Mom did it again.
I got the call in the early afternoon, while I sat lounging on the sofa, staring at the cracks in the walls. Mrs. Debbie, with her unnaturally hair arms and lazy eye, was on the other end of the phone, yelling demands that I pick my mother up or she'd call an ambulance.
Trying my best to calm the old woman down, I grabbed the nearest pair of shoes and my father's car keys and headed out the door.
The spells were occurring more and more often in these summer months. Normally, she'd go months without any outburst, then the summer hit and, like a trigger, the fainting started up again.
Anything could set her off. Scenery was a big prompter. Anything with too much color or too much space. Music held the occasional bout of dizziness as well. But lately it was books that did the trick. Which was a tad ironic in my opinion, seeing as my mother worked at the local library for a living.
Dad didn't seem to be noticing the fainting as much I thought he should. Granted, he was a busy man. Working as the chief executive for GMC contained its fair share of stress.
Turning onto the main road, I allowed the family's extra SUV to increase speed and catch up with the flow of traffic. Despite the fact that two months had passed since my sixteenth birthday, I was still the last among my friends to get my license. Not by choice, of course. My mother had an irrational fear of driving. She believed slick roads led to hydroplaning, nighttime led to drunk drivers, and speeding led to fatal accidents. She had convinced – more like demanded – that I wait until I was seventeen to start driving. And my mom's decisions were law in our household. It was quite rare to see my dad holding the pants in their relationship.
I eased the vehicle into a handicapped parking spot. Abiding by the law was never one of my attributes.
"There you are," croaked Mrs. Debbie from behind the check-out desk. The library's cool air conditioning hit me like a tidal wave as I walked through the front entrance. Although I'd always lived in Chicago, known for its harsh winters, I never could seem to find a place cold enough to suit my interests.
I rolled my eyes at the old woman. "Where is she?"
"We laid her out on the conference table. She just came to a few moments ago."
Throwing Mrs. Debbie one of my fake smiles, I made my way over to my mother. She was leaning on one elbow, her graying hair disheveled, when I appeared.
"Hey, Mom. How's it going?" I reached out to assist her in her trys to sit up. Her face was paler than usual, and she had a far-off look in her eyes that unsettled me.
"Riley… Where am I?" I felt my mother's grip tighten as she looked about.
I let out a long sigh. I could remember the fainting spells almost as much as actual memories. It seemed like wherever we went, they temporary blackouts followed. Birthday parties, vacations, long walks…
The first one I can remember happened at my kindergarten graduation ceremony. I was so wound up for that day, I couldn't sleep for weeks. I went with my mom to pick out a new suit and my dad took me to get a haircut where old men sat in the chairs and prattled on about nothing. I had woken up at the first hint of sunlight that morning, rushing into my parent's room and waking them. When we got there, Ms. Alfred, my teacher, lined us all up by last name and instructed us on how to receive our little paper certificates when our names were called. I saw my parents from the stage in the very first row, eyes gleaming and smiles stretched out across their faces. I felt so proud to have my mom and dad sitting at the very front watching their only son on stage. When the first name was called, however, Mom made this gasping sound and the whole room grew quiet. I turned to look and saw my mom's eyes roll to the back of her head and her body fall out of her chair. Dad got all panicked and tried yelling for water. Then all the other parents were circling around her, trying to help my dad out. Nobody was paying attention to us kids, anymore. I discovered later that no one even really cared for that dumb ceremony, anyways.
All I know is that all through first grade I was known as the kid with the woozy mother. And poor Sam Anderson was blamed numerous times for being so ugly, he made grown women faint.
Refocusing on the present, I looked around me for any signs as to what did it this time.
"Riley, answer me, please."
"You're at work, Mom." I fixed my brown eyes on her green ones. She still looked a little lost, but I had long ago passed the point of caring.
"What do you mean, at work? It's Monday."
I stopped my search, frowning. "No, Mom, it's Thursday. And you work everyday, remember? Except Sundays. That's pizza night."
Something in my stomach began to twist in an unpleasant way. This was something new. Mom never lost her memory after fainting. Should I call Dad? Ask him if this had happened before? After all, I had only taken on Fainting Duty since the start of summer. Any other time it was pawned off on a friend or neighbor.
"Pizza night?"
"Yeah, you know, Dad comes home from work, he brings us home pizza from Tony's Diner. Any of that ringing a bell, Mom?"
"Mom?" The green eyes staring back at me began to get hazier with each passing minute.
"Uh, hello. Yes, 'Mom,' you know, the term given to someone when they birth a child. That child being me. The boy you've been calling Riley for the past two minutes."
Panic began to sweep through me. A thin line of sweat began to form on my upper lip and along my temples. That welcoming air conditioning was doing nothing now for my rising fear. It seemed as if every second my mother got worse and worse. She was slowly losing what little coherence she'd had when I first found her.
"Riley? Why, you're not Riley," my mother's lips frowned. "And where is Mrs. Newton, shouldn't she be here helping me?"
A hand clenched around my heart. That was the closest thing I could think of to resemble what I felt at the moment. My mother was beginning to examine her surroundings, acting surprised by what met her eyes. And I could do nothing but stand there, helpless. I didn't have a clue what to do. The woman who'd raised me, cared for me, taught me, for the past sixteen years was now denying my identity and throwing out random names.
I saw the realization hit her a second before she absorbed it. When she saw she was in a small room, with a heavy glass door leading out to rows and rows of books, the knowledge that she wasn't where she believed she was sunk in.
I tensed up, waiting anxiously to see what would happen next. My mom's eyes swiveled back and forth a few more times, then landed on mine again.
"Where am I?" her back stood stiff in panic. "Why are you here? Where's Mrs. Newton? You shouldn't be allowed in here!"
I stepped closer, trying to soothe this strange new person that had taken over my mother's body. Her voice was getting louder and louder and I feared a blood-curling scream would soon escape her mouth.
"Don't touch me! He'll kill you! Mrs. Newton? MRS. NEWTON!"
I had to cover my ears against the scream. Whoever this Mrs. Newton was, wherever she was, I wished she could walk through that door this second, if only to end that terrible sound.
Mrs. Debbie came instead, as I knew she would. She took a long look at my mother, the thick hair on her arms standing on end. I could see the accusation in her eyes as she took in the scene before her. I knew what she saw. A madwoman raving nonsense while her stupid and pig-headed son watched on, probably enjoying the mayhem he no doubt had caused.
"Help me, please," I ran forward. All sense of control had vanished with that horrible scream. Now I just wanted it to end. Everything. I wanted my old mom back. The one who left this morning complaining about my dishes in the sink. The one who refused to let me drive just to the grocery store to pick up a gallon of milk. I wanted my paranoid, regular mother back, and I'd go as far as pleading with old Mrs. Debbie to get it.
Taking me in, she saw that this was not just some humorous stunt I'd managed to pull off. She saw the fear in my eyes and, with sudden sincerity, she told me to call my father.
Right. Dad. He'd know what to do. He was perfect under pressure. He never lost his cool; he kept his patience and always reached a logical answer.
I was only half-aware of Mrs. Debbie trying to soothe my mom as I punched my speed dial and silently prayed Dad wasn't in a meeting.
One ring.
Two rings.
He answered on the third. I heard his deep voice resounding through the speaker, a little annoyed.
"Dad, something's wrong," my voice was full of panic.
"What is it, Son?"
It took me more effort than it should have to keep the phone steady against my ear. My face was in a full-out sweat now, and my stomach felt as if it was going to expel my breakfast. In my peripheral vision, I noticed a small crowd beginning to form along the Western section. I could guess that John Wayne stories was not what was attracting them. At any other time, I would have been annoyed at these snoops. But, at the moment, all I cared about what getting my dad here.
"Dad, it's Mom. She had another fainting spell at work. I rushed over here, but it all happened so fast, and I…" I couldn't find the right words. I knew my father was lost. I was trying to tell him everything at once and it was all coming out in the wrong way.
"Riley, I need you to slow down. What happened to Mom?"
"Dad, s-she's gone crazy!"
I inhaled sharply at my own words. I hadn't meant for the words to come out so blunt, but I'd opened my mouth and out they fell. I could tell when they hit my dad's ear by the way the line went silent. I wasn't sure if he was even breathing anymore.
"Dad?"
It seemed like an eternity before he replied.
"What do you mean, Riley?"
"She doesn't know where she's at, she doesn't even recognize me, and she keeps yelling out for some person named Mrs. Newton."
If I had thought calling my mother crazy shocked my dad, then telling him about Mrs. Newton was like taking a gun and shooting him in the chest. I heard him drop the phone, and in the background I could barely make out the sound of his knees buckling from underneath him. This act terrified me more than my mom's new insanity. Dad was supposed to be the strong one. He might let Mom make all the rules, but he kept the family attached. He had always been the moral support of the family, the mediator, the ray of sunshine on our rain clouds.
What was so critical about a name that could bring my father down to his knees? What had this person done?
"Riley, I will be right there. Don't move." My father's voice said. I had forgotten I was still on the line with him, but when he spoke, I replied with a weak agreement and hung up.
I could feel my heart beating in my chest as I made my way back to my mother. The noise had never sounded so clear before. It was as if I were aware of every pump of blood that pulsated through my body, soberly alert to my waking life.
"Mom," I whispered weakly. I couldn't believe how much had changed in a matter of twenty minutes. The calm, suburban life that I had grown so comfortable with had completely changed. Nothing about my life seemed steady anymore. My mother was spouting off people I'd never heard of before, my dad was overcome with horror, and I was stuck somewhere in the middle, utterly unaware of everything.
"I told you, you shouldn't be here! If he comes in here, he'll kill you! Don't you understand? You have to leave!"
I was unable to step any further. My mother was looking at me with an expression I'd never seen on her face before. Her eyes, so large, had filled with a terrifying concern for me.
"Who, Mom? Who'll kill me?"
My mom shook her head franticly. "Who do you think?"
"I don't know."
She gave me a long look, as if I were the one who were crazy. Then, with slow clarity, I saw my mother's mouth begin to form a name. At that exact second I realized what I'd done. It was as if an alarm had gone off in my head.
This was it. For some sickening reason, I knew that the second I heard my mother's answer, my life would never be the same again. That that one name was going to take my life and shake it from the inside out. That whatever I thought I knew about my parents and their lives was about to be questioned and challenged because of what was about to come out of my mother's mouth.
I felt like I was watching my own downfall. I held my breath as I saw my mom open her mouth to speak. And when she did, all that came out of it was one, simple word.
"Edward."