“First you go off and run into the streets and now you’re sneaking out of thehospital.” Her breath was hard and heavy. She released her grip, and I felt her moodchange. A small lamp that was sitting on my side table illuminated just one side of herface. I could see the sadness in her eyes as her tears cascaded down her face.
“I’m trying so hard, but sometimes. I just feel like it’s never enough,” she said.
“Momma?” I pleaded.
“You should have stayed in the hospital. You should have let them take you awayfrom me. Why on earth would you want to come back home?” she said, while wiping hereyes and rocking back and forth.
“Because I love you, momma,” I said. I wanted to tell her about the elderly woman. Iwanted to tell her about unconditional love and family, and that; we needed to sticktogether in order to survive.
She leaned back in chair rubbing her eyes. She tried to speak, but the words seemedto fumble before they got to the finish line. Abruptly, she turned around and left theroom. It was almost like she couldn’t look at me. Did I do something wrong? Did I dosomething that was really terrible? I felt the edge of the bed sink in. I looked over andsaw that Ali was seated next to me.
“Ali, you don’t remember bringing me home from the hospital in daddy’s car?” Isaid.
“No, I don’t remember, because it didn’t happen,” he said wryly.
“Yeah it did, you laughed at me and my cast, you and daddy carried me up the—
“You got to stop this,” he said interrupting me. “Stop what?”
“Acting like a crazy person. First Mom and now you.”
“I’m not crazy Ali, not like Mom.”
“You sure are acting like it. Do you want us to live on the streets? Do you wantpeople to beat your ass because you’re walking around talking to yourself, seeing peoplewho ain’t there?” he asked. I shook my head “They don’t exist; just tell yourself theydon’t exist,” he pleaded.
“Ali!” I cried.
“I heard them on the phone talking about you. Saying something about you beingincorrigible and that they might send you away.”
“What? I am not incorrigible,” I said defending myself, not even knowing whatincorrigible meant. I looked down and focused on my hands. Suddenly, they seemedmore interesting than the conversation that I was having. And why in the hell was it sodark in here anyway?
“Do you really want attention that bad?” he asked. I couldn’t see his face, but hesounded angry. Did he hate me? Of everyone in our family to hate, he hated me. I didn’tdo a damn thing to him! It was the man who we thought was our father who abandonedus. It was the crazy woman who was our mother who was possessed by voices who hurtus. She was the one who was prepared to leave me at the hospital, alone. And he’s mad atme? This was unfair. I shook my head. I was at a loss for words. I felt that if anyoneshould be on my side, it should be him.
He silently walked to the door and turned the knob. I heard the door squeal as heopened it. He looked over his shoulder before leaving.
“Get it together, Nelly, because I’m done putting my ass on the line for you.” Hesaid.
What was that suppose to mean? “Ali!” I called out after him. But he shut the door,ignoring me. What was going on with him? Here I was all bruised up and in a cast andhe’s acting like he’s hurt. I was confused. I couldn’t understand my brother’s behavior, ormy mom’s behavior. And my dad still hasn’t even poked his head into my bedroom tosee if I was okay. He didn’t even come to visit me in the hospital. Then, I rememberedthe story about the polar bear. His love was conditional. His love was limited. I closedmy eyes. I wanted to go to sleep. It had been a very long day.
It took me a few days to get what my brother meant when he said that he wasn’tputting his ass on the line for me anymore. Man, sometimes we really don’t appreciatethings until they’re gone. Well to make a long story short, no one knew how I got homefrom the hospital. My mom decided that she didn’t want me taken away after all, so shenever brought me back to the hospital for any of my follow up appointments.
Somehow, I had managed to sneak out in the middle of the night with just onecrutch, and I spent my days limping around the house and schoolyard. The other studentslaughed at me. To them I was a debilitated invalid who couldn’t even afford a secondcrutch. My brother no longer defended me or came to my rescue when I was cursed at orpicked on. The stairs were the worst. I couldn’t ever get the crutch and my leg to work inunison. My movements were jerky and disjointed, and I ended up reaching the top of thestairs sweating and flushed from exhaustion. After a while, the thing got really dirtybecause I didn’t stay in the hospital long enough to learn how to keep it clean. I couldn’ttake it anymore. So one day, I stole a kitchen knife and worked throughout the night toget it off. I felt like a slave who had just broken off his shackles. It felt good. I felt free. Inever had to explain why I cut the cast off. I don’t think that anyone in the house noticed.Or maybe they were tired of my antics and believed that the best way to handle mycraziness was to pretend that I wasn’t.
~ ~ ~
Chapter Five
It was painful to see the strained relationship between
