The President's Wife Is on Prozac

by Jayne Lind

  She also knew that when things got tough, he wouldn’t always be able to be there for her. What an impossible situation! She didn’t know where he was, whether he was flying back to wherever he goes, or whether he was still in the vicinity. She got out of bed and wrote to him anyway.

  Dear J: How wonderful it was to see you again and be with you. I’m cherishing the memories. I hope they will sustain me throughout the rest of my time here. Thank you for loving me. Does that sound silly? I am very grateful for you, for your love, and for your being there for me even if it is in this very unsatisfactory way. Write again as soon as you can and I hope you don’t get into trouble for your excursion. I love you, T.

  She dreamt of him that night and awoke with a feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket. Well, Taylor, they didn’t teach you in psychology what it feels like to be loved. I had to be experienced.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When Taylor opened her laptop the next morning, there was an email from her mother—who never emailed her. Taylor clicked on it immediately. There was none from Josh.

  Dear Taylor: I don’t know why you can’t be reached by phone, but I have some important news to tell you. I have cancer and they’re operating on me tomorrow. Since I’m all alone in the world, it would be nice if you could come. For once, put me ahead of your job, which you care about so much. I go in to the hospital tomorrow. Love, Mother

  Cancer! So her lie had come true. The lie Taylor had told and was continuing to tell everyone who knew her. What kind of cancer? The email was written the night before, so that meant today was the day she was having the surgery. Love, Mother. She had never signed a letter or anything with that closing. What should I do? Am I allowed to go? Do I want to go? What if she dies? I have to go. Her thoughts tumbled through her mind, one after another.

  She phoned Lillian to ask if a long distance call could be placed for her, after telling her the reason. Lillian expressed sympathy and put the call through for her. It was four o’clock in the morning in California, but Taylor knew if she didn’t reach her mother before she left home, she wouldn’t know to which hospital she was going. After several rings her mother answered, “Hello?” Her voice sounded sleepy, yet harsh at the same time.

  “Mother, I just opened your email. What type of cancer do you have?”

  “You woke me up! Don’t you know what time it is here? It’s lung cancer. Did you get my email? Where are you?” she asked in rapid succession“

  I’m sorry I woke you up, Mother, but I need to know which hospital you’re going to.”

  “It’s the one in Hillcrest. You know, where all of us poor folks go, the ones who don’t have any money.”

  Taylor knew she must mean the county hospital. “All right, Mother. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Are....are you all right?”

  There was silence for a few seconds. “Well, what do ya think? Of course I’m not all right. I’m sick! And I probably won’t make it through the operation, but it won’t make any difference. No one will miss me.”

  Taylor felt the familiar stab of hurt, the deep pain she experienced over and over as a child. It had actually been nice not to have to hear her mother’s voice since she came to the White House, not to hear the judgment, the sarcasm. “I’m sure they’ll take good care of you; I’m sure you will be just fine. I’ll get there as soon as I possibly can, all right?”

  “Well, I probably won’t be able to go back to sleep now and I need my rest. Take your time. I’m sure your work is more important than me.” With that, she hung up.

  Taylor sat perfectly still, frozen, numb. All the old feelings, the ones she had tried to bury deep in her memory, enveloped her as if it had been yesterday. It wasn’t just the words, the accusations, it was also the tone. The whiney, complaining tone, razor sharp with anger. Well, Taylor, here we go again. She stood up, took in a very long, deep breath and knew she didn’t have much time. No time to sit and wallow in self-pity.

  Before she could pick up the phone to ask if she was allowed to go, there was a knock at the door. It was Lillian. She came in, shut the door behind her, and said, “Dr. Leigh, I’m sure you’re concerned about your mother and want to go and be with her.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Is it all right? Am I allowed to go?” Taylor asked. As she spoke, she realized she had already promised her mother she would be there.

  Lillian remained standing. “Yes, we will make all the arrangements for you. I’m sure you won’t have to be gone more than several days. You said the surgery is today, so we must hurry to get you on a plane.” With that, she left.

  Taylor sat down at the desk to write to Josh.

  Dear J: My mother is having surgery today for cancer. She emailed me yesterday but I didn’t open the email until this morning. So I’m going. L. was just here and said she will arrange everything. I’m apprehensive of what I will find when I’m there and very selfishly, frightened, as always, in her presence. Wish you could go with me as a shield. Must hurry. I love you, T.

  Just as she hit the send button, there was another knock on her door. This time it was Susan. “Pack a small suitcase,” she said, “but you can’t take your laptop. It will be kept here, safe for you. You have a seat on the 12 o’clock flight to San Diego.”

  “May I speak to the First Lady before I go?” Taylor asked. As with so much about everything here, it was all happening fast.

  “Yes, I’ve spoken to Lillian. She should be contacting you any minute. I’ll come here three hours before your flight so we can get you there on time.”

  With that she left and Taylor began to pack. And worry. Her mother thought she was in Darfur. How was she supposed to have reached California so soon? Lies again. Well, her mother had told her lies all her life, but that didn’t make it any easier. And it was true her mother was all alone, but that was because she alienated friends until they eventually dropped her. She drove them away with her self-centered personality.

  She was finished packing and had just begun to eat some of her breakfast, which had grown cold, when Lillian phoned. “Mrs. Carlson is waiting for you in your meeting room,” she said, in a kind tone of voice.

  When Taylor walked into the room, Beth went over to her and touched her arm. “Taylor, I’m so sorry to hear about your mother. Of course, you must go, your mother is much more important than me, please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  Taylor realized Beth must think she had the same kind of mother as she did. She didn’t, couldn’t, know how reluctant Taylor was to go. Out loud she said, “Will you be all right? I hope nothing drastic happens while I’m away, but could a telephone call be arranged if need be?”

  “Yes, I’m certain it could be arranged. But Taylor, I don’t want you to worry about me, I want you to go and stay as long as you are needed. Your mother must be your first priority.”

  Susan took her to the airport. On the way, she handed her the boarding pass. She noticed the name—Tracy Lowry. There was no change of cars on this trip. “Don’t chat with anyone on the plane,” she warned her.

  Taylor obeyed the instructions and tried to bury herself in a novel she brought, but couldn’t concentrate. Being with her mother again, after what happened with Frank, brought all the memories back afresh. Flashbacks of her childhood haunted her entire flight and when she reached California, she was emotionally exhausted. A rental car had been arranged for her. She imagined there must be secret service personnel following her, but she was being allowed to drive, which was a great treat, even if she did have to concentrate hard to stay on the right side of the road. The California sunshine was still the same she noted, shedding brilliant golden warmth over the city. The familiar palm trees rose tall and straight up to a solid blue sky.

  Entering the hospital, Taylor’s sense of dread, the dread she’d experienced since she knew she was coming here, grew until it threatened to overwhelm her. It was as i
f she was entering into a dark, ominous cloud. She didn’t know if the surgery was over or not and her imagination spiraled. What if her mother didn’t make it through the surgery? What if her mother had died? How would she feel, not being there when it happened?

  However, her imagination was wrong—her mother wasn’t dead. The surgery was over and her mother was in ICU. With trepidation, Taylor went to her bedside. The woman lying asleep in the bed didn’t look like her mother. She was much thinner, her skin was sallow, and the grey roots of her bleached blonde hair were exposed. It had been five years since Taylor last saw her and she looked far older.

  The machines pulsed, humming their medical tune, and the clear plastic IV”s and tubes created a maze around her mother’s arms and nose. “How is she?” Taylor asked the nurse standing nearby.

  “She’s doing as well as can be expected at this stage. She’s sleeping a lot because of the morphine.”

  Taylor sat down in a chair by the bed. She didn’t know if her mother would wake, but felt she should stay there, waiting, in case. As she watched her, Taylor realized she had no sympathy for her, no sympathy for this old looking woman lying in the bed. How could she be so callous toward her own mother? She was obviously very ill and needed her, or at least needed someone. I’m so empathic with my clients, I listen to their problems, I want to help them. Will anyone sit by my bed when I am old and ill?

  She had many friends, but very little family. That is an asset when you wanted to escape, escape as far as another country. But at the end, who would be there? Who would care? Would Josh? She didn’t completely trust him yet, as much as she wanted to.

  About an hour after she arrived, her mother opened her eyes. “Oh, Taylor. I thought you’d never get here.”

  Taylor stood up and leaned closer, “I came as soon as I could, Mother. How are you feeling?”

  She looked away and grimaced. “I’m all right, kind of dopey from the pain medicine. How long are ya gonna stay?”

  How long? Taylor didn’t know. And how could she explain to her mother why it wasn’t just any ordinary job? But before she was able to conjure up an answer, her mother was once again asleep.

  Taylor left the hospital, drove to her nearby hotel, and went to sleep, fully clothed, on top of the bedspread. When she awoke, it was very early morning. She felt utterly lost without her laptop. She supposed Susan would get in touch with her soon. Otherwise, she didn’t know how to answer her mother’s question. She freshened up and left the hotel, relishing the fact that she had done this without asking anyone’s permission. She drove straight to the hospital without even a cup of coffee.

  Her mother was awake and looked somewhat better. “Oh, I thought ya’d left,” she said in a whiney voice as a greeting.

  “You were sleeping, so I went to the hotel. I didn’t mean to sleep so long.” She went over and kissed her on the forehead. “How are you this morning?” she asked.

  “Oh, not so good. The pain is worse and they’ve cut down on the pain medicine. They say they don’t wanna get me addicted. And the nurses—they’re never around when you need em. I push the buzzer all the time and they hardly ever answer.” Her lips compressed into a thin line and she looked at Taylor as if she expected her to do something about it.

  “I’m sure they’re busy with other patients,” Taylor said, trying to smile, but felt the smile must look weak. She didn’t know what to say; she never did know what to say to her mother.

  “Why aren’t ya staying at the apartment?” her mother asked, in the same complaining tone of voice. “Why are ya staying in a hotel?”

  “Oh well, I’m right here by the hospital,” Taylor replied. Everything I do is always wrong. “I …I thought it would be easier.”

  “That’s a waste of money. When did ya cut your hair? I liked it better long.”

  Well, her mother hadn’t changed. But then Taylor really hadn’t expected her to. “Listen, Mother, I thought I could arrange for a nurse to be with you when you leave the hospital.”

  “A nurse! Aren’t ya gonna to stay?” Her eyes had gone round and the familiar anger showed itself in the edge of her voice, blade sharp.

  “No, Mother, I can’t stay. I have to get back to my work. I’ll pay for all of it, so you don’t need to worry.”

  “Well, I guess ya’ll pay. I don’t have that kind of money. But what I really need is a person to clean. I haven’t felt like doing anythin for a long time. Could you get someone to clean the house?”

  “Yes, Mother, I’ll do that too.” Their house had never been clean, one of the many reasons Taylor didn’t bring friends home with her. The men had stopped coming round her mother ten years ago, when she began to put on weight and lost her glamorous looks, but she still bleached her hair and wore too much makeup. She drew social sec- urity benefits, but it was a small amount, since she had never kept a job long enough to build up the fund. “By the way, I didn’t get my check from ya last month—did ya forget me again?”

  Taylor had been supporting her mother for years. In the first place, she felt that it was her duty, but California law also demanded it. Elderly parents who had children able to support them were not eligible for welfare. So as soon as Taylor began making a decent wage, she began sending her mother checks. “I’m sorry, Mother, I guess I didn’t send it, but I’ll leave you enough money for the next several months before I leave.” She had forgotten, with all that was going on in her own life.

  Taylor looked around the ward. It was clean, but old. However, she had to admit, so were lots of hospitals in the U.K. There was no reason for her mother to be in the county hospital. “Mother, don’t you have health insurance? I thought part of the money I send you was supposed to be spent on a good health care plan. And why did they find the cancer so late? Had you not gone to the doctor?” she asked, in as gentle tone of voice as she could muster.

  “You know how it is these days. I went to the doctor, but he didn’t think it was serious enough to have tests done, so I walked out of there—mad. And I didn’t go back until I started hurting worse and health insurance was too expensive. I needed the money for other things.”

  In Britain, her mother would have been well looked after, Taylor thought. There were no indigent hospitals, everyone was treated the same. Health care was a right, not a privilege, and it was free to all at the point of service.

  It was just as if Taylor had been there yesterday and all the days before. Her mother didn’t ask how she was, what she was doing, was there a man in her life—nothing. There was an acrid taste in her mouth. She didn’t enjoy one single moment in her mother’s presence. Resentment had built up over the years, had grown as tall as any mountain, and with all her efforts to climb out of it, it was still there. She felt she had to get out of the room, even if it was just for a little while. “I’m going down to the cafeteria to get some breakfast, can I bring you anything?”

  “No, I’m not hungry and they won’t let me eat anythin decent anyway,” her mother snapped.

  When Taylor reached the elevator, she was startled to see Susan standing there. “Hello, I didn’t know you were coming with me.”

  Susan smiled, “I came later. But now I’m here, so it might seem natural for us to chat like friends. Someone else is walking ahead and behind us.”

  They went to the cafeteria and over breakfast, Taylor asked how long she would be allowed to stay.

  “However long you think you should,” she answered, in a sympathetic tone, “hopefully no more than a week.”

  She told Susan some of how she felt about her relationship with her mother. It was true, Susan really wasn’t a friend, but she was the closest thing to it these days and Taylor felt she needed someone to talk to. Without her laptop, she couldn’t talk to Josh. “Our relationship has always been conflicted,” Taylor told her, “but now that she’s ill and getting older, I guess I feel guilty somehow. Guilty because I wouldn’t w
ant to be old and alone and sick and have nobody to care. Do you know what I mean?”

  Susan nodded, “Sure, and at our age, we don’t think that’ll ever happen, do we? Have you spoken to her doctor?”

  “No, I’ll try to do that today, as well as line up some help for her. And after that I’ll know more about going back.”

  “Goodness,” Susan smiled, “what made you ever leave this gorgeous sunshine? I would love to live here!”

  Taylor didn’t answer her as they rose to leave. That would be far too long a story and far too intimate to reveal. But as she said goodbye to Susan, she realized once again, that she felt like a free person and as a bonus, had held a conversation with someone.

  She spent the day at her mother’s bedside, staying longer than she wanted to. When she left the room, Susan was again waiting. “Do you want to go have dinner somewhere?” she asked. “I bet you know where the good restaurants are.”

  Taylor was delighted. “Oh, I’d love to. Is it allowed?”

  Susan shook her head affirmatively, “Yes, definitely. If we do run into someone you know, just introduce me as Susan and make up a last name on the spot, if it’s necessary”.

  Taylor knew just the place she wanted to go. It was down on the beach in Del Mar. She had never been there as a customer, but worked there as a waitress during summer holidays from school. As they walked in, Taylor felt luxurious; she was going to sit down, rather than run back and forth from the kitchen. Wide windows displayed stunning views of the ocean and the sun was low on the horizon, almost ready to disappear. “I must say,” Taylor said, as they sat down at a window table, “I do miss the sunsets over the ocean.”