to come over for dinner?” Ms. Mabry’s voice brought Christine out of her pity party. At last, someone to take over for her. Ms. Mabry might be controlling, but right now Christi
ne welcomed that. Sometimes she got upset at Ms. Mabry because she would just come over and start telling Christine and her mother what they should be doing. Sometimes she had Christine to call the ambulance to take her mother away when Christine knew she could talk her mother out of her state. But, right now, none of that mattered. She was a shoulder to lean on, and Christine certainly needed that.

  “Sure. I’m just finishing my homework. I can finish this little bit after dinner.”

  “Fine, but you need to get to bed by 9:30 tonight. You are staying with me, and that is a rule at my house. Anyone less than eighteen goes to bed at 9:30. John doesn’t like it, but as long as he is at home, he will obey it.” John was Ms. Mabry’s seventeen year old son, and he was definitely a hunk. Of course, Christine thought, he didn’t even know she lived next door. He cared only for his little bunch of friends he hung out with.

  Christine didn’t mind the going to bed early, as she was exhausted, but she did feel some resistance at being told what to do. She was used to making the decisions for herself. She didn’t need someone making rules for her, and telling her when to go to bed, when to get up, when to eat and such. However, if she was only staying for a short while, she could bear with it. It would be better than being alone at her own home.

  Ms. Mabry busied herself wiping up, picking things up, and generally putting the things back in order that Christina had destroyed in her fit earlier. Ms. Mabry was a perfect housekeeper, and Christine was afraid she thought of her and her mother as slobs. Christine was now ashamed that she had tossed her book bag down and left it. She hurried to pick everything up and stuff it back in the book bag.

  “Just leave it, I will get it,” Ms. Mabry said. “You go get packed for the night. I will get this.” Though ashamed of the mess, Christine felt comforted that someone else was going to take care of something she had messed up. She was used to taking care of others’ messes, not having someone take care of her messes.

  Later, after a luxurious bubble bath drawn for her by Ms. Mabry, Christine climbed into the huge four-poster bed. Ms. Mabry had turned back the covers for her and said her prayers with her. She tucked the covers around her, then kissed her forehead. Christine thought this must be how princesses lived. She snuggled deep under the thick pile of handmade quilts, covered by a pretty, white chenille bedspread. Ms. Mabry had once told her some of the history of the quilts. Some she had made herself from old family fabrics, and some were from Ms. Mabry’s mother. Christine couldn’t think of anything in her house that had any sentimental value. Everything was disposable, it seemed.