Stay Tuned

Chapter 46

“She been talkin’ ’bout you,” Sharice mentioned casually. She counted medicine into little white paper cups as I walked up to the nurses’ station. One blue pill, plop. Two pink pills. Plop. Plop. One orange pill, plop.

I had survived two shows and was totally exhausted. At eleven o’clock at night, I wasn’t sure I had the energy to handle Mother, too.

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” I joked, despite the nervous jitter I always felt with a message that summoned me to call or visit the nursing home.

We shared a smile. All resident complaints were documented. I think Mother was in the running for the longest list:
 
The food, the weather, the air conditioning, the church service on Sunday morning. Name anything. Mother grumbled about it.

“Three times tonight she asked ’bout you,” Sharice rolled her big brown eyes to the ceiling. “Then she carry on to the other folks. She plum worn them out with her talking. I have trouble enough keeping up with my Darius. Your mother, she another story.”

“What’s happening with Darius?” I asked. “Is he all right?”

Sharice shook her head. “We been to the doctor. Darius had all kinds of tests. Don’t know yet.”

“Let me know, okay?” I asked. “When you find out something?”

She pursed her lips. “I will.”

I leaned my elbows on the counter top and watched her sort the tablets. “So, what’s going on tonight with Mother? Someone called me.” I pulled the blue Post-it out of my pocket and held it up.

Sharice looked puzzled. “I didn’ call. Not ’bout tonight anyway.”
 
I squinted down at the ink again, trying to decipher the scrawled words.

“Jes’ let me check Miz Ruth Anne’s chart.” Sharice stepped behind the desk, paused, and then pulled out a file three inches thick. She hummed to herself as she bent down, flipped open the cover and searched inside.

I tried to peek over the desk.

Sharice stood up straight and raised her eyebrows. “Best I can tell—someone was jest lettin’ you know ’bout the doctor’s office wantin’ to change Miz Bailey’s appointment. Wednesday instead of Friday. I don’t see nothin’ else.”

“Thank you.” I sighed. That, I could handle.

Sharice chuckled, then reached over and closed the chart. “Your mother is mighty ill wit’ you though. First, she say you never come visit.” She raised a finger and pointed it about an inch from my nose.

“What?”

“I done told her straight up that a bunch of hooey. Here you are.” She checked the pink watch on her wrist. “It be eleven-fifteen at night. Do you see any other children ’round here?”

I couldn’t say much. I was hardly ever here this late either.

Sharice looked down one hallway, her hand shielding her eyes as if she were out in broad daylight.

“Nope, there ain’t none here.”

“It’s late,” I started to defend the other families. “People are busy…”

Sharice pulled her head back and shook it side to side. “Now, Miz Melissa, don’t you be tellin’ me nothin’ about busy. I know who busy. I know who come regular and who don’t. Don’t nothin’ get by Sharice. Believe me, my Darius try it all the time. I didn’t eat that cookie, Mommy. Uh-huh.”

“He needed the cookie, right? He’s a growing boy,” I winked at Sharice.

“I wisht Miz Ruth Anne was only tryin’ to get a cookie. At supper, she be hollerin’ about us tryin’ to poison the mashed potatoes. She done found a lump in one of them and decided…well, I don’t know.”