Chapter 21
The staff doctor, the kind who heals your body and not your mind, expressed concern Cissy had dropped so much weight in the few weeks she’d been at the hospital. He must have phoned her grandmother, who in rapid fashion phoned her. Cissy explained that a bout with stomach flu wasn’t a good reason for a seventy-two-year-old woman to drive from Biloxi to Meridian.
“I just don’t have an appetite,” Cissy said. “I’m not trying to starve myself for Chrissake.”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, young lady. You’ve got to put on some weight or they’ll start feeding you intravenously or by feeding tube. Do you want me to paint you a picture of how unpleasant that would be?”
To get her off the phone and avoid hearing about those unpleasantries, Cissy had promised to eat more and to take better care of her health. Despite those assurances, she suspected her grandmother would make an in-person visit to see for herself whether or not worry was warranted.
Just as Cissy predicted, her grandmother arrived the next Sunday for the midday meal. Patients who proved they could behave and were not a danger to themselves or others were allowed visitors once a week. With enough notice, family members could eat with the patients. Cissy assumed her grandmother had enough connections and money that she could eat there anytime she pleased. Still, she was glad the visit was on the sanctioned day so it wouldn’t appear that Cissy had special privileges.
When her grandmother entered the cafeteria, Cissy ran to embrace her. She was much more stooped than Cissy remembered, so she bent down to get a better grip. While Grandmother usually didn’t approve of public displays of affection, she hugged Cissy for longer than what would feel comfortable to normal folks. Not being normal, Cissy hugged her back just as forcefully. Maybe the one good thing to come of this whole mess was her grandmother had learned the importance of showing her love in an outward way.
They walked through the cafeteria line together, although Cissy knew her grandmother would have preferred table service. She watched her wince a bit with each spoonful added to her tray—mashed potatoes, creamed corn, hamburger steak, applesauce. Perhaps having a meal here would convince her that Cissy’s lack of appetite was warranted.
“You don’t have to eat this if you’d rather not,” Cissy whispered. “It takes some getting used to.”
The corners of her grandmother’s mouth curled with restrained disgust. “I drove more than three hours to dine with my granddaughter and that’s what I’m going to do.” She took a tentative bite, followed by a large gulp of water.
“You came here to check on my health,” Cissy reminded her.
“Well, truthfully, I’m glad I did. You look emaciated. I’m going to talk to the doctor myself.”
“I’m just tall. That makes me seem skinnier than I actually am.”
“Where’s your friend Martha? She usually says hello when I visit.”
Cissy used her fork to make a crisscross pattern in her mashed potatoes and shrugged.
“Is there something you’d like to talk about, Cissy?”
There was no simple way to explain how her relationship with Martha had changed. Cissy feared the ugliness had always been a part of Martha and she’d been just too stupid to see it.
“She and I had a fight. It’ll blow over soon.” Cissy didn’t know if her words were lies or just plain old hope.
They ate in silence for most of the meal. Cissy swallowed every last bit of the tasteless beige food. Not just to prove to Grandmother she could eat, but to start putting on weight. She had looked up the word intravenous after their last call and the thought of that type of feeding now scared the bejesus out of her.
After the meal, Grandmother removed a gold Estée Lauder lipstick case from her purse and quick as a whip, applied a new coat of lipstick to match the sunshiny orange of her suit. She pressed her paper napkin between her lips and put back on her gloves just as Mr. Carnell, the hospital administrator, approached the table. Cissy put the stained napkin in her sweater pocket so she’d have something of Grandmother for later.
“Why, Mrs. Clayton, what a surprise to see you here today of all days!” Mr. Carnell said in a whiny voice.
Cissy rolled her eyes. Her grandmother shot her a look of consternation as the administrator held out his little man hand for a shake.
“It’s truly a lovely surprise, Mr. Carnell,” Grandmother said. “And what a coincidence that you happened upon us here in the cafeteria. I have a favor to ask of you.”
They stepped away from the table for some privacy, but Cissy still heard snatches of their conversation. Grandmother expected special privileges wherever she went and the Greater Mississippi State Hospital was no exception. She’d convinced Mr. Carnell to allow her to visit with Cissy a little longer, but in the privacy of her room.
A nurse whose name she didn’t know led them from the cafeteria, through the locked security area to the ward where she stayed. When they got to Cissy’s door, the nurse left it wide open and lingered just a touch too long. As soon as she walked down the hall, Grandmother got up and closed the door.
Cissy showed her the many pictures she’d drawn with the art supplies her grandmother had sent. A gallery of patients and hospital staff lined the white cinderblock walls. She liked drawing faces the best.
“You’re a fine artist, Cissy. You capture the eyes perfectly.”
“I have lots of time to practice.” Cissy beamed with pride and watched her grandmother take a visual inventory of everything in the room, including the books Cissy checked out from the hospital library once a week. It’s not like they needed a library card, but for some reason, the nurses wanted to keep track of who had what book in her room. She decided against telling Grandmother about her reading lessons with Lucien, remembering God’s advice and Martha’s overreaction.
“Are you treated well, Cissy? I’ll have any problem straightened out in no time.”
Cissy assured her the staff treated her just fine. “Please don’t worry, Grandmother. The flu lasted only a short while and I usually stopped throwing up by mid-afternoon. I’ll gain back the weight soon.”
Her grandmother stared at her for an uncomfortable minute as if she were trying to read her mind. “Cissy, darling, when was the last time you had your monthly visitor?” she asked.
“Maybe the middle of May,” Cissy guessed. Didn’t she remember they’d talked about this some time ago? Grandmother was the one who suggested Cissy’s monthly visitor was irregular because of all the stress she’d been put through.
Her grandmother’s blue eyes reminded Cissy of her own. She searched them deeply, confused by the tears now marring her silky, powdered cheeks. Before Cissy could ask what was wrong, her grandmother patted her thigh one last time and said she needed to talk to the hospital administrator.
* * *
When Nurse Edna told Cissy she’d have to see the hospital doctor again, she wedged herself under her desk and refused to budge.
“Dear girl, get up off the floor. There’s no reason to be so upset.” The nurse knelt to look her in the eye.
“You’re going to get your white hose dirty,” Cissy warned when her long fingers reached in.
“Cissy Pickering, I swear I’ll drag you out by your hair,” she said, but Cissy knew her favorite nurse was just trying to sound authoritative.
“I’m not sick!” she yelled. “Please leave me alone!”
“Cissy, you will not speak in that tone. This is just a routine checkup and I expect you to cooperate.”
Cooperating was the last thing on her mind, so she wasn’t surprised when Nurse Possum Eyes arrived with a shot she said would settle Cissy’s nerves. A shot wasn’t necessary. Nurse Brown had about fifty pounds on her. She could have wrestled her out in no time or lifted the desk off.
“Please, please. I promise I’ll go see the doctor. I don’t need the shot.” Her words didn’t reach them before she felt the stinging heat of the drug entering her thigh. She’d had this liquid befor
e—the week she’d been punished for cutting herself—and now melted once again to what she and Martha called the in-between place, not quite asleep and not quite awake.
Nurse Edna led her down the stairs to the infirmary on the first floor. Cissy was grateful she stayed at her side the whole time, a tall and comforting shadow. She was more grateful there was no touching of private parts. The doctor checked her temperature and made her stick out her tongue and say “Ahhh.” The shot had made Cissy dizzy and a bit off balance, making it difficult to pee in the small glass jar.
Her hearing went a bit woozy as well, but she heard the doctor advising her to get some rest. Nurse Edna pressed Cissy’s head into her shoulder and put an arm around her waist as they walked back to her room. She climbed into bed, not bothering to change into pajamas. When Nurse Edna tucked the blanket around Cissy’s legs, the tenderness warmed her. It reminded Cissy of how she used to tuck in Jessie and Lily.
Exhausted, she fell into a strange sleep dotted with memories she wasn’t quite sure were her own. She didn’t know how long she’d slept when a scraping noise jerked her awake.
“Are you sick?” Martha crouched on the chair next to her desk. “Olivia saw Nurse Edna bringing you back from the infirmary.”
“Nah, just a checkup.” Cissy sat up and rubbed her head. “But I didn’t want to go and they gave me the shot.”
Martha didn’t frighten Cissy anymore, but a huge sadness hung over her whenever she saw her now. After the outburst in the library, the orderlies took Martha away and Cissy didn’t see her for a week. When she returned, Martha wasn’t Martha anymore. Large gray circles haunted her eyes and hinted at the horrors she must have endured but refused to talk about. She said it wasn’t important anymore, just water under the bridge.
The two girls who had been hit by the falling bookshelf avoided Martha and cried out if she sat anywhere near them at meals or in the rec room. Soon, Martha avoided all patients except Cissy to make it easier on everyone, she said.
Cissy thought back to the old black and white movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers that she had snuck downstairs to watch on TV one night when her mama and daddy were out and Grandmother was babysitting. She shuddered to think an alien had taken her friend’s place. Could that be any more ridiculous than Olivia’s claims that the doctors sometimes shock patients with electricity to make them feel better? Cissy didn’t dare ask Martha if that’s what happened to her. She wasn’t afraid of her reaction; she was afraid Martha would say it was true.
“I hate the shot,” Martha said. “Why didn’t you want to see the doctor? He’s pretty nice.”
Cissy didn’t know how to explain the complicated feelings she had about doctors, so she just shrugged. She didn’t trust this version of Martha to understand her story any longer.
Martha licked one of her palms and smoothed down the pieces of hair around Cissy’s face. She flinched, but allowed her touch. Maybe it would mend the awkwardness between them.
“There, you look better,” Martha said. “Let’s go eat dinner.”
To steady herself, Cissy grabbed Martha’s hand and they walked to the dining area together. It wasn’t until she sat down that she noticed the hum of voices. The whispers faded in and out, and she couldn’t hear exactly what the girls were saying.
“They’re just gossiping about Lucien,” Martha said, and stuffed a spoonful of applesauce into her mouth. She let it drip down her chin without wiping.
“What about Lucien?” Cissy hadn’t noticed if he had arrived for work yet. She had just checked out a new book to read to him.
“Two security guards showed up and said he had to leave the building immediately. They took his badge and everything,” Martha said. “He put up a fuss and one of the guards hit him on the back of the knee with a little black bat he took off his belt.”
Cissy had no words to express her shock.
“Olivia said she heard a nurse say Lucien had gotten one of the patients pregnant and was fired,” Martha continued. “I suspect he’ll go to jail.”
“Lucien wouldn’t do that!”
“How do you know? Maybe he’s as friendly with other girls as he is with you?” she said, trying to look interested in her food.
“What are you saying?” Cissy’s voice cracked and all the girls at the table turned to look at her. “Stop your staring!” she yelled back at them.
“Hush or you’ll get another shot,” Martha said in a singsong voice.
“Don’t tell me to hush. Why don’t you like Lucien? He hasn’t done anything wrong to anybody.”
“I don’t know. You’ve had sex with your own father, why wouldn’t you have sex with Lucien? Maybe you’re the girl who’s pregnant!”
Cissy stumbled from her chair, sending it clanging to the shifting floor. She tried to steady herself against the wall before rushing to the safety of her room, away from the girl who now scared her more than Old Scratch. She buried her face in the quilt until it was soaked with frustrated tears. She cried for Lucien and the lies being told about him. She cried for herself a little, too. Cissy knew how it felt when no one believed you. She knew how it felt when the grass turned blue and the skies turned green.
Chapter 22
For Janelle, faith had required swallowing a good bit of doubt and believing God knew what He was doing. When she’d read about a natural disaster or other tragedy in the newspaper, she’d make the sign of the cross and whisper, “God’s will be done.” She didn’t much care for God’s will anymore. In fact, Janelle didn’t much care for God. She’d been reared to believe He could be a merciful God, but she’d been misled.
In the several weeks since the shooting, He’d shown not one iota of mercy. Lately, He bordered on cruel. The incest had shaken her foundation and she refused to forgive Him for letting such a horrific thing happen to an innocent. Her nightly prayers had turned into indictments. Ruth said God would never give them more than they could bear. Ruth was wrong.
“Have they told her yet?” Caroline sat forward in the driver’s seat, too close to the steering wheel as if she couldn’t make out the road through the rain.
“No, Dr. Guttman wanted both of us present,” Janelle said.
She’d told Caroline the details of the call several times, yet her daughter asked the same questions over and over, stuck on rewind, pausing only to ensure she’d heard correctly. Cissy. Pregnant.
“I don’t think I can go through with it,” Caroline said. “You’ll have to go in alone.”
She’d repeated this same line a dozen times during the drive from Biloxi to Meridian, so Janelle didn’t bother to answer. Caroline managed to hold on to some semblance of sanity, albeit tenuous, and for that she deserved some credit.
Janelle had not fared as well. Dr. Guttman called the day before yesterday. After she’d hung up the phone, she walked to the garage to get the hedge clippers. She beheaded every rose, zinnia, and poppy in the garden because their beauty disgusted her. She cut them down as Cissy had been cut down. Ruth had grabbed her from behind, but Janelle wrestled free and targeted the wet sheets hanging on the line nearby, shredding them. Exhausted, her arms leaden from wielding the heavy clippers, she sunk to her knees.
Ruth had picked her up and dragged her to the sofa in the sitting room. Janelle waited as Ruth fetched sleeping pills and a shot of bourbon, then made no effort to resist when she put them to her lips. A dead sleep claimed her for eighteen hours and even then, consciousness only came because of Ruth’s worried slap to her cheek. She was still in her muddied clothes, but covered with an afghan.
“You’re the strongest woman I know, Mrs. Clayton,” Ruth had said, helping her up the stairs and into the bathroom. “You can’t go losing your senses just yet. Cissy needs you.”
Janelle had undressed and Ruth coaxed her into a scalding tub. With a gentle but firm manner, Ruth had washed her hair and dug the soil out from under her nail tips with tweezers. Janelle felt no shame as the hot water trickled over her head and down her back. She ha
d felt nothing.
“After your last visit with Cissy, you suspected she might be pregnant, didn’t you?” Ruth had asked.
She remembered she’d been alarmed by her vomiting and weight loss, and had asked about Cissy’s monthly visitor. Although the idea may have crept in for a single black moment, it hadn’t taken root. Janelle wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she had demanded that the hospital physician conduct a physical to discover why Cissy didn’t seem well.
“I truly thought I’d jumped to conclusions and even regretted telling you my suspicions,” Janelle had said. “We all assumed that the pediatrician who examined Cissy before the hearing would have administered a pregnancy test.”
“I prayed to God you were wrong, but he didn’t see fit to answer my prayers this time,” Ruth had said. “Best get dressed and have a bite to eat. I called Miss Caroline and told her you had to see her right away in person.” Ruth left her to sit in the tepid water, a gray scum ringing the edges of the tub and where her skin met the water.
She couldn’t remember the exact words she used to tell Caroline that Cissy was pregnant, and she hadn’t known how Caroline reacted once home in the privacy of her bedroom. But last night, Caroline stood before her, mute and unyielding, willing to bear the weight of the unbelievable facts Janelle had lain before her. They’d planned the trip to Meridian with few words; just a promise to meet in the morning to drive together. They hadn’t embraced. They could manage little more than breathing.
“The Lauderdale County Sheriff will be there to interview Cissy,” she reminded Caroline as they pulled into the grounds of the hospital. The rain had stopped and a mist shrouded the building’s second story.
Forgiveness Road Page 17
