“I’ll get the van and meet you out front.” I gave the nurse’s arm a pat, and he nodded.

“Thank you,” Zee said. I was proud of her for not prefacing it with an apology.

CHAPTER 17

Zee

   All I wanted was five goddamn minutes to feel something about LaReigne not being dead in Nebraska, but I couldn’t get them. Instead, I got a free lecture from the ER doctor about how it wasn’t too late for me to lose weight, and some dick in the waiting room asking me to watch my language. Then Mom had to sign a bunch of discharge paperwork for things I was going to spend the rest of my life paying for. Medicaid would cover some of it, but not all of it, and Mom didn’t have a dime. Just one more boulder on top of my mountain of debt.

When we got Mom home, the police van was still parked in the drive, and Mansur and Smith were on the front porch talking to the cop in the paper jumpsuit. Pure rage was pretty much the only thing that got Mom out of the van under her own power. While she went shuffling across the lawn, I turned to Charlene, feeling that old desperate itch. The need to get rid of people once they’ve witnessed my mother and her house.

“Thank you so much for all your help,” I said. I was ashamed of myself for being ashamed.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, we’re fine. I don’t want to keep you any longer. I doubt this was how you planned to spend your afternoon. But thank you.”

Thank-yous were a superpower. They moved people along with the sheer force of gratitude. While I was getting Charlene back into her van, I could hear Mom shouting at the cops.

“Are you done tearing up my house and breaking my things and piling them out on the lawn for the whole world to look at?” She bent over to dig through one of the boxes, somewhere between crying and cursing. With all my heart, I wanted to beg Charlene to take me with her. Just get in her van like a stray dog, and leave my mother behind. I made myself say one last thank you, and then I walked over to where Mom was. Gentry stood a few feet away from her with his arms crossed, standing guard over the whole mess.

“My lady,” he said, when I got there.

Mansur and Smith came down the front steps as Charlene pulled away. For a couple minutes, they watched Mom and talked to each other. Then they put on their sunglasses and walked toward us.

“Everything okay, Mrs. Trego?” Mansur said.

“Does it look like everything is okay?” Mom said.

“I meant healthwise. Are you okay?”

“Don’t act as though you care. Now you’re going to go off and leave me to deal with this giant mess you made.”

“Mom, it’s okay,” I said. “We’ll get it put back.” I had no idea if that was even possible.

“Will you be staying here tonight?” Mansur said.

“Of course, I’ll be staying here. It’s my home,” Mom said.

“Mrs. Trego, if you think of anything.” Mansur held out another business card, but this time, Mom grabbed it out of his hand, crumpled it up, and threw it on the ground.

“You go to hell,” she said.

Mansur nodded at me, and then he and Smith left. Mom grabbed a box, trying to pick it up, but the whole side ripped out. A bunch of books and little Snowbabies figurines spilled out onto the grass. She started gathering them up into her arms, already panting like she couldn’t catch her breath. The police van pulled away. A couple of the figurines slid out of Mom’s arms. She tried to pile them back on, but others fell off as soon as she did.

“If you’ll sit down and rest, I’ll go find you some better boxes to put this stuff in,” I said.

“I’m fine!” she snapped.

“My lady, I shall bear her throne within that she might rest,” Gentry said. Her throne.

“Yeah, let’s do that. Mom, we’re going to take your recliner inside, okay?”

She ignored us, and went on trying to gather up knickknacks. I was grateful for Gentry, because he did the hard work, lifting the heaviest part of the recliner. I carried the head and guided us up the stairs and into the front room. Seeing the house in full afternoon light, when I wasn’t in a panic, I felt sick. The hardwood floors were ruined. Stained and gouged and, worse than that, saggy and bouncy from having so much stuff piled on them for so long. We were lucky the cops hadn’t called out the fire marshal or the city inspector. The house probably would have been condemned.

“My lady, how might I help?” Gentry said.

“Is there any way you think the two of us can get the bigger pieces of furniture back inside?”

“Certs, it can be done. I shall go and think on it.” In the middle of that mess, he bowed to me.

“Okay. I’m going to find a broom and try to sweep up a little bit.”

I looked for a broom but didn’t find one, and ended up back in the front room feeling helpless. The biggest of the china hutches had been blocking off the phone nook that was between the living area and the dining area. It was a weird little alcove that had shelves and a built-in seat. A long time ago, Mom had filled the alcove up with books, and then once it got full, she put the china hutch in front of it. The cops had emptied it out, and for a minute of calm, I stepped inside. It was like a coffin.

When I was a kid, Mom had hung up a sheet of poster board on the wall over the bench. She was so vain she hated to wear glasses, so she’d made these huge signs instead of using an address book. A newer one hung on the wall next to her recliner, but the original was still in the phone nook. It was so old my grandparents’ address and phone number was there. And Uncle Alva and Aunt Tess’. That’s how old the posters were. Aunt Tess was still alive and Uncle Alva was anybody Mom would have called.

I pulled out my cellphone and punched in the number. Three rings later, someone answered.

“Yep.” That was all he said. Older and raspier, but I still recognized his voice. He sounded how I remembered my father.

“Uncle Alva? It’s me, Zhorzha,” I said.

“Girl, what kind of fool are you? Don’t call me again.”

He hung up before I could say anything. The timer on my phone showed the call had lasted seventeen seconds. So fast it was like it hadn’t happened. I put my phone back in my pocket and went outside to see what Gentry had figured out about the china hutches.

The answer was nothing. He was standing in the middle of the yard, holding a cardboard box. My mother was picking through another box and putting things in the one Gentry held.

“Mom, why don’t you go inside and sit down? Gentry and I are going to try to bring in the china hutches and—”