The worst part is that it works. Not caring means not dying, and that’s no way to live.
“We’re going to be okay, Charlie. I promise you that. Somehow, we’ll figure this out.”
She feels dull and it seems to take forever to formulate a simple thought, then transfer that thought to her mouth. Her words sound slurred even to her. “No, Mom. We’ll be here forever. There’s nothing to figure out.”
Tabitha grips her upper arms and peers into her face. “Good god, Charlie, how much did they give you?”
Charlotte smiles, but it takes real effort. She’d rather lay down here on the nice path and have a nap. Summer is right around the corner and it feels lovely out here in the sun.
“Charlie, are you alright?” She looks all around, then waves someone over. A worried looking attendant in his pressed khaki pants and dark blue golf shirt seems to materialize from nowhere.
“How much did you give her? Look at my daughter!” Tabitha’s voice rises a little, and even in her daze, Charlotte can see all eyes shifting in her direction.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, Charlie.” She shifts her attention back to the attendant, pokes a stiff finger on the tablet in his hand and says, “You find out how much they gave her and make sure you didn’t overdose her or something.”
After a rather long series of taps, the young man says, “It says right here you authorized additional meds because of…of…well, because of what’s been happening since the release of the medical report to congress.”
“I authorized additional meds, not the whole cabinet.”
The tone in her mother’s voice is sharp, frightened, and angry. Now, the attendant seems almost as worried about that as Charlotte. She knows she should say something, but it takes so much energy.
“S’Okay,” she manages.
“What? What did you say, Charlie?”
Even now, the attendant won’t touch her. If it were an emergency, he would, but with her mother here and her arm firmly around Charlotte, it’s not quite an emergency. He leans close and says, “There are a lot of people here. Can you get her walking toward your module? I’ll call ahead and have medical waiting.”
“Are you kidding me? You get them here with a gurney and you do it now. Something’s wrong! Can’t you see that?”
The attendant looks around at the crowd of women. Most of them are already fighting the steady drip of approaching hopelessness now that the lack of a medical solution has been made public. After all, the modules are emptying not because people are leaving, but because they’re dying.
“Ma’am, it wouldn’t be good to have medical coming out. It’s just there. Can you make it Charlotte?”
Even in her muddled state, Charlotte knows what he means. A girl or woman collapsing is not a sight anyone needs to see. They’ve seen enough of that.
Her head wobbles a little as her mother shifts her grip to take more of Charlotte’s weight. Her voice is now a low growl. “And her falling down in a heap is going to be better?”
Perhaps the attendant realizes exactly how that would look, because he shifts to her other side. “Do I have your permission to help?” he asks.
“Yes, good grief. She’s heavy! Just help me get her there if you’re not going to call medical.”
It’s useless to try and move her feet. All that seems to be doing is making it harder. The very idea of being able to move them at the speed required seems ludicrous. The attendant clicks his radio with his free hand and requests a wheelchair meet them on the walk. A wheelchair sounds good. Very restful.
After that, she knows nothing more.
*****
“Charlie? Can you hear me?”
It’s her mom, her voice low and rough, like she’s been crying. Charlie fights the tide of sleepiness and opens her eyes. She’s in the medical wing, lying in a bed. The privacy curtains have been pulled around the bed and the window shade is up, letting in the orange light of a lowering sun.
“Hey, Mom,” she says, then realizes her throat hurts. There’s a foul taste in her mouth to go with it. “Ugh.”
Tabitha lets go of her hand, which she’s been gripping in both of hers at the bedside, and picks up a plastic cup with a straw in it. “Here you go sweetie. Just sip.”
The water feels like heaven and washes a little of the bad taste away. Her stomach feels a little sketchy so she stops at a few sips. Groggy she may be, but she knows what’s coming.
Sure enough, her mom says, “Charlie, why did you do it? I’m not mad. I just want to know. I’d like you to feel you can still talk to me.”
Charlotte can see the hurt in her mother’s face. She hates that she caused it. The truth is, she hadn’t thought about her mom at all. It was an impulse, not a plan.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“I’m glad, but I’m more interested in how we got here. Can you talk to me about it?”
That statement is so much something only her mom would say that Charlotte smiles. Her throat hurts when she shifts on the bed. “What happened to my throat?”
Her expression clouding, Tabitha says, “You had your stomach pumped. Charcoal and the whole nine yards.” When Charlotte looks away, Tabitha reaches out to smooth back her hair. “Don’t be embarrassed, honey. It’s all over. Now, I just need to know how we got to this point. Can you tell me how you got the pills? Did someone give them to you?”
There’s no shrugging this off with half-answers. Charlotte knows this like she knows her mom. In this case, there’s no escape from full disclosure.
“No one
