Harsh Pink with Bonus Content

by Melody Carlson

  “Want to catch a movie tonight?” she asks as she pulls into my driveway. “Or do you have a big date?”

  I laugh. “A big date? Who with?”

  “Well, I’ve seen Jonathan looking at you lately. And he sure seems to like tossing you in the air at practice.”

  “Probably because I’m the lightweight of the bunch. And Jonathan’s the smallest of the guys.”

  “But he’s smart.”

  I nod. “And he’s nice.”

  “He thinks you’re nice too.”

  “Really?”

  She nods. “I’m sure of it. And now that I think about it, Jonathan is fairly good friends with Logan. Maybe we could double with them sometime.”

  “Cool.”

  “In the meantime, we could catch a chick flick tonight.”

  “I’ll call you.”

  “Okay.”

  I feel incredibly happy as I walk toward the house. This feels like life is supposed to feel when you’re sixteen and in high school — at least the way I imagine it’s supposed to feel. In some ways, my life has never been what I’d call normal, although I aspire to it constantly. But today was good. Very good. And I feel relaxed and happy.

  These feelings evaporate as soon as I open the door. I see a moccasin in the entry and then Nana, in her pink sweats, sprawled across the hardwood floor, lying flat on her back, eyes closed, not moving.

  “Nana!” I scream as I run to her side. “Nana!”

  twelve

  NANA DOESN’T ANSWER. I FALL DOWN TO MY KNEES AND PUT MY FACE DOWN close to hers, touching her forehead with my fingertips. It’s still warm. I put my cheek next to her nose. She’s still breathing.

  “Nana?” I say more quietly. “Can you hear me?”

  She groans softly, then her papery eyelids flutter open. “Reagan?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fell down.”

  “I see that.” I try to remember first aid now. You’re supposed to keep them warm. “Stay here,” I say, knowing that she’s going nowhere. I run and get her blanket and lay it over her. I want to ask her when it happened, how long she’s been like this, but I know it’s pointless. Time is a concept outside of her grasp these days.

  “Did you hurt anything?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  She moves her hand down and pats her leg. “Here. Hurts here.”

  “Okay. Just relax and I’m going to call someone.” I walk over to where the cordless phone is still on the table next to her pink chair, pick it up, and call 911. The dispatcher lady takes my information and soothingly talks to me as I wait for the ambulance to arrive. I follow the ambulance to the hospital. It’s not until I’m in the ER with Nana that I think to call my mom. I dial her cell phone number and hold my breath as I listen to it ring. She picks up on the third one.

  “Reagan?” she says, obviously checking her caller ID.

  “Nana fell down,” I say simply. “She slipped on the hardwood floor. I think she may have broken something. We’re in the ER right now and she’s about to get an X ray.”

  “Oh no.”

  “She’s totally conscious and seems to be in good spirits, considering.”

  “I’m so glad you were there with her, Reagan.” “I should go, Mom. She’s asking a question and no one’s in the room right now but me.”

  “Yes, go and be with her. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes, okay?”

  “That’s fine, Mom.”

  “That’s as soon as I can get there.”

  “Really, Mom. Everything’s under control. Drive safely.”

  Then we hang up. And I am so relieved that she’s not mad at me. Not yet anyway. I don’t want to tell her that I was gone when Nana fell. I don’t want her to get angry at me for having been out all day. I’m fully aware that this accident might not have happened if I’d been home sooner. Even so, I’m not sure I can admit this to Mom. Besides, what good would it do? It wouldn’t change anything.

  Nana’s getting her X ray done when Mom gets there. “She should be back in a few minutes,” I say.

  “Was she in much pain?”

  “I think it was hurting pretty bad,” I admit, trying not to remember her sobs when they loaded her on the gurney. She didn’t understand what was going on. I tried to explain that they were helping her, but she thought they were hurting her and wanted them to stop.

  “Poor Mother.”

  “But the doctor gave her something for the pain when she got to the ER. I think she was feeling better before they took her to the X-ray room.”

  “Did you tell them she has Alzheimer’s?”

  “I filled out the paperwork when I got here, but I forgot to put it on there. But I did tell the receptionist that Nana has some memory problems and that it’s probably Alzheimer’s.”

  “Probably?”

  “Okay, most likely.”

  “Sometimes it’s better to just accept the facts, Reagan.”

  I sigh and look down at my lap.

  Mom actually puts an arm around me then. “I’m sorry. I should be thanking you for handling everything so well.”

  Okay, this is nice, but it makes me feel even more guilty. This might not have happened if I’d stayed home. I’m almost tempted to confess the whole thing. But not yet.

  It turns out that Nana has broken her pelvic bone. “It’s a painful place to break a bone,” the doctor explains, “because it’s so integral to all body movements. Whether it’s walking, sitting, standing, bending, lying down, using the toilet — you name the activity and the pelvic bone is probably involved.”

  “Oh, dear.” Mom puts her hand over her mouth. “So how do you treat it?”

  “In her case, it’s just a matter of letting it heal. She’ll be bedridden for a while, but then we’ll try to get her moving, into physical therapy. If all goes well, she could be on her feet in six weeks.”

  “Six weeks?”

  “In the meantime, she’ll be confined to a wheelchair and need a lot of help. What kind of facility is she in now?”

  “Actually, she’s still living at home with us,” says Mom.

  “Does she have a full-time caregiver?”

  “Just my daughter and me. I looked into an assisted living facility not too long ago. She’s on their waiting list.”

  He frowns. “Assisted living won’t take her now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she needs too much help. She’s at a whole new stage of care now.” He writes something on a piece of paper. “Give this place a call. Tell them she’ll be released from the hospital in a few days.” Then he walks away.

  “That seems a little harsh,” I say as I watch him heading down the hallway.

  “I’m sure he’s just being honest with us.”

  “What’s the name of the place?” I ask.

  “Martindale Manor,” she reads. “I’ll give them a call.”

  I wait in the lobby while Mom calls the nursing home on her cell phone. I still feel extremely guilty, like this is all my fault — on so many levels. And yet what can I do? I consider offering to care for Nana myself, at home. But I know that’s not really possible. I have school … and a life.

  “They can take her,” says Mom, looking relieved.

  “Should we go check them out first?”

  “I don’t know if there’s any point, since they’re the only care facility with an opening right now.”

  “Is that what they told you?” I feel suspicious now.

  “Yes. But they also gave me a couple of other names in case I wanted to shop around.”

  “Oh.”

  “We just have to accept this, Reagan. I know it’s hard to let her go to this next stage, but maybe it’s for the best.”

  “Maybe.” I turn away and head for the restroom. Tears are blurring my eyes now. I just do not see how this can be for the best. And I just do not understand a world where someone as sweet and good and kind as Nana must suffer like this. What is up with that? I w
onder how Andrea Lynch would explain a God who does things like this? I have half a mind to call and ask her. But I won’t. I will not give her the satisfaction. Besides, she might blame me for Nana’s fall. She heard how upset I was when she couldn’t watch Nana next Saturday. Maybe she’ll think I pushed her.

  As I’m standing in front of the sink, my cell phone rings. “Hey, Reagan,” says Kendra. “How about that movie?”

  So I explain to her about Nana’s accident, about finding her on the floor, and, actually crying as I speak, I even confess about the Alzheimer’s. Then, to my surprise, Kendra is very understanding and supportive.

  “Forget about the movie,” she finally says. “I’m just sorry to hear all that you’ve been through. Poor Reagan.”

  I sniff. “I’m okay. But it’s just been such an ordeal. Sorry to dump on you like that.”

  “Hey, that’s what friends are for.” Then she asks which hospital. And I tell her. “How about if I stop by and say hey?”

  “Sure,” I tell her, although I don’t know why she wants to trouble herself. Still, it’s sweet. And I think this is just more proof that Andrea was totally wrong about Kendra and my friends. Why did I let that stupid girl get to me?

  It’s not long before Nana is settled into a room. Mom and I stay with her, just talking and reassuring her that everything’s going to be okay. I notice that Mom’s not mentioning anything about the nursing home. And maybe that’s for the best. It would probably just confuse her anyway.

  “When can we go home?” asks Nana for about the sixth time.

  “Not today,” Mom says again. She glances at me. “I’m going to get some coffee. Want me to bring you something?”

  “No thanks.”

  Shortly after Mom leaves, Kendra shows up with a beautiful bouquet of pink roses and a little pink teddy bear.

  “Oh, my!” Nana claps her hands happily and I introduce them.

  “Andrea,” says Nana. “You look so pretty today.”

  “No, her name’s not Andrea,” I say, acting like Nana just got it wrong, although I know she actually thinks this is Andrea Lynch, which makes no sense, except that they’re both blonde and about the same height and Nana’s got a memory problem. “Her name’s Kendra.”

  Kendra laughs. “Oh, well, Kendra sounds a little like Andrea.”

  “Yes.” Nana nods and smiles. “Kendra, Andrea, Andrea, Kendra. They rhyme. Like LeAnn Rimes. That rhymes too.”

  I toss Kendra an embarrassed smile and she just laughs and continues to chat nonsense with Nana. It’s actually nice having her here and I’m impressed with how easily she goes along with things, how she seems to accept Nana just as she is. Almost like a member of the family. When Mom gets back, I introduce her to Kendra, and I think Mom’s actually impressed with my friend.

  “Beautiful roses,” she says as she moves them closer to Nana’s bedside.

  “Pretty pink,” says Nana happily. I think maybe the pain medication is making her even goofier than usual. But she’s so sweet, it’s hard not to smile.

  “It was so nice of you to come by the hospital,” Mom says to Kendra.

  “We had planned to go to a movie tonight,” I tell Mom. “But I told Kendra that I — ”

  “Why don’t you go?” says Mom. “I can stay here and keep Mother company.”

  “Oh, but — ”

  “No, really, Reagan. There’s no reason we both have to be here. In fact, maybe we should take turns visiting her while she’s in the hospital. It’ll help to pass the time for her. You can pop in after school and I’ll come during my lunch hour and in the evening. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds good,” I say.

  “So go,” she says, waving her hand.

  Nana looks a little disappointed to see us leave, but I turn the TV to the country music channel, even though this makes Mom frown, and Nana cheers up. Then I kiss her good-bye and say, “I’ll see you later.”

  “See you at home,” she calls. And I just wave.

  “She’s going to go into a nursing home,” I explain to Kendra as we go down in the elevator.

  “Does she know that?”

  “No. There’s probably not much point in telling her. It would either worry her or she’d just forget.”

  “Getting old must be horrible,” says Kendra as we walk through the lobby. “I think I’ll ask someone to just shoot me if I ever get so old that I have to be taken care of.”

  “Me too,” I agree. Not that I want anyone to shoot Nana.

  I drop my car at my house, and as I get into Kendra’s car, I notice that Andrea is outside raking leaves, watching us. She actually waves, but I pretend not to see.

  “Do you know that girl?” asks Kendra, who obviously saw her.

  “Not really,” I say. “I met her last summer when we moved here. She wanted to be friends, but I was like, uh, thanks but no thanks.”

  Kendra snickers. “Smart thinking. She’s such a geek.”

  This reminds me of something. “I still remember this totally weird thing she told me though.” I laugh as if it’s really funny. “She said that she used to be popular. Like that was going to impress me. I mean, seriously, how pathetic is that?”

  Kendra laughs. “Extremely pathetic. But, you know, she actually did used to be slightly popular. Like way back in middle school. Then she turned into this religious freak and no one could stand her anymore. She sort of went from freak to geek.”

  “And get this,” I say, deciding to totally trash her. “She was so desperate to be my friend that she hung out with my grandma.” I laugh loudly. “I mean, I love Nana to pieces, but can you imagine hanging out with an old lady just so you could be friends with her granddaughter? Serious Geek Girl.”

  “That is so lame. Oh, yeah, her name’s Andrea, isn’t it? That’s probably why Nana got my name mixed up with hers.”

  “Maybe so,” I admit. “That’s so sweet that you call Nana Nana. She really seemed to like you, Kendra.”

  “You mean Andrea, Kendra, Kendra, Andrea? Or LeAnn Rimes?”

  We both laugh, but I don’t think that joke’s terribly humorous, since it seems to be at Nana’s expense. Still, I have to admit that Nana can be pretty funny.

  The movie turns out to be sort of ho-hum, but it’s a good distraction from this afternoon’s trauma. And by the time Kendra’s driving me home, I feel like maybe things will be okay after all. I thank her and get out. I see that the lights are on inside, which tells me that Mom must be home from the hospital. Hopefully Nana will be okay through the night. Maybe they’ll give her something to help her sleep.

  I go inside through the front door and am immediately hit with the memory of Nana sprawled across the floor. I so thought she was dead. I guess I should be really thankful that she wasn’t. Still, it was upsetting.

  “Reagan?” I hear Mom calling from the kitchen.

  She holds up the Nordstrom bag that contains the shirt I got today. “You went to the mall?”

  I consider this. “Yeah, just for a little while. After we got the party stuff.”

  “The receipt in this bag says you purchased this shirt at 3:43.”

  “Uh-huh.” I study Mom. “What are you, like a detective?”

  “I’m just curious as to how long Nana was home alone today and whether you were here when she fell.”

  “Well, no, I wasn’t here when she fell, Mom. I never said I was.”

  “You gave me that impression, Reagan.”

  “Sorry. It was all pretty upsetting.”

  “So do you have any idea what time it was when Nana fell? Or how long she might’ve been on the floor like that?”

  I shake my head no. “Well, her lunch is still in the fridge.”

  “Oh.”

  “So it’s possible she was on the floor for several hours, Reagan.”

  Okay, this is really starting to bug me. “Is that my fault, Mom?”

  “You gave me the impression that you were going to be home for most of the day.”

 
; “So?”

  “So did you lie to me?”

  “No!”

  “But you were gone for several hours?”

  “I didn’t really watch the clock, Mom. And I was having fun, so it’s possible that the time got away from me.” I stare back at my mother and wonder why she can be so mean sometimes. “What are you saying? Are you trying to blame this on me, Mom? Is Nana supposed to be my responsibility? Am I supposed to take care of her around the clock?” Okay, I know I’m stepping over the line and asking for it, but Mom has pushed my button. “Sometimes I actually wonder if that’s the reason you adopted me, Mom. Just so you could have a little Chinese slave girl to wait on you. And then you could have her wait on your mother too. Was that your plan?”

  Mom’s eyes grow wide. “I can’t believe you’d say something like that, Reagan! When I think of all I’ve done — ”

  “What about me, Mom? What about all I’ve done for you? And I’m the kid here. I didn’t ask to be brought into this home. I didn’t have any choice.”

  “Reagan Margaret Mercer!”

  “Sorry, but that’s how I feel sometimes!”

  For the first time that I can ever remember, my mother is speechless. She just stands there with her jaw hanging down, staring at me as if I’m a perfect stranger. And maybe I am. Sometimes I think I don’t even know myself anymore.

  “Well.” She shakes her head. “I think we’ve both had a long day. We’re very stressed and have probably said some things we don’t mean.”

  I just nod and walk away. Okay, I got off pretty easy just now. Still, I think that might’ve been the closest thing to an apology I’ve ever gotten from that woman. Honestly, when it comes to meanness, sometimes I think my mother might’ve written the book on it!

  thirteen

  JOCELYN AND CHAD ARE ACTUALLY DATING NOW. THIS HAS PUT JOCELYN IN a very jolly mood, which should make varsity squad a lot more pleasant, but it seems that Sally is in a perfect snit.

  “What’s eating Sally?” I ask Kendra as we go to the cafeteria together on Wednesday. “Is she like having really bad PMS?”

  “More like fits of jealousy.”