Chapter Twenty-one: Anger

I woke up as the sun began to light the bedroom. Blue Eyes was beside me, humming in his sleep. My ass was sore from the needle, and my head was fuzzy from the ativan. The memory of the evening's revelations kept me pinned to my mattress. Mother. Dying. I had no way to make sense of anything anymore.

My breasts sagged with the weight of unleashed milk. I slipped out of bed, pulling on the jeans and t-shirt Blue Eyes had apparently relieved me of, trying not to wake him. As I opened the bedroom door, his voice stopped me.

"Where are you sneaking off to?"

I stood, my back to him, and answered, "I wanted to go feed Zelda. I want to hold her. Do you mind?"

He groaned as he moved his leg off the bed. "Let me get a quick shower and I'll go with you."

I turned to watch him sitting up, swallowing his pills. "I need to get out of here, Blue Eyes. I promise, I'm going straight to feed Zelda. You can meet me there."

"You won't wait five minutes?"

I shook my head. "I have to get out of here." I left the bedroom, grabbed my coat and briefcase, and headed for the hospital before I could encounter either Jim or Mother.

Blue Eyes entered the NICU as Zelda was draining her second breast of the morning. He pulled a chair beside me, holding his finger out for Zelda to wrap her tiny hand around, but he was looking at me.

"Stop it," I said.

"What?"

"You're staring at me. Do you think I'm suddenly going to burst into tears or something?"

"Damm, Tiger, I wish you would."

"I'll not shed a single tear for that selfish diva," I spat.

"Okay, Caddy Compson."

For the first time, I bristled at the fictional name he chose for me. Caddy's mother was vainglorious, reveling in the misery of her own life, the burden of her mentally impaired son. And Caddy was her siblings' caretaker until she discovered the secrets of sex and left her family forever. I jerked Zelda away from his touch and shoved her hastily into her crib. He stood, leaning heavily, painfully, on his cane.

"How dare you? Whenever anything happened she didn't want to handle, she abdicated, leaving it in my lap, making me the parent of my brother when I was seventeen and he was first diagnosed. And now she has the gall to come to me when she is sick and frightened, expecting me to suck it up and take care of her. Well, I won't do it. Not this time. She's on her own. And you need to find another playmate if you're going to object to my refusal to take on yet another burden for her."

He shook his head. "I don't expect you to do anything. I just want you to talk to me."

I laughed. "You're a liar. You don't want me to open my mouth. You want me to stay as silent as a stone unless I'm begging you to f#ck me."

Pain moved across his face. "Talk to Wilson. Please."

I walked outside, ripping the gown from my arms. "I'm going to the university. I have a job. People there who welcome my presence." By the time I reached the parking garage, I was running, sprinting, gasping for breath to fill my burning lungs. I drove to my office and hastily gave orders to Cindy and Troy. They both wore the patented looks of concern people who never really care always wear; I was curt, saying only the words I had to say to set them about their chores. I left them without explanation. I drove to the townhouse.

Mother was sitting at the kitchen table, fingering an unlit cigarette. She wore the same silk robe she always wore, rich in its paisley darkness, but, for the first time, I saw the way the material hung empty on her emaciated body. She was without makeup; the effect was startling. Her skin was sallow, hanging slackly about her mouth, and her eyes were colorless, buried in the dark hollows of her skull. The ring she always wore on the middle finger of her right hand, a cameo her own, beloved mother had given her, was so loose it turned effortlessly as she toyed with the cigarette. I sat across from her. I looked into the dying face of my mother, and she calmly looked back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered.

"I owe you nothing, Audra. Especially not an explanation."

"Why did you come here, then?"

"Because you would never turn me away."

"Is that all I am to you – a rest stop?"

She went to the coffeepot and filled her cup. "Audra, I have never enjoyed introspective conversations before. Whatever makes you think I'd care to indulge in them now?"

I put my head in my hands. "What about Daddy?"

"You know your father doesn't do well with infirmities."

As she brought her cup back to the table, I raised my head to spew out the obvious sarcastic retorts my brain concocted, but the sight of her frail wrist turned them to sand in my mouth. "What does Jim say?"

"Nothing the doctors at UAB haven't said."

"But he's Oncology Boy."

She, at least, smiled at that. "James is very sweet."

"So, you've just given up?"

"Not me, Audra. My body. My body has given up."

I had never, in all of my life, seen my mother cry, but her eyes were now pools of saline.

She looked away from me, swatting at an escaping tear. I wanted to know how long. I suddenly knew I had to go see Jim.

"Is there anything I can get you, Mama? I need to run an errand; I can bring you lunch. What would you like?"

"I'm not hungry, Audra. And James has some exotic recipe for us tonight." She forced a wan smile.

I patted her hand, feeling the fragile bones beneath the translucent layer of dry skin. "I'll be back, Mama, but you can call my cell if you need anything."

"I'll be fine," she said, head high.

I knocked on Jim's door, praying he would be there. He yelled, "Come in."

I hesitated, knowing he would not be happy to see me. I swung it open slowly. He stood up from behind his desk.

"Audra. Come in."

I made it to the chair in front of his desk; however, once I was seated, I crumbled. He sat back down, watching me with sad, warm eyes.

"What can you tell me?"

"Have you talked to her?"

We were dancing around the information. "Yes, Jim. All she'll say is that you've said nothing different from the doctors in Birmingham and that her body has given up."

"I've given her some meds to help with her discomfort," he said with a measured slowness. "She refuses to try chemo or radiation, although, to be honest, there's little chance either would help. It had progressed too far before she ever went to a doctor."

I shook my head. "She hates doctors."

"Audra, she won't talk about him, but what about your father?"

"He doesn't handle imperfections well."

Jim opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"It's okay, Jim. They're both odd ducks. I told you they were cousins. They had to marry each other. No one else could have tolerated either of them."

"What can I do for you?"

His question took me by surprise. "Tell me how long she has."

He shook his head. "She specifically asked me not to discuss time with you."

I tried to reassure him. "You've become her friend. Jim, I can think of no greater gift."

He smiled his crooked smile. "You may find this hard to believe, but I honestly like your mother, Audra. She is very courageous."

I bristled. "She may be stoic, Jim, but she is not courageous. I know courageous."

He waved his hand across his desk. "Maybe not from your perspective, but from mine, she deserves a lot of respect." He looked out his window for a few seconds, then gingerly continued. "I don't want to upset you further, but have you spoken to House since this morning? He's quite concerned about you."

I got up from my seat. "I'm sure he has plenty of female company to console him over my tantrum."

"Audra . . ."

I exited Jim's office without answering.

I went to the NICU when I left Jim's office. I needed to reassure myself of the existence of my daughter and the presence of a connection between us. As I carefully lifted her from her crib, I memorized her few wisps of blond hair, her pale but perfect lips, her long fingers. She nuzzled against me, rooting for my breast, so I sat down and began nursing her. I was so absorbed in the reality of her, I didn't notice the presence behind me.

"She's gained more weight. Being able to nurse is doing her a lot of good."

I turned to smile at Dr. Chase. "Think she could come home anytime soon?"

"I want to keep her on oxygen even though she's breathing on her own, and the incubator is climate-controlled to keep her warm since her body's still not good at regulating her temp. But, if she continues gaining weight this way, you may be able to take her home in another month or so. Her due date wasn't until the middle of March, so I wouldn't normally expect her to leave before then," he answered patiently.

"I'm anxious to spend more time with her."

"I know it's awkward here. If there's anything we can do to make it easier for you, please, let us know."

I thanked him, and he walked out, glancing at us over his shoulder.

I should have expected it, but I was, nonetheless, surprised when I saw Blue Eyes loitering outside the unit as I was leaving. I tried to walk past him.

"You haven't eaten anything all day. Let's go to the cafeteria," he said mildly as he fell into step beside me.

"I'm not hungry," I answered.

He grabbed both of my wrists and backed me against the corridor. "I know you're upset about your mother. I get that. But you can't stop taking care of yourself. Come on." He pulled on my arm.

I sighed and went with him. I could feel him relax a little when I willingly walked beside him. When we got to the cafeteria, I requested a bowl of soup; however, Blue Eyes loaded his tray with a hamburger, fries, several desserts, and a bowl of mixed fruit. We found an out-of-the-way table and unloaded our trays.

"Open," he ordered, shoving a piece of cantaloupe on his fork toward my mouth. When I tried to protest, he just pushed it into my open mouth. "You've talked with Wilson," he continued.

I nodded while chewing.

"So you know there's nothing to be done," he continued while taking a huge bite of his hamburger.

"Wait. Wilson talked to you about Mother?" I asked with visible irritation.

He shook his head. "Hacked into her chart," he muttered with his mouth full of fries.

I grabbed his arm. "How long does she have?"

He speared a piece of apple with his fork and pushed it at my face. I accepted it absently.

"Maybe a month or two."

I dropped my spoon.

"Wilson has her on oxy for pain. Her breathing is still okay, although she will probably need oxygen as things progress. The cancer in her brain is what will kill her."

"How dare you snoop into her medical file and then carelessly tell me things she doesn't want me to know?" I asked angrily.

"What?" he asked in genuine shock. "You wanted to know."

"But she didn't want me to know. You shouldn't have told me."

"Damm you, Tiger. You're impossible to please. I found out what you wanted to know . . ."

"But," I yelled, "it wasn't your information to disclose." I stood up and, for the second time that day, ran through, and then away from, the hospital.

I stopped the truck at a nearby park and called Greg on my cell phone.

"Have some time to talk?" I asked.

"Yeah. Tell me what's going on, Cissy," he said in a subdued voice.

"She has a month, maybe two. She's on meds for pain. She won't try any treatment, although Jim says it's too late, anyway."

"That's the gist of what I got from Dad. Do you want me to come up this weekend?"

"Can you?"

"Certainly, Cissy. I'll call you this evening with my flight info."

"Greg, I don't think . . ." I began.

"Hush," he said. "You're the strongest person I've ever known."

Strength was an illusion. And a curse. I was tired, exhausted with the demands placed on me. I began to embrace the notion of just quitting. Giving up. Letting everyone fend for themselves without me there, constantly holding the safety net.

I was startled out of my morose meditations by the phone. Daddy.

"I assume Greg has told you about your mother," he began in his usual, blunt way.

"Yes. Are you just going to let her stay here until she dies without coming to see her?"

"Watch your tone with me, Audra. I am doing as your mother requested. I only called to see if you needed anything. I know it was a shock to you."

"I need you to come here," I stated flatly.

"Keep me updated, please," he requested as he ended the conversation.

I finally drove back to the townhouse. Mother was dressed in a casual pair of khaki slacks and a navy turtleneck. Her hair was coiffed and her makeup was meticulously applied; she looked like her old self. She was curled on the living room sofa, reading one of the many novels the townhouse's owner had lining the walls in built-in bookcases. She appeared serene and carefree.

"I'm going to make some hot tea. Do you want any?" I offered.

"That would be lovely, Audra," she replied.

I fussed in the kitchen, boiling water and loading a tray with cups and saucers and a plate of some gourmet cookies Jim had left in the pantry. When the tea was ready, I carried the tray into the living room, setting it on the coffee table and handing Mother her cup. She nodded at me. I sat in a chair adjacent to the sofa and watched her sip her tea. She continued reading, her cup balanced on her knee, nibbling occasionally on a cookie. She took no notice of my presence. I finally carried my cup to my bedroom.

I dug out my old sweatpants and my Auburn sweatshirt and suited up to run. I hadn't gone running since the day I ended up in the clinic at PPTH; as I pulled on gloves and a hat against the freezing temperature, I felt the adrenaline start. I took off through the neighborhood. Running seemed the perfect outlet for my pent-up anger. I ran for over two miles, winding through the narrow, curving cul de sacs, until I misstepped and twisted my ankle. I leaned against a tree, rubbing my ankle, when a familiar gentleman came down the steps of the townhouse behind me.

"Audra, are you okay?" David asked.

I smiled up at him, my armpits sweaty, my breathing ragged. "Hi. Is this your townhouse?"

He nodded amiably. "Would you like to come in for a drink?"

I nodded back and limped into his home.

"Did you hurt your ankle?" he asked.

"I think I sprained it."

"Sit down in the living room and I'll bring you an ice pack," he directed.

The living room was dark and masculine with its cocoa-colored walls and chocolate brown leather couches. I sat on one of the couches and stretched my leg out in front of me. David entered with an ice pack. He sat on the floor beside my foot and took it in his hands, running them up over the injured ankle.

"Oh, good. It's not swelling yet," he said as he placed the ice pack against the side of my foot. "Whatever made you go running when it's so icy out?"

"I just learned my mother is dying," I blurted.

His face softened. "Audra, I am so sorry." He hesitated. "She's the woman who was with you at the reception?"

I nodded.

"Are you going to need to take time off?"

"No," I said. "I need to work. I need to stay busy."

"Good. I just read your independent study proposal this morning, and I was looking forward to doing some interesting work together." He looked away. "I need to apologize for the misunderstanding about the online proposal I made – I never intended to use your writing modules without your input. But, you're going to do an excellent job with the program. I'll help you all I can."

"Thank you, David. I appreciate your offer."

He moved to sit beside me. "I lost my mother five years ago. Breast cancer. If you need someone to talk to, I can be a good listener."

His hazel eyes invited my trust. I was angry and needy; I was vulnerable. When he offered to drive me back to the townhouse, I accepted. I also asked him to join us for supper.