by Andrea Smith
“Hello, my name is Olivia Harris, and my mother needs treatment. I was hoping to get her in soon.”
“Can you tell me a little bit about her condition?”
“She’s in early stages of Alzheimer’s. She’s… living in the past, her present is… all over the place. Then there are the mood swings and aggressive language…” my voice trailed off.
“Oh, how sad. I’m so sorry. Would your mother be available today?” Susan asked.
“Yes, that’d be great,” I said, but then the bottom fell out when they asked for her insurance. “Well, you see, she hasn’t been able to work—due to her illness.”
“Is she on Medicaid or Medicare?”
“No, she’s too young for Medicare, but maybe if she’s officially diagnosed, she’d be eligible for Medicaid,” I said and hoped like hell they would still see her. If not, I needed that record label like, yesterday.
I had to put myself last. First, Emmett’s guitar, and then Mom’s medical bills. My piece of shit car would have to wait.
“There will still be a fee for the office visit, but I’ll see what we can do,” Susan said, and I could tell she was sympathetic to my dilemma.
“Thank you. I can handle that,” I replied.
“We can see her at two o’clock today.”
I looked over at Mom, who was now back to her bird watching. “Thank you. We’ll be there.”
Walking into the hospital, I knew Stacie was in the maternity ward. It hadn’t escaped me and I knew, since we were… sort of friends, I needed to at least see her and… the baby.
I checked Mom in and, first they wanted to examine her alone. They told me it would be at least an hour.
“You’ll be okay, Mom. These nice people want to help you. I’m going to see my friend. You remember Stacie?” She nodded. “Well, she had her baby and I need to go see them.”
“I’m fine, Olivia, but sure, do whatever you want,” she said to me, as if I were an unruly child, and waved her hands at me. The way her moods came and went was exhausting.
The doctor walked Mom over to the couch, instructing her to make herself comfortable. She seemed to be in good hands. Truth be told, I’d rather stay with Mom than face the woman I betrayed.
Would Emmett be there?
I found Stacie’s room and knocked.
“Come in,” I heard her say from inside.
“Hey, what’s up, girlfriend,” she said and my heart pounded. I looked around for the baby and… Emmett.
“Hi Stacie,” I greeted, “How are you feeling?” I asked with a smile that I didn’t feel. I looked around and asked, “Where’s your little baby?”
“Little? Holy shit, she was nine fucking pounds!” Stacie bellowed, wincing in apparent pain. “I need meds. I’ve been buzzing for a damn nurse now for ten minutes.”
“Well, nine pounds is a good size, especially since she was early.”
Stacie huffed. “Yeah, but it could be diabetes or some sort of shit.”
Her mouth hadn’t changed, nor had her attitude. She didn’t seem concerned and pushed the button again, demanding a new television remote. “I told them an hour ago, this fucker needs new batteries.”
Still a bitch. No wonder Emmett so wanted to distance himself from her. He needed the escape.
“Will they be bringing the baby in soon? I would love to see her. I bet she’s gorgeous,” I said, thinking of Emmett.
“Oh, she is,” Stacie chirped, her demeanor changing. “She looks just like Emmett. He named her Emmie, and I asked him what sort of name is that?” she said with a laugh. “You see, I wanted to name her Zoe, and I told him that. Well then he got all emotional and said it was our names blended together.”
“Oh, I see. Well, it’s a pretty name,” I replied, a bit skeptical about the origin of the name.
“Yeah, it is. So, I had to let him keep it,” Stacie said, rolling her eyes.
I looked around, still feeling on edge with the graphic recollection of my tryst with Emmett, the baby daddy, less than twenty-four hours ago. But then, this was Stacie, self-indulging and clueless, she’d notice nothing.
“Hey, how did the demo go?” she asked. I was surprised Emmett hadn’t told her.
“Oh, Emmett didn’t say?” I asked, somewhat puzzled.
“Well, when he got here, he was all about me and the baby. It must have slipped his mind.”
Doubtful.
“I guess you’re right. We were a hit. We got a contract with Concord Records. Coop is taking care of all the business,” I replied.
“No fucking shit!” she yelled. A nurse walked by and gave us a dirty look. I was embarrassed to be included in the dirty look because of Stacie’s trash mouth.
“Hey, you’re a mother now. Must watch the mouth,” I said, hoping she’d tone it down.
“Yeah, that will be tough. To tell you the truth, I’m proud as fuck to have Emmett’s baby, but I’m not looking forward to all the mothering shit.”
And it just keeps coming.
I interrupted her, “Hey, sorry I didn’t get a chance to see her. I have my mother downstairs. She’s with a doctor right now, so I’ll check on you later.”
“Okay, but save me a girl’s night when I get home. I’m dying for a beer and, thank fuck, I’m not breastfeeding.”
“Sure thing,” I said as I left the room.
I was so glad Emmett wasn’t there. I didn’t think I could face him, but when the elevator opened, he was standing right there with a pink bear in his hand.
The severity of what we’d done came crashing down like a wrecking ball. He looked at me and I had to look away.
“Olivia,” he said and his voice was strained. He looked tired, but to me, he was still the gorgeous rock star god that fucked me like no other.
“Congratulations,” I said and started to walk away.
“Hey, Olivia,” he called after me. “We need to get together and talk.”
“No Emmett, we don’t. We need to forget everything that happened. Go see to your daughter. I have to get my mother.”
I walked with purpose to get away from him. I was shaking by the time I found Mom in the waiting room. She looked up.
“There you are. That guy wants to talk to you. Where have you been?” she asked. “You’ve been gone all day.”
“I told you, Mom. Stacie had her baby. I was at the maternity ward and I wasn’t gone that long.”
“Miss Harris?” a man’s voice approached me from behind.
“Yes, I’m Olivia Harris. Do you need to speak to me about my mother?”
“If you could come into my office, I need to let you know my findings,” he replied.
“Okay.” I turned to Mom, “Just stay here and I’ll be right back.”
He led me into his office and I took a seat. After looking through his files, he looked up at me and by the look on his face, I knew it was worse than I thought.
“After talking with your mother and evaluating her condition, I don’t think she has Alzheimer’s.”
A flicker of hope ran through me. “Well, that’s good. Right?”
“It depends.”
Oh God! What could be worse than Alzheimer’s? I just hoped the words brain cancer weren’t going to follow.
He spoke plainly. “I would like to do some further testing, however, after talking with your mother, hearing about her life and the way she sees it, I think she’s suffering with schizophrenia.”
“Okay, so isn’t that just a mental disease? I mean, there’s medication out there to control it, right?”
He sighed, and sat down behind his desk. “It’s not always that easy. Once they start medication, they often feel they are fine and will not continue with treatment.”
“Tell me, Doctor. Why exactly do you think she’s schizophrenic?”
“She
seems to have disorganized thinking. Thinks everyone is after her for… her fame. When I asked her what she does most of the day, she relapses into episodes of psychosis.”
“Episodes of psychosis? I don’t know what you mean.”
“It means, she’s socially withdrawn, hallucinates, and her cognitive thinking is not there.”
I nodded. “She sometimes thinks she’s still young and in a band with my father,” I offered up. “Is that part of an episode?”
He nodded, “Yes, she very well could be trapped in a world she’s built for herself. No one else can see it. She’s probably always been this way, and it’s now progressing.”
I didn’t know what to say or do.
“We need to get her some help, because without it, she can become dangerous to herself and to those around her,” he said. “It can also exacerbate with age.”
As he said this, looking back, I always knew something was wrong with her, but, as a young girl, I just thought she wasn’t like the other moms. She always walked to the beat of a different drum, but now, it sounded so much more than that, and I was scared for her. I was scared of losing her because, at the end of the day, Mom was all I had.
Chapter 22
Emmett
It had been three weeks since the birth of Emmie, and she and Stacie were living with me. Ace had confided in me that a newborn, along with a bitch of a sister, was just too much for them to handle in their place, which was not much bigger than mine.
My name was on the birth certificate as ‘pending’ but, for whatever reason, Stacie insisted the baby carry her last name which was perfectly fine with me.
Katie had given Stacie a bunch of baby clothes, furniture, a car seat and other miscellaneous infant paraphernalia so that we weren’t totally unprepared, but it still burned my ass when I thought about all the money I’d given her, thinking she’d been spending it wisely. She still refused to tell me where it had gone, and I knew it was useless to press further. However, I made sure I was the one who went to the store to buy the diapers and formula, which totally pissed her off.
Then she bitched about how crowded her room was, what with the crib being in there, but I finally told her to either stop the bitching or move back in with her parents. It shut her up pretty damn quick.
Speaking of parents. Her mom and dad had stopped over only once since the birth to see the baby. They were outwardly civil to me, but I could feel their disapproval in the glances they tossed back and forth between one another. As if they could legitimately look down their noses at me.
“Do you have a real job, son?” her father Neil had questioned. “I mean one that gives you an hourly wage with guaranteed hours?”
“Daddy,” Stacie had whined, “don’t be so nosey. Emmett’s doing the best he can. And I plan on getting a part-time job to take care of myself anyways.”
“So,” her mother had snapped, “are there plans for a wedding in the near future?”
I’d felt my jaw twitch. What kind of a fantasy had Stacie presented to her folks?
Hell to the no.
Stacie had just stood there, looking real dumb because that was exactly what she was. I wasn’t about to allow them to continue believing a lie.
“No ma’am,” I had said succinctly, “Stacie and the baby are only here temporarily. Once we get paternity established, the legalities regarding custody, visitation and support will be finalized.”
Stacie’s face had immediately turned beet red. And for the first time, my directness had rendered her speechless. But they needed to know because I wasn’t anyone’s pawn.
“I see,” her mother had said, “Come on George, I think we’ve heard enough.”
“Mom,” Stacie had blurted out, obviously embarrassed, “don’t you want to hold the baby?”
Her mother turned back and tossed a glare back at the both of us, “Maybe once paternity has been established I will,” she snapped.
Stacie turned to look at her father, but he was obviously not in her corner. “Let’s go Janice,” he muttered, “you ought to know by now the girl’s a lost cause.”
Then they were gone. Stacie had immediately burst into tears, handing Emmie over to me, and fled into her room, slamming the door behind her.
My dad and my stepmother, Wanda, had been more civil. They knew the score, and I’d received my share of lecturing from both of them when I’d dropped the news several months earlier about the situation.
Actually, Wanda had seemed fairly receptive at the idea of having a baby around to influence, I was sure. She hadn’t hidden the fact she was A-okay if the test confirmed I was Emmie’s father. My guess is she was anxious to commence with the backseat parenting. My father bitched that I’d likely ruined my chance of a music career, which I think actually relieved him. The old man wasn’t much for exploring dreams, but I’d much rather have folks like mine than what Stacie and Ace had been stuck with.
I was holding Emmie now, feeding her a bottle while Stacie was at the grocery store. Her little brow was furrowed as she gazed up at my face, probably trying to figure out just how I fit into the picture. She was sucking the hell out of the bottle and, when I pulled it from her to see how much she’d taken, I realized she had gone past the two-ounce mark which was the first burp hurdle as I called it.
“Let’s see if we can’t get a burp out of you, girl,” I said softly, standing up and moving her up to my shoulder, my one hand rubbing her back, the other pressed up to the back of her neck to keep her head from flopping around.
She was squirming against me, starting to fuss because I’d taken the bottle away.
“Shhh,” I cooed, “give me a big ole burp and you can have it back,” I said, as if she could totally understand how this process worked. “C’mon, you don’t want to get a belly ache, do you Emmie?”
She calmed against me as I sang one of our tunes softly, walking back and forth and, after the second verse, I got a huge burp out of her.
“Damn girl,” I said chuckling, “that sounded like it came clear up from your feet. Got another one?”
I continued rubbing her back until another small burp escaped. I’d already figured out she was a dual-burp chick. Had the rhythm down pat.
I sat back down, cradling her so she could finish the formula. I thought about Olivia, and the distance between us since Emmie was born. I wanted her to understand that our being together in Indianapolis wasn’t simply a random fuck. It had meant something–at least to me. I wasn’t sure about her, though. Was she regretting the whole incident? Did she feel guilty? If so, I needed to assure her that she had no reason to feel that way. I needed to explain exactly what my situation was with the whole Stacie thing. I’d never really felt the need to explain to her, figuring she was under the same impression as the rest of the guys in Wasted. It wasn’t a preferred topic of discussion for us, so we all pretty much avoided it.
Once Emmie finished her bottle, I got two more healthy burps out of her. I then took her into Stacie’s room, placed her down in the crib, and turned the musical mobile on over her head. Her eyes followed the movement of the colorful animals as the mobile turned, playing a lullaby.
I quietly backed out of the room, leaving the door ajar in case she started fussing. Just as I was back in the kitchen, rinsing the bottle out, my phone rang. It was Coop.
“What’s up?” I answered.
“Hey, we see the lawyer tomorrow at ten to finalize the contract. We got some of the terms changed, not as much as we wanted, but it’s not a straight 360 deal which is good.”
“Okay, so lay it on me, brother.”
“A one album deal, five of our own songs, three songs their writers have composed, and two cover songs they own rights to for a total of ten. We each get a $5000 signing bonus, along with a $7000 advance prior to the tour, our pick of producers, they dropped the ‘mechanical royalties’ from their recording costs
, and the royalty split is per the current market. They are required to get written approval from the band manager prior to deducting certain advertising, promotional, or travel expenses to ensure they don’t have carte blanche in determining what they can or cannot charge as things ‘needed’ for the band,” Coop explained.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Damn, I thought we’d get more of an advance,” I said. “Twelve grand apiece isn’t much, especially since seven grand of it comes out of the first royalties accrued.”
“Well, the attorney, Hal Jenkins, said he thought he might be able to spread the payback term over six months, so it’s not all one lump sum. Oh, and we start recording next week, and the multi-city tour they’re lining up will start at the end of March. I mean, come on man, the music business has suffered a lot since all the pirates and independents have started ruling. We need their connections and resources starting out, anyway.”
I sighed, “Yeah, I get that Coop. All said and done, I think Jenkins got us a pretty good deal. It gives us a launch pad at any rate for future albums and tours done independent of a label if they don’t pan out well for us. Hey, I appreciate all you’ve done. How do we find a manager?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Fuck you, Emmett,” Coop said good naturedly. “You’ve got the best, and besides that, I come cheap.”
“Okay, dude. So you gonna let the others know now that you’ve got my vote of approval?” I asked.
“Yep. I’m on it. Unless… “
“Unless what?” I asked.
“Well, unless you wanted to be the one to tell Olivia. I mean, those motel walls are pretty thin there, Studly.”
“Fuck you Coop,” I growled. “You assholes probably had your ears pressed up against that wall, choking your respective chickens as you listened in,” I replied. “Naw, I’m good. You make the calls. Great job, brother.”
Chapter 23
Olivia
Filling out all of Mom’s paperwork was a bitch. There were pages and pages of shit I knew nothing about. How in the hell was she, as a mentally ill person, expected to know all of this back story shit? Hopefully, her new medication would kick in long before we left on tour. I planned on applying for a live-in nurse while I was gone.
