Vacant Horizons
Page 6
She plants a kiss on top of my head and we head out for the hospital.
Behind the heavy wooden doors, we’re led down the quiet hallway to Mama’s room. I stop just inside the door; the woman lying in the bed before me surely can’t be the lady I visited with yesterday. She looks so frail. Her collarbones protrude from beneath the edges of her gown, her cheekbones have become the most prominent feature of her beautiful face and her ghostly pale skin stretches tightly across them. Shadowed lids cover her brilliant green eyes; now those same eyes sit too far back into their sockets. The tubing for the oxygen wraps around her face and rests beneath her nose, the tiny tips sticking just inside her nostrils. Her chests rises and falls with her quick, labored breaths and I can barely see her pulse beating against the side of her thin neck with a steady thrum that matches the blips on the screen beside her. Even my young mind knows that all of this isn’t right.
Mama’s sick. Granny told me that Mama was very sick but I didn’t expect this. I slowly approach the bed and reach out for her hand.
It’s cold.
Her fingers are a funny color; they kind of look like they might be turning blue near her fingernails. The blue cuff around her arm starts to fill with air. The nurse named Bobbie taught me that it checks to see how hard and fast her heart is pumping. The lower the numbers, the weaker her heart pushes the blood into her arteries. An alarm sounds when all of the air is finally out of the cuff- 74/30. That’s the lowest I’ve ever seen it.
I step back from Mama’s bed when Bobbie comes into the room, checks all of the machines around Mama with a worried expression on her face, presses some buttons real quick, and exits the room without speaking.
She returns a moment later with a thermometer to stick under Mama’s arm. She tells us that Mama has a fever so she puts some gel stuff into Mama’s mouth. She explains that it’s supposed to help with her temperature and make her feel better. “Cherry, I think that we need to be going. Ms. Bobbie looks like she has everything under control for now. She’s call us if she needs us for anything. Say bye to Mama, baby. I think she needs to rest for a while,” Granny softly nudges me toward Mama and lowers the bed some so that I can kiss Mama on her cheek. “See you later, Mama. I’ve gotta go do my homework now. I’ll see you later today or maybe tomorrow. I love you.”
Those were the last words I got to say to her. She passed away about three hours after we left. The doctors and nurses all said that she went very peacefully and that it was like she went to sleep and just didn’t wake up. They told me that Bobbie was with her that evening and that she was singing to Mama and holding her hand when she went home to be with Jesus.
I like to think that Granny found her in heaven and they’re up there keeping everyone in line. That day was the only time Granny ever cried in front of me. She always tried to keep a strong face on for me and it helped me make it through more times than I could possibly count.
You’re too pretty to cry.
That’s what she always told me and I like to think that it is true.
Charles continues to hold me as my tears subside into dry sobs. He’s so wonderful... He’s been by my side through losing Granny and my depression that’s followed. His big hands work their way through my hair, freeing it of the small pins and clips holding it atop my head. My thick wavy hair, now back to its natural dark brown, falls down my back and tickles the skin that is now home to another masterpiece. It’s that sensation that reminds me that I’m shirtless. And that it’s cold in here. Shit.
Despite my level of comfort with Jaime and my relationship with Charles, I still don’t like the idea of being exposed like this in an unsecured location. I frantically look around and locate my shirt draped over the half wall dividing the two tattoo stalls farthest from the front of the parlor. I drag it over my head and stretch the fabric into place over my body. A delicious shiver slides over my freshly inked skin and Jaime tugs me to a standing position and toward the counter. She raises my shirt and skillfully tapes the protective film over the large area before returning my shirt to its rightful position.
“There. Now you’re good to go. By the way, that’s your birthday gift from Jasper and me; you’re welcome. So in three weeks, don’t be expecting anything from us,” Jaime playfully ribs with the truest of smiles. For the first time in months, I feel my cheeks stretching with my own smile and throw my head back to laugh with true joy despite the painful memories I had only moments before relived.